"Greg, did you find anything?" Sara asked when Greg stood in front of the doorway.
"A bunch of pawprints all over the place. Most of them trail away from the house," Greg replied.
"I've got scratch marks on the inside trim. There's also a lot of what appears to be canine saliva."
"Any prints?"
"Some. They're on all of the door handles and a few on the doors themselves. Many of them on the insides of both doors are smudged with pawprints," Sara stated and stood up to face Greg, "watch this."
Sara used her foot to push the door closed and stepped away, watching the door open slightly again. She repeated the action with the same result and then opened the door again so she could talk to Greg through the screen door. "No matter what you do to that inside door, it doesn't close correctly," Sara explained, "and this screen door just pushes open from the inside."
"I don't think we have a dognapping here," Greg hypothesized, "I think Mr. and Mrs. Bennington should have spent some more money on their locks."
Sara's cell phone rang, and she pulled it off of her belt. "Sidle," she answered.
"The two of you are going to want to come back out front, a neighbor just brought over the poodles," the officer stated, "she says that they were over at her house scratching and trying to get in."
"Alright, we'll be right there," Sara replied.
Greg looked at Sara with a questioning eye as she clipped her cell phone back onto her belt. "They have the children out front," Sara retorted.
"And our theory is proven," Greg smiled.
"Not quite yet, we've got to ask a few questions," Sara reminded.
Greg made a drawn out nod, picked up his kit, and turned to walk back to the front of the house. Sara grabbed her own kit, walked out the door, and stepped in beside him.
"How could you kidnap our children?" Mrs. Bennington accused.
"You think I stole those beasts?" her neighbor wailed, "They got loose again, and they were scratching at my back door. You should take better care of them and make sure they stay in your yard."
"How dare you accuse me of not taking care of my children!" Mrs. Bennington shrieked.
"Are you delusional? They are dogs!" the neighbor retaliated.
"Don't speak to my wife like that," Mr. Bennington stepped in.
"Oh, is that your duty?" the neighbor spat.
Before the argument could escalate any further, the officer stepped in. "Ms. Andrews, the crime lab is going to want to talk to you," he gestured to Greg and Sara who were walking toward them, "please come with me."
"Gladly," Ms. Andrews replied.
The officer led Ms. Andrews away from the Benningtons and waited for Greg and Sara to get to them. "Ms. Andrews, Sara Sidle, Greg Sanders, Las Vegas Crime Lab," the officer gestured.
"Can we get one thing straight?" Ms. Andrews spoke, agitation evident in her voice, "I did not steal their damn dogs!"
"Would you mind if we took your fingerprints to rule you out as a suspect?" Sara asked.
Ms. Andrews outstretched her hands and wiggled her fingers. "Print away. Those dogs have been over at my house barking up a storm at least three times this week," Ms. Andrews explained, "is there anything I can do about that?"
"Next time it happens call the dogcatcher, he'll take care of it," the officer spoke.
"At four o'clock in the morning?" Ms. Andrews raised a questioning eyebrow.
"This is Vegas, if you call, he'll come," the officer replied.
"Greg, take Ms. Andrews' fingerprints," Sara instructed, "I'll go take care of the Benningtons."
Greg nodded and watched as Sara walked away. "Mr. and Mrs. Bennington, I need to take your fingerprints," Sara explained.
"If that stuff gets on your clothes, it doesn't come out," Mrs. Bennington complained.
"I'm putting it on your fingers, not on your clothes," Sara clarified, getting fed up with the whole situation.
"If it smears on anything…"
Sara cut Mrs. Bennington off before she could continue. "I'll give you something to wipe your hands with when I'm finished," Sara said, exasperated.
Sara fingerprinted Mrs. Bennington and turned to Mr. Bennington. "Your turn," she stated.
"Why do you need my fingerprints?" Mr. Bennington protested, "You just want to fill up that police database so you can falsely accuse me of something else."
"Mr. Bennington, we can do this here or back at the station. If someone did in fact let your dogs loose, we want to be able to rule out your fingerprints."
Mr. Bennington resigned and allowed Sara to fingerprint him. When she was finished, she collected Greg and tossed him the keys to the vehicle. Greg was about to speak, but Sara shook her head. "Don't ask, just drive, Greg," Sara instructed.
The two got into the vehicle, and Greg started their drive back to the lab.
"They were a piece of work," Greg declared.
"Yeah," Sara replied, her head leaning against the headrest and her eyes closed.
"You alright?" Greg asked, "They sure gave you an earful."
"They gave me the beginnings of a migraine," Sara groaned.
"I'll be quiet then," Greg stated.
"Just get me back to the lab so I can get some medication and food into me."
Greg nodded pointlessly and continued driving in silence.
As soon as they got back to the lab, Sara's beeper went off. 'Robbery, take Greg – Grissom'
Sara walked into the break room and grabbed a bottle of water and a sandwich from the refrigerator. Greg entered the room and poured himself a cup of coffee. "We have a robbery to get to," Sara explained, "be ready by the time I finish this sandwich."
"Did you take something for the headache?"
"Acetaminophen."
"It's too soon for it to be helping yet."
"Umhmm," Sara hummed while taking another bite of her sandwich.
"I better watch out then," Greg joked.
"Ha, ha," Sara said dryly, "you drive. I'll finish my sandwich on the way."
Greg allowed Sara to exit the break room before him, and they both headed back out to the parking lot.
When Sara and Greg were finished processing the scene, they were already into an hour of overtime. Sure, Grissom sends me to a robbery, but he neglects to say that it is at a casino. "Greg, let's get back to the lab," Sara spoke after placing all of the evidence into the vehicle.
Greg pulled the keys out of his pocket and held them out to Sara so she would have the option of driving. "No way," Sara groaned, "I'm about to drop."
Greg opened the passenger side door for Sara and waited while she got in. She immediately closed her eyes and rested her head against the headrest. "How's the head?" Greg asked.
"Pounding. Get in and drive, I want to get home."
Greg closed her door and walked around the vehicle to get into the driver's seat. He started the drive back to the lab, taking care to remain silent along the way.
When Greg pulled into the lab parking lot, Sara didn't move. He would have thought she was asleep, but she had a death grip on the door handle. "Sara, we're back at the lab," Greg stated, watching her carefully.
"I know," Sara whispered, her voice barely audible.
Greg tentatively reached his hand out to touch her shoulder, mindful of her personal space statement from earlier. "Sara, are you alright?" Greg asked.
"I need to go home," Sara managed to get out.
Not even wanting to attempt to get her out of the vehicle and into the building, Greg pulled his cell phone off of his belt and speed dialed Grissom. Grissom looked at the caller id before answering. "Where are the two of you?" Grissom questioned.
"In the parking lot. Griss, you need to get out here, Sara doesn't feel so good," Greg urged, careful to keep his voice low so he wouldn't disturb Sara any further.
"What is it?"
"Migraine, a really bad one."
"Stay with her," Grissom instructed, closing his cell phone.
Like I was going anywhere. Greg closed his cell phone and reattached it to his belt, waiting for Grissom to arrive. "Sara, can I get you to let go of the door?" Greg asked, leaning across the seat and reaching for her hand.
When Greg's hand rested on top of hers, Sara uncurled her fingers from the door and latched on to his hand instead. "Griss is coming," Greg reassured, trying to comfort her somewhat while they waited.
When Grissom walked out to the parking lot, he got into his car and drove it to where he saw Greg parked. He pulled up behind Greg and opened the car's passenger side door before walking to Greg's passenger side door. Grissom slowly opened the door and made eye contact with Greg. "Hey Griss," Sara whispered, keeping her eyes closed, the tension evident in her voice.
"You want to relinquish Greg's hand so I can get you out of here?" Grissom suggested.
Sara let go of Greg's hand, and Grissom stretched across her stomach to release the seat belt. "Greg, go check the evidence in and go home," Grissom instructed, "thank you."
Grissom slid one arm around Sara's back, and the other under her legs. He easily picked her up out of the seat and carried her toward his car. "Gil, you shouldn't," Sara lightly protested.
"Shh," Grissom shushed her, carefully placing her in the passenger seat and fastening the seatbelt.
Grissom closed the door as quietly as possible and got into the driver's seat. Once he started the drive, he took Sara's hand in his and ran his thumb soothingly across the back of it. "Gil, sensory overload, sorry," Sara groaned.
Grissom let go of her hand and returned his to the wheel. "We'll be home soon," Grissom assured, "try and relax."
Sara grumbled and brought her left arm across her stomach while maintaining her grip on the door handle. Throughout the ride home, Grissom stole glances of Sara, irritated that he couldn't do anything to alleviate her pain.
After stopping the car, Grissom went to the house and opened the door. He then carried Sara through the front door and into their bedroom. Tears trickled from her closed eyes, and she did not protest Grissom's actions. Grissom eased Sara into the bed and removed her shoes. He reached for the button of her pants, but when he touched her, she rested her hand over his. "Griss, not now," Sara complained.
"You don't want your pajama pants?" Grissom questioned, "You'd be more comfortable."
"No," Sara whispered, curling up into a ball.
"Have you taken anything?" Grissom asked.
"I'm due."
"I'll be right back," Grissom stated, leaving the room to go into the bathroom.
After obtaining two pills and a cup of water, Grissom returned to the bedroom and leaned over Sara's form. "How do you want to do this?" he asked, keeping his voice low.
Sara turned the palm of her hand up, and Grissom set the pills into it. Sara put the pills into her mouth and swallowed. "Water?" Grissom asked.
"No," Sara replied.
Grissom set the cup on the side table and stood still for a minute, contemplating what he should do next. "I'll check on you in a little while," Grissom stated, knowing that Sara needed to stay still and wait the migraine out.
Grissom walked out of the bedroom and pulled the door almost all the way closed behind him so if he made any noise, Sara would not be disturbed. Grissom kicked his shoes off and laid down on the couch. Sara was tired before, and she sure isn't getting any rest now. I wish I could just give her her migraine medication, she doesn't need this crippling migraine. That and the fact that I have to be at an appointment in a couple of hours, which she is going to insist I go to. I hope she feels better so I can take her out tomorrow, we both need to sit down and enjoy some time together; a distraction, right.