Feasibility Study
Written by: Ms Maggs / Edited by: KJT
Chapter 75: Losing It – Part 4
August 22, 2005 (Day 122)
Carrie Blake's Office
8:30 a.m.
Carrie had been sitting at her desk for an hour reviewing information on a new case that had been dropped on her desk that morning when her boss, Steve Ogden, Assistant District Attorney, came bounding into her office.
"Carrie…I know I've dumped a ton on you already, but I'm hoping you can help us out here."
Looking up she asked, "What's going on?"
"State vs. Harden. Braxley's case." Leaning in the doorway he explained, "The vic is freezing up at T-minus forty-five minutes. I was hoping you could talk to her and maybe gently encourage her to proceed with her testimony. If she doesn't, the case will collapse. The guy has no priors, we didn't get any seminal fluid evidence because he wore a condom and there were no witnesses." He sighed. "You know how it goes."
"State vs. Harden? Fourteen year-old raped by an adult family friend while camping?"
"That's the one." He was always amazed that she knew every case on everyone's desk.
Carrie stood, smoothed her hands over the jacket of her black and white boucle suit and walked to meet Steve. "Let's go."
Before they could exit, the prosecutor assigned to the case, Clive Braxley, burst into the office. "Are you going to help or not, Blake? If the girl hears your story she might cooperate because I heard from Martha that it worked like a charm on the girl in State vs. Mobius when she was balking."
Steve had warned Clive to let him do the asking but, as usual, young and impetuous Mr. Braxley, certified both in law and being an ass, didn't listen. And then he made matters even worse.
"Oh, come on! I've got forty-two minutes to get that girl's butt on the witness stand or my case is done. I've lost my last two due to pathetic witness performance and I will not be made a fool of again." Braxley huffed, "If I have to tell my dad I biffed another case I'll never hear the end of it. I have a degree from Yale for Christ's sake, why won't these witnesses just do what I tell them. Whatever…let's go, Blake. I know you can make her do it."
Although he had only known Carrie for the three and a half months she had been working for him, Steve knew her well enough to prepare for the impending verbal smackdown she was about to deliver…one that was rightly deserved by Clive, the egotistical jerk.
Incensed by 98 percent of what she had just heard fly out of her deplorable co-worker's mouth, Carrie smiled then spoke sweetly. "Your compassion overwhelms me, Clive, yeah…but what you really need is a little empathy for the victim. So here's what I'd like to propose…I'll run over to cell block C and grab the biggest, loneliest, inmate I can find, and while I'm doing that, to expedite matters I'd like you to drop your pants and bend over my desk."
Steve watched the clueless expression on Clive's face morph as Carrie unleashed her tirade.
"Because maybe once you've been screwed mercilessly, by someone stronger than you, who you haven't invited to violate your body, then you'll finally be able to comprehend why it's a little hard to talk about in front of a room full of strangers! Your ignorance astounds me! News flash…most of us aren't here to prop ourselves up and brag about our win stats. We're here to ensure the victim gets justice. Maybe your witnesses don't perform as you put it…I can't even believe you use that word as if they're poodles who you want to jump through flaming hoops! Maybe they don't do well on the witness stand because of you and your callous approach? Ever think of that? Maybe they can sense you don't give a rat's ass about them and that you're using them to further your career…you're just another person taking advantage of them, don't you get it? And don't try to pretend you do because I know what you're all about."
"Oh you do, huh?" Clive countered.
"Yes! Do you know how many punks fresh out of law school like you I've seen come and go?" With her hands flying she educated him. "You've got your Yale law degree and you're here putting in a couple of years for the DA so it looks good on your resume. That way, when you toss your hat in the ring for some Podunk political office you can say you served the public."
Steve decided not to stop her, partly because she was right, but mostly because if she wasn't already engaged, he would have been on bended knee proposing a month ago.
Infuriated, Carrie stepped closer to the bastard and narrowed her eyes as she reamed him. "You don't care about the victims. If you did, you'd never say 'I've got forty-two minutes to get that girl's butt on the witness stand' in reference to a fourteen year old who was sodomized! You would never ask me to make her do something when the reason she's here is that someone made her do something against her will. And, you would never have the gall to refer to me telling my story as if it's some trick I use to win cases, like I'm lucky that I was sexually abused so I can be more successful at my job. You make me sick." She turned to Steve. "He makes me sick! If you ever assign him another sexual assault case…male or female victim, I quit. Am I crystal clear?"
Now Clive was outraged. "I've been here over a year, you've been here what…three months? And do you know who my father is back in Iowa? He's the mayor of the fifth largest city. Have fun on the unemployment line, Blake."
Miffed, Carrie glared at her boss. "Steve…is he for real? Tell me he's not for real. You let him work here? Explain that to me. I know the pay stinks and it's hard to attract talent compared to private firms, but this bottom feeder is an embarrassment. This is why there needs to be a Sensitive Crimes Unit within this DA's office like in other civilized places in this country. So the prosecutors are trained and know how to handle these cases properly."
"Oh back off, Blake! Your holier than thou diatribe is giving me heartburn." Clive raised his voice. "I heard you moved here after death threats were launched against you in Seattle. Who threatened you? Co-workers? You have the personality of…"
"Time out!" Steve plastered on his peacemaker face. "Let's all calm down. It's T-minus thirty-five now and the victim is the one who will ultimately suffer if we don't refocus." He knew that would work on Carrie because of her concern for the girl, and it would work on Clive because of his concern over saving his own ass.
Carrie took a deep breath in while shooting daggers at Clive. "Where is she?"
"Conference room 10."
Before walking out the door Carrie caught her boss's eye. "I meant what I said."
Alone in the room with his boss, Clive snapped, "Are you going to let her get away with giving you an ultimatum?"
Steve smiled. "You lost your last two cases in how many months, Clive? Carrie's been practicing for seven years and she's lost two total." He winked. "And both of those were due to police procedural error, not her performance. Like I'm really going to choose you over her?"
Clive couldn't believe his ears.
"Oh, don't look so shocked." Steve laughed. "We both know she's right about your career aspirations. Plus, you're only here because your daddy knew someone and pulled a string. That's how you got into Yale too. So let's not waste time on delusions of grandeur. Carrie graduated number one in her class and has a stellar record. Any DA's office in the country would be thrilled to have her. Every day she works here our reputation gets better."
"Fine."
Steve started to walk away then turned back "One more thing, Clive…before you toss your father's prestigious credentials as mayor of the 5th largest city in Iowa in her face again, you should know that Carrie is engaged to Nick Stokes, he's a CSI here in Vegas, but Nick's mom ruled the Dallas courtrooms as an attorney until the day she retired, and his dad is currently a Texas Supreme Court Judge. So when it comes to string pulling, I'm guessing she could find someone to snip yours if she wanted to." Pointing at Clive he reminded him, "You live in Vegas now…always know who has the upper hand. She does."
While Carrie was out saving his ass by talking to the victim, Clive stood in her office stewing over the confrontation and counting the seconds until his two year stint in the DA's office was up so he could go into private practice and rake in the bucks.
When he heard Carrie's cellphone ringing on her desk he intrusively walked over and glanced at the caller ID displayed. Staring at the ringing phone he snarked, "Sorry, Stokes, your idealistic fiancée is too busy saving the world to talk to you right now. Try again later, pal." As he helped himself to M&Ms from Carrie's candy bowl he laughed out loud. "I can't even believe she's engaged to a man because that chick oozes uber-feminist, man-hating lesbian from every pore. A regular Black Widow Spider lying in wait for man-prey. Yeah…I bet she and her covert coven of man-haters are hoping to take out the male population one by one. Her fiancé must be a real wimp…and a clueless idiot. Shit…those CSIs are all a bunch of science geeks. He's probably happy a girl's breathing in his direction."
Warehouse Crime Scene
8:35 a.m.
After spending some quality time composing himself in the restroom of a restaurant supply company near the scene, Greg returned determined to process the case.
When he stepped inside the furniture warehouse he saw Grissom and David were working diligently in silence. "I'm back," Greg announced while staring at the dollhouse. "Sorry I took longer than five. You know…there was a long line." It had been at least twenty. "Have you checked on Nick?" He was grateful to see David was prepping the body for transport. It would be a lot easier to work once the victim was removed.
Grissom calmly replied while going about his business, "No. He'll be back when he's ready. I put his kit outside by the entrance…he'll be working the perimeter. As for you, first I want you to do something I know only you can pull off."
"What's that?" He asked as he donned a pair of latex gloves. "I can't think of anything I can do at a crime scene better than you, Master Grissom." The lighthearted remark felt drastically out of place as soon as it left his lips. "Sorry…I don't mean to joke. It's nerves."
"Call Sofia and see if she's still at the lab. I'd like her to meet David at the morgue to process the sexual assault, because Sara can't see this girl wearing this dress and Jas isn't trained. If Sofia's left for the day, use whatever magical power you have that works on her to see if she'll come back for a few hours. She's the best the lab has when it comes to SAE."
Grinning at the fact there actually was something he was better at than Grissom, Greg pulled out his cellphone. "I just programmed in her number when she covered for me Sunday." When he saw David wrapping the little girl's body in the customary white sheet, Greg said, "I think I'll get a better signal outside."
"I bet you're right."
Once outside, Greg scanned the area for Nick and waited for Sofia to pick up.
After three rings she answered, "You don't seriously expect me to cover for you again this soon, do you? People will start to talk about us if I'm nice to you twice in one week. They'll either think I began taking Xanax, or that I'm hoping to get lucky with you. Actually, if they think I want to get lucky with you, then they'll automatically assume I'm on drugs."
"I'm sure they would." He appreciated the joke in the middle of the harrowing morning. "Are you still at work?"
"No, I'm already home. Why?"
As he spoke he watched the Medical Examiner's transport tech wheeling by the stretcher to bring out the victim. "Uh…we're working a nasty homicide with sexual assault on a little girl…she's only five." He swallowed hard. "Was five? I'm not sure what's the right…anyway…I need someone to do the exam when the body arrives in the morgue."
"Sara was there when I left a half hour ago."
"Yeah…uh…well…" Greg knew he shouldn't give Grissom's reason. "I don't want her to do it because…I'd rather have you handle it. You know you're the most trained in the lab."
"Why are you asking me instead of Stokes?"
"Um…yeah…well…."
"Aren't you articulate this morning?" She groaned. "I'll be there in twenty. And you tell your boss that I'm doing this for the victim, not him, but he better thank me personally."
When he heard the click, Greg tucked away his phone and was relieved to see Nick passing under the crime tape. He still looked rattled, but it was a far cry from his mental state a half hour ago. It was also immediately obvious that Nick was uncomfortable with the stares he was getting from some of the less CSI-friendly cops.
Greg greeted him with a supportive smile. "Glad to have you back." His comment extended beyond its geographical meaning.
Nick gave a quick nod then, stepping closer, he quietly said, "I'm having a hard time remembering everything that happened before the phone call, but I'm guessin' by the looks on the cops' faces it was pretty bad."
"Uh…" It was the second time in a matter of days that he witnessed extremely personal behavior without Nick knowing he did.
"Tell me exactly what happened. I know I must have been in shock or I'd remember it all myself. And don't lie, I saw the puddle of spew in the alley and I know my face was soaked when I was talking to you about crayons." He glanced over at the cops lingering by the crime scene tape. "I'd rather hear it from you first instead of in the hallway at work."
"Okay." After a deep breath in and out Greg shared the details. "You were in shock at first, and then you exhibited a fight response…you were insisting the girl was alive and determined to grab the body. We had to call the boys in blue to restrain you, because let's face it…" He tried to add a little levity. "I'm no match for your brawn on a good day, but with all that adrenaline fueling you in the midst of a full blown panic, I didn't stand a chance at keeping you away from the body. David and I together weren't able to hold you back."
He cringed, imagining how bad it was. "A full-on freak show for the boys…great."
"There's good news though." He clarified, "I mean beyond the fact it's not McKenna."
"What?"
Greg thought about framing it better, but remembering Nick was a no bullshit kind of guy, he decided not to sugarcoat it. "These guys only saw you in Ironman mode with two cops trying to restrain you…and then they saw you running away. That's it. They didn't see you really lose it, the puking and the…um…"
"Crying," He confirmed unapologetically. "I thought my future-niece was slaughtered. I'm not ashamed..." He glanced over his shoulder. "…that you saw me."
"And I'm not the type of guy who exploits other people when they're vulnerable, so you don't have to worry about hearing anything that happened behind that building being talked about in the hallways at work or anywhere. Not even with Tawny. Got it? I'm a friend before I'm anything else to you…even before I'm a non-conformist, politically tone-deaf ass who hates your meetings. Oops did I just say that last part out loud?"
Nick smiled. "Thanks, buddy."
Pleased with the exchange, Greg relaxed. "The Master has exercised his Brass-given right to take command of this crime scene, so you're not the boss man right now. He left your kit outside. He wants you to work the perimeter." Glancing over his shoulder, he saw the body being placed in the black bag. "I suggest you grab your kit and start in the rear of the building."
"So controlling, Greggo." Nick hoped the tease would improve his mental state. It barely made a dent, but at least it was something.
"Also, I called in Sofia to do the SAE because Gris doesn't want Sara involved." He saw Nick ruffle at the mention of Sofia's name. "Sorry, I know you don't like working with her."
Grabbing his kit he groaned, "Oh hell, she's the last person I need to deal with today. I'd rather puke out my guts and bawl like a baby in front of the cops than have her riding my ass. Shit! And I couldn't get Carrie on the phone. It's not even nine a.m. and this day is sucking the life out of me."
As Greg watched his boss hustle away to process the rear perimeter, he recalled comments Nick had made about Sofia a few months back when he first had to supervise her…She rubs me the wrong way. Something about her…she's so damn domineering all the time. She should be working at Lady Heather's House of Horrors. Hell, if a guy goes to bed with her, he better sleep with one eye open all night, because she has this Black Widow Spider vibe going on. I have a sixth sense about women like that. They seriously give me the creeps. That's when the revelation hit him. Nick's tequila-induced subconscious confession about his childhood trauma…it wasn't, as Greg had initially assumed, a man who had done the abusing, it was a woman. Now that he thought about it, it made perfect sense because Nick didn't have intense homophobic tendencies or problems with guys invading his personal space, but he always had a problem with aggressive women. "Whoa…why does that seem even more messed up to me?"
"Greg!" Grissom called from the warehouse entrance. "What did Sofia say?"
"She's on her way in." He hurried back to the door. "What do you want me to do next?"
"I took all the overview shots, all the body shots, the dollhouse and close-ups within a ten foot diameter of the body." He handed over the camera. "You take the rest." Then he noticed Nick's kit was gone. "He came back?"
"Yeah…he uh…doesn't remember anything before your phone call."
"The mind is very protective."
"Anyway, we talked. I told him you wanted him on the perimeter and when I saw the body was being loaded I didn't want him to see it being wheeled out, so I told him to start in the back."
"Nice call. And I could tell you were doing an excellent job holding it together when Nick was out of control behind the building." Grissom smiled. "I think this is your most impressive day on the job ever, Greg."
Frowning, he confessed, "That's because you didn't see me losing my mind in the bathroom."
Placing his hand on Greg's shoulder he proudly replied, "Exactly."
County Courthouse
Conference Room 10
8:59 a.m.
As fourteen year-old Maria Speranza sat at the conference table between her court appointed Victim's Advocate and her sobbing mother, she trembled uncontrollably.
For the last fifteen minutes the girl had listened intently to Carrie speaking in a voice full of empathy. "That's why I'm so proud of you, Maria." Carrie reached across the table and took the girl's shaky hand in hers. "You were so brave. You came forward right away. I didn't have the courage to do that. It took me a year. Right now there are girls out there keeping quiet because they don't have your strength."
"Will he be able to see me?"
Carrie took a deep breath. This part was always hard. "The rules of the court prohibit me from answering that question, because we will be asking you to identify him. So I can't tell you if he will be there or where he will be sitting if he is. You will be asked by Mr. Braxley, if you see the man who assaulted you in the courtroom, to please identify him by pointing and/or verbally identifying him." She squeezed her hand tighter. "I won't lie to you. That will be a tough moment. But if you see him, you take a deep breath and focus on the fact that he shouldn't be allowed to walk free after doing what he did to you. All you have to do is point one time and then it's out there."
Her sobbing reduced to a sniffle, Maria asked, "Do I have to answer all those gross questions?"
"I know it's difficult, but the more information you provide, the stronger the case will be. If you are uncomfortable at any time you can ask the judge for a break. If you don't understand a question, or a word, or a concept, just stop and ask for an explanation. If you can't remember something all you have to do is say you don't remember. Okay?"
Maria nodded ever so slightly.
"Here's another thing that's very important. The other attorney, the defense attorney, may try to be overly sympathetic and sweet to you. Women are picked as defense attorneys in these cases for a reason. Just because she is nice, don't feel obligated to agree with her. If you disagree with something she says, no matter how nice she is to you, even if she's ten times nicer than Mr. Braxley, don't agree if it's not the truth. You'll swear to tell the truth in the beginning and that's what you do the whole time. This is about you having the power, Maria. It's your chance to tell the story. Don't let anyone take that power away from you. You tell it like it is, no matter how hard it is and, in the end you'll have your power back and he'll have lost all of his."
"Okay."
Maria's mother smoothed her hand over her daughter's back. "This is so hard. I feel so guilty she has to go through this. If I had been doing my job as her mother…"
"Are you in counseling?"
"Yes," The Victim's Advocate replied.
"Good." Carrie gave Maria's hand another squeeze. "This trial is the last step. After this it's all about healing. But in order to recover successfully, you can't keep this locked away inside you. It's painful now, but if you carry it around for twenty years it's going to be much worse. This is a silly analogy, but it works…think of a bottle of soda pop. You know when you shake it hard and then open it, it explodes from the pressure built up inside, right?"
"Uh huh.
"Well, you carry this around inside you without ever dealing with it, that's what it will feel like. More and more pressure will build. Imagine what the pressure in a bottle of soda pop that's been shaken for years is like. Then imagine what happens when one day it's suddenly opened."
"A big explosion."
"Right, that's why you can't let this rattle around inside you. Let it out now before it has a chance to build into something bigger. It never completely goes away Maria, it will always be a part of who you are. The difference is the shame will be gone once he's held responsible. Eventually, this trauma won't consume your thoughts. First hours go by without thinking about it, and then you'll realize days have gone. As time goes on you'll think about it less and less."
"I really want to believe you."
Carrie encouraged her with a sympathetic smile. "I know this seems like the end of the world, but it doesn't have to be. The trial will be over in a week and you're only fourteen. You have your whole life ahead of you. You can still be anything you want to be. He took something precious from you, but he didn't take your life unless you let what he did to you prevent you from living one."
"But if everyone finds out…what guy will ever want to be my boyfriend?"
Carrie smiled brighter. "I have a ring on my finger, right? The answer is the right guy will want to be your boyfriend. Any guy who lacks the compassion to understand what you had to go through just to get the justice you deserve, isn't a guy worth knowing, Maria."
The frightened girl clutched Carrie's hand. "Will you be in the courtroom?"
"If you want me to be there, I'll stay the whole time. I'll sit right next to your mom. Any time you need a reminder that a girl can get through what you're going through, you look at me. I won't be able to say anything or gesture or smile at you, but I'll be with you in spirit. And after the trial is over I can talk to you as much as you need. Okay?" When she saw Maria nod, Carrie breathed a little easier. "Again, I'm so proud of you, Maria." Then she turned to the mother. "Mom, if you would please take her to the restroom to wash her face and fix her hair." Standing up, Carrie said, "I need to brief Mr. Braxley and then I'll meet you back here."
Upon exiting the conference room, Carrie saw Braxley pacing the halls. "She's testifying. I'll be there the whole time. I'll be there for her, but I'll be watching you like a hawk. You better try this case like your life depends on it."
Braxley nodded. "I'll do my best."
Walking towards the water cooler, Carrie snipped, "Yeah…that's exactly what scares me."
Dr. Myers Office
12:30 a.m.
Sara sailed through the open door with a smile blazing on her face. "Good Morning."
"Well now…" Dr. Myers, dressed in a pale yellow suit, leaned back in her chair. "…I don't even think I have to ask your preference today." Opening a desk drawer filled with ten different jumbo bags of candy, she reached for a bag of M&Ms.
"M&Ms please," Sara requested. It was a code the doctor had introduced in the early days to break the ice, and now it was tradition. Dark chocolate when there was something somber to discuss, Snickers if she wasn't sure what she wanted to talk about, and M&Ms when she was happy and just looking for a good conversation. "Thanks."
With the small candy bag in hand, she strolled over to her favorite overstuffed leather chair and plopped in it, tossing her legs over the side.
"So I take it throwing your first real party was a success?" Grabbing her 'Sara notebook' and pen she emerged from behind her desk and took a seat across from Sara.
"Everyone had a great time," Sara gushed. "Some people had too much of a good time in my pool house."
"Ahhh." Dr. Myers smiled. "Some couples can only experience a sexual rush when there is a probability of being caught."
"That wasn't the case," Sara laughingly assured her. "It was my friend Carrie I've talked to you about and her fiancé, Nick, who I've also discussed."
"Really?"
"Shocking! I know," She replied in Brass-like manner. "I need to get something off my chest about my friendship with Carrie."
Referencing her notes, Dr. Myers remarked, "When we spoke last week you said that you were enjoying having a real girlfriend for the first time in your life. Did the pool house incident impact your trust?"
Having just popped the first bunch of M&Ms in her mouth, Sara quickly chewed. "If it had been anyone else in the pool house I would have been pissed, but…pardon my attempt to sound like a professional therapist…considering Carrie's sexually repressive tendencies, it was a breakthrough and I was thrilled for her, so I don't mind."
"Nice…both the wording and the compassion…especially taking into account your germphobia." Dr. Myers relaxed further in her chair. "So what's on your mind then?"
"I feel guilty."
"How so?"
Crumpling the empty M&M wrapper Sara confessed, "I feel guilty that sometimes I think I like having Carrie as my friend because in a lot of ways she's worse off than me, and it makes me feel better."
"You feel superior and that feeling incites guilt?"
"I hate cliques," Sara explained. "All through high school I was never a part of one, but I observed their behavior. It was all about hierarchy. The cool girls at the top of course and within the clique there was always a top dog. A girl who acted above all the other girls in the group and led the way…the one who thought she was so superior. In my high school her name was Suzie Smith. I wasn't orbiting in the same universe as her and yet she felt compelled to beam into my life and bash me at every given opportunity and point out my inadequacies." Her voice thick with irritation Sara announced, "Suzie Smith continued to taunt me after high school…appearing in new forms…like Miranda, and most recently, Lady Heather. Like that night I told you about when I was working the dunce case at the Dominion. There I was minding my own business and, without any provocation from me that witch felt it was necessary to swoop in and try to make me feel insecure and inferior. In high school I would be sorting through my locker and Suzie would come over and start harping on me. Why do they get such a rush out of knocking someone else down? The Suzie's, Miranda's and Heather's of this world really tick me off."
"I know we've discussed this at length, and I've given you a few opinions even. Do you still see no possible reason for their behavior?"
"Nope." Rubbing her palms on her denim-covered thighs Sara re-directed, "But I don't want to waste any more of my time talking about them. I want to talk about people I care about." After taking a cleansing breath she said, "Okay, back to my issue with Carrie…sometimes I enjoy feeling better off than Carrie, or that her childhood was more screwed up than mine. Why is that? Yeah…I know, you're not going to tell me."
"Are these feelings malicious at any time?"
"No…not at all." She confirmed her answer with a vigorous head shake. "It's like…all my life I've felt that people were looking at me saying 'poor screwed up Sara with the social quirks and unspeakable childhood trauma. Now I've befriended someone who is just one notch below me and sometimes it's comforting to know that I'm not the most messed up girl who ever lived. When I compare myself to Carrie, I think, at least I wasn't personally violated…at least I got to go to school and move to Boston and live at college. After Carrie's abuse secret came out, her parents home schooled her, and she lived at home all through college. With her academic talent she could have gone to any Ivy League school, but she couldn't leave home. She didn't even get her own place for the first time until she was twenty-six. Sexually she knew almost nothing until she started dating Nick. About a month ago she started coming to me with questions, and as soon as I picked up on the fact that I was way ahead of her in that area, I got that superior feeling again. And it's not just her either…it's Tawny too." Sara glanced over at the doctor. "It feels a little weird talking to you about her when she's a patient of yours…then again, so is my husband."
Dr. Myers smiled, "I treat a family of six each independently and as a group. If I can manage not to cross an ethics line there, trust me, this is no problem. I can't tell you anything about Tawny or Gil, but you can discuss them as much as you like."
"Tawny was violated, lost out on college, she didn't have a place to live, and she ended up with such low self-esteem that she thinks her rather inexperienced boyfriend is a Tantric sex god because he makes eye contact with her while they're making love. If you're wondering how I know that, yesterday we were having this chat online…Carrie, Tawny and I…silly stuff…like we were a bunch of teens talking about boys for the first time."
"How did that feel?"
Sara grinned. "Fun at the time, but a bit ridiculous afterwards. Do you think it's silly that a grown woman with a serious job and a Ph.D. chooses to spend time giggling online with girlfriends about boys? And considering my 'boy' is a year shy of 50 that makes it feel a bit stranger to me."
The doctor smiled. "I once had a woman tell me that the first time she had a tea party with her three year old daughter she ended up bawling her eyes out. She grew up in an abusive home and never got to play. She felt ridiculous for enjoying the tea party personally, not just as the mother of the child. There was nothing wrong with her. It's normal to feel that way. I call it the Disneyland Effect."
Sara tilted her head waiting for more of an explanation.
"Have you ever been to Disneyland?"
"Once when I was real little with my parents. I remember photos, but I don't remember being there. I've been to other amusement parks. You know, I had to study the Physics of the rides."
Leaning forward, Dr. Myers explained, "When adults go to Disneyland they'll sometimes do things they never would on a normal day in the 'burbs or in their cubicles at work. They don silly hats and stuff their faces with churros and sing at the top of their lungs to the words of the Pirates of the Caribbean song. Some of them do it because they're connecting to a happy memory from their youth…some do it because they never had a chance to as a kid and they want to experience what they missed. Then some people, like my husband, do it just because it's the one place you can get away with being a sixty year old kid and it's damn good fun. That's why Walt created the place after all." Rising up from her chair she went to her bookshelf. "Check this out."
Sara turned to watch the doctor carrying a photo album.
Holding open the book she pointed, "Here's my husband wearing a giant Goofy hat while riding Dumbo with our grandson. Who has the bigger smile? Flip through the pictures. You'd never guess he was a stuffy Tax Attorney by day."
Sara took the book in her hands and did as suggested. "I can't imagine Gil wearing this Goofy hat."
Dr. Myers chuckled, "In the California Adventure section of the park there's a place called A Bug's Land. I bet Gil won't have a problem releasing his inner-child there."
"They do?" Sara lit up.
"They have a caterpillar train, bug bumper cars and a really neat 3-D movie that scares little kids to death."
Sara envisioned taking their little boy or girl on a day of Disney bug adventure.
"It's okay to be silly, Sara." Dr. Myers returned to her seat. "With a job like yours I'd highly recommend taking every opportunity for mindless release as possible. Isn't that why I suggested you and Gil find a place to escape together? Since the age of nine you've been a serious girl. You're due. Don't feel silly…and if do, pretend you're at Disneyland, put on a silly hat, and go for it."
"And what about the guilt thing? Is it wrong that sometimes I see myself as Queen Bee?"
"What you described doesn't sound unhealthy to me. It's human nature. Have you ever considered that Carrie and Tawny are also feeling the same way? Maybe each of them looks at you and thinks about what they had and you didn't?"
"Like…Carrie had parents and a home"
"Right."
"Tawny had a wonderful dad, plus she experienced being the fun, popular girl who everyone wants to hang out with and she never sat home on a Saturday night." Sara chuckled. "And she also knows what it's like to have men in awe over her boobs."
"Exactly." Since Tawny was a patient it was easy to visualize that one. "Everyone compares. As long as it's not malicious, meaning you're not out to prove your superiority and in the process degrade the other person, it's normal. Friendships are give and take. You're each bringing something to the relationship that the other person needs and you're each walking away with something, that's why it's clicking." She smiled. "Click with a 'ck', not clique with a 'que'."
"Thanks…I feel better." She placed the photo album on the side table. "Looking at these pictures of your husband, he reminds me of my friend, Greg Sanders. Greg can be a real wing nut…uh…not that your husband is…"
"No, he is." She chuckled. "That's one of main reasons I married him."
Sara was relieved she didn't insult the good doctor. "I never really mentioned Greg. I guess, because he's the only one in my circle who didn't have a screwed up childhood…duh…he's Tawny's boyfriend, so I'm sure she's told you all about him."
Dr. Myers grinned. "No comment." Then she couldn't contain her laugh because when she heard from Tawny about some of the goofy things Greg did, she had immediately thought of her husband. "What else do you want to discuss?"
"I think I'm pregnant." She beamed. "It's too early to test at home, but I'm very optimistic."
"How exciting! And, that's fantastic news for me!" Dr. Myers returned to her candy drawer and grabbed two bags of M&Ms.
"Why is it fantastic for you?"
"Let's celebrate." She handed Sara a bag and kept one for herself. "To answer your question, it's fantastic for me, because kids drive their parents batty and now I know you'll be a patient for at least the next 18 years." Tearing open the bag she winked. "Just kidding."
"How many children do you have?"
"Four." She shook the M&Ms into her palm. "They're all crazy."
Sara cracked up. "I love coming here."
Nick's Tahoe
1:17 p.m.
Six hours after arriving at the horrific scene, Nick and Greg were on their way back to the lab while Grissom opted to stay behind for a while longer.
"You up to eating something?" Nick asked when his stomach grumbled. "You know I eat when I'm tense."
"I only drink coffee when I'm tense," He commented as he reached to change the radio station from Head-Banger Hell to Alternative Heaven.
"Caffeine when you're tense?" Looking around for a place to eat Nick remarked, "That's a little counter-productive, don't you think?"
Content when he found The La's, Son of a Gun, Greg replied, "I like to feed my tension and build it to a feverish pitch, that's when I do my best work. How else do you think I used to crank out all those DNA reports so fast? You don't see that kind of turnaround time from Max, do you? He's caffeine-free, tension-free."
"Well, when you worked DNA you were a hard-up bachelor. You should be less tense now that you have a steady sleepover date."
"I am! That's why I need more caffeine!" He joked, happy to be jovial after such an intense morning.
Pulling into a strip mall parking lot Nick pointed. "Okay then, you can go to Starbucks while I grab a couple of protein-style burgers from In and Out."
When he parked the truck Nick noticed Greg gingerly sliding out of the passenger seat. "Did you hurt yourself at the scene?" He left his seat and walked around to meet Greg. "Damn…now I'll have to fill out all the associated injury paperwork today when I'm…."
"No...uh…" Greg shut the truck door. "I had my first personal training session yesterday and the soreness is catching up with me."
"Ah…" Nick flashed a genuine smile for the first time since the crisis. "That's called DOMS…Delayed Onset Muscle Soreness." Walking down the sidewalk he explained, "When you first start working out it's nasty. Usually takes forty-eight hours to peak. Eventually when your muscles get used to the routine, unless you're hittin' it hard at the gym, you won't get nearly as sore." Staring at Greg he asked, "What prompted you to start lifting? Especially after all the crap you've given me about being a musclehead."
"It's part of my Anger Management Plan."
"From your PEAP Counselor? Wait…" Standing outside the door to the fast food place Nick ran his hand through his hair. "I was supposed to mention to you this afternoon when we had our one on one…you haven't submitted anything confirming your sessions have been scheduled."
"Mostly because I haven't scheduled any." Glancing around Greg confessed, "Between you and me, I don't like going to counselors. I was forced to go to one for a year when I was in middle school and I hated every minute of it. I don't like how they try and screw with your head. I prefer to leave my brain wired the way the great creator intended it to be. You know, if every genius had his or her brain rewired we probably wouldn't be driving cars or flying in airplanes. Sometimes it takes a minor synapse malfunction to bring out the magic."
"Come on, Einstein." Nick opened the door. "You need more than a coffee if you're working out hard enough for DOMS. You need protein, my friend." Once inside Nick walked up to the counter and ordered for both of them. "Four cheeseburgers protein style, no onions, no sauce and two large drinks."
Greg grabbed his wallet.
"Save it, it's on me."
"But Tawny and I just won thirty grand at the Riviera last night on a progressive slot machine."
Nick put away his wallet and told the cashier. "On second thought, Mr. Lucky Pull is paying."
Proudly, Greg stepped up to the counter. Then he realized he had no cash. "Uh…do you take Visa?"
Shaking his head Nick grabbed his wallet once more. "They only take cash here." He slapped a twenty on the counter. "Anyway, now that I know you're loaded, when it's your turn next time, I'll go to a better place." Nick handed him the drink cups. "Iced tea for me. I'll grab the burgers and a table."
"Yes, Boss," Greg grabbed the cups and headed for the soda fountain. After he was done filling the cups he glanced around and saw Nick at a corner table sitting with his head resting on his hand. "You okay?" He asked upon approach.
"Yeah, I just need some Ibuprofen. That's why I'm putting some food in my stomach. You should take 800 milligrams too, for your DOMS." Then he caught Greg staring at him. "I'm not a total basket case if that's what you're thinking. I'm just not my usual self is all. Sit down already."
Taking a seat Greg replied, "I wouldn't blame you for being a basket case after what you went through this morning. And sorry…I don't mean to gawk at you. I should know better than anyone what it's like to have people on your back when you're not you're usual self."
"How's that?" Nick asked before lifting his lettuce-wrapped burger and taking a bite.
"Well, I'm usually an upbeat, hyper guy and…."
"Really?" Nick sarcastically replied before taking another bite.
"Really!" He stopped for a sip of his Dr. Pepper. "So when I get serious or crabby, people are always bugging me asking what's wrong, or trying to get me to joke around and perk up. It's incredibly annoying." He laughed at himself. "They expect Chuckles to bring it 24/7."
"It must be exhausting being you, Greggo."
He shrugged, "Sometimes." Then he picked up his bunless lettuce-covered burger and stared at it, mourning the loss of carbohydrates.
His first burger devoured, Nick grabbed a napkin and wiped his hands. "My whole life no one has ever expected me to be funny. Dependable and responsible were the expectations in my house. They were also the expectations when I went to college, when I joined the force, when I became a CSI and definitely now that I'm a supervisor. In the future, they'll also be the expectations of me as a husband and a father."
"It must be exhausting being you, Nick
Picking up his drink Nick honestly replied, "Most of the time." An after his sip he added, "More now than ever."
"Why?" Chomping into his bundle of lettuce accented protein, Greg wished he was drinking a latte.
"Because of Carrie."
Upon swallowing his unwanted bite Greg cautiously asked, "She's that demanding?"
"What? No. She's a dream." Nick stared at the clueless soon-to-be husband and father sitting across from him. "The pressure is worse now, because my life isn't just about me anymore, I'm going to be a husband in less than six months, and if all goes well a father in two years. That's a lot more responsibility than just taking care of my dumb ass. When it was just me, if I screwed up, the only one paying for my mistake was me. In the future, if I mess up, my wife and kids suffer."
"Okay…now I'm tracking you." Greg lowered his burger unable to eat now that it was clear Nick was hell bent on scaring the crap out of him.
Gripping his throbbing head once more Nick cautioned, "And no one knows what the future will bring. What if Carrie gets pregnant and can't work due to complications. That happened to my sister Barbara. Or what if she decides after giving birth that she doesn't want to work anymore? If that happens, then I become the sole breadwinner. Or what if I get hurt on the job and can't work? Or God forbid I bite it, and leave my wife and kids behind to fend for themselves. I have to think of extra disability policies, life insurance, mortgage insurance…hell, yeah it's worse now!" He gave a nervous laugh. "And before when I was tense I'd resolve it by going out, gettin' faced, having a good romp in the sack with the first woman I could find, and then chomping down some aspirin in the morning. Not that I want to do that anymore," He quickly asserted. "I'm thrilled being in a committed relationship. It's just…now when I'm tense, I have to go home and be…guess what…dependable and responsible! It's never ending."
Greg dropped his barely eaten burger on his plate. "Okay…now I've really lost my appetite."
"Sorry man…" Nick reached over and grabbed Greg's untouched second burger for himself. "…I didn't mean to shock you, but when exactly was all that gonna dawn on you?"
Gaping at the dependable and responsible man across the table Greg sighed, "My dad would really love having you for a son. What would your dad think of me as a son?"
Nick's jaw dropped as he tried to think of the nicest possible answer. "Uh…my dad is on the Supreme Court of Texas, Greggo…he's into responsibility in a big way. If he had raised you, you'd be singing the praises of conformity, or at least know how to expertly fake a deep appreciation of it. Also, several concepts would have been eradicated from your brain like…I'll get to it later, I don't feel like it and Why do I always have to do what you say? They would have been replaced by, "Yes, Sir, Right away, and How high would you like me to jump?"
"I'm thinking I would have been grounded a lot."
"You wouldn't have needed sunscreen…ever." Nick laughed at the thought of his dad lecturing Greg on responsibility and quickly decided he'd pay good money to watch.
"Nick…pal to pal, can I be honest?"
"Go for it."
After clearing his throat Greg candidly asked, "Do you ever worry that you and Carrie have such similar high-strung personalities, that most likely the two of you will...I don't know…corner the market on Maalox and give your kids ulcers by the time they're four?"
Calmly Nick retorted, "Do you ever worry that you and Tawny have such similar manic personalities, that most likely the two of you will…I don't know…corner the market on Lithium and give your kids no sense of responsibility by the time they're eighteen?"
"Touché." Greg laughed hard. "Maybe we should experiment together and see if opposites attract?"
Nick immediately required clarification. "I sincerely hope you're talking about us trading our women, not you and me together, because I can't handle another shock to the system today, Greg."
Realizing his suggestion was a bit vague, Greg burst out laughing. "I guess I should have phrased that better. See…this is how I get into trouble. I meant like that show on TV, Wife Swap. You get Tawny for a week, while I get Carrie living with me, and then we see what we can glean from living with the opposite personality type for a week. For the record we don't get to touch each other's women. Not that Tawny would want to sleep with you…no offense, but you know what they say…once you've had Chuckles you can never go back. Have you ever seen that show? Tawny loves it and she DVR's it. I watched it once…okay twice…it's funny as hell. There was this one where the family lived in a tree house, I actually thought that would be really cool and…"
"Greg…I think I can safely say that opposites do not attract. At least not for longer than…" He glanced at his watch. "…fourteen minutes. Dude, I'm sorry, I really need some space."
"Exactly what I was thinking." Standing up, Greg announced, "And since I'm ten times as tense as when I came in here, I'm uh…gonna grab a latte from Starbucks. I'll meet you at the truck."
Once Nick was alone in the corner of the eatery, he yanked his cellphone off his belt and punched in Carrie's code. After three rings he was disappointed to hear her voicemail pick up again. Unlike the last four times he tried her, this time he left a message. "Hey Honey, just checking in to see how your day is going. After I finish up at work today I made plans to head over to your brother's house. He's out of town on business, and Wendy is fixin' dinner for me in exchange for a little babysitting. I know you told me you'd be working late and then you're heading to your new gym, so you probably can't make it, but maybe…if you get a chance could you give me a call, because I was wondering if you would mind…no, that's okay, I'll see you at home tonight. Love ya."
Warehouse Crime Scene
2:09 p.m.
On his way back from the Sheriff's office, Jim Brass decided to drive over and meet Gil at the crime scene. Upon arriving, he saw the Master Criminalist standing in the center of the warehouse staring at the remnants of the crime.
"Hell of a first day on the new job, huh?" Jim walked over to join his friend. "Did Nick lose it as badly as the grapevine says?"
"It was bad." He glanced over. "Almost destroyed the crime scene."
"But under the circumstances who wouldn't have, right? I mean is this something I have to worry about?" Jim shoved his hands in his pockets. "Do you think he's hittin' the wall? The years catching up to him? Too much pressure between the job and the wedding, maybe? Did the vic really look like his future niece?"
"Eerily similar to McKenna," Gil confirmed. "Same age, and the girl was wearing the same dress she had on yesterday. In my opinion, it was absolutely a one time thing due to the circumstances. Stop worrying Jim, they don't come more dependable and responsible than Nick."
"Good." He nodded. "Yeah…I don't even think I'll document it." Noticing Gil's fixation had returned to the crime scene he inquired, "So, whatcha thinkin'?"
"Nothing good." Gil didn't move his eyes.
"You're thinking this wasn't a one time shot?"
"I'm thinking it was his debut."
Jim heaved a heavy sigh. "The father is on his way in to ID the body and answer questions. He couldn't come sooner because the wife had to be hospitalized when the cops went to the house to make the death notification and transport them to the morgue for identification of the body."
"Any idea what their house looks like?"
Jim wasn't surprised that Gil bypassed the personal details and moved on with him. "No, why? Do you think what their house looked like is critical to the case in some way?"
Gil returned his gaze to Jim. "The dollhouse was handmade and it looked similar to houses we'd see here in Vegas. I'm wondering if maybe it was a replica of the girl's. What if he selected that little girl, then built her a dollhouse? Could have been the hook."
"Why her?"
"That's what I don't know." Grissom folded his arms across his chest and returned his focus to the scene. "Which also means I don't know how he'll select the next one. But until we find him…it's open season on little girls who love dollhouses. Or little girls who like pretty dresses. Or little girls with long curly blond hair. Or, a combination of all of those things…or, none of the above." Heading for the door he exhaled, "Which means, it's time to get to work."
Next Chapter: Losing It - Part 5
Posting: Late Thursday/Early Friday 5/6
Teaser: And the day just keeps getting better...
All 75 chapters of the Feasibility Study series are also available by clicking my homepage link in my author profile. They are posted on this website in 7 different installments.
Thanks for reading and commenting!
Maggs