Chapter 2

I finally did it! She shouted in her mind, jogging down the steps of the building, raising her fists over her head in triumph. Then, remembering she was in public, she slowly put them down, looking around sheepishly. Now all I have to do is wait and hope he calls.

Grissom pulled open the bottom drawer of his desk and found a small plastic bag. He carefully placed the envelope inside. He wanted to make sure it didn't get any more contaminated that it might already be. Damn right I want a DNA test. He headed to the lab. And maybe a fingerprint or two, as well.

After getting a blood sample from the envelope, he started the process for getting the DNA profile, vaguely remembering chastising Catherine for the same thing he was about to do. It's different, he reasoned, this girl isn't suspected of a crime…yet.

While he waited, he dusted the envelope for a possibly usable fingerprint to run through NCIC. This girl could be telling the truth, he thought, but the skeptic in him wanted proof. As he dusted he thought back to the first time he had met Olivia.

It was a hot L.A. summer night. Grissom, younger, had just gotten off of work at the morgue and was headed home. He stopped at a bar to grab a beer after a grueling day piecing together death. All he wanted was a brief distraction.

Just as he was about to take his first drink, a beautiful young woman sat down on the stool next to his. Her long, dark hair fell to the middle of her back. She had on jeans and a peasant shirt.

"Is this seat taken?" she asked, her green eyes sparkling.

He just shook his head, wanting to be left alone.

Undeterred, she sat down on the stool and faced him. "I'm Olivia," she volunteered, sticking out her hand for Grissom to shake.

He turned to look at her, observing her for the first time. "I'm Gil," he replied, surprised a girl like her was even talking to him. In high school, a girl like her wouldn't have given him a second glance.

"Nice to meet you, Gil," she smiled.

That's how it all began, Grissom thought to himself.

He looked down at the envelope and saw the powder had revealed a couple of perfect fingerprints in the middle of the envelope. Too perfect, he thought to himself. It looked as if they were purposefully placed there. He was beginning to believe this girl was his daughter—She definitely knew some basic forensics, and, apparently, his m.o.

He scanned the fingerprint into the computer and began the NCIC search. Again, his mind started drifting back to Olivia.

He remembered the softness of her hair, the lightness of her touch. He remembered the feeling of butterflies in his stomach the first time they kissed and the terror the first time they made love. But it wasn't the bad type of terror, he mused. It was the kind of terror you get before doing something exhilarating, like the climb of the first hill on your favorite roller coaster. They had spent all his free time together that summer.

She was there on vacation in between college semesters. She was looking for a little excitement, but Grissom could never figure out why she saw it in him. She was intelligent and longed to be a writer. In fact, he still had the poem she had written about him, but he hadn't thought about it in 26 years. She brought a new perspective to his world of science and fact. She was the unknown and it intrigued him.

As the summer ended, she left to go back east, vowing she would write every day, that she would return. But, he only saw her for a moment that last day. He had been called to an emergency at work. She gave him one last kiss and got into the cab to go to the airport. He never saw her again.

He checked the mail every day, but the letters never came. And each day, another brick was added back to the wall she had broken down. Finally after a few months of silence he wrote her a letter, but it was returned for an invalid address. The final brick was placed and he picked his books back up, never looking back.

The computer beeped, bring Grissom back to the present. There was a match.

Special Agent Alexandria Gillian Hart. Assigned to: Las Vegas Federal Bureau of Investigations

An FBI agent? Grissom pondered. Just then, he heard another beep. It was time to finish the DNA profile.