Disclaimer: See chapter one.
Chapter ten
Overhanging trees right next to the modest cemetery shrouded the town's only church. It was a reasonably dilapidated building, constructed of weathered brick and slate. The windows were frosted with old stained glass, some cracked with age and yet to be replaced.
It was under the shade of the church that they stood, hovering silently over Hayley Barton's granite headstone.The Sheriff did not look happy. He stood to one side, features twisted in a grim scowl, obviously displeased by his unnegotiable orders.
The cemetery buzzed with officers as they crowded over the humble gravesite, shovels sliding against dirt as they worked with graceless rhythm. The proximity between surrounding headstones was so narrow that an excavator was out of the question, so the Sheriff had his men digging by hand.
Sara and Grissom stood quietly on the other side of the wide opening, the smell of earth pungent in the air. They were just touching, warming each other's sides with mere physical contact, for once free from any added tension.
Sara couldn't believe how normal things felt between them; how utterly natural their interactions had become.
Time had taken on an almost limitless quality in this dreamlike place among the trees and the heavens, and she did nothing but savour it, ignoring the fact that home and Las Vegas beckoned on the horizon, and with them, harsh, bitterly unwelcome reality and the uncertain future of their relationship.
Sara shifted, sparing another brief glance at Sheriff Waters, taking in the heavy glower on his raw-boned features as he presided over his men at the head of the grave, arms folded severely.
She was aware that there were several strict protocols to follow when exhumation was undertaken, and they had already breached several of these in dealing with the stalwart, ignorant man. Ecklie had attained a court order from the Nye County authorities in record time, under Grissom's mysterious threat, and she only hoped their current circumstances would not sabotage their efforts.
"I hope you realise how disrespectful this all is", Waters said bluntly, voice carrying to the two of them over the rush of shovels. "Sylvia Barton is a God-fearing woman. She is not going to be very happy."
"In the interest of justice, I'm sure she will understand", Grissom responded calmly.
Sara had been raised with certain Catholic values, and she understood that what they were doing was seen as blatant sacrilege. But her faith was shaky at best. She was a witness to the violence and evils of mankind from an early age, and there was nothing that she believed in more strongly than justice.
The shovels gave a metallic clang as they connected abruptly against wood, and the officers stopped their mechanical movements swiftly. "I think we're there, Sheriff".
They squatted on their hands and knees over the casket, brushing the remaining dirt and grime from the top with their hands while waiting for his order.
Waters pursed his lips, face taken even grimmer by their discovery, and glanced over at Grissom and Sara a moment before speaking. "Okay. Open it up, boys".
Grissom frowned, body shifting noticeably out of protest. She knew he was tired of the constant stonewalls they had been confronted with in this place. She thought that if there was one thing gained from this trip, it might be that he would have more respect for the inner workings of Las Vegas when they returned. "Uh, excuse me, but you can't open it here".
The Sheriff stared at him, waving him off impatiently. "I'm sure you can see whatever it is you need to see right here."
"No, I don't think so. We need to take the body in for proper analysis".
The Sheriff gave him a withering look, pursing his dry, parched lips as a gust of wind disrupted the loose earth. "You're really starting to try my patience, Mr. Grissom", he snapped tersely. "In case you haven't noticed, we don't have a lab, or the equipment you and your partner are going to need around here. Now you can either look at it right here, or you can call up your big city boss."
Grissom clenched his jaw, his own patience obviously reaching its limit, and could do nothing but slowly nod his assent.
One of the officers crouched by the side of the coffin, levering a crowbar into the wooden opening. His upper arms bristled with effort as he wedged it inside, and suddenly the lid gave and flew open, slapping as it connected with the opposite dirt wall. Sara felt herself wince, wondering which of them was really being disrespectful.
There was a collective silence as they all bent forward, and Sara removed her sunglasses all together as her eyebrows drew together incredulously, taking in the sight before her.
"You have got to be kidding me".
Grissom's mouth opened in mute surprise, blue eyes scanning the inside of the coffin from head to foot, as he too struggled to comprehend what it was he was seeing.
The inside of the casket was lined with about five inches of dirt, packed inside with the obvious intent to match the weight of a fully-grown female body.
Other than that, it was completely empty.
"Well", Grissom said, working his jaw in a state of suspended disbelief as he drew his words out slowly, lifting his gaze to meet with Waters'. "You were right about being able to see everything from here".
"What the hell?" the Sheriff muttered, wiping his sleeve over his forehead as if to wipe the nonexistent sweat, shaking his head nervously.
Grissom narrowed his eyes, stepping forward brusquely. "Would you care to explain to me how you managed to bury a coffin full of dirt instead of a dead girl?"
"I have no idea", Waters snapped, sounding oddly defensive. "I don't understand how this could have happened".
"Wouldn't someone be able to feel the difference?" Sara prompted pointedly. "Whoever was in charge of this?"
"Unless it was done intentionally", Grissom said flatly.
The Sheriff stepped back from the gaping hole, as if he could remove its reality by removing it from his sight. "Now wait a minute. That's about all I'm gonna hear from you two. If you want to make some kind of accusation…"
"We don't need to", Grissom interrupted curtly. "The evidence will do that for us".
"What do you mean?" Waters asked, caught off-guard.
"Fingerprints, fibres, hairs", Grissom explained patiently. "Anything the perpetrator left behind, we can find inside the casket, and link them to him".
The Sheriff twisted his mouth, gaze darting between them carefully. After a long, heavy moment, he nodded his approval. "Well, good. That'll teach the grave-robbing sons a bitches to steal in my town!"
Grissom and Sara exchanged a wary glance, and the Sheriff headed for his cruiser, ordering several officers to stay with them while they collected their evidence. Obviously, he had no intention of hanging around himself.
Sara shot Grissom a look as they slid out of earshot, eyes drifting down over the open grave as if it held all of their answers.
"Okay", she said sardonically. "Well, we know one thing for sure now. Hayley Barton and our dead girl are definitely the same person".
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Six months of potential decomposition obviously hindered their ability to collect lasting physical evidence.
Of course, that didn't stop them from trying. And it didn't stop them from allowing the Sheriff to believe that they would uncover something incriminating.
Sara folded her sleeves over her elbows, crouching down low over the open casket as she lowered her tweezers onto something caught on the splintered wood inside.
She lifted it more closely to her gaze, feeling a smile quirk at her lips when she recognised it for what it was. "Got a fibre", she reported, leaning back up onto the surface to collect an evidence bag from her kit.
Grissom glanced at her briefly, feeling an answering smile tug at his lips. The space between them was cramped, and they stood inside the narrow opening at opposite ends. "Material?"
"Nylon, I think. I guess we can send it back to the Toonopah lab for analysis, anyway".
They were wary about trusting another lab to handle this case. It was clear someone had already worked very hard to cover up whatever had happened to Hayley Barton.
"I don't get this", she said, glancing up to make sure Waters' officers couldn't overhear their conversation. "Obviously, the Sheriff has a lot of leeway here. But there would still have to be a good number of people involved to pull something like this off… I mean, if he is responsible."
"Eildenbrook is so small that the mortuary and the coroner both work directly under the Sheriff. If it was his intention to… fabricate this girl's death, it wouldn't be very difficult."
"Well, if he is responsible, he's being pretty calm about letting us look for evidence."
"Maybe he thinks we aren't going to find anything. Or, maybe he wasn't the perpetrator".
She twisted her features in a frown, sealing the plastic bag and carefully placing it back into her kit. "Who else would it be?"
"People can be very different under the surface than they might seem."
She smiled dimly at his reference, wondering if it held some deeper significance. She met Grissom's gaze, almost swallowing under its searing heat, convincing herself that it did.
"Well", she said, clearing her throat quickly, and forcing her mind back onto their work. "If someone really did… orchestrate this, why would they go to such elaborate lengths? And why would Hayley's body turn up in Vegas six months later?"
Grissom sighed, shaking his head. This case was starting to elude even him, and it bothered him more than he liked.
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The Eildenbrook tavern as it was known, was clustered with several leather booths, and Grissom and Sara sat in one, eating in quiet contemplation as they pondered the details of their case.
Sara pushed her garden salad around on her plate, finding it difficult to muster up an appetite. Grissom looked equally subdued, and she could recognise the familiar signs of his frustration as it was beginning to show.
"I think we're looking at this from the wrong angle".
He lifted his head at her voice, blue eyes flickering over hers with faint intrigue. She resisted a smile, marvelling once again at how well they complimented each other professionally. A personal relationship would surely make problems with that. Or, she considered vaguely, it could make them only stronger.
"Whoever orchestrated Hayley's so-called death, did it after she left for Vegas", she said slowly. "Without knowing what happened to her after that, we're pretty much shooting at fish in barrels."
His features drew together in a thoughtful frown, and a small smile quirked at the corner of his lips when he came up with his solution. "I'll be back in a minute".
She blinked, staring after him in perplexity as he strode past the row of booths, in the direction of the restrooms and a lone payphone in the far corner. "Um, okay. Glad to help".
Grissom slid several pieces of change into the slot, dialling the numbers he had long since memorized and waiting patiently for the familiar voice to respond.
"Yeah, Willows".
He lifted an eyebrow at her brisk tone, but went on nonetheless. "Hey, Cath".
He perceived the sound of her dropping something abruptly on her desk-- presumedly a mug of her standard black coffee. "I don't know what the hell you said to Ecklie, but it's working. He's really on the warpath now. He reduced a lab intern to tears this morning because she forgot to restock his pencils".
He winced, understanding that he had played a significant role in making the atmosphere at the lab even more intense. "He'll calm down, eventually. Just advise everyone to stay out of his way until he does."
"One step ahead of you, Gil. You're not going to tell me what you said, are you?"
"No."
"Yeah, typical. So, what's up?"
"I need a favour".
She paused, and her voice took on a lighter, teasing quality. "Say, Gil, you sound awfully chipper. Things going okay down in redneckville?"
"Yes. Fine".
"I'll bet. What did you do?"
Grissom blinked at Catherine's tone, sighing impatiently. As much as he enjoyed her banter, their case was making him far too preoccupied to tolerate it right then. "What?"
"Grissom, I'll give you a clue. Chipper and you, are not words I would have considered putting in the same sentence five minutes ago. What did you do?"
"Catherine, I don't know what you are talking about--?"
Her sharp gasp cut through his procrastination before he could finish. He closed his eyes, realising from firsthand experience with Catherine that something he was not prepared to deal with was about to come his way.
"You got laid, didn't you?"
If he could have made a noise, he would have choked. As it was, he could only let out a rasped whisper. "Excuse me?"
Her disbelieving laugh told him his pathetic attempt to dissuade her had been unsuccessful. "Oh my GOD, you got laid!"
He sincerely hoped she was alone in her office. He carefully cleared his throat, discomfort growing considerably. "Catherine, I have no idea what would possibly make you assume that…"
She scoffed, sounding highly amused, and oddly, relieved. "Grissom, you have been alone with Sara for three days. If you didn't get laid, I would be seriously concerned."
He went silent, feeling his gaze unwilling drawn to Sara around the corner. She was staring distantly out the side window, preoccupied by something out of his line of sight. Her soft brown hair shone in the filtering sunlight, and he remembered running his fingers through it the night before. He quickly looked away, deciding that acknowledging Catherine's comment was a bad idea. "Catherine, I need you to help me with this case".
He heard her chuckle distantly, but she followed his example, picking up her end of the conversation. "I have my own cases to deal with, in case you have forgotten what being a supervisor involves these days."
"I understand that, and this is strictly off the books. I just need you to do a little research for me. It doesn't involve much, I promise".
She sighed deeply, and he sensed her weariness too. He had tried to warn her what being a supervisor would entail. It was always difficult to convince Catherine of these things. "Okay. What do I have to do?"
"I need you to talk to a man called Marcus Henway. He's involved in a religious faction that resides somewhere on the fringes of Vegas, around Lake Mead."
"The cult thing, right? Yeah, Greg was telling us about it".
"Do you think you could do that?"
She paused, and then released another long-suffering sigh. "Sure. It might put a little variety into my day. I'll take Warrick. He's always up for a little excursion."
"Thanks, Cath".
"Yeah, I'll hold you to that. One more thing, Gil."
His silence prompted her on. "Don't screw it up with our little Miss Sidle, okay? We want to be able to work when you guys get back to the office."
With that final piece of advice, she hung up the phone on her end, and the dial tone clicked dully in his ear. He sighed, lowering the phone as he heard the coins collapse inside the device. He was momentarily offended that she thought he would do that to Sara, and then he reconsidered, feeling his gaze drawn back to the woman in question.
He was guilty of much more.
He sighed deeply, lowering his gaze. He wasn't comfortable with regularly acknowledging his emotions, but he understood that for them to have a healthy, working relationship, some things had to change.
For her, he was willing to try that.
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