Cause and Effect: Chapter eleven
Las Vegas, 2005
Grissom stared at the familiar figure with an odd level of calm. His oily scalp was slick and shiny with perspiration, and his dull, narrowed eyes fixed on Grissom darkly. His features were long and hawklike and he clutched the revolver in his hand like a vice, directed staunchly at Grissom's head.
It wasn't the first time Grissom had had a gun pointed at his head. However the gunman had the element of surprise in his favour, and Grissom felt a faint flutter of unease well in his gut.
"What are you doing?"
Fred Turpin smiled humourlessly, and the anxiety that Grissom had previously observed in him was somewhat absent. Turpin stepped forward slightly, pale features disengaging from the shadows between the steel shelves. He pursed his lips angrily, and Grissom detected a hint of desperation and panic mingled in his eyes. It did not fill him with confidence.
"I'm disappointed, Dr. Grissom", he spat, voice filled with bitterness. "Don't you know why I'm here?"
Grissom stared at him levelly, elucidation hitting him slowly. "You killed Audrey Fraiser".
A cold, humourless smile tugged at Turpin's lips, and there was not a hint of the stutter in his voice. "That's right. I knew you were an intelligent man. I could tell from the moment I met you. And I'm sorry I have to do this, I really am, because I think I might be able to like you. We have a common enemy, after all. If you'd stayed on the professor like I originally thought you would, we wouldn't have this problem. But you had to keep digging."
"We have no evidence to convict you", Grissom said carefully, remaining rigidly behind his desk.
Turpin shot him an impatient look. "Do you think I would indict myself like this if I didn't know you would figure it out? You're good at what you do. I've followed your career, Dr. Grissom –entomology is an interesting method. I've read your papers-- I've taught in this field for over twenty years. It's probably processing away in your lab right now, isn't it? Only a matter of time until you match my DNA to something that you found, and then its twenty years to life for me."
Grissom stared at him unblinkingly. "You really think this will help?"
Turpin scoffed. "Don't try to placate me. I know exactly what I'm doing. I do. I've thought about this. Tell me, why couldn't you stay on Townsend? Why? It would have been so much easier for all of us. You know what he does is wrong. He abuses his position as a teacher, he exploits those girls. You could have just settled on him, and none of this would have to happen".
Grissom slowly shook his head. "It doesn't work like that, Mr. Turpin", he said grimly.
Before Turpin could make a scathing response, the door to Grissom's office craned open. The blinds were closed on all windows, so passers-by would have no indication that an armed gunman was inside.
Grissom stiffened, and a familiar lulling female voice drifted into the room. For the first time in his life, Grissom knew the meaning of real, absolute fear.
"Grissom, I just ran into Sofia, who told me to tell you they have a suspect in the…"
Sara trailed off as her eyes left the paper in front of her, and darted over Fred Turpin. Turpin glared back at her, reflexively swivelling the gun in her direction.
Grissom swallowed, schooling his features into a look of careful calm. "It's okay, Sara", he reassured quietly. "Just close the door".
Sara hesitated, reluctantly pushing the door back behind her, leaning against it as the loud click resonated in the silence of the room. A folder was held slightly against her chest, and her cocoa-coloured eyes drifted up to his slowly, before returning to Turpin's.
Grissom forced himself to glance away from her, turning to Turpin with no small amount of hesitation. "Please point the gun away from her".
Turpin slowly shook his head. "No. I think it scares you more this way".
Grissom felt his fists clench convulsively behind the safety of his desk, reluctantly admitting that yes, that was definitely true.
"She has nothing to do with this", he said carefully, glaring at Turpin with intensity that Sara found vaguely frightening.
Turpin ignored him. "Miss Sidle. It's nice to meet you again. I'm sorry it's not in… better circumstances."
Sara didn't respond, staring back at him mutely.
"There's no need to hold back on my account", Turpin added. "What has your lab found?"
Sara didn't say anything, glancing at Grissom uncertainly. He nodded almost imperceptibly, and she sighed deeply. "They have a DNA match against you", she reported quietly. "You left some clothing at the scene."
"DNA match", he repeated evenly. He turned to Grissom. "It looks like you have conclusive evidence now".
Grissom pursed his lips. "Mr. Turpin, things don't have to be like this", he said, in another half-hearted attempt to appeal to his rationality.
Sara frowned. "Why did you even come here?" she added. "You could be out of Las Vegas by now. You're in the middle of a law enforcement building. There's nowhere for you to go".
Grissom shot her a warning glance. The last thing they needed to do was provoke him.
Turpin seemed oddly intrigued by her courage. "You're not afraid of me, are you, Miss Sidle?"
Sara didn't respond, pressing her lips in a thin, hard line.
Turpin lifted a brow. "And you're wrong", he added. "As long as I have two hostages, I have a guarantee for my own safety".
"And a guarantee to the death sentence", Sara retorted. "Rape and murder were probably enough for a good long sentence, but you've really done it now".
Turpin merely smirked, glancing at Grissom sideways. "Is she always this argumentative?"
"You have no idea", Grissom muttered, extremely tense.
"Why did you do this?" Sara asked, expression twisted in a genuinely confused frown. He wondered if she was attempting to stall him until someone realised what was going on, or if she was merely curious. Either way, Grissom remained silent, waiting for Turpin's response. He seemed to take some sort of enjoyment in talking to Sara, and with his gun still firmly trained on her head; he would do anything to keep the man mollified.
"You have no idea what its like", Turpin said, tilting his head as his eyes narrowed vaguely. "To have someone so beautiful, so vibrant and full of life, come into a room everyday, speak to you, take your classes, and ignore the way you feel about them".
"I might have some idea", Sara muttered under her breath, and Grissom concealed a wince. Now was not the time to be identifying with the perpetrator.
Turpin went on, seemingly oblivious to her remark. "She had no idea. Or pretended to have no idea. And she gave in completely to Alex Townsend. He took her away so easily; he enjoyed it like it was a game. I couldn't let him have her like that. Not if I couldn't. None of it ever mattered to him. He wouldn't know how to love".
Sara frowned, eyes trailing over to Grissom's in disbelief. As the professor spoke, he could see an idea forming behind her eyes, and he wanted to immediately convince her out of it.
Turpin had his mind focused on the past as he continued his diatribe, and Sara shifted her eyes carefully in his direction, resting on the gun, which had become slightly limp in his hand. Grissom carefully shook his head, locking her eyes pointedly.
No, he inwardly hissed.
She widened her eyes insistently. He knew it was possible either of them could struggle with him and succeed; he was well past middle age, and his only real advantage was his weapon. A weapon aimed at Sara. Grissom wasn't about to take the risk that it could discharge and hit her. She was perfectly willing to risk her life to get them out of this situation, but he was not. There had to be another way.
As if sensing his inner conflict, Turpin snapped back from his distraction, clutching the gun more fiercely in his grip than before. Sara twitched as it levelled on her head again, and Grissom's throat tightened in fear.
"Tell me something, Dr. Grissom", Turpin said seriously, contemplating Sara's features. "Do you have any idea what its like to love so unconditionally? To be willing to sacrifice yourself for another? I sacrificed my entire life to ensure Audrey would never have to be with another man. So she wouldn't suffer when they rejected her."
"That isn't love", Sara said flatly. "You killed her because she didn't love you. Because you managed to convince yourself you were saving her. That's obsession".
The corner of Turpin's mouth twitched. "It's a fine line between the two, Miss. Sidle."
He clicked off the safety of the gun, and the sound was deafeningly clear in the room. Grissom stiffened. "What are you doing?" he demanded fiercely.
Turpin didn't look at him. "I only need one of you", he said frankly. "And I need someone to set an example for the authorities if they come after me".
Grissom felt his fingers close around the base of his briefcase on his desk, and he tightened his hold quickly.
"Killing an officer is a major offence, Mr Turpin", he warned him carefully. "Think about what you're doing here".
He met Sara's gaze, nodding imperceptibly. He saw some flicker of understanding behind her eyes and knew he had her assent. He couldn't loose her like this. He couldn't loose her without telling her how he felt about her. He realised in an odd moment of clarity how utterly meaningless his years of reservations had been. He should have given in to his feelings for her in San Francisco. He should have accepted her offer of dinner after the lab explosion. He should have told her he had asked her to Vegas because he wanted her there when she told him she moved there for him.
Turpin's finger lowered over the trigger, and Grissom didn't even think. He swung the briefcase up from the desk, slamming it over the back of his head. Sara immediately ducked, and the force of the blow caused the gun to discharge in Turpin's grasp.
Turpin smashed back against the steel shelves, sending jars of Grissom's specimens shattering to the floor. He sprung forward again with surprising agility as Grissom lurched forward, wrestling with him for the gun.
Grissom dug his fingers into Turpin's wrist, struggling to prise free the weapon. Turpin still had his finger near the trigger, and he moved against Grissom's clutch, pointing the weapon at his gut.
"Hey!" Sara yelled, swivelling a jar of fetal pig remains over Turpin's skull. The glass made a sickening impact, and Turpin staggered from the force.
He struggled vainly with Grissom, but his strength was relinquishing. His finger tightened once more over the trigger, and he pulled back the hammer as he stumbled into the wall from Sara's blow.
The sound of the gun echoed in the room, and Grissom heard Sara's surprised cry.
"Grissom!"
Grissom glanced at her stupidly, feeling a sudden sharp pain in his side. Then everything went black, and all was silent.
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San Francisco, 1994"I'm glad we did this".
Grissom glanced at Sara as she strode up the stairs beside him, pulling her jacket more tightly around her slender frame as if from some unseen chill, and he felt a sad smile pull at his lips as they neared her apartment.
His seminar had come to a close, and they had agreed to meet for coffee after as a sort of friendly farewell, which turned into an impromptu dinner at the casual off-campus diner.
Sara seemed more relaxed in his company since the day Townsend threatened her, and he was relieved to discover she hadn't come across the professor again. Obviously, his warning had made its impact.
Tomorrow, he would be on a return flight to Las Vegas, the bright, sinful city he had been separated from for two weeks. The dazzling lights of Vegas had never been what held him there though. It was the lab and everything it represented. It was the first city that felt like home to him.
He glanced at Sara, her attractive, sparking features alight with youth and potential. He had no doubt she was well on her way to becoming a successful criminalist. For the first time, he realised the pull of Vegas was weaker than it usually was. San Francisco had never been a particularly alluring city until he met Sara Sidle.
He sighed; ignoring the direction his thoughts were taking him. It was a dangerous direction.
Sara unlocked the door to her apartment, turning to regard him uncertainly. "Listen, I want to um… thank you, for what you did the other day", she started seriously. "Stepping in and everything. I know it must have been awkward and you didn't have to…"
He held up a hand to silence her. "Knowing the circumstances, I think anyone else would have done the same".
She nodded, and grew silent, and he knew they were both becoming increasingly aware that this was probably the last time they would ever see each other. "Well, I had a good time tonight", he told her gently, smiling lightly.
"Me too", she agreed, glancing down.
"I think this has certainly been a much more interesting visit than my last time in San Francisco."
It was the closest he could come to acknowledging how much their meeting had meant to him, and she smiled slightly.
"Well, I'm glad we got the chance to say goodbye. When does your flight leave for Vegas?"
"At about seven o'clock tomorrow morning", he answered.
"I guess you have to leave pretty early tomorrow morning".
He nodded, smiling grimly. He wondered how he was going to readjust to the nightshift hours when he returned home. "Yes".
She licked her lips, fingers drumming distantly on the doorjamb. "So I guess this is it, huh?"
He felt a sudden burst of reluctance to leave things as they were. "Listen", he said seriously, slowly reaching into his pocket for a piece of paper and a pen. He hastily scrawled down a number, holding it out towards her between his thumb and forefinger. "Here's my phone number in Vegas. Call me anytime. To let me know how you're doing… or if you ever need any help in the job department. We should stay in touch".
A genuine smile lit her features and she accepted the paper from his warm grasp. "You work the nightshift, right?"
"Right", he agreed.
She nodded, pocketing the paper. "I'll keep that in mind then".
Awkward silence infused the air between them. Sara glanced at him, and he knew they were both thinking the same thing.
Sara broke the silence first. "Do you want to come in? For coffee or… anything?"
He wondered at the significance of that last statement. He met her gaze, and knew with sudden startling clarity that if he allowed himself to go in there, things would never end at coffee. He could easily allow himself this final act of passion; give into his mounting desire for the whirlwind of youth and cleverness that was Sara Sidle. But he knew, if he did, he would have difficulty leaving in the morning. He couldn't start something that he had no intention of finishing, and he could never do that to Sara.
"I better not", he replied slowly, turning her down gently, offering a tentative smile to take the sting out of his words. "I have to leave early, and I should probably go back to my hotel and get some rest".
Sara nodded in acceptance, and he saw the unmistakable flicker of disappointment colour her eyes. "Okay".
The thought that he had caused her hurt, however unintentionally, filled him with guilt. He realised that he possessed a strong, overpowering urge to please her, and it was a foreign sensation that worried him. He had had relationships; he dated women, he slept with woman without feeling this underlying need to protect them. Sara awoke some unknown emotion in him whenever he was around her, and some part of him was relieved he was retuning to Vegas in the morning, and putting as much distance between them as possible, because is wasn't something he knew how to deal with.
He held out a hand, and she glanced at him a moment before accepting it, allowing them to shake.
Without considering what he was doing, he titled his head forward, and gently, innocently, brushed a kiss against her cheek. For anyone else, it could be construed as a friendly action, but such an intimate act was foreign to him, and Grissom was glad Sara didn't know him well enough to realise that.
"Goodbye, Sara", he said softly, breath tickling her cheek as he moved away again.
Sara swallowed, staring at him with some unreadable emotion playing for power over her countenance, and she released his hand slowly. "Goodbye, Grissom".
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