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Chapter 2

6 a.m. Somewhere in the Desert near Lake Mead

As the sun rose on the horizon, its rays warmed the shoulders of over twenty-seven forensic technicians who were busily combing the desolate area, using Geo Radar Inc. machines to search for buried bodies. They had divided into three teams, and the area was cluttered with their gear and generator powered searchlights. Luckily they had been able to borrow multiple units so several teams could methodically radar the ground. After six hours, nothing promising had been detected. People were tired and morale was sinking.

Catherine pulled Grissom aside. Somewhat uncomfortable she said, "Hey, I don't want to ask for special favors but…"

He understood. "It's okay. Go check on Lindsey. I was planning to send some of our team on breaks anyway, try to conserve our energy. If we find something…" his voice trailed off. He wasn't sure this option was going to pan out.

"I'll drive back in a few hours," Catherine explained, feeling guilty.

"No, I'm not giving this that much longer. I'll keep you posted."

She hesitated.

Grissom assured her, "Catherine, go. We're fine. I'm sending other people home to rest too."

"Good idea." She paused again, not sure if she should say something. Grissom probably knew already. Yet, if he didn't, "I don't think Sara has left the lab for over three days."

"I know," he replied softly. Once Sara put her mind to something, she could be frighteningly tenacious.

"Maybe she needs a little distraction," Catherine suggested. She'd noticed that the two of them seemed to be on better terms these days. "You know, Gil, it's okay for you to have a personal life too."

Grissom pretended not to understand her, "I appreciate your concern, Catherine. We'll keep in touch." He turned and trudged back to the searchers.

Predictably, Nick and Sara, who most desperately needed the rest, refused to leave the scene, so a reluctant Warrick headed home as well. He knew they'd need fresh brainpower to process those bodies when and if they were located. Unfortunately, not many shared his optimism.

As the sun climbed higher, and the frustratingly empty search continued, Brass approached Grissom. "How long do you want to give this?"

"A few more hours. If only we had more evidence," Grissom frowned.

"What about Manny's offer? That he'll tell Sara about who killed Mrs. Dunsmore and give her some hard evidence." Amazingly Brass seemed willing to consider it.

"Come on, Jim, we know he did it. He just wants us to take the bait so he gets the opportunity to abuse Sara. Since when do we deal with criminals on their terms? We're not doing that." Grissom was angry, frustrated, and very reluctant to admit that Brass might just be right. The idea appalled him; he stubbornly refused to even consider it.

"Only as a last resort, Gil…." Brass's voice faded as he walked off. Apparently it was an option that many were willing to consider.

Then, around eight fifteen, it finally happened.

"I think I found one," Nick cried, peering over his monitor. Technicians and CSIs all scrambled over with equipment to begin the exhumation. Minutes later, another search team had a positive hit for another body. Within the hour, a total of three bodies were discovered and the digging had begun.

XXXXXXXXXX

4 p.m. Somewhere in the Desert near Lake Mead

Sweaty, exhausted, covered with sand and grime, Nick, Sara, and Grissom knelt before the first fully excavated grave. The body had undergone massive decay yet it was clearly bound at the wrists with ragged remains of formerly white rope.

"Check the knot," Nick urged.

Sara confirmed, "It's the same type, the half-hitch. And look at this!" Although decay was clearly evident, the chest wounds in the remnants of the body's rotting flesh resembled Bonnie Dunsmore's. "I think we're on to something."

On that note, Grissom took Nick and Sara aside. "It's going to take several hours to finish excavating and transporting these bodies. Then Doc. Robbins will need to do the postmortem exams. Catherine and Warrick will be here any minute to continue assisting with the excavation. You two need to go home and get some rest." Before they could register their protests, he insisted, "I know we're under a tight deadline. But you'll need to be able to think clearly later to process new evidence."

Sara started to object but Nick sighed and agreed. "Okay, we'll meet back at the lab later to examine the findings." He assembled his gear and started to walk towards his car. Sara began to follow him.

"Sara," Grissom called. She looked towards him. Somewhat bashfully, he asked, "Will you ride with me?"

A little confused, but pleasantly surprised she agreed, "All right."

Grissom gave some last minute instructions to the forensics team then briefly updated Catherine and Warrick as they arrived on the site before leading Sara to his SUV.

Sara collapsed on the seat; tired beyond belief, but vindicated in some strange way. At least three families might have closure now.

Normally Grissom would've sent Nick and Sara home yet he himself would've stayed to supervise. The excitement of uncovering new evidence always drew him to the scene, and, truth be told, he inherently distrusted the capabilities of those outside of his immediate team. However, he trusted Catherine and Warrick implicitly and knew they were fully capable of handling the situation.

More importantly, he felt a visceral need to take care of Sara now. He knew that this case had been hard on her, and if Sara had ridden with Nick, the two of them wouldn't have been able to resist discussing the case non-stop. That wasn't what she needed now. She needed rest, and he was determined she would get it.

After he started the car engine, light classical music poured softly out of the speakers.

"Chopin? He always makes me sleepy," Sara yawned.

'That's the point,' he thought.

Her eyes were closed before his vehicle hit the main highway.

Grissom was mildly pleased with himself. At least he'd been able to do something to help Sara.

As he stole surreptitious glances of Sara's face, he was filled with conflicting emotions. Feelings weren't his forte; he'd never been very good at expressing himself that way. That's why he was a scientist and a damn good one at that, more comfortable with labs than love, beakers and test tubes and pH values than the vast landscape of the human heart. Yet, just because he had difficulty expressing his feelings didn't mean that he lacked them.

He was still deeply ashamed that he had treated Sara so badly over the last year and a half. She'd scared the hell out of him when she asked him out to dinner. Out of his element, he'd dealt with it poorly. He knew he'd hurt her deeply, even he wasn't that blind, and the memory of the pain and…embarrassment in her eyes kept him awake more often than he'd like to admit. Since it hurt too much to face her, he tried to cut her out of his life by avoiding her, to convince her, and himself, that he really didn't care anymore.

But he did.

Seeing the mirror image of Sara's dead body last winter had rocked the foundation of his soul. It stirred up feelings and needs that he thought he'd successfully buried. Yet it also reminded him that he was a coward, that she posed a frightening risk. She could hurt him mortally, and because of that, he could never have her. In his own denial, he had continued to avoid her even when he suspected that Sara was having problems.

As he drove, the memory of a past discussion in his car filled his head. Sara had been drinking; in fact she'd been pulled over for drunk driving. Since he was her supervisor, Brass had notified him about her situation. In a daze, he'd gone to the station to rescue her. He hadn't known what he was in for.

A morose, humiliated Sara had greeted him. Most of their drive to her apartment had been silent. When they pulled into her parking lot, he hesitantly asked some probing questions. While they managed to successfully avoid the tricky subject of their relationship, Sara was able to discuss how upset she was over the promotion. She'd looked on it as validation that her years in Vegas hadn't been a total waste, only to discover that not only had she been passed over for someone with an inferior evaluation, but that her formerly supportive boss hadn't even had the consideration to adequately explain his reasoning to her.

Grissom was horrified that he'd been so selfish. His paralyzing fear of getting involved with her had been more important than her struggles. He was ashamed that he put his fears before her overall well-being. He hadn't been much of a friend to her.

He'd tried to convey his concern to her – the toll the work took on her, her overly emotional response to some cases, and her inability to separate herself from some of their victims, especially in cases of rape and abuse.

At that moment, he had a rare and disturbing insight, and he suggested that she had unresolved issues that she needed to deal with. Rather than fighting, she nodded dejectedly while struggling to maintain control.

He'd visited the next day, essentially waving a truce flag. For perhaps the first time, he let himself see the toll the past four years had taken on her, and somewhat cautiously he suggested counseling. To his surprise, she readily agreed, saying that she only wanted to have some inner peace about her life again. He was there as her friend, and to his amazed gratitude, she was willing to accept him as such.

He also discovered that he wanted to be back in her life. He wanted to know how the counseling was going; he wanted her to be happy. Whatever his own shortcomings, he did care about this woman, she was important to him. They'd fallen into a weekly routine where they caught up with each other over breakfast.

Strangely enough, they didn't always talk about work. Their topics ranged from art (he discovered it was her minor at Harvard), to literature (they both had eclectic taste, ranging from Shakespeare to J.K. Rowling), to the very simple details of life (he preferred frozen vegetables over canned, while Sara thought anything other than fresh was just a tad suspect).

It wasn't planned, it just happened that way and he found himself looking forward to their meetings. In some strange way, he found that they became the highlight of his week, and he found himself getting at least as much support as he was giving.

Were they dates? Well, he usually paid, but still, he didn't think so. They had not yet discussed their relationship -- past, present or future. He felt it looming at the edges of their table, like some hazy, treacherous murky pit whose depths were unfathomable. Yet, she was undeniably and inexorably inching her way back into his thoughts and his heart.

Many times he'd wanted to apologize to her for treating her poorly in the past. But then he'd have to discuss issues that he wasn't ready for; things that he might never be ready for. The guilt weighed on him, and, though not a cruel man, he knew that he had to bear some responsibility for her pain. He knew that whatever courage it took, he'd have to figure out a way to make it up to her.

Although he was completely unaware of all the details of Sara's history, he was convinced that it involved rape or abuse, since she reacted so strongly to many of those cases. Thus given her recent personal crisis, he was alarmed when this particular case had fallen to her as one of the lead investigators. He'd gently suggested that she take herself off the case. Unfortunately, she misunderstood his reaction, afraid that he doubted her capabilities as a CSI. Since their newly reborn friendship was tenuous and he didn't want to jeopardize it, he let her run with it.

Yet, the idea of her reading case file after case file after case file of the details of rapes turned his stomach. He knew she could sense his unease, and this case was beginning to cause renewed friction between them. To continue their friendship, or whatever it was, he'd have to tell her how he felt. And heaven only knew what kind of Pandora's Box that would open.

As the lights of the Strip drew closer, a stray thought occurred to Grissom.

What was he going to do with Sara now that she was sound asleep? He couldn't just drop her off at her apartment. What had he gotten himself into?

TBC