I Forgot To Tell You
Chapter Seven
Thanks: Thank you sooooooooo much to all my wonderful betas! I get tired mentioning all your names, but you know who you are! I love you!! Author's notes: So it looks like this is going to round out to around ten chapters, although I could be wrong. The next four chapters, then, will be the most eventful. So hang in there, we're in for a wild ride. Or a somewhat wild ride. Or whatever.
He was still there with her three hours later. The small space of the apartment was starting to suffocate her, the walls felt like they were caving in. She stood from her spot on the couch for what was probably the third time in ten minutes and paced the floor of the kitchen.
"Something wrong?" he asked, staring at her as she ran her fingers through her hair.
"No. Just..." She sighed. "I'm feeling a little bit cooped up in here, is all." She didn't want to tell him that she sometimes got claustrophobic, that her tiny apartment made her sweaty and short of breath on nights when she couldn't think of anything better to do than to sit around and watch TV.
He stood and walked over to her, placing a hand on either of her shoulders. "I'd suggest we go outside, but it's been pouring all afternoon." He looked at her, concern etching his face. "Just breathe. Do you want to walk up and down the hallway? Or, we could go outside, take an umbrella, maybe?"
She shook her head. "No, no. I'll be fine. Just..." He was staring her right in the eyes and she felt her knees getting weak.
"Breathe..." he said, pressing down harder on her shoulders. His fingers lightly massaged the exposed skin beside the straps of her tank top.
"Just keep doing that," she finished, closing her eyes and exhaling deeply in relaxation. "That feels really good." He smiled slightly and leaned in closer, staring at her face in absolute fascination.
She could feel his heart beating underneath where her hand lay, and his breath on her face let her know he was closer. She opened her eyes, noticing that he had stopped stroking her shoulder with his index finger, and smiled.
"Feel better?" he asked, pulling her body against his.
She just murmured softly and watched as his face came closer to hers, his eyes widened and he leaned into her. The haze that always surrounded him was getting bigger now, and she was getting that feeling down in her chest like she always did when he came too close. A deep burning down near her ribs, right in the center of them. It didn't exactly hurt, it didn't exactly feel good, but it was there, nonetheless, and he was the reason why.
They were interrupted by the ringing of the telephone. Sara jumped, Grissom stayed completely still. "Let it ring," he said, running his fingers through her hair. She sighed.
"No, no, I have to get this." She really did have to get it. No one ever called her besides Grissom unless it was an emergency. She wondered what could be wrong as she made her way to the corner of the room. None of her colleagues had gotten hurt at a crime scene, because it was only twelve noon. Maybe someone from the day shift? She picked up the phone and forgot to clear her throat, allowing a squeaky, barely audible voice to come out. "Hello?"
"Sara?" the voice asked. She remembered that voice.
"Yeah, yeah it's me." She shifted her eyes over to where Grissom was standing, leaning against the couch effortlessly, watching her. "What's wrong, Michelle?" She really didn't want to talk to her right now, not when she and Grissom had been so close...
"Nothing. Well, something." For the first time Sara noticed Michelle's voice was thick with emotion or something else, making it sound gravelly. "I...I have some information about the case." She started crying.
"What?! Oh, OK." Sara tried her best to compose herself. "Um, alright. What is it?" She sat down in the chair beside where she was standing and ran a hand over her face.
"I know where the knife is, I know where Harry stashed it." She was still crying. "I'll tell you, but you have to promise me you're going to process the evidence as quickly as possible. He's planning on running tomorrow morning."
"You're kidding me."
"No. He's afraid you'll get him for this, so he's running; tomorrow at nine he's leaving. You have got to get the knife, process the evidence - his prints should be all over it- and convict him before he runs. Please, Sara..." She could hear her tears through the phone. "I don't want him to take me anywhere, but if he runs I have no choice. Please."
"Just tell me where the knife is, Michelle, and I promise I'll do everything I can," Sara said, and caught Grissom's head shooting up out of the corner of her eye.
Michelle took a deep breath. "It's in the office. Right behind Leah's desk there's a rug. Underneath the exact middle of the rug, you'll find a loose board. Pull up on the loose board, dig around a little with your hand, and you'll find it." She exhaled roughly. "Please, just..." She stopped.
"Just what?" Sara asked, then listened to the hushed whisper on the other end of the line.
"Damn it, he's coming," Michelle said. "I thought he was asleep but he's coming down the stairs. I've got to go-"
She hung up. Sara took a deep breath and hung up as well, then turned to Grissom with two raised eyebrows. "We've got to go back to the crime scene, Gris. We missed some evidence."
He took his jacket and followed her out the door, not even bothering to ask any questions.
The knife was exactly where Michelle had said it would be, underneath a loose floor board, hidden by a large blue rug. Sara knew Grissom had been skeptical as to whether or not Michelle had been telling the truth, but she had not.
It took Sara all that day, all that night, and part of the morning to process the blood and fingerprints on the knife. The fingerprints were easy; she just dusted, then gave it to the computer to search for a match to Harry. When it found one, she went straight to the next stage of the processing. And when Greg reported to her that the blood was Leah's, she started to sob without shame. Her shoulders shook and she covered her face with two gloved hands.
"Thanks Greg," Grissom said for her, and put a hand on the small of her back, leading her out the door. Once out in the hallway, he got on his cell phone. "Brass," he said simply, walking to the door and motioning for Sara to follow. "Get your team together. We've got a murderer who's going to try and run in about half of an hour." His eyes locked with hers. "Here's the address..."
Thanks: Thank you sooooooooo much to all my wonderful betas! I get tired mentioning all your names, but you know who you are! I love you!! Author's notes: So it looks like this is going to round out to around ten chapters, although I could be wrong. The next four chapters, then, will be the most eventful. So hang in there, we're in for a wild ride. Or a somewhat wild ride. Or whatever.
He was still there with her three hours later. The small space of the apartment was starting to suffocate her, the walls felt like they were caving in. She stood from her spot on the couch for what was probably the third time in ten minutes and paced the floor of the kitchen.
"Something wrong?" he asked, staring at her as she ran her fingers through her hair.
"No. Just..." She sighed. "I'm feeling a little bit cooped up in here, is all." She didn't want to tell him that she sometimes got claustrophobic, that her tiny apartment made her sweaty and short of breath on nights when she couldn't think of anything better to do than to sit around and watch TV.
He stood and walked over to her, placing a hand on either of her shoulders. "I'd suggest we go outside, but it's been pouring all afternoon." He looked at her, concern etching his face. "Just breathe. Do you want to walk up and down the hallway? Or, we could go outside, take an umbrella, maybe?"
She shook her head. "No, no. I'll be fine. Just..." He was staring her right in the eyes and she felt her knees getting weak.
"Breathe..." he said, pressing down harder on her shoulders. His fingers lightly massaged the exposed skin beside the straps of her tank top.
"Just keep doing that," she finished, closing her eyes and exhaling deeply in relaxation. "That feels really good." He smiled slightly and leaned in closer, staring at her face in absolute fascination.
She could feel his heart beating underneath where her hand lay, and his breath on her face let her know he was closer. She opened her eyes, noticing that he had stopped stroking her shoulder with his index finger, and smiled.
"Feel better?" he asked, pulling her body against his.
She just murmured softly and watched as his face came closer to hers, his eyes widened and he leaned into her. The haze that always surrounded him was getting bigger now, and she was getting that feeling down in her chest like she always did when he came too close. A deep burning down near her ribs, right in the center of them. It didn't exactly hurt, it didn't exactly feel good, but it was there, nonetheless, and he was the reason why.
They were interrupted by the ringing of the telephone. Sara jumped, Grissom stayed completely still. "Let it ring," he said, running his fingers through her hair. She sighed.
"No, no, I have to get this." She really did have to get it. No one ever called her besides Grissom unless it was an emergency. She wondered what could be wrong as she made her way to the corner of the room. None of her colleagues had gotten hurt at a crime scene, because it was only twelve noon. Maybe someone from the day shift? She picked up the phone and forgot to clear her throat, allowing a squeaky, barely audible voice to come out. "Hello?"
"Sara?" the voice asked. She remembered that voice.
"Yeah, yeah it's me." She shifted her eyes over to where Grissom was standing, leaning against the couch effortlessly, watching her. "What's wrong, Michelle?" She really didn't want to talk to her right now, not when she and Grissom had been so close...
"Nothing. Well, something." For the first time Sara noticed Michelle's voice was thick with emotion or something else, making it sound gravelly. "I...I have some information about the case." She started crying.
"What?! Oh, OK." Sara tried her best to compose herself. "Um, alright. What is it?" She sat down in the chair beside where she was standing and ran a hand over her face.
"I know where the knife is, I know where Harry stashed it." She was still crying. "I'll tell you, but you have to promise me you're going to process the evidence as quickly as possible. He's planning on running tomorrow morning."
"You're kidding me."
"No. He's afraid you'll get him for this, so he's running; tomorrow at nine he's leaving. You have got to get the knife, process the evidence - his prints should be all over it- and convict him before he runs. Please, Sara..." She could hear her tears through the phone. "I don't want him to take me anywhere, but if he runs I have no choice. Please."
"Just tell me where the knife is, Michelle, and I promise I'll do everything I can," Sara said, and caught Grissom's head shooting up out of the corner of her eye.
Michelle took a deep breath. "It's in the office. Right behind Leah's desk there's a rug. Underneath the exact middle of the rug, you'll find a loose board. Pull up on the loose board, dig around a little with your hand, and you'll find it." She exhaled roughly. "Please, just..." She stopped.
"Just what?" Sara asked, then listened to the hushed whisper on the other end of the line.
"Damn it, he's coming," Michelle said. "I thought he was asleep but he's coming down the stairs. I've got to go-"
She hung up. Sara took a deep breath and hung up as well, then turned to Grissom with two raised eyebrows. "We've got to go back to the crime scene, Gris. We missed some evidence."
He took his jacket and followed her out the door, not even bothering to ask any questions.
The knife was exactly where Michelle had said it would be, underneath a loose floor board, hidden by a large blue rug. Sara knew Grissom had been skeptical as to whether or not Michelle had been telling the truth, but she had not.
It took Sara all that day, all that night, and part of the morning to process the blood and fingerprints on the knife. The fingerprints were easy; she just dusted, then gave it to the computer to search for a match to Harry. When it found one, she went straight to the next stage of the processing. And when Greg reported to her that the blood was Leah's, she started to sob without shame. Her shoulders shook and she covered her face with two gloved hands.
"Thanks Greg," Grissom said for her, and put a hand on the small of her back, leading her out the door. Once out in the hallway, he got on his cell phone. "Brass," he said simply, walking to the door and motioning for Sara to follow. "Get your team together. We've got a murderer who's going to try and run in about half of an hour." His eyes locked with hers. "Here's the address..."