Illusions
Author: Jess
A/N: Thank you for all of your kind reviews. Special thanks to Ms. Grits for providing a quote that is found later in this chapter. Thanks, as always, to my betas Rouch and CSI4nsicAce.
Disclaimer: I looked in my wallet, and I still don't have enough to buy the rights to CSI.
Chapter Twenty-Two
'How do I keep doing this to myself?' Gil Grissom groaned inwardly, scribbling calculations on the notepad before him. He flipped through the temperature reading printout and jotted down the mean temperature, converting it to Celsius. Sara was mad at him; well technically she was mad at him and Brass. His forehead scrunched in frustration, and he removed his glasses, rubbing his temples to ease the heaviness that seemed to have settled on them.
He closed his eyes as he ruminated on the last hour's events. Dr. Doyle had unwittingly given them a new lead — he owned a car in his wife's maiden name. Who knew what else the doctor owned under her name. Sara had left the precinct to begin processing the new lead and had come into contact with Doyle.
Grissom opened his eyes and looked down at the glasses resting on the desk. His heart had nearly stopped when he had answered his cell phone and heard Doyle's voice in the distance. He hadn't thought, merely took off running down the precinct hallway, Brass calling out for him. Exiting the back door, he had been able to breathe again. Sara was safe and Doyle was entering a car. She had said she was fine.
'This time. This time you're fine.' That was all he could think. 'What about the next time?' He had suppressed the desire to wrap his arms around her and pull her close. It wouldn't have been professional. Instead he had moved closer into her personal space and opened his big mouth, yelling at her for leaving the precinct alone.
For a second she stood stunned with her mouth hanging open. Then, all hell broke loose. 'Hell hath no fury…' Words were exchanged and he was pretty sure she wanted to throttle him. Brass had gotten in between them and added fuel to the fire, telling Sara that he was getting a protective detail to follow her around. Eventually, silence had fallen on the argument. Sara threw the keys at him and got into the passenger's seat, leaving Brass alone, casting them both a sympathetic look.
Once they returned to the lab, she immediately walked away, mumbling a quick "I'll start researching," before vanishing into the lab. Grissom had nowhere else to go but to his office, where he had been for the last hour; calculating Christine McGraw's time of death.
He picked up his glasses and turned them around in his hands. 'What now?' he wondered. Was their relationship over before it had even truly begun?
"How long has she been dead?" Sara asked from the doorway.
Grissom looked up, and she offered a small smile, sitting down in one of his chairs. He looked at her, trying to hide his confusion. She was speaking civilly to him now? He watched her tilt her head, her gaze drifting far away.
"We need to figure out our personal boundaries when dealing with work," she said softly and looked back at him. "I'm sorry for my…vigorous response earlier today."
Grissom raised an eyebrow. "Vigorous response?"
"Okay, fine, I'm sorry for my emotional outburst," Sara conceded. "I have… authority issues."
"Really?" he asked, trying to keep the amusement from his voice.
She glared at him. "You are not much better," she replied. "But when you yelled at me for leaving the precinct alone, and in front of Brass, I--"
"I was out of line," Grissom interrupted causing Sara to raise an eyebrow. "I let you leave the precinct. I was…" He stopped, unsure of continuing.
"You were?" she gently prodded.
"Afraid," he said, grimacing. "When I answered my phone and heard his voice, all I could think of was you being the next victim I processed. You were fine, and when I heard you say that, I couldn't help but think about the next time he finds you alone."
Sara nodded. "Brass can keep the detail on me," she offered.
"You weren't getting a say on that," Grissom answered.
Sara rolled her eyes and pointed at the jars of beetles. "So, how long has she been dead?" she asked, bringing the conversation back to more comfortable ground for the two of them.
"She's been dead forty-nine days," Grissom stated.
"She was supposed to be on a plane to the Riviera fifty-two days ago," Sara observed.
"He kept her alive somewhere," Grissom said.
Sara smiled and placed a printout on his desk. "I think I know where," she added with a sense of triumph. "Michelle Thorne Doyle owned a cabin in CalvilleBay under her maiden name. It belonged to her parents, and it was willed to her. When she died, Dr. Doyle became the new owner."
"I'll call Brass," Grissom said, picking up his phone.
Sara rose. "I'm going to see how Greg's doing processing the car," she said and started towards the door.
"Sara?" he asked hesitantly.
She turned around, looking questioningly at him. "Are we okay?" he asked, hiding any trace of emotion.
She smiled at him and nodded. "I'm not always going to agree with you, Grissom," Sara informed. "But that doesn't mean my feelings are going to change."
Grissom watched her leave, the weight lifting from his shoulders as he dialed Brass's number.
"I hate cars," Greg Sanders grumbled, scanning the ALS light over the Honda Civic's trunk.
He rescanned the trunk, silently praying that he had missed something in the first three sweeps, but it was useless. He wasn't finding anything else. He had collected a couple fibers from the passenger and back seats, but the trunk wasn't yielding anything. No blood, no fibers, nothing.
"Not finding anything?"
Greg jumped, startled at the sound of another human being so close, and hit his head on the trunk. "Damn, Sara!" he snapped, massaging the area that had impacted the unyielding metal.
Sara stifled a giggle and fought to keep a straight face. "Sorry," she apologized. "I won't sneak up on you next time."
He fixed the 'Greg Sanders hurt puppy' look on her and moaned.
"Anything I can do?" she asked, feeling slightly bad for causing him pain.
"You could kiss it and make it better," he teased, wagging his eyebrows at her.
Sara rolled her eyes as she replied, "You're hopeless."
"Can't fault a guy for trying," he said, his mouth twitching with laughter.
She shook her head at his playfulness. Motioning towards the car, she continued, "Anything?"
"I got a couple fibers from the passenger side and backseats. Nothing in the trunk," Greg stated. "I did notice something though. What do you smell?"
Sara leaned into the trunk, taking a deep breath. "Bleach, some kind of cleaning agent," she said, looking up at him. "He cleaned the car."
She walked around to the side of the car. Looking inside, her forehead scrunched in frustration, but Greg smiled as he watched her contemplate what she saw. "If he cleaned the trunk, he probably cleaned the coverings too," she started.
Greg nodded.
"Sara." The two CSIs turned to see Grissom standing in the doorway, keys in his hands. "Brass has a new warrant," he continued and threw the keys to her.
She caught them easily and turned to Greg. "Check the dry cleaners in a ten mile radius around his house. See if anyone brought in vicuna seat coverings. Expand the search if you have to," she said. "Okay?"
"I'll call you if I find anything," he said and watched Grissom and Sara walk away.
He smiled. 'It's nice seeing the two of them act like, well, themselves again,' he thought and closed the trunk.
'He who angers you conquers you.' The quote by Elizabeth Kenny whirled over and over in Sara's mind as she drove the Denali. It was true. By allowing Dr. Doyle to get under her skin, she had given him a victory. Her anger at him had caused her to lash out at Grissom and Brass. In the heat of the moment, it hadn't mattered who had been on the other end of her verbal lashing, but now, when she was able to look back on the moment, she cringed.
She gave a sidelong look towards Grissom and frowned as she looked back at the road ahead. There might not be a murder gene, but she wondered if there was an anger one. Replaying their squabble in her mind, she wanted to take back every harsh word, every earsplitting note that had erupted from her throat. Her words were reminiscent of those she had heard her mother and father yell at one another. The tone, the expression, all of it had the markings of one of their heated arguments. She had managed to leave the violent household, yet it still had its hold on her.
Sara shook her head, desperately trying to clear it. 'Now is not the time to contemplate this.' She needed to focus. She owed it to the three young women in the morgue to find evidence that would put Dr. Doyle away for good. If she wasn't at the top of her game she could miss a vital piece, and he could slip away from their tentative grasp.
She parked the car at the end of the cul de sac, turned off the ignition, and looked at Grissom for guidance. His stormy blue eyes were focused on her, leaving her to wonder how long he had been watching her. She knew he was trying to decipher if she was ready. She looked away from him, once again afraid of the intensity of his gaze, and turned her attention out the window.
"Brass is waiting," she said and cocked her head towards the captain.
When he didn't respond, she looked back at him. He was frowning slightly, his eyes piercing into her very soul.
"Grissom?" she asked in an attempt to break his thought process.
He didn't answer, simply unbuckled his seatbelt, opened the passenger door, and exited the vehicle. Sara sighed, pocketed the keys, and followed suit. She waved at Brass and the other officer with him, before walking to join Grissom at the back of the Denali
She removed her kit from the back, and Grissom closed the door. "Ready?" he asked.
"Yeah," she replied. "You?"
Grissom nodded and the two walked over to Brass. "Officer Ververs checked the perimeter and the house; it's all clear," Brass informed the pair, forgoing any greeting. "Officers Jacobi and Lausch, your protective detail," he added, looking pointedly at Sara before continuing, "are staying in the area too. I'm sure you spotted them following you here."
"Blue sedan that was always two cars behind me, yeah," Sara said, the edges of her mouth curling slightly.
Brass raised an eyebrow at her lighthearted nature regarding the officers. She had been less than receptive to the idea two hours ago.
Sara smiled at him, her attempt at an apology. He nodded in return, and she felt relieved.
"Find something that'll help us put this bastard away, okay guys?" Brass urged as they began the trek up the stone pathway.
"We follow the evidence, Jim," Grissom stated, stepping into the threshold of the house. "But we'll try our best," he added, tension in his voice.
Sara hoped that they would find something to place Dr. Doyle behind bars where he belonged. Perhaps with the man out of the picture she and Grissom could finally have the talk they were in desperate need of, and then she could have her bath.
Grissom was irritated. He looked down at the ALS in his hands and grimaced. So far he had found nothing. There was no trace evidence and no blood in the front hallway, dining room, or living room of the property. He could feel his pulse rising, and the sound of Sara's sigh of defeat from a few feet away made it increase further.
"Kitchen?" she asked, rising from her position and cocking her head in the direction.
He nodded and followed her into the room. The two fanned out, he taking the drawers as she began cataloging the dishwasher, refrigerator, and freezer contents. All knives were accounted for and none were showed signs of blood, human or otherwise. His mouth twitched as his irritation grew exponentially with the closing of each drawer.
"Grissom?"
He turned at her voice, raising his eyes at the confusion emanating from it.
"Everything in the fridge…" she stopped, trying to formulate her thoughts. "Everything in the fridge and freezer is identical to what we bought at the grocery store."
Grissom walked over, his eyes quickly taking in the contents. She was right, the refrigerator and freezer were full of the same items they had purchased the day before. He looked at her and watched a tremor run the length of her body, before she forced a smile on her face. He knew that was her way of telling him she could handle it and he was going to respect her wishes.
He turned back to his task, opening the different cabinets and drawers, until he found the trashcan. He removed the small, black bin and began emptying the bag piece by piece onto the kitchen table. A water bottle, a bottle of bleach, and a rag were removed from the top of the trash bag. 'Someone has been doing some cleaning,' he thought, reaching further into the bag.
He pulled out four crumpled papers. Carefully, Grissom unfolded the first one, his eyes widening. On it Kimberly Witt was running after a group of children on a playground as they chased a soccer ball. He picked up the next paper, repeating the process, and revealed Kimberly Witt walking through a parking lot, grocery bags in her hands. The next showed her jogging with another woman, but the last caused Grissom's eyes to narrow dangerously. Kimberly lay on a bed, her eyes wide with fright as she looked straight ahead.
"I don't think she knew he was taking her picture in the first three," Sara observed over his shoulder, startling him. She touched the last one and continued, "She knew in this one, and she was scared."
Grissom collected the different items and placed them in evidence bags. He looked at Sara and without a word the two left the kitchen and walked to the next room. Opening the door, he heard her suck in a breath as the room came into view. In the middle of the bedroom was the very bed Kimberly Witt had been photographed in. He waited for Sara to photograph the scene before fully entering the room.
He walked over to the dresser as she moved towards the bed. Picture frames were placed on top of the dresser, and Grissom's eyes widened in horror as he looked at the pictures inside.
Sara talking with Sofia outside of the 7-11.
Sara walking into the crime lab.
Sara walking out of the crime lab.
Sara picking out apples in the grocery store.
He clenched his fists tightly, squelching the desire to take each photograph and fling it against the wall. Grissom quickly removed his cell phone from his pocket and dialed Brass's number. "I need you in here now," he stated and hung up the phone.
"Grissom? What's wrong?" Sara asked, wondering what he had found.
"You can't be here," Grissom answered, turning to look at her.
"Huh?" she asked unsure of his previous statement.
"Grissom, what's going on?" Brass asked, walking into the bedroom.
"I want you to personally see that Sara gets to her apartment," Grissom ordered, trying to keep all emotion out of his voice, focusing his attention on Brass. 'She was his next victim. He was going to come after her next.' "I need you to stay with her, Jim."
"Wait a second!" Sara interrupted, waving her hands frantically to catch his attention. "I think I get a say…"
"No, you don't!" Grissom bellowed, startled at the emotion in his voice. "You were next, Sara," he said, his breathing rapid, as he picked up one of the photographs. He held it out for them to see. "You were his next victim. He took photographs of you just like the ones we found of Kimberly Witt in the trash can."
Sara looked at the picture in his hand, her mouth dropping open in astonishment. "You can't be here any longer," Grissom continued. "As supervisor, I cannot let you work on this case. Any evidence that you collect from this point will be considered biased."
She merely nodded, offering no resistance, and he turned his attention to Brass. "I need you to take her home and stay with her," Grissom said. "You, Jim, not one of the other officers. I need to know she's safe."
"Do you want me to call Greg or Sofia?" Sara asked her voice barely above a whisper.
Grissom shook his head. "No," he replied. "Call me when you get to your apartment."
She nodded and bent over to collect her kit. "Just leave it, Sara," he murmured.
She nodded again, rising unsteadily and looking at him with wide eyes. At that moment, Grissom wanted nothing more than to wrap his arms around her and kiss away all the fear and uncertainty. She smiled crookedly at him before walking out of the room. "I won't leave her side," Brass assured him and followed her.
Grissom's eyes grew dark as he looked back at the picture in his hands. He wasn't leaving the house until he found enough to put Dr. Doyle away for good.
