Author's Notes: As always, I'm crazy appreciative of all the people still reading, and especially thankful to those who take the time to review. Hugs to all! Enjoy!
Giving Up
by Kristen Elizabeth
Maybe I would feel better alone
Or just feel something, my heart is turning to stone
So, so slow
Can you feel me letting go?
I know that we turn away when the cracks begin to show
And now we're
Sleeping with the television and all the lights on
One of us is leaving soon, but we're both already gone.
Stuck at the lost and found, we watch things disappear
Looking for the missing piece, but it was never here.
- Adrienne Pierce, "Lost and Found"
Grissom rarely sought out anyone in the lab; usually it was others who trailed after him, seeking an audience. So he couldn't help but feel a little unusual when he had to flag down Nick a week after Sara's brush with death.
"What?" Nick asked him, once he'd stopped. His tone was cool, edging the line of subordinate, but not quite crossing it.
"Um…" Now that he had the younger man's attention, Grissom wasn't entirely sure what he wanted to say to him. Maybe he just wanted to talk to someone. It seemed like his entire team had decided to give him the silent treatment. He'd often thought about how nice it would be if everyone would just leave him be.
He should have known to be careful what he wished for.
Grissom cleared his throat. "Where are you heading?"
"Station," Nick replied, shortly.
"Interrogation?"
"Yeah." He folded his arms high on his chest. "I'm late. So, is there something you need?"
"Who are you interrogating?"
"I'm not interrogating anyone. Taylor from days invited me to…" Nick stopped. "Brass filled you in, didn't he?"
Sometimes the best way to find something out was to pretend you already knew about it. Grissom merely looked at Nick and waited for him to go on.
"Fine. Yes, I'm heading over to watch them interrogate Callie Lamb, Forbes' secretary." He paused. "She's the only other woman in the scenario, being that she's the last person Sara remembers seeing before she was knocked out. They've got enough for a warrant for her DNA, but Brass is playing this cool. He wants her to hang herself, and let the evidence just bury her."
"You are hands off on this, aren't you?"
Nick let out a strangled chuckle. "Yeah. I'm hands off. Nicky's being a smart boy, happy?"
"I didn't mean to imply…"
"Forget it." He started to walk away, then stopped and turned back. "You want to come, don't you?" The sudden life in Grissom's eyes gave away his answer. "I can't stop you; you've got as much right to be there as I do." Nick started off again; Grissom followed.
Halfway down the hall, Nick turned to face him again. "She's leaving."
Grissom lowered his eyes. "I know."
"What are you going to do to stop her?"
"She's made up her mind, Nick. There's nothing more I can do."
"When Sofia was going to leave, you took her on a date." Nick sighed when Grissom gave him startled look. "Rumor mill."
"Sofia was…different."
"No. Sara's the different one. Sofia's supposed to be the one you treat like any other CSI in this building." Nick shook his head. "Did we not have a heart-to-heart a matter of days ago where you pretty much admitted that you're crazy about Sara? Or am I the crazy one and just imagined it all?"
"Nick, circumstances can slant what we…"
"So it was just the circumstances speaking?" He blew out a breath. "Well, that clears up why she's leaving." He looked his boss straight in the eye. "Careful. You're out-Grissom-ing yourself."
For a third time, Nick started walking away, then looked back. "We can ride together to P.D. No reason to pollute the atmosphere more just because you're stubborn as all hell."
"Where do you think they'll send you?"
Sara glanced at the man sprawled on her couch in a state of over-the-top melancholy. "It's a little early to ask that question. I haven't been accepted yet, Greg. I only sent in my application a couple of days ago."
"It's just a matter of time 'til they do. How could they not? You're the best."
The vote of confidence caused a grin to spread on her face. The annoying itchiness followed a second later. Sara touched her face. "I told you not to make me smile," she scolded him. "I'm in the early stages of shedding my skin."
Greg punched her throw pillow. "What am I going to do without you? You're my Grissom. My prettier, less condescending Grissom."
She'd never been anyone's mentor before, and she was surprised that hearing she was a good teacher meant more to her than when he'd complimented her CSI skills. "I'll miss you, too, Greg."
"You'll write?"
"Absolutely. Whenever possible."
"You'll send me stuff?"
"If I see anything in Bosnia that screams 'Greg,' it's yours."
Greg gave her pillow another half-hearted punch. "So, you're thinking you'll be sent to Eastern Europe?"
"The war left a lot of unmarked graves. A lot of victims who deserve a name and a proper burial." Sara shrugged. "It's definitely a possibility. But so is Southeast Asia, Africa, some parts of the Middle East, South America. Crimes against humanity are a global epidemic."
He frowned. "But…you'll be safe. Right? They wouldn't send you somewhere you wouldn't be safe."
"Greg, I could go out on a case tonight and be shot. I could have died in that car accident. Or in the desert."
"I get it. There is no safe place. Still, you better write with some regularity. Or I'll be worried." He paused. "And I won't be the only one."
She went into the kitchen for a bottle of water, but also to temporarily hide. His words had hit her harder than she let on. She hadn't expected her announcement that she was leaving to have a lot of impact. When she'd left San Francisco to come to Vegas, she'd gotten a card with a few hasty signatures and no personal messages. No one had ever so much as emailed to see how she was doing in her new job. She hadn't minded. Roots were something she'd never let herself put down. If she'd known she was putting them down in Vegas, she might have been more inclined to leave years ago.
Sara took a deep breath to compose herself. She grabbed the water, to keep up pretenses, and went back into the main room. Greg was flipping through her Victoria's Secret catalog.
"The order form is missing," he said in his best detective's voice. "Interesting…"
She laughed, and for a split second, she changed her mind. But the moment quickly passed.
Callie Lamb was a slender woman with mousy brown hair that she wore in a style Grissom hadn't seen since 1985. She sat on one side of the metal table, her hands folded in front of her, looking serene. Behind the one-way glass, Grissom studied her.
She didn't look capable of attempted murder, but then some of the worst criminals he'd ever encountered seemed perfectly innocuous upon first glance. First impressions were just that. Impressions. Nothing more than glimpses.
As if she could see through the glass, Callie lifted her head and stared straight in his direction. Grissom suddenly took a step back.
"You okay?" Nick asked, looking over at him.
He nodded slowly. "There's nothing more startling than looking into someone's eyes…and seeing nothing."
"Except maybe seeing too much." Brass passed by, nodding at them as he entered the room. "Here we go," Nick said quietly.
Brass wasn't big on formalities or pleasantries, especially with people who might have hurt someone he cared about. As soon as he sat down, he launched into his questions. "I'm Captain Brass. This is all being taped. Do you need something to drink? No? Okay. Were you at Lawton Forbes' house one week ago?"
He didn't faze her. "I'm at his house a lot. I'm his secretary."
"Was there anything different that day?" Brass shrugged. "An unexpected visitor?"
"Just his latest groupie."
"Groupie?"
She sighed, as though she were dealing with a child. "I know he can't help being so attractive. But these women just throw themselves at him. It's pathetic."
"And who was this latest groupie?"
"Sara…something. The whole group thing is supposed to be anonymous." Callie leaned forward. "You know, she was different. When she first showed up, I didn't figure her for the groupie type. But she turned out to be just like all the others."
"Is that why you knocked her out, tied her up and dumped her in the desert?"
Grissom was so caught up waiting for the woman's reply, that he didn't even notice the man passing by him and Nick on his way into the room until he had already entered, interrupting the interrogation.
"Taylor from days," Nick said for Grissom's benefit. "Primary on Sara's case."
"I know."
Inside the room, Taylor pulled Brass aside and whispered something to him. A moment later, Brass sat back down with a strange little smile.
"You know, I love CSI's. Hell, if I'd done a little better in science class, I might've thought about becoming one, instead of being a cop. The thing I love about them? They never give up. So, they didn't find any prints on their first try. Well, try and try again." Brass paused. "You were raped ten years ago, weren't you?"
Callie's eye twitched ever so slightly. "Excuse me?"
"You were a cashier at the Tangiers…coming home from work one night…the guy was never caught. Now, usually I wouldn't bring this up, but the fact that you worked at a casino interests me. You have a work card, which means we've got you in our system." He grinned. "Can you tell me why CSI Taylor found your fingerprints in Sara Sidle's car?"
"I love this moment," Nick murmured. "When you bury 'em with the evidence and they can't find a way back out."
Callie lowered her eyes for a minute. When she looked back up, any mirth or self-satisfaction was gone. And there was nothing but cold, calculating rage. This was a woman who could kill.
"Because I drove her to the desert." She paused. "But I wasn't alone."
"Who was with you?"
She shook her head. "Not yet. Aren't you going to ask me why?"
"I think I already know why," Brass said. "No one likes competition."
"You don't understand."
"What's to understand? You've got the hots for the guy; he has his groupies. Makes sense to me."
Callie's eyes narrowed. "I was raped. Ten years ago, I was the one who needed counseling."
"Let me guess. Dr. Lawton Forbes 'counseled' you."
"You make it sound tawdry." She shook her head. "It wasn't. We fell in love."
Brass pointed at her. "You fell in love. He just likes his women vulnerable." There was another pause. "Let me fill in the details. Eventually, he got tired of you. Threw you over for a new model."
"Maybe so." She lifted her chin. "But are any of them still with him? No. I was smarter than them."
"If you couldn't be his lover, why not be his assistant?" Brass's voice got serious. "Maybe the reason some of them aren't with him anymore because you killed them? Like you tried to kill Sara."
"I'm not a monster, Captain Brass. If I'd had a choice, I wouldn't have killed anyone. But I'm Lawton's secretary. My job is to do what he wants me to do."
Grissom's hands lay in fists by his side. Nick noticed, but said nothing.
"Are you saying that the kidnapping and attempted murder of Sara Sidle was Dr. Forbes' idea?"
She smiled. "In the end, he wanted her gone just as much as I did. All she did was cause trouble with her connections to the police."
"What happened that day?"
Callie lifted her shoulders, bored. "She showed up, uninvited, I might add. Lawton was on his way back. I knew what he wanted to do, so I put the plan in motion. She'd only been unconscious for a few minutes when he arrived. I tied her up, blindfolded her and we put her in the back of her car. I drove the car; he took his."
"Why?"
"I needed a ride back after we dumped hers at the airport. That part was my idea." She smiled, as if remembering something pleasant. "He just wanted to see her all alone, surrounded by nothing but desert."
For the first time since the start of the interview, Grissom tore his eyes away from the window. He made a movement towards the door, but Nick caught his arm.
"Easy, Gris. We've got her."
Callie went on, undaunted. "It was her own fault."
"How do you figure that?"
"She was so desperate. I've seen some sad sisters in ten years, but she was the worst. She never talked much in group, so I can't say this for sure, but don't even think she wanted Lawton. He was just standing in for someone. An ex-flame. An unrequited lover." She tsked. "So sad."
"As opposed to becoming a man's secretary in order to keep him close?" Brass moved on, "Tell me about Julia Sommers. Another groupie?"
"Before we talk about her, I want a deal."
"Oh, I don't make deals," Brass informed her. "But if your information pans out, maybe the D.A. will be nice and forgo the needle in favor of life behind bars. For now, you're under arrest. Enjoy central holding."
Taylor and Brass left the room and joined Nick and Grissom. "I'll get the arrest warrant for Forbes immediately," Brass said.
"He'll deny it all," Grissom mused, his tone dark. "She's got nothing to lose, but he has everything."
"Forensically speaking, there's nothing tying him to Sidle's case," Taylor said. "We'll haul his car into CSI, but she said Sara wasn't in it. There won't be anything linking him to the scene. Any trace on the car can be explained by living in the desert."
Nick thought for a second. "Unless you can isolate some unique property in the sand where Sara was left; that could put him at the scene."
Taylor nodded. "I'll check it myself."
"I want to be there when you interrogate Forbes."
"Gil." Brass contemplated this, then gave up without a fight. "Fine. Maybe you can rattle him, get him to confess." He glanced at his watch. "I want this guy in by lunch, booked by dinner. Let's get to it."
Sara hadn't expected a response to her online application for days. So she was nothing short of shocked to find that she had mail only hours after Greg had left to get some sleep before his shift. She took a moment before pulling up the email.
Her eyes scanned the message quickly and by the time she was done, she was grinning from ear to ear, and then wincing as the smile pulled at her sunburned skin.
"Dear Ms. Sidle," she read aloud, under her breath, as if to assure herself that her first read-through hadn't been a dream. "Congratulations, your application to IFFS has been reviewed and accepted. Your credentials speak for themselves, and after a personal interview, we look forward to welcoming you to our international network of dedicated crime scene scientists."
The email went on to outline the details about the interview. Sara saved the message and sat back in her chair, staring at her laptop's screen in wonder. This was the final confirmation that her life was about to change. It was thrilling. And terrifying.
There was so much to do. Sublease her apartment, put in her notice to Ecklie, pack and store her things, say goodbye to everyone. To Grissom. But all that would come later.
Sara walked to the kitchen and treated herself to a beer. She raised the bottle into the air in a solitary toast.
"To moving on."
On the advice of his lawyer, Lawton went to the station on his own accord. Grissom was ready for him. Even though Brass insisted on being in the room, it was going to be Grissom's show.
He waited, silent, as Lawton took a seat. If not for the lawyer, the two men might have stared each other to death.
"You'd better have more than a single pubic hair, Mr. Grissom," the lawyer said. "Or we will be filing harassment charges all around. One for everyone."
Leaned back in his chair, with one arm on the table, his palm pressed flat against the manila case folder, Grissom never looked away from Forbes. "Tell me something. Is it a sickness or just a fetish…that compels you to take advantage of vulnerable women, Dr. Forbes?"
"He doesn't have to answer that," the lawyer interjected.
In the far corner of the room, Brass smirked. "He will, though."
It was like Brass and the lawyer didn't exist. And the only conversation was between them. Lawton took his time answering Grissom's question. "Do you have a type? Let me guess. Intelligent. Somewhat emotionally withdrawn. Tall, but not taller than you. Blonde, maybe?" He paused. "We all have a type, Dr. Grissom. I like a woman who needs me. Is that a crime?"
"It is when you kill them."
"I beg your pardon?"
"Callie Lamb rolled over on you," Grissom said, evenly. "We know everything."
"I'm sorry. I really don't have any idea what you're talking about."
He opened the file that lay between them. "Would you like a copy of her statement? Or should I just paraphrase?"
"I'll take a copy." The lawyer snatched it up and started scanning the pages.
"It doesn't matter what Callie said or didn't say. She's a good secretary, hard-working and loyal. But frankly, she's not entirely stable."
Grissom arched an eyebrow. "I thought you liked your woman weak. Like Julia Sommers?" All he got was a look. "What did happen the day Sara Sidle was abducted and left to die in the desert?"
"I heard about it on the news. Absolutely terrible. I'm so very glad Sara is all right. I intend to send her flowers. What kind do you think she'd like?"
"Let's stick to the subject at hand," Grissom hastily said. "What I want to know is, what part did you play in putting her there?"
"None," Lawton answered, clearly and calmly.
"So you didn't help Callie Lamb drive Sara out into the Wildlife Refuge? You didn't leave her there? You didn't give Callie Lamb a ride back from the airport after dumping Sara's car? It wasn't your idea to get rid of her…in the same manner you got rid of Julia Sommers?"
Lawton leaned forward. "I had no idea Julia was even dead until you showed up at the center that night and told me." He spread his hands over the table. "I cared about Julia. And I care about Sara." He paused. "These women come to me scared…violated…afraid to trust anyone, ever again. And I help them. I show them that there is life beyond their trauma. That they're not less of a woman for having survived such an ordeal." He looked straight at Grissom. "If that's a crime, it's the only one I'm guilty of."
For the first time since the interview started, Grissom glanced at Brass. His friend shook his head, almost disappointed. It was one person's word against another's. Never an ideal situation when the evidence was practically non-existent.
Lawton's lawyer looked up from his copy of Callie's statement. "You haven't got a shred of physical evidence tying my client to this crime, do you? All you have is the ramblings of a woman with a personal vendetta against him." He shook his head. "All this time you've spent trying to pin this on him, when you could have been building a stronger case against the real killer."
Holding his hand up to quiet his lawyer, Lawton went on. "I won't file charges against you, Dr. Grissom. Even though you seem determined to smear my name without any proof that I've done anything to deserve it. But I will ask you to be lenient with Callie. If she is responsible for Sara and Julia, then I feel responsible for her."
"You are," Grissom glared at him as he stood to go. "You knew she was in love with you…and you kept her hanging for years." His voice faltered for a second, then steadied. "This isn't the end of our investigation." Lawton and his lawyer kept on walking out the door.
Brass ran his hand down his chin, then inspected his palm. "Is this egg on my face? Feels like it."
"Usually by this point, I have a gut feeling about a suspect. I might not always be right, but I've got something. But him?" Grissom shook his head. "Nothing."
"Exactly what we started out with. And ended up with," Brass added. He sighed. "There's no way to know, is there? Who's lying and who's telling the truth?"
"Maybe not," Grissom mused, his brow furred in concentration. After a few seconds had passed, he looked up at Brass, like a cartoon light bulb had lit up over his head. "Then again…maybe there is."
To Be Continued