Illusions
Author: Jess
Summary: An unusual case causes for a reevaluation of the current status quo. Case File/ GSR
A/N: I want to thank Rouch for all of her help on making this story what it is and CSI4nsicAce for helping me with all that is grammatical.
Spoilers: Season 5, up to King Baby
Disclaimer: I do not own CSI. I wish I did. But I don't.
Chapter Two
"I really hate that guy."
Sara looked up from the lilies and followed Greg's line of vision to the hallway. Ecklie was making his rounds through the crime lab. She turned back to Greg and smiled. "You won't get any opposition from me," she said before turning her attention back to the lilies.
"Spathiphyllum Gioant," Greg said.
Sara looked up questioningly. "The Peace Lily. Spathiphyllum Gioant. My mom loves these. There not as popular as the Lilium longiforum this time of year, but flower shops sell a lot of them around now. My mom is obsessed with lilies. I used to help her garden and she would…sorry…" Greg rattled off.
"Lilium longiforum?" Sara asked.
"The Easter lily. And since Easter is next week, lilies are a real commodity for flower shops right now," Greg said and leaned against the table. "What are you doing?"
"Evidence from the 419 Grissom and I had in the desert this morning. I'm hoping I can find some prints on these," Sara said.
"You know we aren't on for another three hours, right?" Greg asked.
"Hey, I came in because Chris in Ballistics has a mint condition first issue of the Amazing Spider-ma—need any help?" Greg asked interrupting himself and slipped on gloves. "Are we looking for Latent prints?"
Sara nodded. The two of them stared at the lilies spread across the table. Each was contemplating the best way to determine if there were any prints to be found without destroying the evidence.
"Superglue," they said at the same time.
Sara smiled at Greg. "Probably the safest bet. Help me bring them to the chamber?"
"Like you have to ask," Greg said and began carefully collecting the lilies and placing them back in the bag.
"What are you doing Wednesday, Sara?" Greg asked as he followed her to the print lab. He watched her fumble for a second and took pity on her. "Nick, Warrick and I are getting together to play poker. You want in? After shift, at Nick's place."
"You're going to play poker? Against Warrick?" Sara smiled. "Are you mad?"
"Nick and I have been practicing. We figured out a system. Warrick won't win this time," Greg said as he placed the evidence bags down. "You want in?"
"I might come just to see Warrick mop the floor with you two," Sara retrieved a handful of the lilies and placed them in the plastic container. She placed a few drops of superglue on the hot plate and closed the lid.
"Well, if you're just watching you can play waitress," Greg said. "Or not," he added quickly.
Sara shook her head in amusement. "No prints on any of these," she said lifting the lid.
"How many did you collect?" Greg asked.
"Seventy-five."
"You should come though, Sara, really," Greg said. "They miss you."
"I miss them too," Sara whispered. "Okay, count me in. Wednesday, after shift. Wait, won't that cut into their sleep time?"
"Well, we can't do it before our shift, because they're at work. And we can't do it after their shift, because we're at work. So it made sense to do it after ours," Greg answered. "Though, Nick did say that we shouldn't be surprised if he was just wearing boxers."
Greg smiled as he heard Sara laugh. He hadn't heard that sound in a long time. Too long. "Hey, maybe we could all wear pajamas! People would pay a pretty penny to see you in a nightgown!" Greg said and jumped away before Sara made contact. "Not the ribs! Not the ribs!"
They shared a moment, enjoying the companionship that had grown between them.
"Hey, there's Chris. Gotta go see a man about a comic," Greg said and quickly retreated, leaving a laughing Sara Sidle behind.
Gil Grissom walked through the hallway unaware of those around him. While maneuvering the quickest way possible to his office, he looked through the stack of his messages. Placing the small pieces of paper on top of the pile of paper work that demanded his attention, he removed his jacket, hung it on the chair and sat. There were two hours before the start of shift, and he needed to sign off on the papers before Ecklie decided to grace him with his presence.
Looking at the stack in front of him, not for the first time, he wondered if he really desired being nightshift supervisor. Was he really as useful in this capacity as he had been as a regular CSI? Wouldn't he get more done without the non-ending piles of paperwork and forms that continually graced his desk? Without the responsibility of supervisor would he be able to become involved in other areas of interest?
A gentle knock at his doorframe forced him to look up. "There were no prints on the lilies," Sara said as she sat down in one of the chairs. "Hodges is still analyzing the fiber we found."
"I remember seeing you drive away. Did you just drive around the block and come back?" Grissom placed the pen down.
"I went home. I even managed a few hours of sleep. Then, I came back," Sara said, smiling. "What? I didn't feel like hanging out in my apartment and watching TV." As he continued stare, she added, "Greg's here too."
Grissom scratched his beard in amusement.
"I saw that you came in and thought I'd tell you the status of the case so far. You should be proud that I haven't been to the morgue yet to pester David on our Jane Doe's status," Sara said.
"I'm sure you thought about it," Grissom said.
"I think about a lot of things. Doesn't mean I always go through with them," Sara said.
Grissom watched a flash of sadness cross her eyes before disappearing. "But, I guess I'll leave you to your mountain of paperwork," Sara said and began to rise. "I believe I have a date with a set of tire impressions."
Grissom nodded. "Sara," he said as she reached the doorway. "Rescue me in an hour and we'll see what David has for us."
"Sure thing, Griss," she smiled.
Grissom watched her leave and looked back at the paperwork before him. 'Is this really worth it?' He wondered as he began signing away at the forms.
"…and you're sad. And you're sorry," Sara sang as she scanned the picture of the tire impressions. "Let it all out. What are you running for…." She typed in the measurements of the tracks. "This is your chance. Be ready…"
Click. And now there was nothing to do but wait for the computer to find a match. She leaned back in the chair and watched the screen fluctuate as the computer searched. Blinking, she stood up and walked away from the machine. There was no use watching the screen, unless she wanted to aggravate her eyes. She rolled her neck in an attempt to relieve the tension.
"Are you trying for CSI of the year?"
Sara turned and saw Sofia Curtis standing in the doorway. "Huh?" Sara pursed her lips, unsure of the woman's meaning.
"We aren't on for more than an hour," Sofia said.
"What is it with everyone commenting on my being here early?" Sara asked. "You realize you're also here early."
"But I'm not working," Sofia pointed to the computer. "My car is in the shop. So it was either come now, or be late. And I have no desire to interact with Ecklie, so I came early."
"Understandable," Sara said.
"I take it that the whole team is here?" Sofia sat in the other seat.
"Greg is around here somewhere dealing with something to do with a comic book and Grissom is going over paper work," Sara said and turned her attention back to the computer.
Beep. "You have a match," Sofia rose. "I think I'll go and rescue Gil from the paperwork."
You do that, Sara thought bitterly. "Okay," was all she voiced.
She finally allowed the sigh to escape her mouth when Sofia left the room. So much for going to the morgue together, she thought wryly as she hit print. Sara watched the information print.
'Personal and Professional—separate. Personal and Professional—separate'
She continued to repeat her mantra as she read over the printout. Her beeper brought her back to the present. 'Hodges.'
"I'm taking my seat. Oooooo Ooooo. Lucky me…" Sara continued to sing.
"It's Vicuna." Hodges handed her the print out.
"Which is?" Sara asked.
Hodges motioned to the computer screen. "Vicuna. Usually mistaken for alpacas or llamas, but they are not. Apparently it is the finest wool available and one of the most expensive. And this particular piece hasn't been treated with any dyes," he replied and showed her a webpage of the animal. "That's not uncommon. But the wool is used to make all kinds of items. Clothes, blankets, teddy bears."
"Okay," Sara said. "Any local stores pop up in your search?"
"No," Hodges said. "Mostly available online or seen in fashion shows."
Sara nodded. "Thanks."
"And the silk flower. Common type of silk flower given out this time of year. Especially the style," Hodges handed her another handout. "It's Lilium longiforum. Otherwise known as the"
"Easter lily," Sara finished.
"Precisely."
"Thanks, Hodges," Sara said as she left trace.
'No prints on the lilies. Yokohama tires. Avid T4 style. Vicuna wool found at the scene and an ordinary silk lily in the victims mouth.' So far the evidence from the crime scene was not helping point in the direction needed to find the… 'thewhat? Killer? Accomplice?' As of this moment, Sara had no idea if the woman had committed suicide and then been placed in the desert by a devastated loved one, or if this was something more sinister.
'Morgue it is.' She gave a quick glance behind her at Grissom's doorway. As Sofia's laughter echoed down the corridor, Sara steadfastly made her way to the morgue.
"You're here about the body in the desert?" Doctor Robbins asked and motioned to one of the autopsy tables.
Sara walked over to the table and looked down at the Jane Doe. "What can you tell me?"
"Both cuts to her wrists lacerated the ulnar artery," Robbins said and motioned above the arms.
"Suicide?" Sara asked.
"I thought so, but because of the circumstances and the location where she was found, I wanted to know if there were any drugs in her system. I sent a sample of her stomach contents and her blood to toxicology," Robbins showed Sara a bottle of brown liquid. "She had more than the fifteen times the recommended dose of Xanax in her system. There's no way she could have held a knife let alone sliced through her arms with such brutal precision."
Sara's brain started processing the information.
"I don't know if she was conscious during her attack. Depending on the person, she could have been at the time of the incisions. I don't know how she reacted to the Xanax," Robbins said, "however, she would have lost consciousness after losing a third of her circulating blood volume. Someone drugged this young woman, cut her, and then watched her bleed to death."
Sara shook her head in empathy for the young woman.
"I didn't find any trace of blood or fibers on her body." He handed Sara the stomach contents.
"You think she was washed?" she asked.
Robbins nodded. "It's possible. The cuts were precise. Whoever did this knew exactly where to cut to create the most damage."
"There are no distinguishing characteristics to help identify her. Maybe you'll have better luck with AFIS." Robbins handed her a fingerprint card.
Her beeper halted any further conversation. 'Grissom'
"Thanks, Doc," Sara said and left the morgue. She removed her gloves and threw them in the nearest receptacle. Glancing at her watch she groaned as she read the time. 'Crap. Late for assignments.'
