Author's note:
Thanks for all the reviews! I really appreciate them. I also suddenly realized that I never set a timeline for this story. This takes place during Season 5 before the drastic changes. Also, since the show's revelation of Sara's past history, I found it fitting to imply it in the story.
When Grissom and his team arrived at the scene, they weren't sure what to expect. They feared the worst. Signs of a struggle. Semen. Blood splatter. The usual evidence they encountered in a possible missing person case. What they did not expect was the sight of a newly washed Tahoe, which had been clearly detailed, parked behind a two-star hotel on Fremont Street.
"We found shit Grissom. There was nothing in that car. We couldn't even find any evidence that Catherine was in it, aside from her bag being in the front seat. Nothing appeared to be missing from it. Her phone, her wallet - it was all there. "
"It's definitely Dulhomme isn't it?" Greg said. "I mean, if it had been random, her stuff would be gone."
Grissom nodded in answer to Greg's question. "It's him. However, Dulhomme is either getting very smart or he's getting help. This doesn't fit his profile. Calculation and planning are not his forte."
"I talked to the manager of the motel. He doesn't recall when the car pulled in, but that doesn't mean anything. Judging from the beer cans surrounding his desk, he probably couldn't remember his mother's name if you asked him," Greg said.
"No witnesses in the rooms either," Grissom responded grimly. "Brass already interrogated everyone in the motel." He looked over at the empty Tahoe. Did he drive the car here or did she? Had he been in the car waiting for her? Was she hurt? Was she conscious? Was she even alive? Grissom tried to shake that last thought, but when he looked at Warrick, he could see his own fears mirrored in the other man's eyes.
"We're going to find her Warrick," he said, even though he was trying to reassure himself more than anyone else.
"Do you think he'll kill her?" Warrick asked, instantly wishing that he could take back the question.
Grissom pursed his lips and shook his head. "I don't know Warrick. He's violent, but he needs to be provoked. Catherine knows this. If she plays her cards right, she can get out of this alive."
"But at what price?" Warrick's asked softly.
Grissom turned his head slightly, averting Warrick's gaze. "Let's have the car towed back to the lab. Even if it was detailed, there has to be some evidence of what happened in that vehicle."
"And if there's not?" Greg asked.
" Francis Bacon once said that 'there is no comparison between that which is lost by not succeeding and that which is lost by not trying.' We're leaving no stone unturned."
Catherine's house felt more like home than her own apartment. It was warm, inviting, and felt final. Finality was a concept Sara never grasped. It was something she could not afford to believe in. Her life was always in constant upheaval; she never knew where she was going from one moment to the next. She had once thought Las Vegas would be her final destination. Now, she wasn't so sure.
Catherine knew this was where she belonged. This, Sara was certain of, as she surveyed the pictures adorning the mantle of the fireplace, many of which were of Lindsey and others of relatives or friends Sara didn't recognize. She paused at a photo that had yet to be framed and picked it up, surprised to find herself in it. It was a group shot of the team, minus Catherine. Catherine had probably been the one behind the camera, Sara realized as she studied the photo.
The photo captured the personalities of everyone completely. Warrick and Nick were facing each other, their faces caught in laughter from some idiotic private joke they had probably been sharing with each other. Grissom was a bystander, a smirk spread across his face as he surveyed the other two men. And Sara - Sara was off to the side, looking at the three of them wistfully with a slight smile. She flipped the photo over and, in Catherine's neat handwriting, was "Christmas party 2003. My CSI family."
She put the photo down, a knot forming in her stomach. She never would have thought Catherine considered her part of her family, but then again, there were a lot of things she didn't know about Catherine - just like there were a lot of things Catherine didn't know about her.
Forcing herself to look away from the photos, she continued to survey the rest of the house. It was surprising well-organized and clean, especially considering the work load Catherine was usually saddled with. Sara was lucky enough to find her bed in her own apartment.
She searched every inch of the house, finding nothing out of the ordinary. Then again, she wasn't quite sure what she was looking for. Reluctantly, Sara moved to the one room she least wanted to search; the bedroom. It was one thing to go through a stranger's private things, it was another to go through a colleague's.
She leaned against the doorway, peering into the room. The window curtains was open, allowing the first rays of morning light to seep in. The room was distinctly feminine. The queen-size bed was neatly made with various clothes strewn across it, as if Catherine had difficulty finding an outfit to wear the last time she was in here. The dresser, complete with a mirror, was covered in various make-up products and perfumes. Sara approached it and began going through Catherine's drawers, feeling very voyeuristic. Shrugging the feeling off, she opened the bottom drawer and found yet another photo, laying face down. Out of curiosity, she flipped it over, revealing a young Eddie Willows with his arm wrapped around an even younger Catherine.
"She still loved him," Sara said mostly to herself, but Nick caught it as he entered the room.
"Loved who?" Nick asked, as he moved into position next to her. He peered over her shoulder, examining the photo.
"Eddie."
Nick shook his head. "I never could get my head wrapped around the idea of them. He had such a temper."
Sara looked up from the photo. "You don't think-"
Nick shrugged. "I wouldn't have put it past him. But then again, I wouldn't want to be the man who struck Catherine Willows."
Sara bit her lower lip slightly, glad that Nick didn't pick up exactly how upset she was at the mention of abuse, and carefully placed the photo back in the drawer. "I think she held it against me."
Nick cocked his head slightly. "Eddie's death? Sara- you know that Catherine knew you tried your best."
"No, no she didn't. You know that as well as I do. I don't think she would have ever forgiven me."
"Sara, Catherine would have-" He stopped, suddenly realizing that they were both referring to her in the past tense. Sara realized it herself, and the two of them looked at each other with uneasiness.
"Did you find anything outside?" Sara finally asked.
Nick was glad at the change of subject. "The mail hasn't been picked for two days. She never made it home. I also found some sizeable shoe prints outside the perimeter of the house. They are definitely not Catherine's or Lindsey's. They could be anyone. The postman. Friends of Catherine. Anyone. However -" Nick hesitated.
"However what Nick?" Sara was surprised at the urgency in her voice.
"They were quite a few prints located outside Catherine's window."
A chill went down Sara's back as she realized the implication. "Friends usually don't hang out outside bedroom windows."
"Neither do postmen."
Grissom had been expecting the call, but he wasn't prepared to be civil.
"What do you want Ecklie?" His voice was harsh, but Ecklie's was harsher.
"Well, aside from the fact that you and your team are working well past your shift, I want to know why the hell all your CSIs are working on one case? You pulled out on the Logan case and God knows what other cases are piling up."
"The Logan case is as good as solved Conrad," Grissom said tightly. "The evidence is being processed in the lab."
"That doesn't give me an answer Grissom. You can't have your entire team working on one case."
"This one case is Catherine."
There was a pause on the other end, and Grissom could sense Ecklie processing the information.
"Grissom-"
"If it had been someone on your team Ecklie, wouldn't you do everything in your power to find out what happened?"
When Ecklie didn't respond, Grissom chose to end the conversation. "I'll let you know the status Conrad. Thanks for your concern." He slammed phone down, still fuming. Conrad Ecklie may be in charge of the lab, but he certainly was not in charge of Grissom. Catherine often claimed he was not "politic" enough and he was sure his shortness with Ecklie would create consequences for him later, but at the moment he didn't care.
When Grissom broke out of his thoughts, he found that he had accumulated an audience in his office. Warrick and Greg were looking at him, defeat painted across their faces.
"Still nothing from the Tahoe."
"We tried our best Grissom." Greg said, looking very drained and weary.
"We combed it over from top to bottom," Warrick agreed, frustration creeping into his voice. "Not one fiber. Not one hair."
"Well, we may have had better luck than y'all," Nick said as he and Sara entered the office on Warrick's last words.
Warrick whipped his head around. "You found something at Catherine's?"
Nick nodded. "I've got some footprint molds that were located outside her window."
Warrick's face fell slightly. "That just proves who took her. Not where she is."
Sara shook her head. "Catherine never made it home from the lab that day. Her mail and newspapers prove that. These prints were there long before she was kidnapped. Which would mean-"
"Someone else had to be involved," Grissom finished, his voice tingling with excitement. Now they were finally making some progress. He opened his mouth to start giving orders, but paused when he noticed that his CSIs were each beginning to show signs of exhaustion. "I know we're all tired here, and if any of you want to go home and get some rest now, I'd understand."
Warrick didn't even hesitate. "I'm not going anywhere until we find Catherine."
Nick, Sara and Greg all exchanged looks, nodding to each other. "We're fine Grissom. We're going to do what we have to do," Sara said for the rest of them.
A grin formed on Grissom's face. "Well then, let's get to work shall we? Greg, I want you to dig up Dulhomme's file for me and make copies. Nick, I want you to analyze the mold you made and match a shoe type and size. Warrick and Sara- I want both of you to go back to Catherine's house. Interview her neighbors. Find out if any strange cars had been in the vicinity recently. The sooner we gather evidence, the sooner it will lead us to Catherine."
The group departed Grissom's office, each person finding a resurgence of energy they didn't know they had. And once the last person left, Grissom sunk back into his chair, placing his head between his hands, wishing that he could retain even a smidgen of their optimism and hope.
The pain was searing. She lolled her head backward, trying to ease the exhaustion and pain that was shooting through her body. She peered through her lidded eyes to see Howard still sitting across from her, his face expressionless. She licked her dry lips.
"You treat every girl like this on a first date like this?"
Howard leaned forward, a frown on his face. "I find it interesting that you can make jokes at the moment. Most women I know would be sobbing by now."
"I've never been most women Howard." It was said with more confidence than she felt.
"That I am beginning to realize," he said, as he leaned back in his chair. "You're still in pain."
"What clued you in?" She retorted, wondering how insane she was to be taunting a man who had just beaten her. The wire rod remained in his hand, as if reminding her it could be used again.
He stood and she involuntarily flinched. He walked out of her field of vision, and suddenly the room was illuminated with light. She winced at the sudden brightness as Howard moved back into her sights and switched off the lamp that had previously been the only source of light. She found it slightly amusing that he was trying to conserve electricity.
With the room now completely lit, she was able to examine her surroundings more clearly. The room was not a room, but a small studio, complete with a kitchen and a single bed. She couldn't see the exit, but she assumed it was behind her, and the bathroom door was slightly ajar. She quickly noted that there were no windows, not even in the bathroom. Her eyes wandered toward the wall of photos, and she quickly averted them to see that Howard was now rummaging through a drawer next to the stove.
"I am sorry to have to resort to such measures Catherine, but I can assure you that it does not mean I don't love you," Howard said, as he found what he was looking for.
"You don't love me Howard," Catherine said, her tone sounding weaker than she liked. "You don't even know me."
"Oh, I know you. I know you better than you do yourself. It's amazing what you can learn about people when they don't know you're watching you - what they hide from other people." He withdrew a knife and a pair of handcuffs from the drawer. He turned to her, noticing her eyes fixated on the knife.
"Oh, don't worry. I'm through with my lesson." Setting the knife and handcuffs down, he picked up a syringe that had been sitting on the counter next to him.
"What is that?" Catherine asked, unable to keep the panic out of her voice.
Howard approached her and gently grabbed her arm. "Just a little Ketamine."
Catherine's eyes widened at the mention of the drug. Not only would the drug paralyze her, but it could possibly cause hallucinogenic episodes. She unsuccessfully tried to jerk away from him. "No Howard, I don't-"
He cut her off with his ejection. "Don't worry. It's a low dosage. Just enough to keep you from doing anything you'd regret later." He retrieved the knife and handcuffs and used the knife to cut the ropes that bound her arms and legs to the chair.
The drug had already taken an immediate effect, her arms swinging next to her helplessly. He picked her up with little effort and laid her on the bed. He adjusted her hands above her head and handcuffed her to the bedpost. Sitting alongside her on the bed, he traced her face softly. Even with the drugs surging through her body, she couldn't prevent shuddering under his touch. She knew that's what he wanted, and she was disappointed in herself for giving him the satisfaction of realizing that he had power over her and her emotions.
"You'll come to enjoy being with me Catherine," he said with certainty. "I know you may hate me now, but you'll come to love me as much as I love you."
For Catherine, the concept of love had never been more frightening.
