Disclaimer: These characters are the property of CBS, inc.
Spoiler: Unbearable
Thanks for all of the kind words. We're getting to the tough part. It's getting hard to write, but I hope that you continue follow through this with me. I will be out of town for the next couple of days. Hope to have another chapter by Tuesday morning. Your reviews are grand! Thanks!
Sheila
Chapter 6
Afraid of the Light
Catherine got in the squad car next to Grissom at the Reno airport. Greg started to climb in the other side, but she waved him away. She moved in next to him, and gently picked up his injured hand and placed it on her lap. "How you holding up?"
He looked at her out of the corner of his eye.
She rolled her eyes. "I know. You can't have this conversation. It's too much right now."
He gave her a thin smile.
"Then I'll talk." Catherine said. She leaned into his side. "He's had her two days now. He usually doesn't kill for another 5- 7 days. That's good news for us."
He started. "They are usually quite emaciated. He probably starves them, keeps them dehydrated so that they don't fight back."
"So, here's how it's going to go. Greg, Warrick, Nick, and I are going to take the car, his clothes, and the motel room. You are going to work the interview with Brass and my new Latin lover."
He arched an eyebrow.
"Yes, I know, but he smokes when he walks by. I can't help it. I'm hardwired to my libido."
"He likes Sara."
She shrugged. "Not all fantasies are meant to be consummated. Besides, I was hoping that the reference would wake you up a little."
"Agent Taylor can grow on a person…a little."
"Good. The two of you need to work together."
"How are the guys?" Grissom asked.
Catherine chuckled. "They're men. When faced with pain, they close down. Quiet, angry, tense. They're doing the best they can. They love Sara a lot. I forget about that, you know. We work together so much, so closely. We are a family. Losing her will hit them hard." Catherine stopped and cleared her throat, pink rising up her cheeks. "I wish we hadn't fought. I wish we weren't both so damned stubborn. I love her too."
Grissom reached over with his good hand and squeezed hers.
"I know you. You're going to crawl inside yourself and die a slow death. We won't be able to tell a thing. You'll just stand there, a face like granite watching your life implode. I have been watching the two of you for years, and I know you've only told me a fraction of what that girl has meant to you."
Grissom gave her a look. "Catherine, I don't choose how I grieve. Do you? This is who I am. This is how I live my life."
"Bullshit! You are a passionate man who cares about the work you do, the victims you serve, and the people with whom you work. You choose to hide that from people. It scares me to think that you are holding all of this fear and anger inside. It must be eating you up."
He sighed heavily.
"She's not the only one who needs you right now. We do too. Please don't hide from us."
"I'll try."
She settled back into the seat. "We have a plane out of here in 12 hours. The guys and I are going to collect evidence and go. I don't want them at the station looking at Corcoran. I need them focused."
"They're going to need rest."
"Everyone's going to be waiting for us when we get back. Even Ecklie. We're going to get more rest than you are."
He nodded and for a while they rode in silence. Looking straight ahead, Grissom began, "The afternoon she disappeared, I saw her. She was tired and stressed, probably hadn't eaten. I wanted to talk to her, I wanted to tell her something that would help, but, of course, I don't have words like that for Sara. And so, as usual, she left having received nothing of use from me. Then, your Rock of Gibraltor friend slammed his hand into the wall and broke his wrist. And when I looked up she was standing there. She probably saw everything. She came back because she wanted me to know, in case she didn't see me again," He swallowed. "She wanted me to know that I was a good man and that she was proud to have known me. Of course, I responded by standing there like an idiot with my mouth open. That was the last I saw her."
She wrinkled her brows. "So, leaving your wrist untreated is some sort of reminder or a penance of that moment. What?"
He chuckled abruptly. "Nothing that angst ridden. I just can't walk away right now. Don't want to take the time. Can't. It will just have to wait."
"They're going to have to re-break it, you know."
"Yeah, Brass has been giving me a running commentary of all the awful things they will have to do to me as a result of this neglect. It's fortunate I have some sense as to the extent of his orthopedic knowledge."
Catherine smiled. She gently patted his arm. "Thanks for talking to me, old friend."
Grissom looked out the window at the desolate landscape of Nevada. "We're going to find her, Cath. Not going to stop until we do."
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Hatfield sat alone in the small interview room. He sat as he had the first time Grissom saw him, staring straight ahead, hands flat on the table. This time, however, Grissom detected an anxiety in him. It was clear that Hatfield had not been expecting this capture. Small droplets of sweat shone on his bald head, and his normally dapper appearance was ruined by local deputies who made him dress quickly. His shirt hung out the back of his pants. There was a purple/blue bruise growing on his left cheekbone.
Grissom stood behind the glass and thought about the small, dead man breathing in that room. He was probably occupied with his tapes. Wondering if they were found, wondering if he would ever be able to see Sara's tape. The tapes were the key. How to use them was the question.
The door to interview opened and Danny stepped in. Still without his suit coat, he had tucked in his shirt, but had lost his tie. He circled Hatfield, looking at him with burning eyes.
"Are you sure about this, Brass?" Grissom looked over at his friend who stared stoically through the glass.
"Let's watch Hatfield. Maybe we'll learn something. Let's see how badly we've surprised him."
Danny circled him again. This time Hatfield had his eyes on him; following him as he moved. Danny moved behind him and stopped. He put a hand on the man's shoulder and leaned over to talk in the man's ear. Not a whisper. He hissed loudly, clear enough for Grissom and Brass to make out. "Hatfield, it's over, buddy. And I'm here to gloat. Look at me, Hatfield. Orphan Boy is here, and I'm laughing at you. Your sloppiness. Sleeping in a motel when the deputies got you. Did they find you in your jammies, Hatfield?"
Danny wheeled away and paced the room again. "It's done. Your part is over. Sort of embarrassing, isn't it? You thought you were so much smarter."
Hatfield's chin jutted out, and he glared defiantly at Danny.
Danny sat across from and leaned over the table, smiling at Hatfield. "We have the tapes. Geneva, Frederika, Mary Ann, Ruth, Laticia. I've seen them all. And I have to say I'm disappointed. I thought you would have participated in some way, but you only watched. The quintessential couch potato serial killer. How anti-climatic."
Hatfield swallowed hard and shifted in his chair. Danny stood up and then slammed his hands down hard on the table. Hatfied jumped. "They left me alone in here with you. Maybe I'll slam your face into the table. Just an accident. No witnesses. What can you do?"
"This is juvenile, Agent Taylor."
Danny cocked his head. "Agent Taylor? I thought I was Orphan Boy. No, Hatfield, I'm not Agent Taylor. I am Orphan Boy, and I never got the nurturing I needed. Look at me, look at my eyes. Dead like a shark's. That's your Orphan Boy. I'm not going anywhere. My dead eyes are fixed on you; just waiting for that moment of weakness so I can pounce."
Hatfield closed his eyes. Danny smiled and sat down across from him again. "Hatfield, is it sad for you? Your girls are gone. I have their images. You only hold their memories; memories that will fade. Pretty soon, it will be hard to picture their terror. The echoes of their screams will disappear. I'm sure you'll do your best to keep them with you, but it won't help. The mind is predictable in this way. Losing them protects from our pain, but it also takes us away from our loves."
Eyes still closed, a tear appeared at the edge of Hatfield's eye and slid down his cheek. His chin wrinkled as he struggled to keep it from trembling.
"I'll always have access to them. Your Orphan Boy can go see your girls whenever I want. I could go be with them right now If I chose."
"Please!"
"Talk to me, Hatfield. Tell me about your partner. Tell me where Sara is."
Hatfield blinked. Then he smiled slowly. "Maybe that's what I will always have that you never will. Ever think of that, Orphan Boy."
Danny gripped the edge of the table to keep himself from vaulting over it and on top of the smug man.
…………………………………………………………………………………………….
Danny came into the observation room wired. He paced the length of the room, hands in his hair. "Did I make it worse?"
"Rattling him was your job. He's definitely unsettled." Brass observed.
"I went in for the confession too quickly."
"Yeah, you did, but who wouldn't; the tear on his face, the jitteriness. You had to poke."
"What's next?"
"Grissom goes in."
"Has he got a plan?"
"Has Grissom got a plan?" Brass chuckled, then stopped abruptly. "Ah….no clue actually."
…………………………………………………………………………………………..
At first, Grissom had a hard time concentrating. Rage for the pathetic creature sitting before him was overwhelming him. He imagined hurting Hatfield Corcoran with his hands. He imagined breaking his skin and cracking his bones. The idea of it left him immensely satisfied. It suddenly came to him that he was not that different than the criminals he hunted. It left him with a smirk riding up one side of his mouth.
Hatfield saw this and smiled. "Are you with us, Dr. Grissom?"
"Just thinking."
"I asked you how you managed to injure your hand."
Grissom looked down at his hand and back at Hatfield. A germ of an idea began to form. "I broke my wrist slamming my hand into a wall."
"You lost control."
Grissom thought for a moment. "Yes, I realized I was losing someone important to me and I lost control."
"Sometimes control is all we have." Hatfield folded his hands in front of him.
Grissom smiled. "Are you in control?"
Hatfield looked away and smiled.
"I thought I could be, and then I lost something very important to me. I've since learned that control is an illusion that we offer ourselves to feel superior."
"Interesting theory, Dr. Grissom."
"Do you know what it is like to long for something and know that it will be forever out of your reach?"
Hatfield worried his lower lip with his teeth.
"All you really want is one more chance to see that person, to touch them, to soak the essence of who she is into your soul forever. Can you possibly understand that kind of longing?"
"Yes, I can."
Experience tells me that I will never see her again. She is gone forever." Grissom was unprepared for how much actual pain came through his words. "It's hard to believe that you can understand this especially since you caused it."
"I lost something too; something very dear and precious to me."
"They're just tapes, Hatfield."
He shook his head. "They are so much more than that. They live and breath for me just like Sara does for you."
Grissom sat back and regarded him carefully. "It's amazing really. You have what I need. And I have what you need. And yet we sit here completely unable to negotiate a solution."
Hatfield laughed abruptly. "This is not a level playing field. You walk away from this. I go nowhere."
"Adjust your expectations, Hatfield."
"You would never let me have those tapes."
"Everything is open to negotiation."
……………………………………………………………………………………………..
She was cold everywhere, her fingers to her toes, stiff and sore. The light in the room was dim. She was lying on a bare mattress with a metal frame. She struggled to sit up, and felt the room spinning. Her head pounded, and it took a moment to focus her vision. Looking down she realized that she was without her clothing. Instead, she was wearing only a thin white nightgown that stopped at her knees.
The room was without windows; the walls were concrete blocks. A large security door was the only way out. She struggled to get to her feet, and had to hold onto the metal frame for a moment until she could gain her balance. She lurched forward toward the door. She pounded on the door with her fists and screamed. Her voice was hoarse with thirst. There was no response. She continued hitting the door until her knuckles were sore and scratched, but she heard nothing back.
Suddenly a squealing erupted behind her. She wheeled around to see an intercom on the wall. The feedback continued for a moment, and then a voice, "Sara, please return to the bed."
She walked toward the intercom. "Who are you and where am I?"
"You are with me now."
"Hatfield?"
"No, Hatfield is not here. He works for me."
Panic seized her breathing, and she backed away.
"Sara, sit on the bed."
"No." She shot back.
"It is 58 degrees Fahrenheit in there. You are losing heat through your bare feet. You will last longer if you stay on the bed."
Sara slowly climbed back onto the bed. She tucked her knees up to her chin and squeezed her legs tightly to her body.
"I would imagine you're hungry and thirsty. Do you remember when you last ate?"
"How long have I been here?"
"49 hours, Sara. Did you know the human body can only survive 5 days without water? With water, but no food of any kind, you can last up to three weeks?"
"What are you telling me this for?"
"Hypothermia happens slowly. If I drop it two more degrees in there and you won't last two days."
She swallowed hard and tried to concentrate. Her temples throbbed with pain, and her stiff joints had begun to absorb the cold. She rubbed at her eyes harshly, and tried to ignore the fear that filled her.
"I won't come in there until you are ready to have me."
"I don't understand."
"I will wait until you're hungry and thirsty, and then I will come. You will ask for me."
She snorted. "Not going to happen."
"You will last longer if you do. Who knows? Maybe they'll find you. You want to live, don't you?"
Sara felt the cold wall. She got up and dragged the bed across the floor until it sat in the middle of the room. She looked around and for the first time she spotted the small camera up near the ceiling. Then she found her anger. She ran over to the corner and reached for it. It was too high so she tried jumping for it.
"Sara! Sit down!"
She ignored the commands.
"Sara! Sit down now or I drop the temperature 6 degrees. You won't last the night."
Sara dropped against the wall and slid to the floor. The cold of the concrete floor was sharp on her legs.
"You can return to the bed now."
She went to the bed, but didn't climb on. She felt the thickness of the mattress. It was old and tattered. She found a hole in the side, and worked her hand in. Slowly and carefully, she widened the tear. She continued to pull at it. Soon it was big enough for her to get both arms in. Methodically, she pulled and tore until she had created a tear all the way down one side of the mattress. She pulled at the cheap polyester filling, manipulating it until she had created a large pocket.
"Sara, I am fascinated with your process, but I think it's futile."
She ignored him. Slowly, she was able to insinuate herself inside the mattress. Soon she was able to cocoon herself inside. Her knees stuck out, but she was able to close part of the mattress with her hands.
"I think we are in for an interesting time together, don't you think, Sara?"
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TBC
