An Exercise in Futility: Chapter four
Sara blinked at the monitor stupidly, and Grissom didn't want to feel as grimly satisfied as he did.
He didn't know Myles-- he had no real inkling as to the depth of her previous relationship with him-- and he wasn't willing to acknowledge that his feelings might run much deeper than the case.
Catherine folded her arms as she leant against Jaqcui's workstation, her features too, carefully emotionless. She too was feeling the overbearing strain of being a supervisor, compromising with evidence and people to satisfy the political side of their jobs, an aspect that continually intervened with the simplicity of delivering much-needed justice.
He read it her slumped posture and the weary lines that tugged at the corners of her once vibrant eyes. She had always insisted that she could do his job better than he could, but he could see that practice was always going to be different than theory.
In the midst of the uncomfortable silence that overtook the trio, Jacqui had slipped from the room, allowing them the privacy of her lab to discuss this latest complication.
He appreciated her discretion, and took the time to marvel at the loyalty of his staff.
Sara slowly lifted her head, meeting his gaze with some amount of difficulty. Despite her best efforts, her past always managed to haunt her, manifesting through her daily work. He knew, if he had suffered a childhood trauma like hers, he wouldn't be able to face the horrors they did. She was fifteen years younger than him, and sometimes he thought she knew more of life than he did.
"You should know that the semen Warrick found on the sheets also matches Myles' DNA", Grissom said quietly, breaking their silent standoff.
Catherine's expression twitched, and he knew she was having difficulty remaining quiet. He sometimes wondered at her hypocrisy. The only thing he could conclude was that her only concern was watching her own back, and he couldn't understand why it was a selfish trait that he hadn't noticed before. It was only after her promotion that it really started to manifest itself, and his ability to appreciate their contrasting personal qualities was waning considerably.
"He slept with her", Sara said, softly, at last. "Is that a crime?"
Grissom sighed tiredly. "It could be", he said quietly.
"He didn't mention having a personal relationship with the victim", Catherine spoke up, tapping her fingers against her forearms. "That means he has something to hide."
"He was sleeping with the boss's daughter", Sara countered irritably. "And she was just murdered. Wouldn't you hide that?"
"Okay", Grissom cut in, sensing some mounting hostility between the two women. They had always had a certain on/off relationship, but since Sara's suspension things had permanently shifted. He didn't really want to consider his own role in that. "We still have to look into it, despite the reasons behind it. Mia also uncovered several unidentified contributions, and any one of them could be a viable suspect."
"What about the story this Davies guy fed Nick?" Catherine pointed out. "Can we still buy that? We have no other witnesses to suggest this so-called visit even took place."
Grissom shrugged. "I don't know, Catherine".
Catherine frowned, eyes drifting back over the computer monitor. "Okay", she said slowly, eyes flickering between Grissom and Sara. "So if Myles came up on the system, what previous offences does he have on his name?"
Without waiting for either of them to respond, Catherine shifted the mouse over the screen and moved back again when a new page appeared.
"Juvenile petty theft. Oh, but here's an interesting one: Armed Robbery, 1988.
Grissom frowned, and Catherine eyed him sharply. "What?"
He didn't want to do this while she was in the room, but she was too perceptive not to pick up on his sudden unease. "When did you say you knew this guy, Sara?
She grit her jaw, and he could see she knew what he was thinking. "When I was seventeen."
Now Catherine lifted her brows. "Really? Weren't you… seventeen in 1988?"
Sara pursed her lips. "Are you asking if I knew him when he committed armed robbery? Because I'd say that's none of your business".
Grissom stared at her. "Sara—"
She abruptly moved around the desk, making hasty movements for the door. "I'm going to go check on the guys' progress."
Catherine slowly swivelled her head back on Grissom as Sara disappeared down the hall, chewing the inside of her lip grimly. "She's hiding something, Gil".
Grissom sighed heavily. "Maybe she's just protecting her past. She is right. It has no bearing on our case one way or the other."
"It brings her partiality into question", Catherine said pointedly.
He gave her a long look in return. "I find that a kind of an ironic statement, coming from you, Catherine".
She scowled. "Look, if you want to keep up this cold front with me, then that's fine. But maybe you should remember that this is my case, not yours".
"I'm sure you're going to remind me".
Catherine clenched her jaw angrily. He knew his reaction was childish, and he forced himself to meet her eyes. "All right, fine. As long as she doesn't handle any of his evidence, I don't see any reason why we should remove her from the case, especially after we clear him".
Catherine looked at him sternly. "If we clear him".
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Sara pocketed her keys, feeling their heavy weight press into her side as she entered the stairwell to her building.
She ran a hand over her face, feeling the weariness of her double shift overtake her. The interior of her apartment building was dim without the luminosity of the early morning light, and her eyes took a moment to adjust.
She was on the second floor, and didn't feel the need to use the elevator. Her line of work made her paranoid about certain daily rituals, and after a case a few years ago in which the elevator cables snapped and the victim was propelled down several stories, that was definitely one of them.
Her steps slowed as she neared her door, and she recognised the lone figure leant casually against it.
She licked her lips, finding her voice. "Myles".
He looked up, and the diffused light was unable to hide the familiar glint of energy in his eyes. She had forgotten the mischief it was capable of.
She sighed, looking down as she retrieved her house key. "I thought you were going to call first".
Myles frowned slightly, and she could tell the sudden caginess in her tone caught him off-guard.
"Well, I heard you got off work about now, and I thought I would surprise you. Is something wrong, Sunshine?"
The childhood pet name made her pause with her hand on the handle, and she swallowed tightly before twisting it open. "I don't think it's such a good idea that I talk to you right now".
Myles blinked at her disbelievingly as she turned to face him, barring his way into her apartment. His tone took on a serious quality. "Sara… what are you talking about?"
She gave up trying to prevent his entrance, and strode into the living room, dropping her keys glibly onto the counter.
Myles followed her inside, taking in the warm, purple walls and black-rimmed photographs. Her home was warm and homely, but on closer inspection it was a mere superficial outer façade. It gave no insight into her personal life, and with one sweeping glance, Myles knew she was just as introverted as her seventeen year old self.
Sara pursed her lips, fingering the edge of the Formica counter as she faced Myles slowly.
"You lied to us."
Myles kept his expression carefully void, lifting an eyebrow mutely. "About what, exactly?"
"You slept with Veronique. Why didn't you mention that? Do you know how stupid that made me look in front of my co-workers?"
Myles clenched his jaw disbelievingly. "I can't believe this. Are we going to go back twenty years, Sara?"
"Don't make this about then, Myles", she said irritably.
"You're the one doing that. Look, until your guys asked about it, I wasn't going to mention bring it up. I know how incriminating it sounds".
"No, you really don't", Sara said blandly, slumping onto a stool with unhidden fatigue.
Myles sighed, looking down. "Please don't tell me you think I had something to do with what happened to her?"
Sara frowned, twisting up her delicate, pale features. "No. Of course I don't."
He nodded hesitantly. "Well, good." He strode slowly across the room, studying the muddle of books cluttered on her shelves and putting some distance between them.
Sara drew in a deep, steading breath, marvelling at the surrealism of Myles Davies, the very epitome of where she came from, standing in her apartment. He tilted his head as he took in the forensic titles on one particular shelf, suitably impressed. "You've come a long way, Sunshine, you know that, don't you?"
"Yeah", she muttered softly, studying her shoes.
He nodded, sliding out a thick book pensively. "I always knew you would".
She glanced up, frown deepening rapidly when she saw the cover, but he had already opened it to see the inscription inside. She closed her eyes, releasing an unhappy sigh, as he turned to glance at her sharply.
"Grissom. Isn't that your boss?"
She hopped off the bar stool, striding across the room to snatch the entomology textbook abruptly from his fingertips. For some reason, she didn't like the idea of Myles interpreting her relationship – or lack-thereof - with Grissom. "Myles, I'm really not in the mood for this game. I don't want you to start analysing me."
"How else am I going to know anything about you?" he said, staring at her pointedly. "Are you going to tell me?"
"I would if you asked", she snapped, clutching the book unconsciously to her chest, narrowing her dark eyes at him.
Myles chuckled softly, eyes drifting over her defensive stance with vague fondness. "I bet that quick temper still gets you in a lot of trouble".
Sara sighed as she replaced the book on the shelf and strode back to her chair. "How are you doing this?" she asked tiredly.
He frowned. "Doing what?"
"Talking to me like nothing's changed. Making it seem like we're still those people back in San Francisco".
He smiled dimly. "Maybe I live in the past sometimes", he said softly. "Maybe I still have a few regrets about all of that".
She nodded, looking down at her hands as she clasped them over her knees. "Do you know what happened to Ryan?"
He perched on the edge of her leather armchair, shrugging slightly. "I haven't spoke to him in years. I think he had one too many run ins with your side of the law, ended up in the good old Cali jail".
"You make it sound like we're on different sides now".
He smiled sadly. "We might as well be, Sunshine".
Sara shook her head, studying him for a moment. "So… you're not married? No… kids or anything?"
He smirked at her blatant curiosity. "No. I never really went in for any of that stuff".
"Yeah. I know what you mean", she agreed vaguely.
Myles looked strangely saddened by this comment. "I always pictured you married by now", he admitted. "Some rich Harvard grad who swept you off your feet, showered you with riches, that sort of Hallmark happy-ever-after crap. I guess it was a nice fantasy, right?"
She was taken aback by his vision of her future. She always knew he had never thought himself good enough for her, but his willingness to sacrifice her for something so unbelievable was oddly idealistic of him.
"You know I… probably shouldn't see you after this. At least until… the case is over, or we can…"
"Prove that I'm innocent", Myles finished darkly. He rose to his feet, and she did the same, eyes crinkled uncertainly. "Don't worry about me", he reassured her gently. "I trust you with this."
She nodded mutely. He turned to go, and paused with his hand on the open doorframe. "You know, I know you probably don't want to hear this. But there's more to life than proving something to a ghost, Sunshine".
Before she could question him on exactly what that meant, he was gone, and she sagged against the counter wearily.
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"What is this place?" Warrick asked, following Grissom and Brass as they strode into the building.
The detective glanced back at him, looking older than his years. "I'd call it a classy crack house, but that's just me".
"It's patrons are generally those who appear on the society pages", Grissom supplied, sliding off his sunglasses and taking in the softly lit room with a cocked eyebrow.
Warrick could see the entomologist was fascinated by yet another aspect of human nature that was not widely advertised, and he stifled an amused smirk. He had such a keen interest in the human race; yet Warrick wondered why Grissom was so reluctant to join them.
"Hello", a softly spoken voice greeted them fluently.
The three turned as a woman emerged from behind a beaded doorway, eyes drifting between them casually. Brass obviously wasn't in the mod for pleasantries, and lifted up his badge. Warrick knew why. The Mayor and the Sheriff were riding the department for an easy solve, and they wanted this case over with as quickly as possible. It certainly wasn't aiding their investigation.
Veronique's tox screen had confirmed that there were still traces of MDMA in her system at the time of her death. They were well aware that she was popular on the Las Vegas party circuit, and several of her acquaintances had led them to here.
"What can I do for you?" she asked, barely flicking an eyelid. Warrick had to admit he was impressed. He got the feeling this woman was used to dealing with the authorities.
"We're wondering if you can tell us anything about Veronqiue Hollander", Grissom spoke up. "We're told she was a regular visitor here".
The woman nodded. "When she was in town, yes. We're very discrete and there's little risk of attention from the media here. We're a popular attraction for visiting celebrities".
"Well, we were wondering if you could tell us the last time Miss. Hollander was here", Brass said curtly.
She lifted an eyebrow. "We don't exactly keep records. I'm sure you understand why".
"Right", Brass sighed. "Do you remember seeing her here?"
She slowly shook her head. "No. But it often gets busy, particularly around this time of year."
"Do you mind if we have a look around?" Warrick spoke up, flashing her one of his charming, easy smiles. "Ask if anyone might have seen her?"
"I don't think we need to remind you of the legal repercussions of having an establishment like this?" Brass added pointedly.
She cleared her throat, gesturing to the door she had just exited. "Please. Go right ahead."
"Thank you".
Warrick swept aside the delicate red beaded curtain, revealing a narrow hall leading into several curtained booth-like areas that reminded him of Opium rooms in the 1800s. He knew that the establishment didn't provide anything in possession there, and escaped certain liability that way, but he still allowed himself a moment to marvel at the corruption of Las Vegas.
Brass split from the two criminalists, and Warrick strode slowly down the richly carpeted hall. The place was considerably empty for the time of day, but there were several people lounging on large cushions and under curtained canopies.
Warrick glanced back at Grissom, pausing before a rough-cut guy leaning idly against the wall beside one of the booths.
"Hey, excuse me. You mind if we ask you a few questions?"
The guy's eyes darted over them, and he scowled irritably. "Hey, I ain't doin' nothin' illegal, okay? I'm just waiting for a friend of mine".
"Yeah, sure you are", Warrick said, somewhat impatiently. "Do you know Veronique Hollander?"
The guy blinked at them owlishly. "Know her? Course I do. Everyone knows her."
"When was the last time you saw her here?" Grissom spoke up, leaning casually against the opposite wall.
His face twitched. "What makes you think I come here all the time?"
They stared at him impatiently, and he shifted uncomfortably. "Okay. I saw her two nights ago. She was with some of her little cronies, probably on her way through to the casinos or somethin', coasting all the way".
Grissom frowned blankly, turning to Warrick for a translation. "High", he offered. "Do you know what she was using?"
He shrugged impatiently. "I don't know. Far as I can tell she's an All Star, man, you what I'm sayin'?"
Grissom's eyes returned to Warrick. "User of multiple drugs", the younger CSI supplied.
He nodded empathically. "Yeah. But she wasn't here long. She bounced pretty quick. So that's all I know, okay?"
"Yeah", Warrick said, nodding his head to indicate that he could leave.
After their informant hopped off, Warrick glanced at Grissom thoughtfully. "So she was here the night before she died. I wonder where she went after this?"
"I don't know", Grissom said thoughtfully. "But I think that if we know that, we might know who killed her".
Warrick pursed his lips thoughtfully. It was odd, to be working with Grissom again. He'd forgotten how much he really missed the graveshift supervisor's eccentric personality. Not that Catherine wasn't a good boss. Sure, on some level he missed having her as a co-worker and not having to worry about the professional boundaries between them. It was just that the strain was clearly getting to her. They could all see it, even if none of them said anything. She was short with all of them, and Warrick wasn't sure if Grissom was aware of it, but their latest argument had her hanging on by a thread. She was just very good at hiding it.
She relied on Grissom perhaps more than anyone, and to her, it was like he was suddenly abandoning her. Warrick really hoped they patched things up soon. Unfortunately, he could see the added tension with Sara was not working in Catherine's favour. For some unknown reason, Grissom was somewhat protective of Sara lately, and despite what they might have thought, the two of them weren't hiding it very well from the rest of them.
He glanced at Grissom as they returned to the mid-afternoon sunlight, waiting in the lot for Brass to return. He wondered if the entomologist would appreciate his intervention, if he said something on Catherine's behalf.
He sighed, shielding his eyes with the back of his hand as he stared distantly down the road, towards the nearby Strip, bustling even in day with activity. They were two adults and his superiors, and it wasn't his place. He just hoped they would work things out soon, because the rift between them was perhaps unwittingly causing a rift between the entire team.
And Ecklie's intention to break them all up was working better than he intended.
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