"Second Chances – Part 8"

The Grissoms'
9:20 a.m.

After shutting the front door behind him, Grissom stood in the hallway listening to the silence. Silence that reminded him of his college dorm room, of his first apartment, of his old Vegas townhouse…of every place he'd ever lived In every place, he lived in alone.

This house was the first place he'd ever shared and it was purchased specifically for the purpose. It was never meant for one. It was meant to be shared with Sara. It was their house and everything in it reminded him of her…and of his loss…a loss he instigated with his deplorable behavior. The loss that was killing him a little more with each passing minute.

The house is ours, Sara. I provided the money but you turned the house into a home.

The only home he'd ever known prior to this one was that of his youth and now that memory was tainted too. His mother wasn't the saint he believed her to be. She had done the very things he lashed out at Sara for…lying and betraying. Only unlike Sara, his mother did them for selfish reasons. Now he knew his mother's teachings, which he once believed were the gospel truth, were fueled by her bitterness.

Although he was certain she was brainwashing him to shield him from pain, he understood now that protection came at too high a price. It cost him the ability to trust, to emotionally connect, to communicate, to love freely, to hurt, to cope…and to learn how to heal.

Reaching into his pants pocket, he retrieved the envelope of photos. Pulling out the stack, he focused on the college photo of his parents looking blissfully in love. They were at a cotillion, his father in a dashing tux and his mother in a demure pink gown. It was a startling reminder that a relationship could start out as bright as the Northern Star and then fade over time until darkness consumed its last flicker of light.

The last place I want to be is anywhere near you!

Staring at his father in a tux, Grissom's thoughts turned to San Francisco and the wonderful night he had shared with Sara. How beautiful she looked in her red gown…how her smile was as sparkly as the diamond necklace he fastened around her neck. But the thing he remembered most was her eagerness to be on his arm and to let the world know she loved him and they were a happy couple.

Sara, you look amazing…everything…I love everything…I love you.

Physically weakening, he leaned against the wall. "I do love you, Sara," He declared to the emptiness surrounding him. Closing his eyes, he continued the heartfelt confession. "I know you can't possibly believe it after what I did to you but…I do. I love you more than anything and I need you. I need you to keep going, I need you as much as I need the air I'm breathing. I don't want my old life back. All I want is a life with you. I love you, Sara…I do."

Gil, do you agree to receive Sara as your lawfully wedded wife?

Do you promise to love and respect her…

To honor and cherish her in sickness and in health…as long as you both shall live?

I do.

"I did promise, but now I realize I was only living up to part of the promise. I promised to love you and I did…I still do with all my heart. I promised to respect you but I didn't. I thought I cherished you but, if I truly had, I never would have let you get hurt. And when it comes to honor…I failed you time and again. I broke our vows and I don't deserve you. Jim was right all along…I never deserved you, Sara. You only put up with it because…" In his aching head, he heard Brass's voice…we both know you lucked out with Sara because she was needy and vulnerable. Any other woman would have told you to go to hell.

Opening his eyes, he took a jagged breath. After a brisk walk down the hall, he arrived at the crime scene. Glancing around he acquainted himself…the tossed tray, the scattered food, the shards of glass. It was all still there, frozen in time…a painful reminder of his animalistic behavior.

What's it going to take to make you get it, Sara!

What did she think in that moment? He dreaded the answer but forced it to materialize. In that moment when you were scalding her with your eyes…when you were berating her through gritted teeth…when you were looming over her while she trembled in fear. You know what she was thinking!

Stay away from me! Stay the hell away from me!

She believed you were going to hit her…and she was right. You did a strike a blow yesterday. You landed one in the middle of her psyche and it was a knock out punch. An external bruise would only have been a formality.

Staring at the wall he had backed her against, he thought, wherever Sara is right now, she's out there believing I could do it…believing I wanted to do it. Believing that yesterday was an escalation. That tomorrow there could be another and that it would keep getting worse…that I was capable of being worse.

I know Sara is acquainted with escalation. She grew up watching the process and she has seen the word printed in hundreds of case files and heard the victims' stories spoken by a survivor or a corpse.

Escalation is always preceded by a starting point. The rapist begins as a man whose eye is caught by a pretty girl. I want her, he says and when he's not given what he wants, he takes it. The murderer is born with a betrayal. I could kill her for what she did to me, he rages and when an opportunity presents itself he puts his thoughts into action

The abuser is no different. I need to show her who's the boss, he proclaims. He shows her who's boss when she doesn't do as he asks…when she's not where he wants her to be…when she's not focused on him. And just like the rapist and the murderer, the abuser starts out small…

I paged you two hours ago!

I need you here!

I know it's your day off but I need you to come in.

Now, Sara!

And then it escalates and escalates until one day you're standing in a living room throwing things in a blind rage while you scream at her, while you show her who's the boss…

You still aren't getting it, Sara! Look at me!

"How can I make you understand what you've done to me?"

It was all about me. It was always about me. Things on my terms…when I said it was time…when it would benefit me. And the only time I truly sacrificed was when I was about to lose her…lose my control over her.

I hope…if it's not too late…that you'll stay in Vegas and we...we can make this work.

She was the perfect victim.

A rapist…a murderer…an abuser… they have some things in common. For instance, they often choose their victims wisely.

They choose a victim who is available…someone who can be manipulated into the right spot at the right time.

The lab needs you, Sara.

They choose a victim who is vulnerable…someone who will fall for a line.

Since when are you interested in beauty? Since I met you.

They choose a victim who won't put up a fight.

I should know better than to question your judgment, Grissom.

Numbed by the realization, he said in a detached voice, "You should have known better than to trust me, Sara. You know why I never forgave myself for what I did to you in Tahoe? Because deep down, I knew I could hurt you like that again. Yesterday I proved my point."

Lost, Grissom crossed the room and knelt down before the spray of glass.

He surveyed his handiwork. "It's broken beyond repair." Breathing out he touched the first jagged piece. "Destroyed." After lifting it, he cradled the shard in his palm so he didn't do any further damage. "Are we beyond repair, Sara? Are we like this fractured glass?" He questioned as his eyes closed...

While she was in the kitchen Grissom picked up an issue of Forensic Science Communications from the end table. "Did you read the article in here on glass fractures?" He held up the publication for her to see.

"The part on Wallner lines?"

"Yeah."

"Good information." Returning to the living room she handed him a tumbler. "Rum and coke, that's all I have."

"That's fine."

He took a sip while she gulped.

"Grissom…" Her voice wavered. "Can I…I need to ask you…" She took another sip before breaking into a nervous smile. "I have to get something out of the way here. When you said you didn't have to be anywhere until tomorrow night were you thinking… were you... planning to stay?" Over talking her point, she rambled on. "I mean…stay the whole night…together…but not necessarily in this particular room."

After swallowing another sip of his drink he cautiously replied, "That depends…do you want me to stay?" He set the half full glass on the end table.

Finishing her drink she put her glass next to his. "If you want to stay… then, I want you to stay. So um…do you want to stay?"

Locking his eyes on hers, he boldly said, "I'd love to stay, Sara."

"Good." Breathing deeply, she said, "Good. I'm glad we got that out of the way."

Taking the magazine out of his hand, she plopped on the couch. "If you wouldn't mind, I'd like discuss Wallner lines until the rum kicks in."

Joining her on the couch, he snuggled up beside her, putting his arm around her shoulders. "We can discuss Wallner lines as long as you'd like."

Smiling she nestled into his arms. "Tell me something about them."

"Wallner lines are almost always concave in the direction from which a crack is propagating."

"Very good." She nodded. "By observing the Wallner lines on radial cracks can you determine the direction of the breaking force?"

"Yes, you can." Taking her hand in his he spoke softly, "But it's very important that you observe the Wallner lines only at the point of impact."

While quivering from his touch she forced out her next question. "What if the impact point is not preserved?"

"The glass must be reconstructed." He smoothly replied before bringing her hand to his lips and brushing a kiss over it.

"Fractured glass can be reconstructed," He whispered as his mind carried him away again…

"Sounds like you're getting a tutorial on glass fractures, Greg." Stopping next to Sara, Grissom grinned. "And you couldn't be in better hands. Sara has intimate knowledge of the subject."

"But why rely on me when you have an expert right here to explain." Stepping closer to her partner Sara said, "Grissom I'd love to hear you tell him the 4R rule."

His mind raced with the possibilities…I can put it back together for us, Sara. I'm an expert, remember? I can identify the breaking forces, the cracks and the points of impact. If I do that I will understand why things happened. If I understand why then I can prevent the same things from happening again. I'll be a wiser man so I'll make better choices and then I'll be a better man…only then will I truly deserve you.

The sudden ring of the house phone made his hand jerk, forcing the razor-edge of the glass into his palm. Inhaling sharply from the searing pain, the surge of air roused him. "Sara?"

Dropping the glass he raced for the phone.

But when he checked the caller ID he was crushed to see it was only the ENT's office. He figured they were calling to confirm his appointment scheduled for tomorrow. Sara was supposed to go with him. Sara is supposed to be here.

When he brought his hand to his throbbing head, he realized he was bleeding. Surprised by the discovery, he watched the red liquid streak down his elevated arm and drip onto the tile floor leaving perfect low velocity spatter.

Staring at the blood seeping out of his injured left hand and covering his wedding band, he thought, the blood is on my hand…I'm the only one who can make this better.

To stop the bleed and start the healing process, he grabbed a dishtowel from the counter and wrapped it tightly around the palm that now throbbed in sync with his head.

First he would retrieve first aid supplies from the bathroom to treat the cut, next he would swallow some more Imitrex to quell the blinding pain in his head and then he would sit and think of a plan…an action plan. Not just words…actions.

Believing for the first time there was a hope, he hurried out of the room toward the bedroom.

When he turned down the hall he noticed the door across from the master suite was ajar. His curious mind wondered why the door would be open when they never used the empty room. Had his father been snooping?

Stepping into the room, Grissom's eyes were drawn to the magazines fanned out on the floor circling a notebook. Slowly he approached the display and with each step his heart hammered harder until he stood over the evidence and felt it shatter into as many pieces as the glass on the floor in the other room.

Nursery photos filled the magazine pages. Cheery pictures of ladybugs, silly beetles and construction worker ants. He imagined her sitting here happily planning their future baby's room with a smile plastered on her face…a beautifully serene smile. Like he did regularly when piecing together cases, he played the scene in his head like a movie…her blissfully secure expression…the ring of the doorbell…her strolling down the hall without a care in the world…the door opening…her shock from his father's presence. One minute she had everything and then the trigger to a devastating chain of events was pulled and she lost it all.

Choking back his tears, he gently picked up her notebook and studied her thoughtful design. Her love for him and their future child filled the page. Suddenly he couldn't stay in the room because the walls were closing in on him along with the truth. The truth that he had a perfect life and a perfect wife and now they were both gone.

So you took her life…now you have nothing.

I'm still here.

Are you?

Upon staggering into their bedroom he surveyed the open drawers which once held Sara's things. His head pounded and he knew he should lie down, but he couldn't bring himself to climb into bed…not without her. Instead, he slid down the wall and once he reached the floor, he doubled over from the pain. The pain of his blistering migraine, his colossal mistake and his profound loss.

And just when he thought he couldn't sink any lower than he already had, just when he thought he couldn't feel another ounce of agony, he looked at the notebook he was clutching and saw Sara's handwriting peeking through from beneath the nursery design. Minutes before her world had come crashing down around her, she had written him one of her famous love notes.

With a quaking hand, he peeled back the top page and as he read her loving words, his tear drops crashed against the paper.

To my loving husband and future father of my child,

As soon as you left for work this morning I missed you. I wish we could have stayed in bed all day talking about our future. About the baby we're going to create this month with the help of scientific prediction methodology! My glass is half-full you see, I hope yours is also! To humor the pragmatist in you I'll say this…whether I get pregnant this month or not, I know one day we're going to get our chance to be a family and to be the parents I always wished I had.

I know you're worried about being a dad because you didn't have a decent one, but you shouldn't be. We don't have to repeat the mistakes of our parents. We can acknowledge our parents' deficiencies and do better. Trust me…I believe that or I wouldn't let myself become a mother. Each generation gets better, remember? First there was the shovel attracting flies and now we have DNA.

Even if you're not convinced, I know you're going to be a terrific dad. I know because you're already a loving and attentive husband. The kind of husband who brings his sleepy wife breakfast in bed and feeds her strawberries. The kind of husband who knows his wife loves him too much to lose him before it's time, so he walks on the treadmill for four miles and skips the cream in his coffee. The kind of husband who knows that love and security mean the world to his wife so he spends time thinking of ways to make her feel safer. That's the kind of guy my father never was to his wife. That's the kind of guy your father never was to his. So you see, if you're the polar opposite of these pathetic men as a husband, then you will be the polar opposite of them as a father. Do you believe me now?

Believe this…I can't wait to watch you holding our baby in your arms. I can't wait to see your face light up when you walk through the door after work and catch me cradling our precious child. And I can't wait to hear you read him or her a bug book and watch you beam with excitement.

I got so excited thinking about these things that I came in here to do a little planning. I know I'm putting the baby before the ovum, but I can't help it! I can't help it because I love you so much and I'm so excited to start this chapter in our life…in our wonderful life together as husband and wife. Thank you for indulging me and for putting up with my impatience. Thank you for loving me just the way I am.

So what do you think of my nursery plan for our little worker ant or a ladybug? Hmm…I hope you're okay with a bug theme? Ha! As if there was another option for our future Entomologist. Nope, teddy bears just won't do for our child! Our child will snuggle a stuffed dragonfly and hold grasshopper tea parties. Is that what you did as a child? I wish I knew. The next time I win a bet I'm asking for photo evidence that you even were a child. I know you must have a picture hidden somewhere. If I saw you as a child I could imagine what our son would look like (and yes I still believe we will have a boy, I was just humoring you above by writing 'him or her'). Whenever I imagine him, I always picture him as wonderful as you.

Damn! Can you imagine how sappy I'll be when I'm overloaded with pregnancy hormones! That reminds me, I need to eat some chocolate. Per the neighbors, I've got to fatten these child-bearing hips!

Your loving wife,

Sara

Tahoe Tommy's
10:30 a.m.

Sara aimlessly strolled through the aisles of the neighborhood market trying to find something that would spark her lost appetite.

Eventually she found herself standing in front of the refrigerator cases eyeing a six-pack of beer and recalling her husband's thoughts on her relationship with alcohol. I believe the potential to have a problem exists within you. I think it would only manifest if you didn't have anywhere else to turn in a time of serious need but, you have a husband who loves you, you have Dr. Myers available to you, and you have friends who care. You have a support system, so you don't need a bottle.

Opening the refrigerator door, she grabbed a bottle of Gatorade and thought, I still have all those things, they're just not at my disposal right now.

While mulling over the bags of salty snacks, she couldn't help overhear a conversation between two college-age girls.

"I don't know why you thought coming to Tahoe was a good idea, Casey. Everywhere I look I'm reminded of when I was here last year with Mike."

"We're here so you can get some closure. That bum didn't deserve you. We're going to have a great time this week and you'll get over him. "

Sara plucked a bag of crunchy Cheetos from the display and pondered the girls' exchange. Tahoe…Mike…that bum. It was eerily similar to her own experience the last time she was here.

When she reached the counter with her purchases, Sara noticed a rack of postcards depicting the best scenes of the beautiful area. "Hmm…" She hummed out loud before selecting a jumbo card with a photo of the same mountain she hiked with the bum himself, Mike Rodgers.

"Are you getting that postcard too, Miss?" The clerk inquired as he bagged her snacks.

"Yes." Smiling, she tossed it in the bag. "I suddenly feel like sending someone a message."

Café Express
11:25 a.m.

Sitting together at a corner table in the bustling café, Tawny and Catherine continued to swap dancer stories to break the ice.

Smacking the table with her open hand, Catherine gloated, "I must have taken this guy for two hundred bucks before he realized I wasn't a hooker. He was so wasted he thought he was on Fremont instead of in the club. By the time he figured out he wasn't gettin' lucky my shift was over and I was driving home." Picking up her coffee, she grinned, "I used the cash the next day to buy my Chemistry books for the semester. When no one else is looking out for you, you gotta do whatcha gotta do, right?"

"Right!" Tawny relaxed a little more. "Here's a funny one. My first night at Tweeter's, the girl dressed as The Swan slipped off the stage and landed in a customer's nachos." Gripping her latte, Tawny shook with laughter. "When the bouncers helped her up, she had refried beans and chips pasted to her butt!"

"And they say swan's are graceful," Catherine chortled.

"Trust me…she turned into a real ugly duckling when the guy tried to eat his nachos off her ass!"

"Ugh." Catherine rolled her eyes. "See…people look down on the dancers but we're not the ones with the problems. Aren't the men who have to empty their wallets just to glimpse some T&A, or some nachos stuck on a girl's ass, the ones with the real issues?"

Tawny shuddered, "There's some real freaks out there."

"You don't have to tell me, Sweetie. I still get to hang with them nightly." Sighing, she reclined in her chair. "Now, instead of taking their money, I take their freedom. You know…a lot of what I learned to cope with as a dancer helps me in my career today. Greg said you're a math whiz, if you're good at science maybe you should consider working toward a career as a CSI."

"No, thanks." She vehemently shook her head. "After seeing how tense Greggy is when he comes home from a hard night, I think I'll pass. I'd rather have a normal job so I can stay mentally strong for him."

Catherine smiled at the twitter-painted girl. "You really love him, doncha?" She winked as she raised her cup.

"What's not to love about Greg!" She boasted.

Choking on her coffee, Catherine grabbed for a napkin. "Honey, you've only known him for a month! I've worked with him for six years. Trust me…you'll eventually realize he's got a few flaws. Oh and a word of warning…watch your hair products! That little thief swipes hair spray from my locker daily."

Tawny giggled, "He did seem pretty excited about my hair gel collection."

"See!" Feeling devious, she asked, "Did you catch him putting on your lingerie and stilettos yet?"

Tawny nervously replied, "Um…do you mean Greg likes to…?"

Cracking up, Catherine informed the forlorn girl, "Just yanking your chain."

"You had me going there for a minute." She clutched her chest. "I dated a guy who did that once and it was really creepy. I mean, if people like that sort of thing that's fine, but don't just spring it on a girl! Give her the option of saying no thanks, right? And that's definitely a 'no thanks' kind of thing for me."

"I bet you've had your share of loser boyfriends." Catherine grumbled, "Me too. I married the worst one of the lot. Left me with no money and a daughter to raise."

"Did you marry him because you were pregnant?"

"No, we were already married. It started out good but we crashed and burned pretty quick." Catherine released a weighted sigh. "I was angry about it for a long time, but a year of therapy helped me get over it."

"I'm going to therapy too!" Tawny announced like it was the hot new trend. "Mr. Grissom called this doctor who he works with on cases and she's seeing me for free. I called the office this morning and they had a cancellation for tomorrow so I took the appointment!"

"Wait a minute. Back up." Catherine cocked her head. "Do you mean Dr. Myers?"

"Yes! Is that who you saw?"

"No, I had to go with some second-rate shrink on my insurance plan." Catherine knew that the phenomenal Dr. Myers wouldn't work for free if she was counseling Mother Teresa. "So Grissom set this up for you, huh?" She realized he must be footing the bill just like he did for Sara. "Interesting."

"Isn't he the best!" Tawny glowed. "We had a really great talk the other day. He was so warm and open with me and soooo helpful. And yesterday, he told Greg that he would help me with my English Lit class."

"Grissom?" Catherine's brows knitted. "Warm and open? Gil Grissom?"

"Yes. He even let me bawl my eyes out in his arms," Tawny confirmed with a strong nod. "He reminds me a lot of my dad…smart, supportive and stable. He has a real gentle quality with people."

"Gil Grissom? Greg's boss?" Never had she heard anyone, other than Sara, describe Gil in such a way.

"Yes!" Tawny chuckled. "What?" Then she realized what the problem must be. "Oh…I know! It sounds weird for me to think of him like a father figure 'cause you know I wanted to strip for him. Yeah…at the time I didn't know him, so I only saw him as a walking wallet. Now it would never cross my mind. It makes me nauseous just thinking about it. Of course, now I won't take my clothes off for anyone." A devilish grin appeared on her face. "Well…anyone but Greggy." In a whisper she announced, "We made love for the first time this morning. It was my first time ever! It…was…fabulous!"

"Uh…" Catherine gaped at the girl. "Are ya tellin' me you conceived that baby through artificial insemination and you just lost your virginity? Because that would be hard to…"

"No!" She laughed as she slid closer. "Before today we only had sex. Then after the baby news we weren't even kissing. Today…he made love to me. He's the first guy who ever loved me."

"He told you he loves you?" Catherine inquired in a surprised tone. Greg was moving faster than she figured.

"He told me with his eyes," She excitedly replied. "I said it though!"

"Ahhh." Tossing her hair off her shoulder, she advised, "Don't push him to say it, okay? Trust me…it will sound much better if he says it because he wants to, rather than because he feels obligated. So don't say it again until he does, got it?"

"Okay." Tawny eased into a smile. "But I definitely know he cares about me and plans on sticking around because this morning, he told his mom everything about me…even that I used to strip!"

Catherine bristled as she pointedly spoke. "If you only listen to one thing I have to say today, this is it! Whatever you do, don't piss off Mama Sanders! If you hurt her little boy then count on her opening up a can of whoop ass!"

"How do you know this?"

"Are you kidding? I'm the one who accidentally blew up the lab and put her baby in the hospital with third degree burns!" Catherine shivered at the memory. "Let's just say she had a few choice words for me when I went to the hospital to check on Greg."

"He told me his scars were from the lab exploding, but he never said it was your fault."

"Well…Greg's not the type to hold a grudge." Catherine checked her watch to make sure they had enough time to broach the next subject on her mental list. "Greg is also the type to go into debt to keep the girl who loves him happy. Have you guys talked finances yet? Who is paying for what?"

"Not really. He just told me to get as many hours as possible and he'd max out his overtime." Her smile returned. "He refuses to let me take a job cocktailing or working at a casino because he doesn't want men leering at me. See…he loves me. He's romantic too! When I was in bed this morning, he brought me a Snickers bar and we shared it. "

"Wow…he's a real Romeo," Catherine chuckled. "So…Juliet…how much is the monthly maintenance bill for your physical upkeep? List out your expenses for me, because Tawny Incorporated is going not-for-profit, so you may not be able to afford everything you did in the past."

"Okay." She turned her eyes to the ceiling as she recalled them. "Tanning, waxing, manicures, pedicures, hair color, teeth whitener, cosmetics, lotions, massages and my gym membership."

"Yeah…you may need to cut back on some of that."

Whimsically she replied, "As long as I have Greg, I don't need anything else."

Catherine burst out laughing. "You say that now, but when your eyebrows fuse together and your roots start to show, you may change your mind."

"Hey! I'm a natural blonde…just not this blonde that naturally."

"You shouldn't color your hair when you're preggers anyway. And you can't tan anymore, so there's two off the top." Snickering she said, "Greg can take over the massaging and, if you're active enough in the bedroom, you won't need the gym membership. Oh…and if he doesn't already know how, teach him how to paint your toes because you'll need someone to do it for you once you belly grows."

"Hmm…I can buy cheaper cosmetics and stuff. The waxing though…"

"What's your style?"

"Brazilian."

"Ouch!" She shuddered remembering her one and only Brazilian wax. "I wouldn't worry about giving that up, I'm sure Greggy will be more than happy to foot that bill!" The melody of her cell phone grabbed Catherine's attention. "Sorry."

"I should start walking over to work anyway." Tawny stood up. "Thanks so much for this, Catherine."

"We'll do it again in a couple of weeks, okay?" Flipping open her phone, she noted the ID and answered, "Hang on a sec, Nicky."

"Great!" Tawny grabbed her empty cup. "See ya."

"Bye, Honey." Catherine waved before putting the phone to her ear. "Sorry, I was wrapping up a coffee date with Greg's girlfriend."

"The same stripper? Or has he moved on to one with even bigger boobs?"

"No, he's still seeing Tawny." Catherine grinned. "I'll bet you a hundred bucks Greg proposes to her by the end of the year."

"Done!" He laughed. "Mama Sanders wouldn't approve, and we all know Greg is a Mama's boy."

"Look who's talking!" She groaned as she strolled out of the café. "You do realize you're marrying your mother's clone, right?"

"So you really think Sander's is serious about this stripper?"

"Hey, Mama's Boy, am I not supposed to notice you changing the subject?" She stopped to gaze in a jewelry shop window. "Yes, it's serious."

"Then I need to educate him on the difference between love and lust." Nick groaned, "Of course he wants to marry her, she's the first girl with a D-cup he's ever boinked! All guys fall for their first D-cup but that doesn't mean you take them home to mama."

"Yeah well…her D-cups are going to turn into a milk factory in less than nine months so...Ooops." The glitz of the diamonds in the window had distracted her. "He should have been the one to tell you that."

"No way!"

"Yep!" She moved on to the next store window.

"Greggo is going to be a daddy-o?"

"Before you or Grissom," She informed him.

"Shit…I just lost a hundred bucks!"

"Sucker." She cackled. "Now, did you just miss my sexy voice or is there a reason you called?"

"Yes! What the hell is going on with Sara and Grissom?"

"What do you mean?" His question perked her curiosity.

"Brass calls me first thing this morning and tells me Sara spontaneously decided to fly off to a conference and leave me high and dry for shift."

"Sara? Irresponsible? Sara Sidle Grissom?" Catherine leaned against the wall. "That's so not like her."

"I know! Plus…she knew Trey had the week off already. She has two active case files and left no instructions. And she told Jas she'd have lunch with her today to discuss Jas's questions on the Master's Forensics program at UNLV. Brass won't tell me where she is and she's not answering her cell. Tell me…doesn't this sound odd to you?"

"Hey! I just remembered that Sara and I have one of our Community College presentations on Wednesday. She wouldn't bail on me without letting me know."

"See! And another really weird thing…when I mentioned it to Grissom this morning, it was like he was surprised too. Right after I told him, he bolted out of his office."

"Huh?" Catherine pondered the information.

"Now Grissom isn't answering his pager or cell either which isn't like him. He always tells us when he won't be available. I need him to give me Sara's location because the DA is breathing down my neck over one of her cases and I can't answer the question. What gives? Do you think they're having a problem? How could they be after the cave-in drama? They were so blissed out!"

"Now you have me really concerned." Grabbing her keys, Catherine headed for the mall's exit. "I'll try calling Grissom on his cell and at home. If he doesn't answer, I'll drive over to the house and check things out."

"Thanks. Let me know."

"Okay." She knew Sara didn't want to be more than ten minutes away from Grissom since the accident, especially not during prime baby-making season. Closing her phone, Catherine huffed, "This can't be good."

North Lake Tahoe
11:45 a.m.

Sitting on the porch swing of her rental cabin, Sara uncapped her pen and readied her thoughts. First she considered the proper salutation.

Hey asshole! No…too much anger and that would defeat the purpose. Remember what Dr. Myers instructed regarding this exercise…the point is to bring closure.

After thinking for another ten minutes, Sara decided to skip the proper salutation and just go with her thoughts.

Hi there, Mike, it's me, Sara - the girl you picked to abuse. I know you picked me because I was an easy mark but, that doesn't make me responsible for your disgusting behavior. I realize now I didn't do anything wrong. It was all you and I can't change who you are, I can only change who I am. Therefore I'm letting go of the anger I have inside of me over the incident and at you. Why waste my time thinking about something out of my control, right? I'm here in Tahoe without you and I'm free. Who has the power now? Sara – the girl who isn't going to take crap from anyone ever again.

Smiling, she left the swing to return inside her cabin. Once inside, she walked confidently to the roaring fire she had made upon returning from the store and flipped the card to Mike Rodgers into the flames. The smell of closure filled her nose. "One down," She announced to herself. "Time to buy some more postcards."