Chapter 12

Relieved to find Sara's car in the parking lot of her apartment complex, Grissom hurried into the building. Sure he only had two accidental deaths and a chili dog to support his theory about Mike but Sara was a reasonable woman and would be grateful for the information. At least that's what he told himself as he walked down the hall.

About to knock on the door, he paused. What if he was wrong about Mike? What if he told Sara the theory and ended up looking like a fool? Doubting his motives he wondered if a lethal combination of paranoia and jealousy had caused him to lose his objectivity.

So Mike ate chili dogs on the sly. Having experienced Sara's meat rage himself he could understand why Mike might want to keep his carnivorous craving a secret from her. Not that it was acceptable to keep secrets in a relationship but Mike and Sara didn't have a relationship, they had only gone out a couple of times and barely knew each other.

Standing in front of Sara's door Grissom continued the debate. What about the accidents? They were too coincidental. Then again, what if Mike was merely the victim of bad luck? Did he lie about his wife's cause of death because people wouldn't believe him when he said he lost two loved ones in accidents? Experience told him people sometimes lie because they fear other people won't accept the truth. For a proof statement he had to look no further than a mirror.

Again, Grissom questioned his motivation. If this was a criminal case, and not a mission to protect Sara, would he have jumped to the same sinister conclusion about Mike or would he have prided himself on staying objective until evidence proved otherwise? The answer was clear…if he took Sara out of the equation he would be curious but not suspicious and certainly not judgmental.

Maybe Catherine was right about Mike and it was merely an ego thing. Mike couldn't tell people the truth about his wife's death because he would feel emasculated. What if after Samantha's death he received an overdose of ego bashing. After all, people were cruel and eager to exploit weakness especially when a guy is down on his luck. Relating the feeling to his own life Grissom sighed, it was this very reason that forced him to keep his hearing loss from others. A secret he kept even from Sara whom he had known for years. As a matter of fact, he had lied to Sara on numerous occasions to protect his secret, so who was he to question Mike's treatment of Sara when it came to honesty. The hypocrisy was blatant.

Empathizing again, Grissom could imagine the looks Mike received as the buzz around campus turned from Mike Rodgers All American Jock to Jerk who lets girlfriend die while hiking. Wouldn't Ecklie have enjoyed telling the entire lab Grissom's going deaf and now he's only half the CSI he used to be…only half the man he used to be? Isn't that why he never told Sara?

Then there was Mike's reputation. When Mike was no longer the big man on campus, what did he do? He became a cop to redeem himself by saving others. As his work record showed, for the last 18 years he did a fantastic job. Maybe his record is spotless because he has something to prove instead of something to hide.

Realizing he didn't have enough information or the objectivity to make a rational decision about Mike, he decided to knock on Sara's door and simply ask how she was doing. Maybe find out her plans for the week and if she didn't have any, find a way to occupy her time. Raising his fist, he gave three swift knocks.

From behind, Grissom heard a woman's raspy voice. "She's not gonna answer."

Turning, Grissom was surprised to see a senior woman dressed as loud and as colorful as the casino floor at the Flamingo. "Excuse me?" She was a sight with her bleach blonde hair piled on her head, fuchsia leopard print blouse revealing her surgically enhanced chest, fitted black leather pants, strappy silver heels, thick blue eye shadow and talons for nails. "Who are you?"

Flashing a stellar smile the sixty-something trying to be twenty-something extended her hand. "Roxie Delacroix. I live across the hall."

Shaking her hand, Grissom politely replied, "I'm Gil Grissom. I'm looking for Sara Sidle. Did you say you know where she is?"

Eyeing the mysterious man she inquired, "Are you a client?"

"Am I a client?" He tilted his head while he pondered her question.

"Yeah." Wiggling her painted-on brows she said, "Sara…and I only know her name because I got a piece of her mail once, she's an odd one to figure out. Never talks to any of us in the building. Never smiles or waves. Mr. Klein in 367 thinks she's a real bitch."

Lowering her voice Roxie said, "Sara works nights and sometimes she doesn't return for days at a time. She's obviously in the biz." Leaning against the wall, her tone turned curious. "You're the first guy I've ever seen come to her door." Eyeing him closely she repeated her original assumption. "I'm thinking you're her client. What did she cut you off and now you're stalking her?"

"I'm sorry." Baffled by the woman's comments he tried to get clarification. "I'm not her client. What exactly do you think Sara does for a living?"

Pulling out a cigarette Roxie was eager to gossip. "Got a light?"

"Sorry, I don't smoke." Mesmerized he watched her fish out a sparkly silver lighter from her furry fuchsia purse and with a shaky hand fire up her Kools.

"Here's my theory..." Pausing she took a lengthy drag. "There's no way she's a stripper because she doesn't have the rack. Take it from me, you don't survive on stage in this town without the goods; you know what I mean?" Shimmying she emphasized her point. "And no way is she a hooker because she doesn't have the people skills. Nah, I figure there's only one thing a frosty chick like Sara would be good at in this town." Nodding she revealed her conclusion. "Dominatrix." A mischievous grin sprouted on her face. "Yeah, I bet she's real good at it too. I can picture her dressed in leather and cracking a whip. Can't you?"

Grissom stuttered an incoherent reply. "I…she…"

"If she's any good she's working for Lady Heather. Maybe you should check there. Her place is on…"

Holding up his hand he stopped her. "I…I'm familiar with Lady Heather's."

Now it was Roxie's turn to be stunned. "You're a regular at Lady Heather's?"

Clearing his throat he quickly dispelled her latest theory. "No, I've never been a customer of Lady Heather's. I was a Crime Scene Investigator there a couple of times. I work for the Las Vegas Police Department."

"Ah! That makes much more sense." Chuckling she flicked her cigarette to the floor, stomping it with her slinky shoe. "Stay away from Lady Heather's, that place isn't for you, honey. The last thing an uptight, stressed-out, mid-life crisis guy like you needs is domination." Tossing him a wink she finished her analysis. "What you need is liberation!"

Amused, he jokingly replied, "Thank you for the psychoanalysis, Dr. Roxie. I feel like I should pay you." Her assessment couldn't have been more accurate.

"Well, I used to charge $200 an hour for time on my couch." Snickering she teased. "Of course I'm retired now but for the right price I …wait…did you say you were LVPD? I was only kidding."

"I'm not a cop, I'm a scientist. And while I'm sure time on your couch would be enlightening to any man, what I really need is information about Sara." Pointing to Sara's door he re-directed the conversation. "Can you tell me how you knew Sara wouldn't answer?"

Pleased she wouldn't be going to the slammer for solicitation again, Roxie eagerly complied. "I saw her leaving with a suitcase early this morning."

Relieved that Sara was out of town and not in danger, he relaxed. Unfortunately the moment of relief didn't last long when he considered she might be out of town with Mike. "Was she with anyone?"

"No."

The relief was back.

"But when I ran down the hall to spy, I saw her get into a truck with some guy."

Relief gone, Grissom's gut twisted at the thought of Sara on vacation with Mike...even if he wasn't a murderer…even if he wasn't a jay walker. "What did the guy look like and what was he driving?"

"He was a real looker." Smiling, her eyes sparkled. "Dark hair, strong jaw, nice bod, really big shoulders. Drove one of those big SUVs…dark green I think."

So while he was the 'uptight, stressed-out, mid-life crisis guy' in Roxie's eyes, Mike was Superman. First a Lady Heather reminder and now the humiliating comparison with Mike. What next Grissom wondered? Was Mr. Klein in 367 going to pants him? "Ms. Delacroix, did you happen to get a license plate?"

"No, I was focusing on the hunk, not the truck."

"Of course you were."

"Hey! Just because the mare is old doesn't mean she can't appreciate a stallion."

His worst fears confirmed, Grissom continued his line of questioning with a weaker voice. "How did Sara look?"

"Plain as usual."

How could anyone think Sara is plain, he wondered? She's beautiful. Of course if Roxie's idea of beauty was neon makeup and pink faux fur, from her point of view Sara would appear plain. "I mean did she look happy or did she look distressed?"

Chuckling again, Roxie answered, "Well I would have expected her to look a hell of a lot happier driving away with that hunk, god knows I would have, but she looked…she looked like she always looked…kinda blah. He, on the other hand, looked real happy. He jumped to get her suitcase and open her door…real eager to please. So I figured she was working and he was being submissive…"

Grissom's voice softened. "Ms. Delacroix, just so you know, Sara isn't involved in any illegal activity and she's not a stripper, a hooker or a dominatrix. Like me, she's a member of the Crime Lab…a very valuable member. Although she may not make a contribution to this building, she's making one to the city every day. So, in the future, when you or Mr. Klein see her coming home exhausted after a long shift try not to judge her silence. Take it from me, it's hard to make small talk when you've spent the last twelve hours analyzing a crime scene hoping to gather enough evidence to catch the animal who raped and killed a child. Sara's a wonderful person with a heart full of compassion for the victims she helps. Most days she has a lot of weight on her shoulders and she's not always good with people."

Sighing, Roxie said, "Well, when people don't share anything about themselves you have no choice but to fill in the blanks."

"Thanks for your help." Walking away, Roxie's parting comment haunted him. How many of his blanks had curious people filled in over the years? How far from the truth were there assumptions? Would the truth be worse than what they've imagined? Deciding he had no time to think about himself, he focused on the task at hand…discovering the truth about Mike Rodgers.

Perched atop the 9000 foot summit, Sara absorbed the spectacular view of the pristine lake twinkling below her. Surrounded by Lodge Pole Pine Trees and twittering birds she couldn't imagine there was a more peaceful place in the world. It was a far cry from the incessant noise and blinding neon of Vegas.

Handing Sara a water bottle, Mike loomed over her. On the way up the mountain bike trail she had mentioned feeling a bit dizzy. "Is the altitude still bothering you?"

"No, I'm feeling much better." Blissful from the scenery, she sighed. "I don't think it's the altitude. I think the problem is I spend too much time at work and not enough time at the gym. I used to work out five days a week. Now I'm lucky if I go once."

Taking a seat beside her, Mike shook his head. "So…you don't get much sleep, your idea of a balanced vegetarian diet is chocolate and pancakes and now I find out you don't exercise. You have to take better care of yourself, Sara. You'll have more energy on the job if you're rested and healthy. You need to get more sleep, hit the gym at least four times a week, up your soy protein intake and cut down on the sugar and caffeine."

"You sound like a personal trainer." Teasing she said, "Should I drop and give you twenty right here?"

"I prefer life coach and no, save your energy for the ride down." Taking her hand he pulled her to her feet. "Are you sure you'll be okay riding? Some of the terrain is tricky and I wouldn't want you to get hurt."

"Don't worry about me, I'll be fine. "Anxious to prove her ability, she reached for her helmet and joked. "Besides, when you're going down a mountain the laws of physics are on your side."

Grinning he asked, "Gravity? As you plunge over the edge? I'm not a scientist so maybe I can't see the benefits."

"I was thinking of momentum." Snapping her helmet strap she teased. "But thanks for planting the death thoughts in my head…and you're supposed to be a relaxing influence?" Hopping on her bike she took off. "Last one down buys lunch."

Mike mounted his bike then paused to watch her hurriedly navigate the bumps ahead. "I said you need to learn to relax, Sara, not be reckless!" They had been warned by the bike rental place that the trail was steep in some places and several careless people die on it every year. Hurrying after her, he called, "Really, you have to slow down you're making me tense!"