Disclaimer: See chapter one.
Author's Note: One more after this, guys. Thank you very much for the continualfeedback.
Chapter twelve
Sara sat back in the solitary armchair, flipping idly through an old edition of Eildenbrook's town newsletter as Grissom's voice drifted over from the other side of the room.
She had found it stuffed in one of her empty drawers, and scanned the yellowing papers vaguely, dimly recalling how unexciting small town life had been from her own early childhood.
"Can you prove it?"
Grissom's voice rose slightly, and she glanced at him briefly, taking in the surprise in his expression. He shifted, pacing slightly, a gesture she recognised as his attempt to work through unexpected information. "Well, Catherine, good work. I didn't expect you to find anything so quickly".
He muttered a few more goodbyes, snapping the phone closed in his palm. "What happened?" she asked, folding one leg over the other, glancing up at him expectantly.
He lifted an eyebrow, looking somewhat bewildered. "They found Hayley's killer. Marcus Henway. Apparently he lured her and several other girls into sexual slavery, before she tried to escape. They managed to arrest him on sex charges until we can gather enough evidence to convict him of murder."
Sara lifted an eyebrow; equally surprised that Catherine and Warrick's small trip had proven to be so effective.
"So, uh…" She lowered the crinkled paper on her knees, eyeing him uncertainly. "What now?"
"I told Catherine that we had one more thing to take care of before we would be coming back to Vegas".
"Right", Sara agreed, sinking back further in her chair. "The case of the mysterious burial. Or lack of, technically".
Grissom crossed to the double bed in the middle of the room, resting wearily on the edge and eyeing her thoughtfully. "Any theories?"
She lifted an eyebrow, unable to resist a small smirk. "I thought you didn't like theories".
Grissom shrugged, leaning back on one arm. He appeared vaguely amused by her harmless teasing, and she felt her slender frame relax slightly, unable to help the return of her faint feelings of dread when she realised this could all be over all too soon. She really didn't want to return to Vegas. She was sure that she would find this had all been some fantastic, imaginary dream. Or even worse— that Grissom would treat as one.
His blue eyes glimmered as they studied her intently, as if he was reading her thoughts. He suddenly reached out, catching the end of her foot where it rested near the side of the bed. She stared at him in surprise, and he slid his fingers delicately over the curve of her foot, sliding her shoe carefully onto the floor.
"I'm learning to adjust to a lot of things, Ms. Sidle", he said carefully, in a low timbered voice, caressing the arch of her foot.
She shivered, wondering exactly what that meant; what his sudden affection was intended to prove.
She felt her flesh tingle as his hand trailed deftly over her ankle, allowing herself to be dragged forward. When she was close enough, he took her by the hand, pulling her towards him on the bed. His eyes were focused fixedly on her, and she was surprised by the sudden purpose behind them.
Their combined weight sunk into the mattress, and Sara felt the roughness of his stubble brush her cheek as Grissom lifted his lips to hers. She willingly lost herself in the kiss for a moment, lingering over his lips, letting her fingers slide through his silvery curls, rumpled slightly from his movement on the bed.
She broke away first, feeling warmth course through her at their nearness, feeling strangely light and comfortable from her position on top of him. "I thought you wanted to hear my theory", she whispered, voice oddly husky, brushing against his lips.
Her body was warm and pliant against his, and Grissom found it difficult to remember why he had inwardly battled against this for so long. He lifted his palm, lightly tracing the side of her face, brushing his thumb briefly across her lips. "I'm not going to forget this", he said, voice dripping with sincerity and seriousness. "You know that, right?"
She nodded, a little uncertainly; surprised that he could read her well enough to know that she was still feeling insecure. Perhaps he had always been able to read her. Only now was he able to show it.
"I know", she replied softly, looking down. She vaguely straightened his top button, giving herself a reason to avoid his gaze. "I'm just… not used to this. We still… we don't know what we're doing here".
"I told you that we would—"
"Talk about this when we get back to Vegas", she finished, frowning. "Yeah, I know. What does that mean, exactly? Are you going to say that this was a nice time, but that you still can't have a relationship with me, or does this actually mean something to you?"
She drew away from him, feeling the chill of the room immediately envelope her at the loss of their combined heat, releasing a deep sigh as she sat on the bed beside him. Grissom sat up, eyes drifting cautiously over her face. "Is that what you think?"
Sara blinked, glancing at him, taking in the wounded cadence of his husky voice. She laughed softly, a dry, humourless sound. "Judging by our previous track record, uh, yeah, I do."
How had this turned into a conversation about them? They still had a case to solve, and their personal issues could never seem to wait behind.
She felt Grissom's gaze on her, silently, and her frown deepened when she glanced up to meet it. "What?"
"Do you think that after everything that has happened between us, I would allow this to happen and that it would be meaningless?" he asked quietly.
"I don't know", she said, voice small and suddenly child-like. "Would it?"
Instead of showing the frustration she had expected, or worse, the piteous denial, his lips quirked in a small, sad smile, and his broad fingers reached up and gently brushed a stray wisp of hair from her cheek. "God, I love you", he murmured seriously, the words so foreign on his lips it took a moment for them to register in her mind.
Sara blinked, certain she had misheard his statement, eyes opening wide from shock. "What?"
He frowned, as if realising what he had just said, mouth opening and closing as if he wasn't quite sure how to handle his unexpected declaration.
Sara didn't allow him to. She shifted onto her knees, crushing her mouth suddenly over his. Grissom tightened his arms around her, surprised by the impulsive movement, amazed by the reaction his words had evoked.
It was the last thing he had been expecting. He had thought if he ever uttered those forbidden words to a woman, she would shy away from him in revulsion, or reject him without hesitation. The barbed wire fence he had kept closed permanently around his heart loosened at Sara's soft, gentle touch, and he knew that he could never rebuild it again.
Her arms slipped around his neck, and it was as if his confession had released a torrent of all of her unspoken emotions. He responded with equal fervour, amazed by the utter release he felt in the wake of his words. He did love her. His feelings for her had always been so strong, yet so repressed; and he wasn't sure how long he really had.
Their hands roamed each other as they collapsed once more onto the mattress, and after a while, they didn't say anything, falling into a state of such insurmountable bliss that words simply weren't necessary.
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Sara woke to the waning light of dusk fanning over her face, and she shifted, rolling on her back as the sound of the distant shower invaded her consciousness.
She felt a small smile tug at her lips when she realised that three simple words had freed her from any anxiety she might have felt from Grissom's absence. Something vital had shifted in their relationship, and she had never felt more invigorated, thrumming with a newfound, unknown appreciation for her life.
She slid off the bed, lazily crossing the room to grab a new set of clothes from her unpacked suitcase in the corner. Something crunched loudly under her foot as she rounded the bed, and she frowned, glancing down at the Eildenbrook newsletter she had abandoned a few hours before.
She bent to retrieve it, glancing up at the bathroom when she heard the water flow stop. Her gaze drifted down over the paper as she came to a halt in front of her suitcase, and she blinked in surprise.
Quickly, she tugged on a pair of jeans, and was about to button the rest of her shirt when the door to the bathroom opened.
Her head darted up, meeting Grissom's surprised gaze, and she snatched up the paper again, staring at him in disbelief. "You are not going to believe this".
She shoved the paper into his hands, buttoning up the rest of her shirt as she waited for him to make the same connection.
His eyes lifted again, widening in surprise.
"I'll drive", he announced abruptly, moving towards the bedside drawers where he had left his keys. Sara worked her fingers quickly through her hair, already behind him on his way to the door.
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The Sheriff's office was dimly lit, but it was clear they had caught Waters before he made his trek home.
Grissom pulled his SUV to a halt on the dusty road outside his office, empty except for Waters' now familiar cruiser, and the two of them strode briskly towards the back of the building.
Waters sat behind his desk, office door wide open, chewing a wad of gum and grinding his mouth with obnoxious noise, glancing something over with intense concentration.
He glanced up at the sound of their entrance, brow furrowing together in mild surprise and subsequent annoyance. "Well. Mr. Grissom. Ms. Sidle. To what do I owe this visit? Come to make any more accusations?"
"Bobby Harley is your nephew", Sara said abruptly, cutting off any further attempt at inadequate pleasantries. "There's a photograph of you together in one of the town's old newsletters".
Waters blinked, considerably perplexed. It was obviously not the kind of allegation he had been expecting. He laughed, a short, low, raucous sound, an obvious indication that he was going to mock their attempts to indict him. "Yeah. His mother is my sister. That's not exactly news".
"He was the one to find Hayley Barton's body", Grissom surmised bluntly. In his dealings with the Sheriff had lost all remnants of his patience. "Correct?"
The Sheriff stared at them impatiently, tapping a pen nonchalantly against the top of his desk. "Yes. She was located on the edge of his father's property."
"Hayley became involved in Satanism through a boy she knew in this town", Sara stated flatly. "Obviously she wouldn't have access to that kind of material at her grandmother's house. But a rich boy like Bobby – he would have the Internet, wouldn't he? He would be able to get into contact with people who run that kind of organisation".
Waters pursed his lips, remaining silent.
"Hayley's grandmother beat her, didn't she?" Sara pressed on, eyes narrowing angrily. "She physically abused her, and Hayley would have done anything to get away".
Her eyes darkened slightly, and Grissom wondered if she was speaking from personal experience. He carefully stepped forward. "Bobby wanted to help her. They decided to fabricate her death-- make her grandmother believe that she was murdered. Being the Sheriff's nephew must have certain advantages. They asked you to help them."
"And you agreed", Sara added darkly. "Because you knew what was happening all that time, and you didn't do anything about it".
"You would only need to enlist the help of a few close employees", Grissom said. "I'll bet that the fibre we found could be traced back to one of them. Someone who probably isn't you, because you weren't too worried about us finding it in the first place."
"The church custodian", Waters muttered, at last. "He died last month".
Sara nodded. "And you sold the property as quickly as possible. If the real authorities ever decided to start a valid investigation, all of the evidence would be gone".
Grissom and Sara grew silent, satisfied that they had spun their tale long enough. The Sheriff shifted in his chair, leaning back, looking infinitely tired. "Her grandfather was a respected member of the farming community, when he was alive", he said with a sigh. "What happened in his house was his business. What his wife did… was her business".
Sara glared at him. "She abused an innocent teenage girl who had just lost her mother. You're the Sheriff. How is that not your business?"
"I did what I could", he said, wearily. "When Bobby asked for my help… I couldn't turn him down. He would have found another way to do it if I did. And then he would be in a lot more trouble. He would have lost his only chance of getting out of this place."
Grissom and Sara exchanged a glance, mildly horrified by his reasoning. "And if you had intervened in the first place, Hayley would have had a chance too", Sara snapped. "And she wouldn't be dead."
He stared distantly at something on his desk, unable to argue, but unable to defend himself either. Sara stared at him, the victory of their resolution sour in her mind when she realised how many people had been forced to pay the bitter price in the process. And that one innocent, misledteenage girl had been the cause of so much madness.
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