Disclaimer: See chapter one.
Author's Note: Again, thanks to all for the feedback.
Chapter five
"Excuse me. Yeah, you two. Excuse me?"
Grissom slid his sunglasses over his eyes, turning casually in mid-step just as he and Sara were about to enter the general store.
The coarse male voice sounded vaguely disgruntled, and lacked any smidgen of courtesy, and Grissom blinked in the dazzling sunlight as hewas confronted head-on with the man in question. He wore a distinctive badge that read, 'Sheriff' like a personal insignia of honour, and he folded his hefty arms, exuding self-importance.
Grissom lifted an eyebrow mildly, keeping the irritation he felt from showing on his face. He moved out of the way as an elderly woman moved past them into the store, feeling Sara bump his side as they stepped onto the side of the wooden platform.
"Sheriff", he answered politely, voice light and infinitely pleasant. "What can we do for you?"
The stout man looked to be in his mid-to-late fifties, with thick, bushy eyebrows that furrowed over his eyes like straggly caterpillars. He came up to about Grissom's height, and puffed his chest out unpleasantly as Grissom addressed him. For some odd reason, Grissom found it more difficult to deal with small-time law enforcement officers than the supercilious big-city version. They made it seem like he was marring their own personal territory when he attempted to cross into their jurisdictions, and were intolerant towards any offers of help, as if it was an insult to their own good name if they accepted it.
"I hear you two have been asking some unwanted questions around town," the Sheriff said bluntly, utterly skipping any good-natured pleasantries. He scowled at them like they were juvenile delinquents caught disturbing the peace. "Is that about right, Mr….?"
"Grissom", the entomologist offered calmly. "And no, not exactly. We're conducting an official investigation".
"Really? Funny, I haven't been contacted by any outside department about an 'investigation'." He turned his eyes on Sara, with a lingering appreciation that made Grissom irritated. "And who's your lady partner here then?"
"Sara Sidle", she supplied curtly, demeanour icy enough to intimidate even the most overly eager male admirer.
The Sheriff lifted an eyebrow, returning his attention to Grissom quickly. "We don't appreciate people here nosing around where they don't belong, Mr. Grissom", he said pointedly.
"Well, as soon as we find what we're looking for, we should be out of your way", Grissom replied with a feigned smile.
The Sheriff looked irritated at being patronised, and folded his bulky arms. "Let me give you some advice. We don't welcome trouble. Folks around here like to keep to themselves. There ain't nothing interesting for you city folks to find out here. If I hear of you doing anything to disturb anyone, I will have both of you arrested so fast, you won't even remember where it's coming from. You got that?"
"Loud and clear", Sara responded dryly.
He shot her a dirty look, unimpressed with her blasé reaction to his threat. "People don't like a smart mouth on a pretty girl, missy".
He gave them a parting glare, and stepped off the wooden porch leading into the store, stomping down the bitumen road towards his parked police cruiser like a man on a mission.
Grissom glanced at Sara, who gave him a careless shrug before turning back to their original destination.
The bell chimed merrily over the door as they entered, and the cool air from the derelict air conditioner in the corner hit them almost immediately.
They weren't in the habit of working without the cooperation of the local police. Grissom was very familiar with their derision, but they had always had the security of their support, something he attributed largely to Brass. They didn't have it now, and it was an unfamiliar position, one that filled him with a vague sense of unease.
Sara seemed unbothered by their prior encounter, swiftly retrieving a shopping basket from the stack by the door, and strutting confidently down the aisle in her tight-fitting jeans and burgundy blouse, piling items into her basket.
Grissom watched her sinuous, graceful movements for a moment, taking in the contrast between this everyday version he had of her, and the vision he had from last night. He understood for the first time that he had seen a rare, vulnerable side of her, and he was surprised that she even felt comfortable enough around him to do that.
He envied her ability to bare herself to him so easily, when he was so afraid of opening himself to her.
He followed slowly behind her as she threw a few bottles of mountain dew into the basket, aware of the inadvertent domesticity of the moment. So this was what it would be like to date Sara, to do something as mundane as grocery shopping together. He swallowed at the images his mind concocted, unwilling to allow himself such an unattainable daydream. There had to be a line, and the last two days had blurred it considerably. He couldn't allow himself to take the fantasy any further. That was dangerous territory.
Sara appeared completely oblivious to his thoughts, and turned to glance at him vaguely as she paused at the end of the aisle.
"So, what's our next move going to be today?"
He realised that she was automatically submitting to his leadership, and that he enjoyed the control he had over her perhaps more than he should. They were in the real world, and he wasn't technically her boss, and yet she was still expecting him to make the next decision.
He knew, if they were to ever enter into a personal relationship, that dynamic would shift dramatically. And he had no doubt who would have the power then.
He cleared his throat, scanning her as she surveyed the shelves in front of her, unaware of his inner dilemma. She usually was.
"I don't know", he admitted, promoting her opinion.
She glanced at him, and he thought he saw a glimmer of knowing in her sharp brown gaze. A small smile quirked at her lips, but it was gone just as quickly, and she returned her attention to the selection of food in front of them.
"All we have to go on is a name, and what I'm guessing is an address, right? And then we have a dead girl where there shouldn't be one. There are so many things about this that don't make sense. How can Hayley's body have been found here if she was found in Vegas two months ago? How could they bury her? Unless she had an identical twin out there, she can't exactly die twice."
Grissom glanced at her sharply, and she frowned self-consciously. "What?"
"We have to exhume the body."
She blinked stupidly. "What? Uh, Grissom, you are remembering our meeting with the friendly Sheriff just now, right? How are we going to get permission for that? The local authorities don't like us poking around up here already. I don't think they're going to give us free access to their cemetery, especially without a court order…"
He sighed, deflating slightly at her reasoning. "We need more evidence."
"We need more help", she corrected sharply. She rounded the corner to the line of fridges, wrinkling her nose as she examined the contents.
"What are you suggesting?" he asked quietly, trailing behind her.
Sara shrugged. "Maybe we should call someone from the lab".
Grissom gave her a long look, wasted when he realised she had failed to turn around. "Sara, we've already seriously put our own jobs in jeopardy. I don't want to risk involving anyone else—"
"And maybe that's your problem", she retorted unexpectedly, turning to glance at him as she pulled open the fridge and retrieved a small tub of yoghurt. "You have to realise that you can't decide other people's risks."
He stared at her, unable to miss the unmistakable subtext lurking beneath her words. He also couldn't help but realise that she would never have allowed herself to say that to him under normal circumstances.
"Who do you suggest I call?" he asked, after a long, interminable pause.
Sara closed the fridge, looking away. "Well, I don't know if you're going to agree with it, but I know who I would call".
He did know, and the ease with which she put her trust in the person in question made him irrationally annoyed. He wondered, not for the first time, what exactly her relationship was with him.
"I'll make the call", he said, tiredly.
He left her to pay for the groceries, knowing that she wouldn't accept his money if he offered it to her, and strode out into the staggering sunlight, leaning against his parked SUV as he punched in the familiar numbers.
"Yello?"
He rolled his eyes at the typical unprofessional greeting. "Is that always how you answer your phone, Greg?"
Greg was unfazed by his blatant disapproval, continuing in his light-hearted tone. "Well. Long time, no speak, boss. What can I do for you?"
Grissom sighed deeply, running a hand over his eyes and warding away the intensity of the morning sun. "I need you to do a background search on someone called Marcus Henway. I also need to locate a place called Delinda's Lounge."
"You do know that my shift is just about over, don't you?" Greg said pointedly. "Sofia's had me working non-stop all night trying to keep up on the cases you abandoned."
Grissom felt a brief surge of guilt, sighing deeply. "I'll pay you for the overtime, Greg."
"This wouldn't happen to have anything to do with the Jane Doe case Ecklie pulled the plug on the other day, would it?"
"Greg, just do it, please".
"All right, all right. I'll call you with any results." He paused, and Grissom heard a mischievous lilt in his voice when he spoke again. "Say hi to Sara for me".
He hung up before Grissom could respond, and he thought that that was probably Greg's smartest move yet.
Sara moved down the stairs with a paper grocery bag in her hands, glancing at him expectantly.
"He's on it", he answered swiftly.
"Good". She allowed him to take the bag from her and put it in the trunk. She climbed in the driver's seat, and he sighed tiredly before moving around to the passenger's side. She held her hand out for the keys, wiggling her slender fingers slightly. He stared at her for a moment, and then he handed them over.
"Where to?" she asked monotonously, calmly backing out of the space.
"The cemetery", he answered, somewhat wearily. "Call me insane, but I'd like to verify Mrs. Barton's claim".
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