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Chapter 8

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"Okay people, listen up!" Catherine shouted over the din. "We have a criminal to catch… forensically, of course."

The team was assembled in the conference room and Catherine had taken Grissom's usual spot at the head of the table.

"Heard you got an update, Cath," Nick said.

"I got a call from Miriam. She's keeping to her schedule, so we've got ten days to make sure she doesn't hurt anyone else. Now, I want to-"

Catherine stopped short as Conrad Ecklie burst in.

"What the hell are you people still doing here? Your shift's over! Get out of my conference room!"

Warrick looked at his watch. It was noon, well into day shift.

"I'm well aware of what time it is, Ecklie," Catherine spat, "but we've got a major multiple homicide that has hit urgent status, so get the hell out of here so we can put this psycho behind bars!"

"Careful… You could get fired for talking to a supervisor that way," he smiled.

"No, Ecklie. I could get fired for talking to my supervisor that way, and he really doesn't care. Lucky me. So unless you want to get fired for interfering in another one of our cases, you better get your ass out of here!" She punctuated her tirade with a gesture.

Ecklie's smile faded at her frankness and turned to a scowl as he backed out of the room.

Greg turned to face Catherine. "That was brilliant!"

"Well, I'm not in the mood to put up with any crap. A killer with a connection to God has brought this case way too close to home. We're getting close guys. Certain circumstances are forcing her to change her plans, and she's getting sloppy."

Greg looked confused, so Warrick spelled it out.

"She's already told us too much about herself. In the first phone call, she said she'd already done New York and Miami. With ten kills, one every twelve days, that's 120 days. Just about four months. You can't stay in a hotel for four months, unless you're loaded."

"So we look for records of leased homes of four months in New York, Miami, and Vegas, not to mention registered drivers licenses. Then we compare lists," Nick finished.

"Beautifully explained, Nick. That'll be your job." Catherine smiled. "Greg can help you."

"Me and my big mouth," Nick muttered.

"Also," Catherine pointed out, "we know that she's going for number five next. 'Thou shalt not kill.'… She told me on the phone," she explained when looks of confusion were passed her way. "She was there. She was at the hospital when she called. That's the only way she could have known what happened. We know she'll be nearby scouting. This time we'll be ready for her."

"What about us?" Warrick asked.

"We're going over that tape again. There has to be something we're missing."

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Sara awoke to a throbbing pain in her chest. She rolled onto her back and slowly opened her eyes. The room was bright and she shielded her face to look around, only to see someone sleeping in the chair next to her bed. Looking closer, she was surprisingly pleased to see that it was Grissom. Somehow, her anger melted away at the thought that he'd stayed the whole night to make sure she was okay.

Still, she realized that it would be awkward when he woke up. She'd been pissed at him for what he'd said, and her pride had kicked in when she decided to go talk to Mrs. Simmons. Yet, somehow, he'd found out where she'd gone and ended up saving her life. Her thoughts drifting back to the events in the house, she felt the throbbing in her chest again and moaned.

Suddenly, her cell phone rang from near by. Sara looked around and saw a paper bag on the nightstand. She winced as she twisted to reach the bag filled with her personal effects.

"Sidle," she answered.

"Glad to hear you awake, Ms. Sidle," said a cool voice Sara immediately recognized as Miriam's. "How are you feeling?"

"Sore," Sara said truthfully.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I'll send a nurse up to see about that. You know, I've missed seeing you around, Sara. I truly must say that I'm sorry my mission has put you out of work. But, to make it up to you, in seven days, I'm going to give you the crime scene of your life. One all your own."

"Why do you keep hurting people?" Sara asked.

"Oh, Sara, I'm disappointed in you," Miriam tsked. "You always seemed like the kind of person who wanted justice to be served. I guess I was wrong… It really is a shame. Well, goodbye, Sara, and God Bless." Click.

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Sara slammed the phone on the bed, but was sorry for it immediately afterward as the pounding in her chest worsened with each movement. "Damn it!" she yelled.

"Who was it?"

Sara jumped at the sound of Grissom's voice beside her. "God, Grissom! You scared me half to death!"

"Sorry," he said, leaning her back and covering her back up with the tousled blanket. "You shouldn't move so much, or it'll hurt worse."

"Thanks," she sighed. "I'm just frustrated."

"Which brings me back to my question. Who was on the phone?"

"It was her, Griss. It was Miriam, and she's going to kill again."

"Calm down, Sara. Tell me what was said."

Sara began to relay the conversation back to Grissom. By the time she had finished, his face was extremely pale.

"What's wrong, Griss?"

"I need to call Catherine. Excuse me." He walked to the other side of the room while dialing Catherine's number. As hard as Sara strained, she could only hear bits of the conversation.

"…Confirms what she told you…seven days…she was here, maybe still is…I know…Yes, Sara's still the target…I won't…only if she asks. I can't lie to her, I won't…Okay, good. Bye."

"What was that all about?" Sara demanded as he made his way back to the chair beside her bed.

"Catherine is using all the info we have to locate Miriam," he answered vaguely.

"You're avoiding the question. I'm a target? Seven days? What's going on?"

Grissom sighed, and then looked at her with sad eyes. "I didn't want to say anything until you were at least out of the hospital…Miriam called Cath right after you got out of surgery. She told Catherine that in ten days, Exodus 20:6 would be carried out. 'Thou shalt not kill.'"

"Wait she told me seven…" her voice trailed off. "I've been asleep for three days!"

Grissom nodded. "When Mrs. Simmons shot you, your gun went off as you flew backwards. … She died, Sara"

Sara laid back in shock. " 'The crime scene of my life,'" she whispered, as she grasped the meaning of it all. "So, you've been here for three days to make sure she didn't accelerate her schedule," she said a moment later, more of a statement than a question.

"No, Sara! I've been here for three days because I was worried about you! Because as many times as I've hurt you, and as hard as it may be for you to believe, I care about you and …"

Their conversation was interrupted when a rather squat nurse came in the room. "Okay, Ms. Sidle. How are you feeling?"

Grissom put his head down, half out of respect and half out of embarrassment.

"Fine. A little sore maybe, but fine," Sara lied, not wanting any fuss.

"Your friend mentioned you were sore. I brought some Tylenol." Grissom's head snapped up as the nurse turned to leave.

"My friend?" Sara asked nervously, suddenly remembering the phone call.

"Yes, the lovely woman downstairs. So polite."

"What did she look like?" Grissom demanded.

"Fair skin, reddish-brown hair, dark eyes. Very pretty. She sounded very concerned about you, Ms. Sidle. You're very lucky to have such a good friend," the nurse said from the doorway.

"Yeah, lucky me," Sara mumbled.

Grissom got up and crossed the room.

"Gil, wait!" she called, panic in her voice. "Don't go!"

He turned, startled at the use of his given name. He held up his phone. "Just calling Cath. I'm not going anywhere." He flashed a small but rare smile.

As Grissom was on the phone describing Miriam to Catherine, Sara laid back in the hospital bed thinking. A month ago-hell a week ago-she would have died for the attention she was getting from Grissom, now that she nearly had. She wondered what he was thinking now as she watched him come back to his chair.

"I think that Tylenol is making me drowsy already," she said mid-yawn, turning on her side to face him.

"Well, you've been a good patient, you deserve some sleep. I'll be here when you wake up." Grissom leaned over and gave her hand a squeeze. Sara held it as she closed her eyes and smiled, drifting to sleep with the picture of his smile and the sound of his words "I care about you" floating in her mind.

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