Thanks to Marlou and Nessa for the beta work.
To the readers – thank you. Your reviews motivate me greatly and are very appreciated.
She paid attention to detail. That's what she does for a living – that's what she does to live. People tell you things with words, gestures, looks, just as crime scenes tell you things with evidence.
The passing down of this case to the nightshift told Sara that Catherine was feeling the weight of her downsized crew and the responsibilities of being a supervisor. If the past several weeks showed anything, it was that everyone had their limits and the fact that Catherine accepted hers pleased Sara greatly. Several nights she would catch Catherine behind her desk, well after her shift, completing paperwork. She contemplated coming in early on occasion to help out but the extent of their strained relationship held her back. Hopefully he'd be back in the field soon.
Her encounter with Nick earlier wasn't exactly what she had expected but in hindsight, it was what they both needed. She ran into him just after Grissom gave her the location of their crime scene. Not a word was spoken and they simply walked into each other's embrace. Since the team had split, their times together were few and far between and they had lost their connection. That hug was a sign that the true love of friendship would always remain.
The scene in front of her told her little more than what Catherine had documented. While Catherine had been thorough, Sara preferred seeing things with her own eyes. Getting a feel of the location and putting everything into perspective was an important factor but so far her study hadn't produced anything new.
Sara stopped walking and took in her surroundings. They were lucky that the wandering boy found the body so early. The kid's neighborhood was visible from where the body had been found, yet far enough away to prevent the possibility of witnesses. The neighborhood actually looked out of place among the flat lands that led up to the hill she was at now. But that was housing around here – homes crammed into any place they could fit them.
When she turned back to the scene, she bumped into the officer assigned to her.
"Me and my shadow," she muttered, annoyed that Officer Skipper couldn't stay out of her personal space. Since Nick's disappearance the officers' awareness bumped up quite a few notches, which was very comforting and reassuring. However, some just over-compensated.
"What?"
"Nothing," she replied, looking again at the development and then in the other direction, further up the hill. "Why out here?"
"What?" he asked again.
"There has to be plenty of hiding places deeper into the brush, but they killed him here – far enough away from that housing community but close enough to be found by a twelve year old boy."
She took one last look at the scene and then referred to Catherine's pictures. Something wasn't making sense. Sara grabbed her flashlight and kit and began to make her way up the slight path with Skipper not far behind.
"Hey, uh … m'am? What are you doing? Where are you going?" He stumbled in his attempt to keep up. "Wait! Are you going to tell me why we're out here?"
"The shoe impressions, Skippy. We have two sets coming from and leading back to the community. One is probably our guy, the other, judging by the size, belongs to the kid. So where did our vic come from?"
"Not sure, m'am – but it's Skipper."
"What?"
"My name. It's Officer Skipper."
"Right, okay. Sorry," she said distractedly as she reached a small clearing, adjacent to a dirt road. Though the clearing didn't interest her as much as the Jeep parked in it did.
"You think that's his?" Skipper asked.
Sara, shining her flashlight into the interior of the vehicle, ignored the question. It was empty save for the wallet and a pack of cigarettes sitting in passenger seat. Opening the door, she retrieved the wallet and looked inside.
She read the name over and over wondering why she felt like she should know this person.
"Our DB has a name."
After ridding herself of Skippy and putting in a request to have the Jeep towed, Sara found herself in her boss' doorway. The single desk lamp highlighted the features she had become all too familiar with. Clearing her throat, she entered the office.
He looked up and offered her a quick smile. "Hey."
"Hey to you, too." Sara took her seat in front of his desk. "How did the autopsy go?"
Grissom took off his glasses and reclined back in his chair. "Cause of death was the gunshot to the head – no surprise, there. The contusions were caused by a foreign object. There where bits of wood pulled from the wounds."
"So maybe a plank or a bat?" she supplied.
"We still don't have an I.D. I printed him and left them for Jacqui to see if he's in the system. She has quite a few prints to process from Greg's case so she may not have anything till tomorrow."
"I know who he is." Sara smiled teasingly and enjoyed the look of surprise she received.
"You do?"
"Yep. Clark Higgins. Found his vehicle not too far from the scene. You know, that type of violence leads me to believe that it was personal."
"You think he was meeting his killer?"
"Yeah."
Grissom straightened up and replaced his glasses. Glancing at his watch and then back to her, he said, "Shift's almost over and we can't do much more tonight. Why don't you go on home."
"What about you?"
"I'll give this paperwork one more hour and then I'm right behind you."
Cohabitating. Living together. It's knowing the exact instant that Grissom walks through the door – not just because of the shuffling of his feet or the sound of his keys hitting the table top, but the feel of his presence.
It's feeling your heart come home.
The transition was easier than she thought it would be. After years of living apart she figured they would step on each other's toes one too many times and be done with it. But that didn't happen. They had the normal 'getting to know the real you' issues and their lack of compromising sometimes led to blow-ups. Sharing living space, however, never felt cramped. In fact, the weight of the air was less oppressive with him around. Loneliness had over-stayed its welcome for so long that having another human around was like being able to breathe again. That the human was Grissom made it that much sweeter.
She and Grissom never really spoke of the night he came to her. It was just so oddly natural to have him in her arms and for her to be held by his. Questions and doubts that rose within her had been tamped down by the pleasure of finally having the man she loved offer himself to her. She didn't ask him why she was suddenly worth it, just as she didn't ask herself why she let him love her without explanation – without telling her why she had to hurt for so long.
She loved him, without a doubt, and she knew that deep down she couldn't have turned him away. She just wished that they'd talk about it, but now with things so good, it seemed too late.
Sara could hear him walking down the hall towards their bedroom. When he propped himself against the doorframe she remained on the bed, continuing her task and feigning ignorance of his arrival, allowing him a moment or two of gazing. Things were still new and even Sara had found herself doing her fair share of staring, amazed that they were at this point.
"What are you doing?" He walked to the end of the bed, stopping when his knees touched the edge.
She looked up at him then and raised her brow. "Wow. You weren't kidding when you said you'd try to leave work at the lab," she deadpanned. Lifting the shirt she had in her hand she continued, "This is called folding the laundry."
"Gimme that." He leaned over and quickly snatched the garment, sending a smirk in her direction. Sitting down at the foot of the bed, he began to help her fold.
"Wait, wait – are you sure you know what you're doing? You hang everything - jeans, t-shirts – I'm surprised you don't hang your briefs."
"Have your fun," he said, pointing his finger at her. "It was obviously great insight; you take up all the drawer space."
"Oh shush," she said, leaning over and kissing him softly. She pulled away slowly and smiled. Kissing him had to be her all-time favorite thing to do, well, close to her all-time favorite. "Hi."
"Hi," he whispered back. Glancing at the huge pile of clothing and then back at her, he asked, "Do we really have to do this right now?"
"Yes. I've put it off long enough; it was becoming a mountain."
"So, you want to go in early tomorrow since we really didn't make much progress today? I'd really like to get a move on this case."
"Do you even have to ask?" she asked, nudging him with her foot. Moving a pile of folded laundry, she situated herself beside Grissom. "Um … what do you think about this case?"
Grissom glanced at her, seeing that there was more to the question. "What's on your mind?"
"The victim. That name didn't sound familiar to you, did it?"
"Clark Higgins? No. Why? Does it mean something to you?"
"I just … I think I know the name, but I can't place it." Getting up to put away the clothes, she shook her head and tried to brush it off. "It's nothing – just nagging me, that's all."
Grissom rose and took her arm. "Hold on – do you think it's someone you know?"
"No," Sara replied, confused by the change in his tone.
"Are you sure, because if you know him-"
"I don't know him - I've never seen him before." The doubtful look on his face angered her and she turned from him, pulling away from his grasp. "I don't believe this - if I knew him, I would tell you. I wouldn't compromise the case or you – you know that."
"I was just making sure."
"No, you didn't trust me to be honest with you," she tossed over her shoulder, slamming the dresser drawers with a little more force than necessary.
"You know why I had to ask, Sara. We can't risk you having a personal involvement with the case. I know that things have gotten better, but your footing with Ecklie is still precarious," he stated, tentatively. "And then there's us."
"Us?" she asked incredulously, spinning around to face him.
"We need to be careful and keep our noses clean until we're ready to go public."
"No. You don't get to touch me in the middle of the lab, tell me you love me - where anyone could hear - and then turn around and use our relationship as an excuse for not taking what I say at face value."
Though it was the truth, she regretted those words once the effect of them settled on his features. She knew that it took a lot for him to reach out to her at work and she just threw it right back in face.
"Griss-"
"I'm trying to protect us – protect you. I can't have another situation where a CSI is personally involved in a case. Both the sheriff and Ecklie are still upset over Catherine's connection in the Granger case that involved that guy she met in a bar."
"As are you." Sara softened her tone. "You haven't spoken to her, non case related, in months."
"Since when have you cared about my friendship with Catherine?" he snapped.
Trying to diffuse the argument, she took his hand and stroked it with her thumb. "If it involves you, I care."
"I just want to make sure our bases are covered, honey," he said, bringing his other hand up to cup her face.
"I know."
Sara watched as he sighed, tipping his head back and closing his eyes. It still surprised her to witness emotions that he'd kept hidden for so long.
He lowered his head and brushed his lips against her temple. "I hate it when we do this."
"Why?" she asked, innocently. "We're so good at it."
"We're good at other things, too," he said, pulling her closer and burying his face in her neck.
"That we are." She wrapped her arms around his waist and savored the feel of his warm breath against her neck. "Let's just stick with the 'other things' then."
To Be Continued ...