Chapter 14

Wendy Blake somberly led Catherine and Brass through the house toward her deceased sister's bedroom. Unable to enter the room herself, she pointed. "Mr. Grissom is right in there."

Brass motioned for Catherine to go ahead. "Mrs. Blake, I need to ask you a few questions. It won't take long." The scent of banana bread overwhelmed him, bringing back distant memories of his grandmother's house on Christmas morning.

"Can we sit in the kitchen? I have to keep an eye on the oven."

Thrilled to get closer to the tantalizing aromas overwhelming his nose, Brass was more than happy to oblige. "Certainly." What a contrast to his kitchen, where the only smell that ever floated in the air was the stench of a garbage can in need of dumping.

Wendy forced a smile. "I bake when I'm stressed. Would you like some banana bread, Captain Brass?"

Pleased as dog offered a juicy bone, he masked his excitement and kindly replied, "If it will put you at ease, I'd be more than happy to have a slice while we chat."

From the doorway, Catherine studied Grissom kneeling over a bloody jacket displayed on a clean white sheet. He was so still she wasn't sure if she should call his name or check his pulse. "Gil…" The last couple of days he teetered on the verge of neurosis and this day didn't look like it was going any better for him. "Gil..." When he didn't reply she stepped in the room and tapped his shoulder. "Gil…"

Startled, he grabbed his chest.

"Sorry. Didn't you hear me calling you?" Eyeing him with concern, she asked, "Are your ears okay?"

Happy to see her, his expression warmed. "I was lost in thought."He motioned for her to join him on the floor.

Catherine knelt beside him. "So what are we doing here? Brass wouldn't tell me anything…said you didn't want me to know."

Standing Grissom said, "I want you to look at this jacket with unbiased eyes. The only thing you need to know is the victim, a twenty year old female, one-hundred ten pounds, five foot four, was reported to have sustained a fatal head injury while hiking and wearing this jacket."

Always ready for a puzzle, Catherine leaned over the jacket. "They don't make jackets like this anymore. "After scrutinizing the blood spatter for several minutes she gave her analysis. "Blood drops between three and four millimeters, indicates medium-velocity impact. The direction of the spatter shows the vic was hit from behind with the strike in a downward motion." Floating her index finger above the stains she talked her way through the action. "Here is the spatter from the initial impact and this is a trail left when the object, dripping with her blood was moving away from her."

On edge, Grissom impatiently waited for her conclusion.

Catherine leaned in closer. "There's something else. More drips. Much lower velocity. Different impact angle. I'm thinking…"

Kneeling beside her, he watched her eyes and knew, she saw the same thing he did.

"..these drips don't belong to the vic. Whoever hit her, cut themselves on the object they used to strike her." Turning to Grissom, she said, "Accident happened while hiking, right? I'm thinking a sharp rock. We won't know for sure until we examine the body."

His heart sinking, he quietly replied, "That's what I was thinking."

The mystery getting to her, Catherine asked, "What's the official story?"

"Girl fell while hiking and hit her head on a rock."

"Yeah and I'm a virgin." Cocking her head, she asked, "Is this some kind of field test? What the hell are we doing here? Whose house is this and who is the vic?" Taking a deep breath she added, "And what smells so damn good in that kitchen?"

"The vic is Samantha Hatcher. This was her parents' house and now it belongs to her sister, Wendy Blake. She's woman who let you in and it's her banana bread you smell. I came here chasing a wild goose and found a murder." Anger crept into his voice. "The vic, Samantha Hatcher, died while hiking with her boyfriend…Mike Rodgers."

Catherine's eyes widened as the implication resonated.

Before Catherine could reply, Grissom delivered the next blow. "Samantha died twelve hours after Mike Rodgers raped her sister, Wendy." Contemptuously he spat out, "And four days later, when he cornered Wendy, he bragged about killing Samantha.

Covering her mouth Catherine murmured, "My God…"

Watching her horrified reaction only deepened the fear growing inside him. "So now we know Mike lost his girlfriend in a hiking accident in 1981 and lost his wife in a boating accident in 2003. Makes you wonder what he got away with in between and what he's looking forward to accomplishing."

Until now she was certain he was paranoid and acting out of fear of losing Sara. "It's not in your head."

Turning his gaze to the floor he responded. "I wish it was but the evidence suggests otherwise."

She could only imagine the devastation Sara would feel but at least Grissom was able to spare her any further pain or worse yet...harm. Dizzy from the details she whispered, "What did Sara say when you told her?"

The question was a harsh reminder that Sara was still unreachable and possibly in imminent danger. Mustering the strength, Grissom replied, "I couldn't tell her."

"What? Why not?" Now was not the time to play shy.

"She's out of town most likely with…" The corner of his mouth twitched. "…him."

Jumping to her feet, Catherine yelled, "Page her! Call her cell!"

"She left her pager in my office when she was suspended and her cell isn't working…I've tried dozens of times. I left an urgent message on her machine but she hasn't called back." Standing up, Grissom steadied himself against the wall. "Catherine, I have no idea where she is. I went to her apartment looking for her. Her neighbor told me she saw Sara, with a guy matching Mike's description, getting into a truck. Sara had suitcase so she was going somewhere. She could be anywhere. I'd like to believe she's not with him but it seems pretty clear that's the case."

The torment in his voice affected her deeply and compelled her to find a solution to the problem. "Okay…okay…let's think about this." Hands on her hips she paced the room. "Maybe she's at his place?"

"I got his address and checked it out before you arrived here." Shaking his head he informed her of the disappointing news. "His neighbor saw me at the door and told me that Mike had asked him to grab his newspapers because he was going out of town."

"We'll track his credit cards!"

"I can't get a subpoena to access his records until we process this jacket, get an official statement from Mrs. Blake and get a warrant."

"Nick!" Reaching for her cell phone, she punched in his speed dial code. "He's friends with both of them. He introduced Mike to Sara and…." Shaking her head as the phone rang she knew Nick would never forgive himself for setting Sara up. Glancing over at Grissom she knew Nick's guilt wouldn't be his only problem. "Voice mail. I'll leave a message."

Knocking on Sara's door, Mike couldn't wait to see her and when she appeared, his eyes lit up. "Hey, I was heading down to the hot tub and was hoping you would join me." Smirking he teased, "You have to be pretty sore from that bike ride today so I think it would feel good to…"

Stoically, Sara replied, "Sorry…I don't do public hot tubs."

Feeling sorry for her, he wondered, how repressed could she be? Sympathetically he whispered, "Is this a bathing suit thing? Too shy?"

"Too knowledgeable." Chuckling she explained, "I've swabbed many hot tubs in my lifetime."

Certain he could alleviate her concerns he countered, "This isn't The Pussycat Motel, Sara. It's a really nice place; I'm sure they put chemicals in there and keep it clean. It looked spotless when I walked by it earlier."

Rolling her eyes she enlightened the naive man on her doorstep. "Yeah, well IF they get the chemicals right it helps the water but it doesn't help what lurks above the water line or on the perimeter and lots of people are quite active on the perimeter if you get my drift. Oh and just because something looks spotless to the eye doesn't mean it's not crawling with DNA deposits." At ease with her paranoia she added, "I'm not using the comforter either; it brings me no comfort to touch something that's only cleaned once a month. Too bad I didn't bring my ALS I could give you a light show."

Masking his disappointment he sweetly replied, "You can take the girl out of the lab…

"…but she's still a germ-phobe." An unstoppable yawn interrupted the conversation. "Sorry…I know it's only five but I'm really tired from today. I think I'm going to catch up on that sleep you said I so desperately needed."

While cursing himself for telling her to sleep more, he smiled. "You'll need it for the hike I have planned tomorrow."

"Thanks for the warning." Returning his friendly smile she began shutting the door. "Good night."

"Night." Tonight was obviously not the night she would loosen up but there were several days left, which he figured would be more than enough time. Until then, he would savor the pursuit.

At the kitchen table, Grissom sat next to Wendy Blake making an impassioned plea. "I know the idea of exhuming your sister's body is…"

"Horrifying! It's…I can't even imagine…" Sniffling into a tissue she pushed the exhumation paperwork away. "My mother didn't want an autopsy, if she knew I was even considering this…"

Brass had warned him before he left that it would be a battle to get Wendy to agree but Grissom kept trying. "Without your sister's remains we only have the jacket and your hearsay about events that happened over twenty years ago." Trying to remain calm, he stayed factual. "I've been down this road before, the DA won't go to trial, your sister won't get the justice she deserves and you won't get the peace of mind that you need."

Looking up from her wad of tissues, Wendy made another confession. "My husband knows my sister died and how it devastated my family to the point where we kept all her belongings locked in a room. He doesn't know what I told you. If I proceed with this investigation, my secrets will come out. What will he think of me if he finds out what a coward I was…that I let my sister's killer walk away…that I have known who it was all these years? What if he thinks I'm a horrible person?"

"I don't know your husband so I can't answer that question. "Grissom knew people though. When the going gets tough sometimes loved ones chose to get going rather than stay and deal with the drama. "You'll have to decide if telling your secret is worth the risk."

Quivering, Wendy whispered, "I can't lose my family. They're my life. After my sister's death I spent years hiding. I buried myself in my work. I had no personal life. I came home from work and locked the door keeping everyone and everything outside. I had lost enough and caused enough pain; I never wanted to be vulnerable again."

Drawn to the desperation flickering in Wendy's eyes, Grissom leaned in and curiously asked, "After everything you went through, what made you take a chance back then?" Maybe, if she remembered, she could use the same reasoning to take one today. Maybe if she told him he could use the same reasoning to eventually take one himself.

A nostalgic grin burst through Wendy's sadness. "It didn't happen overnight and it wouldn't have happened at all if it weren't for my husband's persistence. My husband…well at the time he was my co-worker. We worked nights at UC Davis Medical Center in Sacramento. I was a nurse in the burn unit. Paul was a security guard…"

"Sorry to interrupt." Catherine walked over to the table. "I'm all done in the bedroom and everything is packed up." She assumed Grissom's irritated scowl meant he was having no luck on the exhumation paperwork. "I'm heading back to the lab to get started."

Before Grissom could reply, the back door of the house flew open and a man wearing a suit rushed in. "Wendy!"

"Paul!" Wendy jumped out of her chair.

Frantically the breathless man eyed his wife. "You're okay." Rushing over, he threw his arms around her and closed his eyes. "Thank God you're not hurt."

"I'm fine…just very emotional." Relaxing into her husband's loving embrace she suddenly felt foolish for worrying about his reaction to her dark secrets. After all, it was his patient and compassionate heart that allowed her to take a risk on love years ago and she was certain that same patient and compassionate heart would be there if she took the risk Mr. Grissom was requesting.

Catherine and Grissom watched the emotional scene with longing…she longing for what she used to have and missed, and he longing for what he never had and desperately wanted.

Paul clung to his wife. "Linda called my cell and told me you dropped off the kids hours ago and then when I was parking, the neighbor said the police were here. What's going on?" His attention turning to the strangers in the room, he frantically asked, "Who are these people?"

Grissom stood up next to Catherine. "I'm Gil Grissom and this is Catherine Willows, we're from the Crime Lab. We were talking to your wife about a cold case." Not wanting to alarm the distraught man or put Wendy in a tough spot, he added, "We're questioning a lot people who were students at UNLV in 1981. Your wife is not in any trouble we were hoping she could help us but I'm not sure she can." Pleading with his eyes he hoped she'd change her mind.

"Mr. Grissom." Wendy slipped out of her husband's heartfelt hug and picked up the pen lying on the table. "Unlike the first time, I know I'll have the support I need. I also know I can trust you to handle my sister's body with the utmost respect." Confidently she signed the paper. Then, after momentarily glancing at her husband she turned back and said, "I'll finally be able to bring my sister the justice she deserves." Handingover the paperwork she quietly asked, "Now if you'll excuse us, I have a lot of blanks to fill in for my very confused husband."

"Certainly." Catherine replied before heading for the back door.

Grissom took the paperwork. "Thank you."

Wendy shook her head. "No." Smiling through a fresh string of tears she whispered, "Thank you."

As he reached the door, Grissom looked back at the couple walking arm in arm toward the living room. Still curious about Wendy's story and how Paul finally got her to risk her heart, he sighed. Then again, did the details of the story really matter when the ending was so clear?