Chapter Four

Sara sat upright in Grissom's bed, suddenly feeling out of her element. She wasn't wearing her sweater and slacks, instead she wore a white tuxedo shirt Grissom had given her. She vaguely remembered the exchange, she'd been exhausted the moment her head had hit the pillow. He'd told her that she wouldn't be comfortable if she slept in the clothes she wore and he'd given her a shirt and left her alone to change. When she'd finished, she crawled under the blankets on his bed and called for him to come back into the room. He must've stayed with her until she fell asleep because she didn't remember him leaving again.

Sara glanced at the clock. She'd been asleep for more than an hour and she only had fifteen minutes to get dressed and head out the door to the lab. Why didn't he wake me up? She thought as she crawled out of the bed. She moved to the chair where Grissom had laid her discarded clothes and began to change. Quickly adjusting her clothes, Sara folded Grissom's shirt and headed for the living room.

She made it to the end of the hall and was about to step into the room when she heard Grissom speaking to someone. The voice she heard in return scared her to death. Catherine.

Sara turned and tiptoed back toward Grissom's bedroom. Being seen coming out of Grissom's bedroom would be bad. She could always lie and say she'd been in the bathroom, although she didn't know how long Catherine had been there. Maybe that's why he didn't wake me up, Sara thought. God, this is bad. She moved far enough down the hall to hide herself. She didn't go back into the bedroom simply because she wanted to hear the conversation between Grissom and Catherine.

"How'd it go with Sara?" Catherine asked, making Sara tense.

"What do you mean?" Grissom asked, "The entire thing with Mobley?"

"Yeah," Catherine replied, "How'd she take it?"

"Not well," Grissom told her, his voice completely emotionless. Sara shivered, wrapping her arms around herself.

"Did she blow up at you?" Catherine asked.

"No, but she wasn't happy."

Catherine laughed lightly, "I don't know why she would be."

"Neither do I," Grissom said, "I understand why she's angry, I am as well. I'm just worried that this is going to become a problem for her."

"I agree," Catherine said, a new serious tone to her voice, "Sara already too emotionally involved."

To that Grissom didn't respond. He knew she was emotionally involved, as she had been before, but now it was different. Sara was emotionally involved with him, to a point where neither of them could turn back. He didn't want to hurt her, he'd done enough of that in their past. He too was involved. He was in love with her.

"Keep an eye on her, Gil," Catherine said, "We can't afford to lose Sara. She's a good asset to the lab and the guys and I love her. . . and she may even be good for you."

Sara smiled at Grissom's silence.

What was he supposed to say to that? If he told Catherine that he agreed with her, he'd be acting uncharacteristically and she'd know that something had happened. He needed Sara and she damn well knew it now, he wouldn't let her go.

"I'll do what I can, Catherine," Grissom said instead, "I'm picking her up for the shift soon, I'll talk to her then."

"Just. . .be gentle when you do," Catherine warned as Sara heard the front door open, "Be gentle and be calm."

Nothing else was said and the door was closed. Sara stepped into the living room behind Grissom.

"Hi," she said quietly.

He turned to face her and held out his arms. Sara smiled and stepped into them.

"Am I good for you?" she asked, stepping back enough to smile at him.

Grissom smiled at her in return and bent to kiss her quickly.

"More than you know," he whispered against her lips, "More than you know."

The ride to the lab was quiet. Sara was lost in thought as she drove and Grissom watched her tentatively. She was frustrated, confused, he could see it in her eyes. He went to reach out for her when his cell phone rang shrilly.

"Grissom."

"Gil, it's Jim," Brass' voice greeted him. "I contacted Allison Conners' family, they'll be in Vegas by midnight."

"Thanks, Jim," Grissom said, stealing a glance at Sara, "We're on our way in."

Grissom disconnected the call and put the phone back into his pocket. He focused on the road as Sara turned into the parking garage.

"I'll take our report to Mobley," he told her, "Brass brought in Allison Conners' family from Seattle and I want you to take another look at the file. Prepare yourself for interrogation."

"Of who?" Sara asked.

"The little sister."

"Me?" She asked, pulling into her regular parking space, "But I'm too emotionally involved."

She smirked at Grissom and he looked at her with the mock-serious grin that he often abused. They sat in the car for a minute without speaking before Sara unbuckled her seatbelt.

"We should go in," she told him, "If someone from day shift sees us just sitting here, all hell will break loose."

Grissom nodded his head in agreement, silently wishing he could have a few more minutes alone with her but knowing that she was write. He followed her movements as they both climbed out of the car, retrieving their kits from the backseat before heading into the building.

Nick opened the driver's side door of David James' brand new Jeep Wrangler. Warrick was leaning over the passenger seat with a flashlight and pair of tweezers in hand.

"No trash," Nick pointed out, "How new do you think this thing is?"

"Less than a month," Warrick guessed, "It's possible he's got the title in the glove box."

"You wanna pop that open?"

Warrick quickly replaced the flashlight and tweezer with rubber gloves and a krobar. He opened the glovebox and began handing Nick various slips of paper. Receipts, proof of insurance, certificate of vehicle ownership and the state of Nevada vehicle registration title.

"Purchased Monday morning," Nick stated, reading the registration certificate, "Morning after Erin James went home."

"What do you want to bet we aren't going to find anything in this car?"

"Hand me the luminal and hit the lights."

Warrick did as he was asked and Nick sprayed the back seat of the Jeep with the luminal. There was no reaction.

Grissom didn't bother to hand the file directly to Sheriff Mobley. He gave the report to the secretary, politely asking her to deliver it for him and left in the direction of his own office. He gathered his messages from the front desk, grabbed a cup of fresh coffee from the break room and retreated to the solace of his office.

He sat down at his desk, took a look over the paperwork there and wondered where Sara was. He'd instructed her to go over their case but she hadn't been in the break room and that was generally where she would sit and read. He glanced at the clock behind his desk. They had more than an hour before the family of Allison Conners was supposed to arrive, giving him plenty of time to find Sara or do paperwork. What a choice. Going looking for Sara with nothing insanely important to tell her would look suspicious. However, he had the strong desire to see her again and he would never be able to get anything done if he didn't talk to her for a few moments.

Before Grissom even had the opportunity to get out of his chair, the office door was open and Sara was standing in front of him.

"Do you mind if I read in here?" she asked, "Between Nick, Warrick and Greg I can't find a quiet place to go over this file."

Had she read his mind?

"Of course," he said, smiling to himself, "Close the door and pull up a chair. I have some paperwork to do so as long as you don't read out loud, we won't have a problem."

Sara gave him her million dollar smile and Grissom immediately felt better. He opened the first file in his large pile and began to read. Having her sitting across from him seemed to make him relax and he was able to concentrate on his work for the first time in months.

Grissom's pager beeped loudly in the silent office and he and Sara both jumped in surprise. They hadn't spoken to each other in more than an hour. Comfortable silence had quickly surrounded them once they'd started working and Grissom was a little angry that it had been interrupted. He glanced at the screen and recognized Brass' page, "Allison Conners' family is waiting for us."

"Right," Sara said, standing, "I think I'm ready."

"You'll be fine, Sara," Grissom told her, leading her from the office with his hand on her elbow, "You've done this a thousand times."

"I've never had to tell anyone that their daughter was dead," she told them, her voice shaking slightly, "They've always known before I've talked to them."

"You'll be fine," he told her again, "I'll be right beside you."

"Mr. James, can you tell us where your car is?" Nick asked.

He and Warrick sat across from the man that they'd suspected of killing Erin James. He was visually nervous, hands clenched into fists and a gleam of sweat along his hairline. Nick took note of the way that the man tapped his foot beneath the table. He wasn't quite sure if David James was showing signs of quilt or drug use.

"What do you mean?" James asked, "You people took my car this morning, said it was part of your investigation."

"Not that car, Mr. James," Warrick said, sliding an evidence bag across the table, "That's the title to your brand new Jeep. The date I highlighted, proves to me that you bought this car the morning after your sister's disappearance. So, where's your old car, Mr. James?"

James' lawyer sat to the man's left and leaned over to whisper something in his clients ear. James nodded, then whispered a response to his lawyer.

"I made a trade in," James explained, "You'll have to talk to the dealership to find out what happened to that P.O.S."

Nick glanced at Warrick as he spoke to David James, "And what, exactly, was the make and model of the P.O.S.?"

"A ninety-two Chevy Cavalier."

"Thank you, Mr. James," Nick said, "We'll be in touch."

Warrick and Nick entered Jackson Chevrolet less than twenty minutes after leaving the interrogation room. They'd been lucky when they'd called and reached the manager as he was walking out the door. Gary Jackson had been all too willing to help and agreed to meet Nick and Warrick outside of the dealership.

"Mr. Jackson?" Nick said, holding his hand out to the man, "My name is Nick Stokes, we spoke on the phone?"

"Of course," Mr. Jackson said, shaking Nick's hand and nodding at Warrick, "What can I do for you?"

"We're with the Las Vegas crime lab," Warrick explained, "We need to take a look at a trade-in you received on Monday morning. A ninety-two Cavalier."

"Color?" Jackson asked, leading the two CSIs into his building.

"Don't know," Nick said, "But we have the paper work on the sale."

Nick handed Jackson the title and registration to David James' Jeep.

"I'll look it up in the system," Jackson told them, taking a seat at the nearest computer. He punched a few keys and gave a sigh of remembrance.

"This guy was an asshole," Jackson said, "He was pushing and a pig. His hands were shaking so bad that I thought the guy was on crack. And his mother was an even bigger pain in the ass."

"His mother?" Nick asked, he and Warrick glancing at each other. "Are you sure?"

"Definitely," Jackson said. He turned the screen to show them. "She paid with her credit card."

When Grissom and Sara entered the interrogation room with Allison Conners' family, they had a plan of action in mind. Grissom would relieve Sara of the burden of talking with Allison's parents and Sara would talk to Allison's little sister.

"Mr. and Mrs. Conners, I am Gil Grissom and this is Sara Sidle," he began, sitting down across from Allison's parents. He nodded toward Allison's sister, "Carly, right? Would you mind stepping into the hall with Miss Sidle while I speak to your parents?"

The young woman, who looked to Sara like she was only sixteen or seventeen, glanced at her father. He nodded his approval and the girl moved toward Sara. Sara put an arm around the girl's shoulders and led her from the room.

Grissom waited for the door to close behind them before turning back to the people in the room with him.

"Mr. and Mrs. Conners, did detective Brass speak to you about your daughter?" Grissom asked.

"Briefly," Mr. Conners replied, "Please, tell us what happened to Allison."

"I'm very sorry to tell you this-" Mrs. Conners began to cry and Grissom continued sadly, "But you're daughter has been killed."

"Oh god," Mrs. Conners cried, turning to weep on her husband's shoulder, "Allie."

"Mr. and Mrs. Conners, I want to assure you that Miss Sidle and I are doing everything in our power to find out who did this to your daughter," Grissom told them, suddenly feeling that it weren't true, "If you could, I just have a few questions I'd like to ask you before Miss Sidle brings Carly back in."

Sara led Carly Conners to a bench just outside the interrogation room door. They sat down and Sara took a tape recorder from her pocket, showing it to the girl beside her.

"Carly, do you mind if I ask you a few questions about you sister?" Sara asked.

"Sure," Carly replied, folding her hands nervously in her lap.

"All right, um, Allison's roomate Hannah told Dr. Grissom and I that you visited your sister for little sibs weekend at their dormroom," Sara began, "Did you have fun?"

"Yeah, it was okay," Carly said, "There isn't a lot that I'm allowed to do in Vegas, though, I'm only sixteen."

"Right," Sara said again, "So, what'd you two do then?"

"Hung out at the dorm mostly, it wasn't exactly my dream vacation," Carly said, shrugging a little.

"Did you meet any of your sister's friends?"

"Besides Hannah?" Carly asked, "Not really. She took me with her to the bar where she works and I met a couple people there, but no one at the school."

"No one?" Sara asked.

"Not that I can remember," Carly said.

Sara watched the girl as she began twisting the ring on her right hand nervously. She kept her gaze down and Sara immediately reacted to this.

"Look, Carly, whatever you tell me, I promise that I won't tell anyone else," Sara assured her, "You aren't going to get in any trouble."

Carly looked around to make sure that no one could hear them.

"My sister wasn't the perfect angel my parents make her out to be," Carly muttered, "She worked at a strip club, bar thing. She was a whore if you ask me, but whatever. I would never say that to my parents, they'd kill me."

"I'm not gonna tell them anything that you tell me, Carly," Sara told the girl, "I just want to help your sister."

"The only person I met at UNLV besides Allie's roomate was her boyfriend."

Sara perked up, "Boyfriend?"

"Yeah, but Al made me swear not to talk about him because he's one of her professors," Carly said, shaking her head, "God, she was such a tramp."

"Carly, do you remember the professor's name? Or what class he taught?"

"Sure," Carly said, "His name was Rick and he taught Spanish. I remember because he kept calling Allie senorita."

"Do you remeber the professor's last name, Carly? Rick what?" Sara asked.

"I'm not sure," Carly said, thinking for a minute before shrugging, "I don't know."

"You know what? That's all right, Rick is enough for me to go on," Sara told her, "Rick and he teaches Spanish. You've helped a lot, thank you."

"No problem," Carly said, "Just don't tell Allison that I'm the one who told you, all right? She'll never forgive me."

"Of course," Sara said, feeling her heart breaking. She doesn't even know, Sara thought, She doesn't know her sister's dead.

Sara led Carly Conners back to the interrogation room. Grissom left the girl and her parents alone and joined Sara in the hall. They walked toward the elevator.

"The parents don't know anything about Allison's boyfriend," Grissom told her, "They barely knew their daughter."

"It seems that the little sister knew Allison well enough," Sara said, reaching out to push the button for their elevator. "She met Allison's boyfriend, Rick, over little sibs week. He's a Spanish professor."

"Are you sure?" Grissom asked.

"No, but I'll run a background check on the employees at UNLV and see if there's a Rick or Richard that teaches Spanish," Sara replied, "If I get a match, we'll bring him in and get a warrant."

"Switch that," Grissom told her, "I want the warrant first."

Sara had been in trace for nearly an hour. Her head hurt and her stomach had been growling for longer than she could remember. A complete list of all UNLV part-time and full-time staff was listed on the screen in front of her. There wasn't a single Rick or Richard listed in the employee records and the only Spanish professors at UNLV were women.

"Find anything?"

Sara jumped at the sound of Grissom's voice, her heart in her throat momentarily.

"Damn it, I hate it when you do that to me," she snapped.

Grissom smiled at her, "Sorry."

"Liar," Sara muttered, "And, no, I didn't find anything. Nothing useful anyway. Not a single UNLV employee named Rick or Richard. I even checked for middle names. Nada."

"No pun intended I take it?"

Sara smiled, "Didn't even realize I said it."

"Maybe we should talk to Allison's little sister again," Grissom said, trying to sound more serious. "Maybe she was confused."

"I doubt it," Sara told him, "She seemed to know what she was talking about. Hey, and you want to know what else doesn't fit into this story? There isn't a single male Spanish professor at UNLV."

Grissom took that piece of information in and Sara watched him as he thought.

"Try TAs," Grissom told her, "They like to get 'involved' with the students."

Sara felt the blush creep up her cheeks as Grissom smiled at her.

"TAs aren't in the staff registry," Sara told him, "I'd have to talk to the teachers one by one."

For what seemed like the twelth time to Sara, Grissom pulled her Tahoe into the UNLV parking lot and they exited the car together.

"Dr. Serena Cerrezuela, head of the Foreign Language department," Sara said, reading her file as Grissom held the door for her.

They approached the young woman sitting at the desk outside of Dr. Cerrezuela's office. It was obvioud to Sara that the girl was a student, probably in her first or second year of school. Grissom requested a meeting with Dr. Cerrezuela and Sara let him lead her to a couch on the opposite side of the office waiting room.

"Dr. Cerrezuela should have a complete list of her professors' T.A.s," Sara said, "I remember working for Dr. Baker. He was the head of the science department at Harvard. I used to have to deal with the T.A.s all the time. Professors would come in and complain that their assistants weren't meeting job criteria."

"You worked for the department head?" Grissom asked, eyeing her curiously.

"Of course, I was a kiss-up, remember? I did whatever I had to in order to stay involved in my environment," Sara said. She smiled at Grissom's amused look.

"And the T.A. from the airplane?"

"Why are you so curious about the guy from the plane?" Sara asked.

"I just like to know what I'm up against, Sara, you know that."

Grissom smiled and she smiled back, silently reminding herself never to talk about her initiation into the 'mile high club'.

"When we get back to the lab, I'm going to need you to go over all of the class rosters that I requested as well as the list of assistants. Break the list down. Find out who lived in Bellview and start the search for 'Rick' there," Grissom instructed.

"Are we straying from the little sister's idea about a Spanish professor?"

"No, I think that the 'spanish' part of the sister's statement was correct, I think that Joey may have misinterpreted what he saw at the bar."

Dr. Cerrezuela had now started toward them and Grissom stood to introduce himself. Sara stood closely behind him.

"Dr. Cerrezuela, my name is Gil Grissom, I'm with the Las Vegas crime lab," Grissom began, "This is Sara Sidle and we'd like to speak with you about a student. Allison Conners. She's a Spanish major."

"Of course, Miss Conners is Professor Talbott's teaching assistant," Dr. Cerrezuela told them.

Grissom and Sara glanced at each other.

"Dr. Cerrezuela, we're going to need a list of all of the assitants in your department."

2:00 a.m.

Sara rested her head in her hands as fatigue and frustration hit her hard. She and Grissom had picked up food for themselves on the way back to the lab but that had been nearly five hours earlier. Now, she sat in the quiet of the evidence locker with two folders open on the table in front of her; T.A.s and Allison's classmates.

Sara's stomach growled loudly. She wrapped an arm around her waist in annoyance. God, I need a break, she thought.

She closed her eyes at the gentle feel of a hand on her lower back and inhaled sharply.

"Take a break," Grissom's voice said from a close distance, "You've been back here all night."

"Allison Conners took a lot of lecture courses," Sara said, ignoring his persistent hand on her spine. "There are approximately ninety-five students in each of her eight classes this semester."

"Eight classes, that's an excessive schedule."

"I had eight classes my freshman year," Sara told him, smiling to herself, "I had twelve classes my junior and senior years and they were all labs."

"Why doesn't that surprise me?"

Sara laughed, "But my classes were less than twenty students each. God, I miss Harvard."

"How many rosters do you have left to go?" Grissom asked. Sara felt his hand leave her back and she fought the urge to protest.

"Five," she told him, "But I've cleared the T.A.s, not a single one lives in Bellview."

"All right, I want you to take a break," Grissom said again, "You should eat."

"Come with me," Sara said before she could stop herself.

"I ate already, Sara," Grissom said. She detected the immediate annoyance in his voice at her slip-up.

"Right, um, I'll be in the break room if you need me," she stood and turned to face him now, "My notes are a little messy so, if you need an interpreter, come and get me."

"I've graded your papers before Sara, I think I can manage."

Sara slept curled up in a chair in the break room, a book open in her lap along with her half-eaten sandwhich. Nick didn't bother to wake her as he and Warrick sat down at the table.

"Think she's even been home in the last twenty four hours?" Nick asked.

Warrick shrugged, handing Nick a can of pop from the refrigerator, "I doubt it."

"Grissom's got her killing herself over this case," Nick said, a hint of bitterness in his voice, "The girl needs a break every now and then."

"It's not like she's working it alone, man. Grissom's been at it just as long as she has," Warrick replied, "They're both just trying to get the thing over with."

"I know that," Nick said appologetically, "But we all know how much this stuff wears Sara out, the girl doesn't sleep enough as it is."

"I don't think 'the girl' would be to happy if she woke up to the two of you talking about her."

"Hey Cath," Nick said, pulling a chair out for the other CSI, "What are you doin' here?"

"Grissom paged me," Catherine explained, "I guess he and Sara need a hand with their case."

Grissom entered the break room just as Catherine finished her sentence. He handed her a case file, "Brass just called. We've got a D.B. at the Bellogio. Room 431. Sorry to call you in, Catherine."

"It's fine," Catherine said, glancing at Nick and Warrick, "I just thought maybe you and Sar needed a hand with your case. Guess everyone's still backed up."

"Where is Sara?" Grissom asked.

He had missed her when he'd entered and Catherine now pointed somewhere behind him. He turned, noticing how young Sara looked asleep in a chair behind him.

"How long has she been like that?" Grissom asked, whispering so that he wouldn't wake her.

"Don't know," Nick replied, lowering his voice as well, "We've only been here about ten minutes."

Grissom wanted to go over to her then, to wake her up gently. He wanted to kiss her. He shook his head, pushing all thought aside before going over to his sleeping CSI.

"Sara," Grissom said, shaking her slightly, "Sara."

She opened her eyes slowly, sleepy brown eyes meeting very serious blue ones.

"Oh God, Grissom, I'm sorry," she said quickly, sitting up now and running a hand through her hair. "How long have I been asleep?"

"That's a good question," Nick said from the table.

Sara jumped at the sound of his voice, not realizing that she and Grissom had company. She scanned the faces of the others before noticing the clock over Warrick's head.

"Wow," she muttered, "I must've slept for five hours."

"It's all right, Sara," Grissom said, trying not to sound guilty for waking her, "I've been awake as long as you have and if I'd gotten the chance, I would've slept to."

Sara smiled, a little embarrassed that everyone had witnessed her lying there sound asleep. She prayed that she hadn't said anything stupid. She stood up then on weak legs and stretched her arms above her head.

Grissom analyzed the way that she smiled and the tone of her voice. She was uncomfortable standing there with the rest of the team staring at them. He stepped back.

"Why don't you go home and get cleaned up," Grissom suggested, "Meet me back here in an hour or so. We've got a new lead."

"Right," Sara said, glancing at the clock again. She picked up her book and moved around Grissom to leave the room, "I'll be back soon. Thanks."

"You're welcome, Sara."

Grissom waited until Sara had disappeared down the hall before turning to address the rest of the team.

"Nick, how's your breaking and entering coming?" Grissom asked in order to take the focus off of their departing CSI.

"We still haven't found Erin James, but there are definite traces of blood in the brother's car," Nick told him.

"We're waiting on Brass and our warrant to search the brother's house," Warrick said.

"Right, keep me updated."

The boys got up to go, leaving Grissom and Catherine alone in the breakroom.

"Is she all right?" Catherine asked.

"Who?"

"Sara, Gil, is she okay?" Catherine asked again, annoyed at his attempt to avoid the subject, "She seems upset."

"Well, with Mobley's reaction to our situation, she has a reason to be," Grissom told her, pouring himself a cup of coffee.

"I take it he still doesn't believe the accident report?" Catherine asked.

"It's not that he doesn't believe the accident report so much as he doesn't believe what happened at the motel," Grissom explained. He turned to go to his office and Catherine followed.

"He thinks that something happened between you and Sara?"

"That's putting it lightly."

"So, what did happen?" Catherine asked, "I mean, I can't help you if you don't tell me the truth."
Grissom fell into the chair behind his desk. It was obvious to Catherine that he was exhausted and that neither he nor Sara had slept for more than a few hours at a time. She sat down across from him and settled in for a long explanation. He took a slow drink of his coffee before looking up at her.

"There isn't much to tell, Catherine," he told her, "The things that Sara and I discussed were personal, things that aren't work related and don't concern Mobley at all."

"All right, I understand that," Catherine said, "But I'm your friend, Gil, and whatever you say to me, stays right here. What happened?"

Grissom hesitated, looking down into his coffee cup again.

"I had a. . . a revalation," he said slowly.

"About your relationship with Sara?" Catherine asked.

"Yes, and other things," he said, "I can't keep denying how I feel about her, Catherine."

She smiled at him.

"What?" Grissom asked.

"Nothing," Catherine said, "I'm just glad that you finally realized that there is something between the two of you. It means you're growing."

"How so?" Grissom asked, smiling as well.

"You're letting go, Gil," she told him, "Work isn't the most important thing in your world anymore."

"I think you're over estimating what happened between Sara and I," Grissom said, making Catherine laugh.

She stood up to go, "I think I'll join Nick and Warrick on their case."

"Hey, Cath, can you give me a ride?"

"Sure, where to?"

Grissom didn't answer and Catherine knew exactly where she was going.