A.N. I'm going to try and get into more of the background after this.
Thanks everyone for the excellent feedback. I really appreciate. Please let me know what you think of this chapter, because I'm not entirely happy with this story right now, though I'm not sure exactly why.
Cause and Effect: Chapter four
Las Vegas, 2005
"So do you want the good news or the bad news?"
Sara glared witheringly at Greg across the table, irritation and immense sleep deprivation more than evident in her posture. "You know, we got you out of DNA for a reason, Greg. Spit it out".
He lifted his brow, sensing the necessity to quickly appease her. "Okay, okay. Gee, crabby, much? The good news is that Hodges can trace the hairs we found on the bed back to one male suspect, Alex Townsend. The bad news is-"
"-He slept there the night before", Sara finished tetchily. "So that doesn't prove anything".
He nodded, anxiously chewing on his lower lip. They were stumped on this case and Grissom and Sara were taking it unusually hard. He knew they resented letting any case go cold, but their fixation on this one in particular was… well, weird.
He cleared his throat, clearing away the crime scene photographs spread out in front of him. "There's one thing that's off to me", he admitted, fingering the edge of one photo absently as he scrunched his brow. "Our victim has multiple bruises and abrasions, suggesting she fought with the guy. But why aren't there any epitheliales or blood under her fingernails?"
Sara's head slowly lifted, and she fixed him a long strange look that started to make him feel uncomfortable with its intensity.
"What?" he yipped defensively.
She closed her eyes. "He cleaned under her fingernails", she muttered slowly, clenching her jaw at the realization.
Greg hesitated. "Okay", he said carefully. "So what does that mean? He knows that we can trace him that way. He knows a little about forensics. We've dealt with killers like that before, right?"
She glanced at him sharply, clutching the edge of the table so tightly her knuckles turned white under the pressure. "Right", she echoed hastily. "But it makes it ten times harder for us to trace him".
Greg glanced at her askance, biting his lip as he debated within himself whether or not to ask her something else. For some reason, he got the feeling it was going to upset her. "Um, what about… Alex Townsend?" he prompted tentatively. "He's a forensics professor, right? Doesn't this just make him a more viable suspect?"
Sara pursed her lips in a hard-pressed line. "Of course it does", she snapped impatiently. "But he knows the police would come straight to him. He was in that room with her all night".
"Maybe that's what he was counting on", Greg said softly. "That we would assume that was why and he would get away with it".
Sara's eyes darkened uncharacteristically and she glared at him. "Nothing is that easy, Greg. I thought you would have learnt that by now".
He frowned at her disbelievingly, fed up with her odd behaviour. She had never used her seniority to insult him before, and he resented being offended just because she was in some pissy mood.
"And I can't believe I have to tell you that if we have a suspect, we run with it", he snapped edgily. "I'm not assuming anything, Sara. You're just telling me there's no way he did it, without giving me an explanation behind it. You really think I haven't noticed you have some personal investment in this case? What the hell is your problem?"
"Do I need to break up something in here?" a cold, male voice interrupted brusquely.
Greg whipped around, heart hammering unsteadily in his chest, as Grissom stared back at them in the doorway, blue eyes narrowed dangerously. Grissom could be one scary guy when he was defending Sara.
Greg cleared his throat, feeling his palms sweat profusely. Sara had fallen quiet, glancing steadily at some unseen spot on the floor, and he wiped his hands on his lab coat, clenching his jaw forcefully.
"No", he said tightly, unwilling to face down the boss. "Nothing".
Grissom lifted a terse eyebrow, nodding slowly. "Good. Jacqui's finished with the prints we pulled from the nightstand. I want to know if any of them are probative."
Greg clenched his nails against his skin as he stuffed his balled up fists into his pockets. "Fine", he said abruptly, knowing a cue when he got one.
He stalked swiftly past them, heading towards the print lab.
If Grissom and Sara seriously thought the rest of them hadn't realised there was something going on by now, they really weren't the crack investigators he thought they were.
The stiffness in Sara's stance didn't diminish after Greg angrily left the room, and she reluctantly lifted her gaze to meet Grissom's, unconsciously folding her arms tightly across her midsection, grateful the table acted as a tangible barrier between them.
"Do I need to know what that was about?" he asked slowly, eyeing her warily.
She bristled at his irritation, wondering what the hell he had to possibly be angry about. "No", she snapped briskly.
As soon as she had yelled at Greg, she had immediately regretted it. At times it felt like he was her only ally on the graveshift, and she valued the friendship he offered her. She didn't want to loose it.
She was letting this case affect her too personally. She knew it, and Greg had bluntly pointed it out. He was right. She was invested in this. She thought she had forgotten about all that happened back in San Francisco, but clearly she was wrong.
"It's just been a tough shift, that's all", she muttered, glancing away again and deflating noticeably.
She could feel Grissom's eyes on her, and he paused in the doorway, watching her uncertainly. "Sara… maybe you should consider removing yourself from this case", he uttered slowly.
Her eyes darted up at him, and he immediately knew it had been a mistake.
"A day ago you were telling me not to rehash the past", she said angrily. "And now you're telling me to get off the case?"
"Whether or not you want to admit it, it's obviously affecting you…"
"I am not listening to this", Sara said flatly. "If you can stay on the case, then so can I, Grissom".
He stared at her, and she stared right back, a challenging, unflinching glare that reminded him of the old fire she had possessed, and that had somehow become snuffed slowly over the years. He swallowed, realising he hadn't even noticed its absence until now.
"Okay", he said slowly, lowering his voice unconsciously, in the smooth, velvety tone he used to soothe her. "I have to interview a few of Al—Townsend's colleagues at the UNLV campus. Do you want to come?"
She stared back at him a moment, and in that single moment he wished he could somehow protect her from this, prevent her from immersing herself in something that had the ability to destroy her.
At last, she nodded. "Sure".
It was complete and utter déjà vu.
Sara glanced sideways at Grissom as they shifted gradually through the clusters of students roving the auditorium, and she knew he was thinking it too.
She found her eyes seeking out their individual faces, cheerful, blissful youths unaware of the multitude of dangers that lurked around them. She sighed deeply, manoeuvring around a young pimply guy who scanned her over briefly; giving her what she was sure was intended to be an alluring smile.
She rolled her eyes, smirking slightly, and followed Grissom down the aisle towards the front of the room.
The audience seats were positioned on a downward slope, and the stage was a small, lowered structure at its base. A modern electronic projector had been positioned from the ceiling, and a blank, white screen overhung the rear wall of the stage.
According to the sign posted out the front, the special forensics workshop was being held over several more weeks, and today's schedule included various guest lecturers.
Alex Townsend was the head of the workshop, and three other university staff members aided under him.
Sara couldn't help but gaze around for the professor, who appeared to be absent. If there were guest speakers scheduled for the day, she supposed there was no reason for him to be there.
Hovering over the timber podium was an old, balding man with a woollen, knitted vest and dark rimmed glasses hanging from a thread around his neck, jiggling slightly when he moved. He was nervously studying an assortment of notes, absently wiping his hands on his slacks every few seconds.
Grissom glanced back at Sara as he reached the base of the small stage, and she couldn't resist the small smile that pulled at the corner of her lips.
To her surprise, he offered an absent, reminiscent smile in return, and she felt saddened when she realised what had changed between them since those days.
"Excuse me, are you Fred Turpin?"
The man glanced up, smiling nervously when he noted the LVPD IDs around their necks. "Y-yes. What can I do for you?"
"I'm Sara Sidle. This is Gil Grissom. We're from the Las Vegas Crime Lab. We want to ask you a few questions about Audrey Fraser", Sara said gently. She immediately felt sorry for him.
He frowned anxiously. "Audrey? She's… a student of mine. Well, she attends the workshop. Has… has something happened to her?"
Sara sighed grimly. "I'm sorry to have to tell you… that Audrey was found dead last night. We believe she was murdered".
Turpin lowered his hands to his sides, mouth opening slightly in surprise. "Oh, I'm… I'm very sorry to hear that. Do you have… any idea who might be… responsible?"
"That's what we're trying to find out, Mr. Turpin", Grissom spoke up quietly.
He shook his head, licking his lips disbelievingly. "Well, you expect things like this to happen in a city like this. But… Audrey was such a promising student…"
"Is she from Las Vegas, Mr. Turpin?" Sara asked carefully.
He sighed. "No, she transferred from NYU a year ago. She… well, she knew Las Vegas has the best crime lab in the country. Second only to Quantico, obviously." He cleared his throat, nervously. "A-As I'm sure you would know".
Sara smiled gently. "She sounds like she was very dedicated."
"Oh yes, she was", he agreed sadly.
"Did she have any enemies here, Mr. Turpin?" Grissom spoke up. "Perhaps any other students who were envious of her intelligence…"
Turpin shook his head. "Oh no. Not at all. She was quite popular. Very well liked by everyone at the workshop. No, I'm sure she had no enemies."
Sara bit her lip, fingering her sunglasses in her left hand as she glanced up at the jittery lecturer. "Mr. Turpin… were you aware that Audrey was in an intimate relationship with Alex Townsend?"
Turpin's Adam's apple bobbed unsteadily, and his eyes darted over both of them miserably. At last, he sighed. "It was d-difficult not to know. Professor Townsend isn't exactly… d-discrete", he admitted reluctantly.
Sara glanced down, sighing deeply.
"You aren't going to mention this to him, a-are you?" Turpin asked anxiously. "He is technically the head of this workshop and he has a lot of sway in the department. He… he can make life very difficult for me".
Grissom and Sara exchanged a glance, and Sara slowly shook her head, smiling at him with a reassuring compassion. "No. We won't mention it. So you didn't report this to anyone?"
He shook his head. "Like I said, he has a lot of influence. Nobody… who values their career… w-would aggravate Alex Townsend."
Grissom thanked him, and he nodded earnestly, quickly bowing his head to his notes again.
Sara and Grissom retreated to a quiet corner in the hall running behind the stage, glancing at each other uneasily.
"If Audrey wanted to break it off… she could have threatened to tell someone about their affair", Sara said slowly. "It would have ruined his reputation."
Grissom tightened his lips grimly. "Would he kill to prevent that?"
Sara closed her eyes, leaning wearily back against the wall. "He's gained a lot of power since we last saw him", she mused unhappily.
Grissom scowled dangerously. "And I'm sure he's getting away with much more than before".
She swallowed, glancing at him uncertainly. "Grissom, um… you know that if we have to accuse him… He could ruin our careers."
He glanced at her impassively, quickly glancing away again. "I know."
She nodded, looking down as well. "There's one thing that's holding me back from this. Alex is always very… involved with women. But he's never been violent with any of them".
Grissom glanced at her again. "You're saying he isn't capable of it?" he asked pointedly. He shook his head. "Look… there's a possibility he didn't do this. But if he did… we have to be prepared for it. And we can't… bias our investigation".
Her dark eyes flittered up to him, and she realised he had heard her previous argument with Greg. She ran a hand over her eyes. "This just seems too familiar, doesn't it?" she admitted softly.
Grissom sighed, looking distant. "Yeah", he muttered, after a while. "You could say that".
San Francisco, 1994
The sunlight instantly blinded her as Sara emerged from the San Francisco Crime Lab, and she indolently lowered her sunglasses over her eyes, instantly diffusing the harsh light. She slung her shoulder bag over her midsection, feeling her notebook press reassuringly into her side as started across the moderately congested parking lot.
She didn't have time to go home before the seminar started, and she found it unfortunate that she had been unable to attend the morning workshop. But her day off had been yesterday, and it wasn't often that she requested additional days off as well.
Please. You don't even call in sick. Just admit the real reason you're suddenly so tempted to play hookey.
She scoffed at the inner, nagging voice, pointedly ignoring it as she scanned the lot for her car.
You can memorise all the elements of the periodic table and you can't even remember where you park your car.
She slid between an old Ford and a newer model Merc – the sleek car her fellow CSI Dale Forrester frequently bragged about – and was oh so tempted to put a dint in the paint job just to allow herself one simple day of the week she wasn't incessantly reminded that he made more money than she did.
Dale had just achieved his CSI Level 3 certificate, and never relented in holding it over her head, when technically she had progressed rapidly to her own CSI level 2 status in the short year and a half she had been there, while he had taken the last seven years to get as far as he had.
She had paused fleetingly beside the vehicle, studying it pensively, when a low, male voice interrupted her thoughts.
"Considering a new car?"
She blinked, spinning abruptly in embarrassment, and her heart contracted unexpectedly at the familiar face that greeted her.
"Dr. Grissom."
He had his head tilted slightly to ward away the sun, and stood casually at the rear of the car, piercing blue eyes studying her with a hint of amusement. She swallowed, wondering at her inner reaction to the man.
What the hell, Sidle…
"Uh, no, actually I was considering an act of vandalism, but uh, you can just pretend you didn't hear about my criminal tendencies."
A small smirk pulled at the corner of his mouth, and she liked knowing that she had the ability to make him amused.
"I told you to call me Grissom, Sara", he reminded her patiently.
She blinked again, incomprehensively, and was infinitely thankful her sunglasses concealed her eyes, which were suddenly so fixated on betraying the fact that she did indeed have a brain.
"Right. Sorry." She glanced up at him curiously, suddenly remembering where they were. "So what brings you to the San Francisco Crime Lab?"
"Catching up with old acquaintances", he admitted ambiguously.
She tilted an eyebrow curiously, realising she must have missed him when she was in the lab. "Really? Anyone I would know?"
He smiled slightly. She wondered how old he was. He had a very young, earnest face, but she thought he was probably in his mid thirties, or a little older. "You should. He's your boss".
Her eyebrows rose to her hairline, and she inwardly cast her mid back to the day before, wondering if in their previous conversation she had uttered any offences against the man.
"You didn't mention… that you knew Chris", she said cautiously.
He eyed her in dry amusement. "I wouldn't worry. You didn't say anything incredibly unflattering. And I wouldn't have repeated it if you did."
She lifted a hand to the edge of her shades, sliding them off so she could regard him more closely. It was an unconscious gesture, but she felt like she was lowering some kind of defensive wall in the process, and her self-preservation instincts demanded to know what she was doing.
"Well, that's… probably good to know. We uh, tend to disagree a lot".
Understatement of the century.
If there was one thing Sara couldn't tolerate, it was a chauvinistic male. Chris Vanstone fit that title nicely. In her male-dominated line of work, it wasn't something she appreciated dealing with on a daily basis. But on her first day she had made her opinion of him more than clear, and ever since he had held a measure of respect for her, and they unanimously tolerated each other around other people.
It wasn't her fault if she had an occasional slip of the tongue.
Grissom smiled slightly, and she thought she saw a measure of unspoken sympathy in his gaze.
"Did you have any trouble getting your car home?"
She shook her head. "No. It was fine. Thanks for your help though".
"I didn't really do anything".
"It's the thought that counts, right? At least you stopped. Most people wouldn't have even bothered".
"It's a hazard of my job, I'm afraid", he said, smiling slightly. "Don't leave young women in peril".
An eyebrow shot up. "I was hardly in peril, you know".
"Well, it looked like it at the time".
She narrowed her eyes slightly, until she realised he was just teasing her.
"Well, I really should get to the university. The seminar can't exactly start without me".
Sara nodded slightly. "Right. I… should get going too".
"Perhaps I'll see you later then".
She couldn't resist the smile the lit up her pretty features, and he instantly smiled in return.
"Yeah. Maybe you will".