2:30 a.m. A Cabin near Lake Meade
"So what do you have?" Sara asked, anxious to get this over with.
He gestured towards the other side of the cabin. Some articles lay on the floor near a queen-sized bed. She cautiously made her way over; there was a lot of clutter in the room. She bent down to inspect the items more closely. It was clothing, several separate piles of neatly folded garments, including underwear. Women's underwear.
Although Manny was meticulous with his tools, their search of his dwelling had shown them that this habit obviously didn't transfer to his wardrobe or other personal items. Sara realized that these were the victim's clothes, which would contain DNA evidence to establish a positive connection to Manny. At the same time, she was building a sickeningly clear mental picture of the crimes that had taken place here.
At that moment she realized she'd made a critical error. She'd been so absorbed by the evidence that she'd lost track of Manny. He was now standing beside her with the infamous hunting knife in his hand.
"Think you're so smart now little girl?
A lump formed in her throat and she fought not to shake. Grissom was right; she was in way over her head. And now she might never see him again. This evidence came with a very high price.
Yet rather than accepting defeat, her mind raced to determine a way to stall him until the police arrived. It was time to get him talking about his crimes while she waited for an opportunity to escape.
"Why did you do it Manny?" Her last minute training had taught her that many serial killers enjoyed bragging about their conquests; especially to some one they felt they had complete control over.
"They deserved it. They thought they were better than I was," he spat. "Now look who's talkin'."
Due to the fact that it'd been so difficult to link the victims to Manny, she assumed these slights were mostly in his head, that he'd never had a personal relationship with his targets. Perhaps he'd selected his victims based on their socioeconomic status since most of them had higher end cars or had shown more outward signs of success such as designer accessories or flashy jewelry.
Her eyes couldn't help but flicker to those piles of clothing. Would hers be next? She had to keep him talking.
"Why did you pick them?" She wanted to ask if he thought they were pretty, but rape generally isn't a product of sexual desire. Power is the stronger motivating factor.
He shrugged. "These bitches flash their money in my face. Think they're better than I am."
"Did it make you feel like a man?" slipped out before she could stop it.
Her heart thudded for his expression revealed that was exactly the wrong thing to say. This was her chance; using her self-defense training she grabbed his arm to shove him off balance and away from her. Unfortunately, his reactions were quick as well; he snatched her right arm and twisted it in a completely unnatural fashion. He took great pleasure from her wounded yelp and the loud snapping sound it produced. The pain was excruciating; Sara knew immediately that it was broken. Involuntary tears filled her eyes, and she fought not to panic.
He was done playing games. He lovingly caressed the side of his knife with his fingertips. "I think you know what to do." He eyed the clothing on the floor.
She bit her lip trying not to cry out in pain. This was how he treated his other victims. The whole horrifying process filled her mind. He would threaten her and make her remove her clothing, neatly folding the garments. Then he would bind her wrists so she would give him less trouble. When she was naked, he would trace his knife on the most sensitive portions of her anatomy to terrify her, and threaten to mutilate her. The torture would be prolonged, for that would feed his ego, build up his excitement. If she didn't beg for mercy, most likely he'd torment her until she did, her cries feeding his thirst for power and control.
Judging from the angle of the stab wounds in Mrs. Dunsmore, Doc Robbins believed that she had been stabbed while Manny was on top of her. Would he rape her then kill her? Or perhaps she'd have the blessing of dying before he eventually penetrated her, she prayed.
He wasn't pleased by her hesitation. "Take your clothes off. Now," he growled.
She tried to comply; her right arm was essentially useless. Any motion on that side of her body sent shooting pains through her. She fought the waves of nausea and broke out in a cloying sweat as she began to awkwardly fumble with the buttons of her blouse with her left hand.
With a snarl, Manny stepped closer.
"I'm trying! It's hard with my arm."
"And whose fault is that, chica?"
She increased her efforts, sensing it would be infinitely better to do it herself rather than to have Manny touch her any earlier than necessary. Gritting her teeth, she managed to remove her shirt and toss it on the floor. The throbbing in her arm was like a living breathing animal, protesting with every move. It was agonizing.
"Keep going little girl," he leered, enjoying the show. Most likely her fear was more provocative than her half clad body. She nearly vomited when she noticed his obvious arousal.
Would the first time Grissom saw her naked be in the morgue as he examined her corpse?
She was mortified that she couldn't hold back the tears that started to trail down her cheeks. Her good hand reluctantly moved towards the waistband of her pants when the sudden sound of tires tearing up gravel screeched outside. Sara prayed that the police had arrived. Taking advantage of the distraction, Sara made her move, butting Manny in the stomach with her head, and then scrambling for the door. She fumbled frantically to open it as Manny fought to regain his footing.
"Police! Hands on your head!"
A loud voice boomed as the door was flung open and several uniformed officers stormed in. Sara blindly stumbled out of the cabin, nearly colliding with an officer. He took one look at her shell-shocked expression, then stripped off his jacket and draped it gently over her shoulders. Then he escorted her to a squad car. She sat numbly in the back, cradling her wounded arm, while he called for an ambulance.
Minutes later, Brass stopped by the car. "Great job Sara. I think there will be enough here to lock this guy up for good." When he innocently patted her shoulder, she whimpered in pain and nearly blacked out. Brass' expression immediately changed to one of concern, and his eyes narrowed at her grimace of pain.
He called out to an officer, "Make sure that ambulance is on the way, this officer is hurt. NOW!"
She knew she had to say something to him but she was afraid she was going to fall apart. She longed to pull the mantle of dignity and professionalism around her for protection. It was taking all she had within her not to burst into tears.
Being a perceptive man and noticing her appearance, Brass sensed that Sara needed some time to recover from her ordeal. "Um…we don't have to de-brief now. Manny's in custody. He's going down town. He won't be going anywhere else for a long time. Catherine's already here to process the cabin. You did a great job," he reassured her. "You gonna be okay?" he asked ashis attention was drawn by raised voices.
Sara nodded wearilyand he reluctantly turned backto the scene. She silently prayed that Catherine wouldn't stop by to check up on her. The experience was humiliating enough without having to talk about it. She should've known that wasn't Catherine's nature.
"Hey, you all right?" the blonde called as she jogged up to the police cruiser.
Sara nodded, struggling to maintain a brave façade. If she could just get something for her arm, the throbbing was unbearable. She wasn't sure how much longer she could hold on.
"You did a great job Sara. We couldn't have put him away without you. Get some rest."
As Catherine stepped away, Sara shut her eyes. She could faintly hear the wail of the ambulance's sirens.
'Please, I can't control myself much longer', she pleaded. 'I can't handle much more of this pain.'
A hand touching her shoulder startled her; causing her to cry out in pain as her eyelids flew open. It was Grissom.
"I thought…you're not supposed to be here…"
He opened the car door and sat beside her. "I know. I don't care. A patrolman owed me a favor. You didn't think I could just listen to this over the radio, did you?" Grissom paled as he took in her appearance: her tear stained cheeks with only a man's jacket draped over her bra, the unnatural position of her right arm. With a husky whisper, he said, "God, what did he do to you? Honey, are you okay?"
That was it. That was all she could take. She began to sob and Grissom tried to figure out a way to hold her that wouldn't hurt her. Hugging her injured arm to her, she cautiously leaned against his chest as sobs wracked her body. He gently wrapped his arms around her, lending her his warmth and strength.
"It's okay honey. It's over. You're going to be okay," he mumbled with relief, bowing his head closely over hers. "Thank God you're okay."
When the paramedics arrived, Grissom stepped aside so they could escort Sara to the ambulance. They efficiently splinted her arm, and gave her a fast acting injection for the pain. As she lay strapped in the gurney, she already felt spacey.
Had Grissom really been here? Or was that just her imagination? She blinked her eyes and murmured his name, "Grissom?"
His voice came from her left, and she realized he still had hold of her uninjured hand, stroking her fingers softly. "I'm here, I'm right here. You're not going anywhere without me."
She turned her head with a loopy grin and met his worried eyes. "Good," she smiled broadly as she tightened her grip on his hand momentarily then closed her eyes.
THE END
Hope you enjoyed the story, it was lots of fun to write! Thanks for all your reviews!