Illusions

Author: Jess

A/N: Thanks for all of the kind reviews. I'm glad that you all are responding positively to the story. A big thank you to Rouch for all her insights and help and CSI4nsicAce for making sure my grammar is correct.

Disclaimer: I still do not own CSI.

Chapter Thirteen

Sara's voice echoed through the break room as she sang, "When I bought him they said, Are you sure? No refund, returns, or exchanges…" She placed the correct amount of coins into the soda machine slot, pushed her selection, and smiled as her caffeinated bottle of soda dropped down. She repeated the process, retrieved Grissom's drink, and walked down the hallway. The smell of cheese, garlic, and spices permeated from Grissom's office, offering an appetizing treat to all who passed it.

Sara pushed open the door and took her seat as Grissom finished clearing an area on his desk for their boxes of food. She tossed him his drink and smiled as she opened her own. She was famished and hadn't realized it until she had smelt their reheated lunches.

She spared a look at Grissom before digging into her Manicotti. "Delicious," she murmured.

"Oh, that's not fair," Brass said from the doorway.

He closed the door behind him and sat down in the chair by Sara. "No one told me we were ordering out," he pouted.

"Such is life," Sara said before taking another bite.

She smiled at Brass and turned her attention to Grissom, quickly engulfing herself in her professional manner. "Let's go over what we know," Grissom started.

"We have three female victims given a high dosage of Xanax, their ulnar arteries cut so that they would bleed to death. They are displayed in a…unique manner," Brass started.

Sara nodded. "Each victim was placed on a white sheet with four silver candlesticks at each corner. First victim found was displayed in the middle of the sheet, naked, lilies spread across her body, and a lily in her mouth, with her hands crossed at her chest and her feet crossed at the ankles," Sara stated and took another bite. "All were found in an open area. However, Kimberly Witt and Angie Moore were found in the desert. Our Jane Doe was located in the woods surrounding Lake Mead."

"What do we know about the killer?" Brass asked.

"Whoever it is needs to have access to Xanax, a Honda Civic LX, and something that is made with Vicuna," Grissom answered. "They also need to have a fairly basic knowledge of the human body to know where to locate the ulnar artery with the precision evident in the bodies."

"Well, as a veterinarian, Dr. Doyle would have needed to take an anatomy class, so he would know where the ulnar artery is located," Sara pondered. "He has a Honda Civic LX with Vicuna seat coverings. And Jacqui found a set of unknown prints on the SPCA folders. They are a match to the ones taken in connection to the Angie Moore and Kimberly Witt's cases."

"Tyler Cuneo stated that Dr. Doyle has been to his and Kimberly's apartment numerous times, so that doesn't mean much," Brass said and reached for a piece of Manicotti.

Sara swatted his hand. "Where was the print found in the NyeCounty case?" Grissom asked.

Sara reached for the file from his desk, opened it, and quickly scanned the information. "On the door handle of Angie Moore's apartment. He can always say he's been to her place of residence also," Sara sighed and looked up. "What did Kimberly's fiancé say in the interview?"

She watched Grissom grimace. "Well, apparently, Dr. Doyle had been around the apartment a lot recently," Brass informed her, "And Mr. Cuneo didn't approve of the doctor's behavior towards Kimberly."

Sara nodded. "He can be a little…" she said and paused to search for the right word, "intense."

She looked back at Grissom and tried to read what he was thinking. He seemed to be distracted and off in his own world. While this wasn't a unique experience, she had a feeling that this time it was different. His eyes were on her but it was as if he was looking right through her, or was it right into her? The ringing of a cell phone snapped both of them out of their moments.

Brass answered the phone and listened carefully to the caller. His face went through a series of emotions before he frowned. "Can you send the information via fax to the CSI crime lab to my attention, care of Grissom?" Brass asked and listened to the response, "Thanks, Ben."

He hung up and Sara was bewildered by the look he had. "I asked one of the guys to do a little off the record background check on Dr. Doyle," Brass said. "He has no priors, not even a speeding ticket, which isn't uncommon."

Sara nodded, wondering where he was going with this. There was a knock at the door, followed by the door opening to reveal Mary standing with papers in her hands. "This was just faxed over for Captain Brass," she said, handed him the papers, and exited the room.

"He was married," Brass said as he flipped through the sheets. "For ten years to Dr. Michelle Thorne Doyle. She was a professor in Chemistry at the college."

He stopped flipping and produced a paper with Michelle Thorne Doyle's driver's license. He passed the paper to Grissom and continued, "One year ago his wife committed suicide. She slit her wrists in their bath tub while he was away at a conference. He found her decomposing body, still in a bloody tub, when he returned home."

Sara took the paper from Grissom and looked at the picture of the woman. She couldn't tell much from the black and white copy. "She was a brunette," Grissom stated, his attention focused on Sara.

Sara looked at the photo. "How can you tell?" she asked, perplexed, before reading the symbols on the license.

She handed the paper back to Brass. "But why would he do this?" she asked, directing her question to Grissom.

He and Brass were both at a loss. "Any chance we'll be able to get a search warrant for his house on what we have?" Sara asked.

"Hmmm….let's see. Fingerprints on locations he was known to frequent, a car that at least 2000 other citizens own, knowledge of anatomy, and vicuna in his car," Brass said, holding up a finger after reciting each piece of evidence.

He looked at Sara and shrugged. "I doubt it," he replied. "No judge will want to issue one against him for what we have. There are perks to being related to the mayor."

Sara sighed and moved around the Manicotti with her fork. "Wait," she said and looked up at the two men with the edge of excitement she always felt when she found a possible lead. "Angie Moore and Kimberly Witt were both members of the SPCA. Most likely, if that is where he is finding his victims, the third victim will also be a member."

Grissom nodded. "I'll cross check the member list with the names of those attending the meetings and see who has missed the last couple. I'll also cross reference the list with driver's license photos to see who meets the victim profile," Sara continued. "How long until we know when the third victim died?"

"A couple of more days," Grissom said.

She stood and handed the rest of her Manicotti to Brass. "Sara, sit," Grissom said and rose. "I'll get the folders."

She looked at him, surprised. "Two heads are better than one," Grissom continued.

"You're still eating, Griss," Sara said and motioned to his half eaten meal.

"I want some coffee," he stated and exited the office without waiting for an answer.

Sara raised an eyebrow but acquiesced by sitting back down. "What, Brass?" she asked, slightly annoyed. She didn't need to be protected, and she didn't need Brass making assumptions.

"He's tightly wound tonight," Brass stated and bit into a piece of the Manicotti.

'Yes, he is,' she thought and looked at the closed door. "Dr. Doyle was here earlier," Sara said.

Brass looked at her as if trying to read her expression. "The doctor flirted with you," Brass said.

"He asked me to dinner," she replied and fiddled with her coke bottle.

"Grissom's worried," Brass said. "You do fit the victim profile, and our only suspect appears to like you."

Sara shrugged. "I'm a big girl," she said and looked back at Brass. "I can take care of myself."

"Not saying you can't," Brass replied. "Nor is Grissom. We're just…concerned."

He closed the box of Manicotti. "I have some things to attend to back at the station," he said and stood up. "Tell Grissom bye for me."

Sara nodded and watched him leave. She looked back at her bottle and sighed. She spun the bottle on the table. "No refunds, returns or exchanges because once he's yours, he's yours for good," she sang softly to herself as she stopped the bottle.

Grissom walked back into the room with the folders and a cup of coffee. He handed her half of the list of members' names and the sign in sheets for three of the meetings. "Jot down anyone from your list who isn't present," he said and leaned back in his seat.

Sara looked down at the lists in her hand and bit her lip. 'Eventually we are going to need to discuss whatever it is you are feeling, Grissom,' she thought before beginning the arduous task.


They had forty-five minutes until the beginning of shift. Gil Grissom removed his glasses, closed his eyes, and began to massage the area around them. Reopening his eyes, he focused his attention on the young woman seated on the other side of the desk. Her forehead was crinkled in concentration as she looked back and forth between the document in her lap and the other one she held in her hand. She tapped a pen on the side of her chair to a song that was playing in her head, her lips silently mouthing the words.

He had always valued Sara's work ethic. She was never one to shirk her responsibilities or complain about the rather mundane tasks they were required to complete. Instead, she would dive head first into them, rarely taking a break. He grimaced. 'Which isn't always a good thing.' Sometimes he wondered if she was headed towards a burnout. If she didn't find a healthy diversion outside of work, he was afraid that it would happen soon. And that was something he didn't want to happen, let alone think about.

Her words from earlier this week were haunting him. 'Turns out he didn't think I was worth the risk.' She had no idea how wrong she was in that statement. She was worth the risk; he realized that now. He looked at the objects around his office. It was this job, this role as supervisor, that he slowly realized was not worth putting his social life on hold. In the blink of an eye, he had lost the team he had worked hard to mold over the years. That had stung and left him melancholy for a number of days. But the thought of losing Sara, of her becoming Dr. Doyle's next victim, was heart-wrenching. Grissom had a feeling he wouldn't be able to survive that. He shook his head in order to clear away the depressing thoughts.

He placed his glasses back on and looked back at the member's list. He was grateful that the organization wasn't too large. Many citizens of ClarkCounty and nearby NyeCounty donated money to the establishment, but only a fourth of those who did were full-fledged members of the organization. It was much easier to write out a check than to attend meetings and plan events. "I have a total of thirty-seven women missing from last meeting," Sara stated. "Twelve of them were absent from the meeting prior to that."

Grissom looked up and nodded. "Twenty-three missed the last meeting and ten of them were absent from the prior one," Grissom said and handed her the list of names.

"I'll start putting their names through the department of motor vehicles database," Sara said as she stood.

"Take a break, Sara," Grissom suggested and motioned for her to sit down. "Shift starts in thirty minutes. We're pulling a double and have no idea what the rest of our cases are going to look like."

She shrugged. "I really don't mind," she replied. "I hate being idle."

"I noticed," he answered, amusement evident in his voice.

He focused on her still tapping pen and she stopped, offering him a wry smile. "Have you always been this impatient?" he asked no one in particular.

Sara raised an eyebrow at him in response and placed the papers back down on his desk. "Yes, yes you have," Grissom continued. He scratched his chin, slightly bemused as he remembered past events. "If I recall you were asking questions ten minutes into my first lecture and didn't stop."

"It wasn't my fault that you didn't expand upon the significance of Locard's principle in relation to criminalistics," she said and smiled.

"It was the first class," Grissom pointed out. "I was supposed to be giving a broad overview of the course and explain the attendance policy."

Sara shrugged. "Like you cared about the attendance policy," she countered. "I still can't believe you put up with all of my questions."

"Your enthusiasm was…" Grissom struggled for the correct word. "...contagious."

Sara laughed. "I never did understand why you chose to take my summer class," Grissom said. "Forensics is a far cry from physics."

"Truthfully," she said. "I was bored. I knew I was going to be taking classes over the summer; they gave me something to do and my scholarship required it, but I didn't want to take another physics class until the fall. Nor did I want to do an art or writing class, which were offered in abundance. Your class was the only one that sounded interesting."

"Be thankful, if your class description hadn't been so compelling, I could be off at some university somewhere teaching physics," she added and spun her pen on the desk. "Instead I left my master's program and got a job at the San Francisco crime lab."

"Do you ever regret it?" Grissom asked, afraid of her answer.

Sara looked up at him. "Never," she answered truthfully. "I love my job. I've learned more as a CSI than I ever would have in the master's program."

Grissom nodded. "Do you ever regret moving to Vegas?" he probed.

Sara sighed. "There have been times," she answered and looked down at the pen. She looked up at him, her eyes locking onto his. "But I think I would have regretted not coming here more. What about you? What do you regret?"

Grissom pondered her question, unsure what she wanted to hear. He regretted a lot of things. "I regret not telling you about myotosclerosis," he settled on.

He watched her forehead scrunch in concentration as she deciphered the word. "Oto means ear, scler is hardening, and osis denotes a condition. You have a hardening of the ear," she thought aloud. "You're losing your hearing?"

"No. Not anymore," Grissom replied.

"You had surgery?" she asked, surprised at the revelation.

He nodded. "A few weeks after the lab explosion," he informed her. "I was getting ready to schedule it when you…asked me out."

"Oh," Sara said at a loss for words. "That's why you were gone for those couple of weeks over that summer."

He nodded again. "Why didn't you tell anyone?" she asked confusion evident in her voice.

Grissom sighed. "I didn't want anyone to think any less of me," he answered after a few seconds.

"We wouldn't have thought less of you, Griss," Sara said and shook her head. "We would have tried to help you, make it easier."

Grissom shrugged. He looked at the clock on the wall and sighed. "I need to gather the assignments from Judy," he said and stood.

Sara nodded stood also. "Am I allowed out of the office?" she teased. "I'm sure Dr. Doyle has left the premises by now."

He glared at her and motioned towards the door. She smiled at him and ducked down the hallway to head towards the break room. Grissom watched her enter the room before beginning his trek to the reception desk.