A/N: For everyone whose asked about Hailey's past, here we go.
Chapter 9- Can't escape the past
Sara and Hailey walked back into the break room, Hailey with her right hand stuck in the pocket of her pants. Brass was the only one waiting for them.
"Grissom's in the AV lab, going over the surveillance tapes. He said that he'd call if he had anymore questions, but you gave him a lot to work with. You have a CSI's eye for details, you know that kid?" He pulled her into a hug. Hailey pulled her hand out of its hiding spot and returned the embrace.
"Another ten years, you could come work for Grissom. That is, unless you want to work for me." He was only half joking. It had impressed him, the clear detail she had been able to recall. Not just what she saw, but sounds and smells too. As much as she beat herself up, her reactions had been good instincts. He had cheered silently when she had spoken of biting the hand clamped over her mouth. Brass hoped the wound got infected.
"I have to go get a couple of things from my office, and then we can get out of here. You want to come with me?"
"I'd rather go say bye to Greg and Nick, if that's alright."
"Whatever you want to do is fine. I'll come find you when I'm done. Don't leave the lab." It was an unnecessary warning, but he had to say it anyway. He was still reluctant to let her out of his sight, but admonished himself. This was probably one of the safest places she could be.
Hailey left the room, walking in the direction of the DNA lab. Brass also started down the hallway, Sara joining him on the walk. He didn't speak to her, expecting her to enter any one of the labs they passes on the way. She didn't stop until they reached his office, where she paused in the doorway.
"I think you're lost, Sara. The doorway you usually hang out in is to the office with all the bugs in it. This is my office." He was trying desperately to keep the illusion that he was the same in-control, wry humored man he always was. Sara saw through his defenses. She walked farther into the room, sitting in one of the two chairs in front of his desk.
"It okay to admit your shaken up, Jim. We all are." Sara found it ironic that not too long ago Brass had been the one trying to get her to open up about her problems. She had been annoyed, but secretly appreciative of the concern. Now it was her turn to repay the favor.
"I'm fine. Just need to collect my briefcase so I can take Hailey home." He was sorting through papers on his desk, not really noticing if they were ones he needed or not.
"What happened to Hailey, before?" Sara hadn't wanted to press Hailey for details, but felt the need to ask Brass for answers.
"What do you mean?" It wasn't a question he was prepared for, and he dropped the papers in his hand to look up at her. There was a knowing expression on her face. She might not know the details, but he had a feeling they would not surprise her.
"She said something in the bathroom, about this happening again." Sara had only meant to peak into the bathroom, to make sure Hailey was okay. The sight of the teen staring at herself in the mirror, nursing the bleeding hand, had been too much to resist. Sara saw herself, twenty years ago, and couldn't walk away.
"She said that?" Sara nodded her confirmation. "Shit. I was afraid of that."
"You don't have to tell me, but I think I can help her if I know what's going on."
Grimily Brass nodded. He was tempted to open his bottom desk drawer and reach for the bottle of bourbon he kept there. Thoughts of the scared teen waiting for him to take her home stopped his hand.
"I was fourteen years old when Lauren was born. From the time she could walk, she followed me everywhere. Both of our parents worked, so during the weekdays it was just the two of us. Jimmy's Shadow, my friends called her. Even when I moved out, I came home almost every weekend to see her. Catherine reminds me of her sometimes. Beautiful and intelligent, with the world's worst taste in men. Lauren won a scholarship to NYU, where she studied language. Then in the middle of her junior year she came to visit me..."
"Daddy, daddy, guess what?" Ellie ran to him the moment he walked in the front door. Brass caught her up in a hug, twirling her around in a circle before settling her on his hip.
"What, pumpkin?" he asked.
"Auntie Lauren is here. She camed this mornin' and she's gonna spend the night." She spoke with the slightest lisp.
"Is that right?" He made sure to keep his tone light, but he couldn't keep the frown off of his face. Lauren was an immaculate planner. If she was going to visit, she would call at least a week in advance. Showing up without warning was totally out of character for her, and it worried him.
"I hope its okay, Jimmy. I don't want to impose." She was sitting on the couch, her dark hair pulled back in a pony tail, her face devoid of makeup. She looked like she was about twelve.
"Don't be an idiot. You are always welcome here, sis." He set Ellie down, watching as she ran down the hall and slammed her bedroom door behind her. Taking a few steps, he settled into the armchair facing the couch. "What's going on?"
"I just needed to get away for a couple of days, take a break from all the studying. I thought I'd come see my big brother." She wouldn't look him in the eye, a sure sign that the words coming from her mouth weren't the whole truth.
"Bullshit." He raised her chin with his fingers, dismayed to see bloodshot eyes with dark circles underneath. "You never could lie to me, kid. What's wrong?"
Lauren sighed.
"I'm in trouble, Jimmy."
"Her bastard of a boyfriend had gotten her pregnant, and when she told him, his response was to give her money to 'take care of the problem.'" Brass was no longer seated in his chair, but was pacing behind the desk like a wild animal captured in a cage. Sara watched in silence, letting him vent.
"She lived with our parents until Hailey was a year old. By that time my marriage had fallen apart, and we rented a two bedroom apartment together. It made sense. I helped out with Hailey, baby-sat when I had the time. Lauren took care of the house and forced me to eat actual meals. Then, when Hailey was six, I got the job offer here. I moved, Lauren stayed. Soon after I left she met Bruce. They got married, had a baby, and for a while everything was great."
"Is this Mr. James Brass?" The voice wasn't familiar, and Brass was tempted to hang up on whoever it was. He had just gotten off a double, and the phone had started to ring just as he had fallen asleep.
"Yes. Whatdayouwan?" he growled.
"I'm calling from St Thomas Hospital in Newark. You are listed as next of kin for Lauren Santi."
He was instantly awake, jolting up into a sitting position. "What happened to Lauren?"
"Police were called to a domestic disturbance call. She's pretty beat up, but she's going to be fine."
Fucking Bastard. Bruce Santi had better turn himself in, or hide real well. If he was still around when Jim got off the plane...
"...little girl is with social services." The woman was still talking, but Jim had missed most of what she said.
"Say that again."
"I said, Mr. Brass, that the little girl Hailey has been taken to emergency housing by a social service worker, since there doesn't seem to be any family locally to take her."
He hate to think of her in foster care, even if it was just for the day until he got there. His parents were both dead, though, and he couldn't think of another option. Suddenly, it occurred to him. She had said that Hailey was in foster care.
"Where is Kelsey?" He had only met her twice, once when she was born, and then when he spent a week in Jersey last Christmas. She was two year old now, and talking up a storm from what Lauren told him. Living two thousand miles away meant he had to rely on the phone to keep in touch.
"I'm sorry, sir. Kelsey Santi was found at the bottom of a flight of stairs. She died before the ambulance arrived."
Oh God, oh God. Forget police protection, forget hiding. He would kill Bruce for this. He tried to swallow his anger, to focus on what was important. He needed to get to Lauren and Hailey.
He didn't remember the rest of the conversation, or the call to the airport for a plane ticket. He was coherent enough to call the lab and let them know he was taking personal leave.
"Gil, its Brass. I need you to play supervisor for a couple of nights."
Sara was sitting in the locker room, forearms braced against her legs, head bowed. She had been sitting like that since she had left Brass's office. He had departed first, as much to escape the haunting memories as to find Hailey and take her home. Sara had made her way here, needing a few minutes before she returned to work. Learning Hailey's story had shaken her. Some of the details were so familiar, not from domestic cases she had worked as a CSI. No, they reminded her all too much of her own childhood. So she sat in the dim locker room, trying to clear her head. She couldn't risk an unfocused mind. Not on this case.
"Sara?"
She didn't look up at the sound of her name being spoken in that concerned tone, didn't raise her eyes until he joined her on the bench, so close that their thighs were almost touching.
"Hey, Griss. I was just about to go to trace, see if Hodges has found anything." She started to stand, pasting a smile on her face. Grissom stopped her with a hand on her arm.
"If you need to take a breather, it's okay. Relax for a minute. I just wanted to make sure your doing alright." He was watching her carefully, trying to read the emotions he saw in her eyes.
"I'm the last person you need to be worrying about. Worry about Lindsey and Hailey. Worry about Brass and Catherine. Personally, I'm thinking the people who really should be worried are the assholes who have Lindsey. I sure wouldn't want to be in their shoes when we find them." She was feeling calmer now, Grissom's presence working its magic. Somehow, he had this ability to make her calmer and more energized at the same time.
"I can worry about all of them, and still be concerned about you."
"Thanks, but I'm fine. Really." Every once in a while, he knew just the right thing to say to her.
"I'll come with you to trace, then. Hodges will bother you less if I give him one of my glares."
Sam sat at his desk, rubbing a casino chip with his fingers. Red and silver, it's the same kind they found at the crime scene. His granddaughter's crime scene. He didn't know her well, and it was his own fault. He had screwed things up, first with Velma, then with Catherine. Ironically, he had lost his relationship with Catherine when she found out that he was really her father. He swore that he would fix things, if it was the last thing he did. He hit the intercom button that would connect him with his assistant in the outer office.
"Max, I need a printout of anyone who owes us more then five thousand dollars, at any of our casinos. I also need a list of everyone who has filed a lawsuit against us in the last five years." No guarantee that the people he was looking for would be on either list, but it was a start.
Catherine entered her house through the garage door, walking into the kitchen. She hadn't wanted to come home, had refused Grissom's suggestion when he first made it. Then Warrick had pointed out that they were going to need a better picture then Lindsey's last year school photo, and Catherine had reluctantly agreed to make the trip. She wasn't going to go to sleep, though. No matter what Warrick or Grissom or Nick said, that wasn't going to happen.
There was a picture on the fridge that she would take in. It was a candid shot, one that she had taken just a few weeks ago. Lindsey was in front of the computer, most likely chatting with friends on the internet. Catherine had been trying to finish up a roll of film, and had cajoled her daughter into turning away from the screen for a moment. The expression on Lindsey's face was stereotypical teen, one of those 'my mother is insane, but I have to humor her' looks. It was a perfect picture, allowing her daughter's personality to show.
Although she refused to sleep, Catherine decided that it would be a good idea to take a hot shower and change clothes. She filled the coffee pot before heading for the bathroom, adding an extra scoop to the filter in hopes that the additional caffeine would make up for the lack of sleep. Walking down the hall, she passed by the closed door to Lindsey's bedroom. The door was covered in bumper stickers and posters, proclaiming Lindsey's taste in music, movies, TV shows, and fashion. Catherine rarely entered the room, believing that everyone needed their own space. Her mother had never given her the same consideration, part of the reason she insisted on respecting Lindsey's space.
She needed to connect to her daughter now, so she reached for the door knob and turned it, pushing her other hand against a Green Day poster. The door swung open, revealing a room with walls considerably more bare then the last time Catherine had seen them. It concerned her for a moment, until she recalled a conversation from a couple of days ago. Hailey's uncle let her paint her room. Can I do mine? I'll do the work, all you have to do is buy the stuff. Lindsey must have taken her noncommittal 'maybe' more positively then she had meant it if she was already preparing her room for paint. At any other time Catherine would have smiled, knowing full well that it was her own strong will that she had passed on to her daughter that made her so stubborn. As she sank onto the twin bed she offered up a brief but intense prayer, that Lindsey's stubbornness would help her now, wherever she was.
To be continued...