Musical Notes: Let There Be Peace on Earth was written in the summer of 1955 by Sy Miller and Jill Jackson, inspired by Jill Jackson's thoughts and realizations about life and love after an unsuccessful suicide attempt. Written after the resolution of turmoil on a personal level, it has become almost a world anthem for peace and has been sung in dozens of countries. I am told that this is the song that plays at the Oklahoma City Bombing Memorial. Beautiful song with drive, promise, and a triumphant ending.
(H/C)
"No song of love, no lullaby.
And no bards sang to change the world.
No pipers played, no dancers twirled.
I dreamed a dream, a silent dream.
A silent dream.
Silence."
The Awakening, Martin
(H/C)
A statistic. Sarah stood in her living room, perfectly still, hands in her pockets at Horatio's command. She had become a statistic. Horatio had turned into a crime-processing machine right under her eyes, and even now, as he gave terse orders into the cell phone, his gaze continued to sweep the debris, sorting, sifting, processing. This was the part of crime she had never realized, that someone could break into a life and turn it into a mere statistic. The one time she had started to move toward the side of the room to inspect some of the wreckage, Horatio's voice had nailed her to the spot before she'd taken half a step. So she stood, perfectly still, hands in her pockets, her eyes counting broken memories while his processed evidence. Fury rose slowly, grappled with violation, and with difficulty, overcame it.
"Let me know anything that turns up from that picture," Horatio concluded. He was talking to someone named Eric now. Before that, he had called people named Tripp and Speed, followed by calls to the hospital and to someone in the department to arrange a guard on Sam, as well as a quick call to Calleigh. His tone had softened slightly when talking to Calleigh, but that conversation had been no less efficient than any of the others.
"Sarah." She jumped slightly. She hadn't even been sure if he remembered she was there – at least as long as she stood still. He carefully walked across to her, stepping around the debris, and when he stopped in front of her, she was surprised to see a spark of fury in his eyes that came near matching her own. Underneath the machine-like efficiency, he did still see people, apparently, not just evidence. He recognized her sense of violation. "I'm sorry," he said inadequately.
Her voice shook with anger and fear combined as she looked at the viciously slashed couch cushions. "If I had been here, they would have killed me."
His eyes dipped in confirmation. "I'll get you to the hospital as soon as someone else gets here to secure the scene. You'll have to put off getting more clothes, though. Nothing leaves until this house is processed, but I know you need to be with Sam."
"Thank you." She remembered the calls to the hospital and for a guard. "Do you think they'll go after him?"
"Or you. There will be a guard at the hospital today, Sarah, to watch you as well as one for Sam. Don't go anywhere alone while you're there. Don't try to lose him."
She looked at the slit couch cushions again. "I won't." Her gaze went beyond the cushions to the pictures, swept off the wall and smashed. "Why would they take down the pictures? It would be hard to hide a necklace in them."
"To see if anything was behind them. Sometimes people have wall safes behind pictures."
"But why break them just because they were in the way?"
He didn't answer. She knew the answer already. Instead, he held his cell phone out to her. "Sarah, I've been meaning to ask you, just to double check. Look at this picture. This is the necklace Sam gave you, right?"
Her hesitation surprised him. "Y-esss." The simple word was drawn out to three syllables.
He was alert instantly. "You aren't sure?"
"Oh, that's the necklace. But there's something . . . I don't know. Something's different about it. Can't put my finger on it."
"Try." He kept the picture there, and Sarah abruptly remembered that it was her fault they only had a picture instead of the necklace itself in the first place. Just like it was her fault Sam had been hurt.
"I am trying," she snapped. "Just like I've tried to remember where I lost it. Don't you think I want this to all be over?"
He pulled the cell phone back, snapping it closed. "I'm sorry," he said again.
Sarah took a deep breath. "No, I'm sorry." She grasped for a different subject. "Horatio, how did you know something was wrong? I couldn't see anything wrong with the door. How'd they get in, anyway?"
"Cheap lock," he stated, giving it a withering stare. If a door knob could have cringed, it would have. "You need to replace it with a dead bolt as soon as you can. A criminal could pick it in seconds. Yesterday, when I finished searching the house for the necklace, I left three small dark threads shut in the door when I locked it. On the hinge side, away from the knob."
"So you knew someone had opened the door."
"Right. This also tells us more about who we're dealing with. Really top criminals would have noticed the threads and replaced them. These guys are middlemen, errand runners, crooks for hire. The man at the top, whoever he is, doesn't want any obvious or traceable connection at all to this. I doubt they even know his real name or address."
"Then how will you find him?"
His smile turned predatory. "We have our ways." His head came up alertly, and he turned to face the door a minute before Speed slouched in, looking even more rumpled than usual. He stopped in the doorway and looked around the mess.
"Did a thorough job on the place, didn't they?"
"Not as thorough as you're going to do," Horatio replied. "I'm taking Sarah to the hospital. Tripp should be here soon, and I'll be back with Calleigh. Meanwhile, it's all yours."
Speed sighed and snapped the gloves on. "Thanks, H," he said, obviously not meaning it. All day yesterday sorting out fingerprints that led nowhere, and now this mess. This wasn't his week for cooperative, straightforward evidence.
Horatio and Sarah exited, and Horatio pulled her to a stop just outside. "Let's check our shoes, just in case, even though we were careful. Don't want to walk off with evidence." She held up each foot for inspection, and he carefully checked his own, too. "Okay, let's get you to the hospital."
Sarah glanced back at her house. "Are you sure he knows what he's doing?"
"Speed? Trust me. He's a great CSI."
"He just isn't my picture of an officer, somehow. Then again, neither are you."
Horatio smiled at her. "We're people too, Sarah. And we never forget that you are." He slipped the sunglasses on. "Let's go."
(H/C)
Calleigh and Horatio exited the hospital and started across the parking lot. "So you think they'll go for Sarah now?"
"Probably. We can assume that Hermann told them Sam wanted the necklace for a gift for his sister. They know it isn't in the house now. She's the obvious next step. They work at night so far, though." He slowed, twisting and craning his neck to look back up at the hospital windows. "There's a guard for Sam and one for her now, and there are people all around. In daylight, I think she's safe for the moment."
"You can't do everything yourself, Horatio. The best thing we can do is process the evidence and nail these perps."
"Right. Sarah's still staying with us tonight, though." He started walking again. "And tonight, we sleep with both ears open."
Calleigh climbed into the passenger's side of the Hummer when they reached it. Driving was getting easier, but it was still a conscious act at every move. How many times had she taken a journey simply on auto pilot, her thoughts miles away from the road? How many other people were driving like that? She shivered.
Horatio smiled at her as he took the wheel. "Did you and Rosalind have any trouble this morning?"
"No. She was tense, but she didn't fight it. She just wants to make sure I don't disappear." Calleigh grinned suddenly. "You've turned her into a seatbelt watcher, though. She keeps score at stoplights."
He pulled out into the street. "How are you doing?"
She sighed. "Better. Frustrated that it isn't just over, but I'm dealing with it."
He reached across at a stoplight to squeeze her arm, and the warmth of his touch burned into her. "This isn't all your fault, you know."
"The wreck? I know that, Horatio. It was the deer."
"No." He shook his head. "This whole case. You've been thinking a couple of times, last night and then this morning, about what you've gotten us into. Rosalind and me both, I think. You wish we didn't have to deal with all this."
She couldn't hide anything from the man. "What's wrong with that? You were thinking of Rosalind last night yourself, when you didn't want to sleep on the couch near the doors. You were protecting her even more than Sarah."
It was his turn to look away. "You're right. We can't help it. She's our daughter."
"And you're my husband, and yes, a few times, I've wished you didn't have to deal with so much this week. I at least get more regular hours since Rosalind. But then I remember Sarah and Sam. Part of the time, I resent all of this being dropped on us, but part of the time, I'm glad it was me, Horatio. What if Sam's message had been left with somebody who didn't care? Sarah would already be dead. But Horatio, when we're past this case, you are going to take a few days off even if I have to arrest you. I'm just coming off a vacation; you're coming off that trial."
He grinned at her. "Calleigh, you're amazing. You know how few people can still think of others in the middle of stress themselves?"
"Yes. And I'm married to the best of them." She dazzled him with her smile, and he suddenly thought that whatever the emerald and diamond necklace actually looked like, it could never even start to match the sparkle of Calleigh Caine.
(H/C)
Speed gave a soft sound of satisfaction. "Got it. They never learn." He lifted the clear prints off the toilet handle and the sink. Only a few prints; luckily, the bathroom had been cleaned fairly recently, probably last weekend. Most of the stacked prints were in the same location, too. That would be Sarah. People were amazingly habitual about things, always reaching for faucets in exactly the same way they always did. Crooks, too, followed their standard habits, and Speed had found that even in the middle of committing a crime, almost none of them used the bathroom with gloves on. The isolated prints in slightly different locations from the stacked ones were the prints he'd bet on for the perps.
He heard the front door open and quickly left the bathroom to check. It was Tripp, paused just inside the door to study the mess. "Find anything, Speedle?"
"Prints in the bathroom. This took a while to tear up the whole house like this, and at least one of them made a pit stop."
Tripp didn't look impressed. He never did. "Anything else?"
"I'm just getting started. This is going to take all day." Speed glanced at his watch. "Especially if H and Calleigh don't get back here to help."
"Nice to have job security," Tripp replied. "What about the jewelry shop yesterday? Anything else on the evidence there?"
Speed shook his head. "No prints match anything in AFIS. Probably customers. The perps wore gloves. I did get one thing from the broken computer."
"Tool mark?"
"Tread mark. One of them kicked the screen before he hit it with whatever he hit it with. He was getting frustrated. I think he hit the screen with his gun to break it. We've got about two-thirds of a shoeprint intact below the break, though."
"And it matched a rare kind of shoe specially made for only one person in Miami, right?" Tripp didn't sound hopeful. He never did.
"Nope. I'm not that lucky this week. There was some residue from the shoe, though. Traces of oil, grease, transmission fluid. We found traces of the same stuff on the floor of the jewelry store in spots."
"Like he worked in a garage, maybe."
"Or in a chop shop. I'll be sure to look for more of the same here." He securely sealed the evidence envelope. "Got clear prints, at least."
"Excellent," said Horatio behind Tripp, and the detective and the trace expert both jumped.
"You're gonna give somebody a heart attack one day," Tripp protested.
Horatio gave him a half smile of apology. He entered the house the rest of the way with Calleigh at his heels. "How's it going, Speed? Aside from the prints."
"Nothing yet. I'm just getting started." Speed surveyed the mess. "I could use some help."
"We're all yours," Calleigh promised. "At least for the moment."
Horatio turned to Tripp. "What else have you come up with on the jewelry store?"
"Accessed Hermann's financial records. He was comfortably well off with the jewelry store proceeds, but he made four deposits over the last year that were more than comfortably well off. All of them cash. If he'd kept that up, the IRS would have gotten down to investigating eventually." Large cash deposits were always reported by banks to the IRS, as required by the Bank Security Act. The IRS wasn't known for its speed, but as Al Capone had discovered, tax collectors were quite persistent.
"Into his own account." Calleigh shook her head. "How can people be so stupid sometimes?"
"It makes our job easier," Horatio reminded her. "I take it you got the dates of those deposits?"
Tripp pulled a sheet off his notepad and handed it over. Calleigh slipped up comfortably close to Horatio so they could study it together. "Those aren't regular dates. No kind of system there."
"I was counting on that," Horatio said. "If it was too predictable, Hermann never would have been on vacation the week one of the special shipments came in."
"I got shipping records, too," Tripp stated. "UPS, FedEx, and DHL all delivered to the jewelry store last Wednesday. Took half the day to get a warrant for the shipper IDs and tracking info, but I've got them. Left those at CSI for you last night. You'd already gone."
"Eric and Tyler are there working on this case today. I'll call Tyler; he was running background checks on the conference attendees yesterday. Maybe a name will cross reference."
"Where were you last night, anyway?" Tripp was curious. For Horatio to have already left CSI at 6:00 with a big case on was unusual, even though he had relaxed the hours some since Rosalind. Tripp knew Sarah was staying with him, but surely Sarah would have wanted to stay at the hospital later than that.
"I had somewhere important to get to."
"Hot date?" Speed suggested, grinning at Calleigh. He could have guessed the other participant in the date.
"No. I was at the same place I'll be all evening tonight. Choir practice." Horatio snapped his gloves on, indicating that the conversation was over, and Calleigh fought back a laugh at the identical stunned expression on Speed's and Tripp's faces. She pulled on her own gloves and started to process the house. It was a good minute before the other two men came to life again.
(H/C)
Sarah sat next to the bed, looking at the monitors. The doctor had said that Sam seemed better today, his vitals stronger, and that the bleeding in the brain was completely stopped now, but he had still shown no signs of consciousness. This was Thursday. Three days, Sarah thought. She seemed to remember reading somewhere that the longer it took you to wake up from a coma, the greater the odds of brain damage. She couldn't see much difference in the monitor readings herself, but she was glad to have some hope to hold onto. Her own hope was running thin. The break-in last night had stolen it. If only she could remember where she had lost the necklace. She sighed, and the two guards seated by the cubicle door, one for her and one for Sam, looked at her briefly, then returned to watching the doors to ICU.
She stood stiffly and stretched, gave Sam's hand a squeeze, then walked to the door of the cubicle. The man in the cubicle to the right, the sullen patient, was gone today. She wondered whether he had died or improved, but she didn't ask. The accident victim to her left was still there, though she seemed better today. Her mother had already been over once this morning to ask Sarah to sing again, to sing her daughter to sleep. Sarah had obliged, but Sam hadn't responded.
Sarah turned to the guards. "I think I'll take a walk down to the cafeteria." She suddenly needed to go somewhere, do something. She wasn't hungry, but a cup of coffee and a walk sounded good. She turned back to the bed, picking up her purse. "I'll be back in a few minutes, Sam." He didn't move.
Her guard stood, glancing at his watch. "It is about lunch time. We'll be back in a little bit, Simmons, and then you can take a break." The other guard nodded, and Sarah left the ICU, alertly accompanied by her shadow. Remembering those slashed couch cushions and shattered pictures, she was grateful for his presence.
The hospital cafeteria was abuzz with the lunch rush, and Sarah was surprised to find herself getting hungry, the smells of food awakening her appetite. She and her guard went through the line, although his eyes never relaxed. When they came to the cashier, she paid for her meal, then waited while he pulled out his own wallet.
The blow struck her from behind, knocking her into the policeman, and there was a sudden sharp pain at her neck, accompanied by a ripping sound, then a tug at her arm. A few people screamed, but it was over almost as soon as it had begun. Sarah was pulled to her feet by the guard. "You okay?" His eyes followed the fleeing figure, but he stayed with Sarah.
She took a deep breath. "I think so." She raised one hand to the stinging place on the side of her neck and drew it away with traces of blood on the fingertips. The guard tilted her head for a better inspection.
"He scratched you. Tore your collar, too."
"He grabbed at my neck to make sure I wasn't wearing the necklace." Her mind was starting to function again. "He took my purse, too."
An agitated knot of people swirled around them, and a man in scrubs pushed to the front, drawn by the sight of blood. "I'm a doctor, ma'am. Are you all right?"
Sarah suddenly remembered Horatio from that morning, insisting that she touch nothing, talking about evidence left even from casual contact. Once again, apparently, she was a statistic, but this time, maybe she could do something to help. She backed away from the doctor. "It's just a small scratch, but I don't need it cleaned yet. He touched me. He could have left evidence on me." She looked back at the guard. "Call Lieutenant Caine. Please. This is the closest we've been to one of them."
Another uniform pushed to the front of the crowd. Hospital security. "Is anybody hurt? Did you see the man who snatched your purse?"
"No," Sarah said, but the guard's voice overrode her own.
"Yes. I was pinned by Ms. Carpenter falling, but I got a good look at him running away." The guard flashed his MDPD badge, and security looked appropriately impressed. So did the bystanders, pressing in with eager curiosity. "We need a small room somewhere away from the crowd to discuss this. And yes, I'll call Lieutenant Caine."
"Yes, sir," the security man replied. "This way." The three of them left, Sarah protectively flanked by the other two, and behind them, the knot of people buzzed with excited conversation. For many more people than Sarah, lunch had been forgotten.
(H/C)
Horatio and Calleigh arrived with reassuring speed, and Sarah was glad to see that Calleigh had brought some of her own clothes from her house. Calleigh noted the silent look of appreciation. "These have been cleared, and I know you never got a chance to change this morning. Besides, we'll need the ones you have on as soon as we do a preliminary check."
Sarah nodded. "I remembered what you said this morning, Horatio. About leaving evidence."
"And you've probably helped us quite a bit," he said approvingly. He pulled on gloves and started going over her carefully, almost immediately finding something. "He tore a fingernail. It hooked on your zipper in back when he grabbed at your neck, and he ripped the cloth getting free." Horatio pulled the tweezers out and carefully retrieved the piece of nail from the tear, holding it out triumphantly for Sarah to see. "And that, Sarah, is DNA. It even appears to have a little bit of blood on it, hopefully his as well as yours. Conclusive evidence for any court. Excellent work."
Sarah sat a little taller, feeling not as helpless. "I didn't expect anything to happen in daylight. Not in a crowd, either."
"They probably had someone here at the hospital this morning to watch for you. They knew you weren't at home, but it's a safe bet you would come to see Sam eventually. Only you arrived with me and immediately met the guard, so they knew they wouldn't get much opportunity at you alone. They decided to try to make it look like a simple mugging. I'm going to get a little bit of your blood here, okay? So we can rule you out." He ran a swab along the shallow scratches on her neck.
"They got my purse," Sarah said. "But what happens when they find out the necklace isn't in there?"
Horatio's head tilted. "Calleigh, would you please go outside and see if Sarah's car is still in the parking lot?" Calleigh nodded and left quickly.
"Car keys." Sarah sighed. "Credit cards and driver's license, too."
"Better cancel them as quickly as you can," said the hospital security man.
"Good idea, although it's the necklace they're after." Horatio finished his quick inspection, finding nothing more than the fingernail. "Okay, when Calleigh gets back, you and she can go into a bathroom – not a public bathroom – and have you change clothes." He turned to the guard. "What did you see, Davis?"
Horatio's tone hadn't been accusing, but the guard still flinched under his inspection. "I was watching all through the line. I didn't notice anybody especially watching her, but it was a large group. Lunch rush. He waited until I was getting my wallet out, then tackled her from behind. I saw him running away, although I never had a clear shot. About 5 feet 10, Hispanic, blue shirt and jeans. He looked like he'd dressed just to blend in. Nothing exceptional."
Horatio nodded. "Probably had. All right, both of you." He divided his tone evenly between Sarah and the guard. "For the moment, once they get to a safe place, they'll be busy searching your purse and probably your car, which I'm sure they stole. When they don't find the necklace there, the next obvious step is to kidnap you for questioning. They could get your purse and the necklace if you had been wearing it and make it look like a standard mugging, but they'll be thinking larger now. Sarah, do not go anywhere at all without your guard or Calleigh or me. Don't trust anyone you don't know, no matter what they tell you. Not even if it's a message about Sam or one allegedly from me. And Davis, I'm sure you'll be especially vigilant now."
Davis straightened to attention. "Yes, sir."
Horatio gave the guard a small, tight smile. "I'm not blaming you. I did tell you this morning that so far, they worked under cover of darkness. I really didn't expect anything to happen at the hospital, and it doesn't sound like you were being careless. But the stakes have gone up now, okay?"
Davis nodded. "I'll be careful, Lieutenant Caine."
The door to the room opened, and Calleigh entered. "The car is gone. I called Tripp to get an APB put out on it."
Sarah sighed. "I guess I need to call the insurance company, as well as the credit card companies." She smiled faintly. "I did remember to charge my cell phone last night at your house, Horatio."
"Are you done, Horatio?" Calleigh asked. He nodded. "Okay, Sarah, let's find a restroom, and you can change clothes and give me the ones you have on now."
The hospital security guard spoke up. "There's a doctor's restroom two doors down. This whole area is restricted access."
"That will be fine," Horatio said, but he and the policeman trailed Calleigh and Sarah and took up positions right at the door while the women disappeared inside. Not that he expected anything else to happen for the moment, but Horatio wasn't going to take anything for granted anymore on this case. Not now and especially not tonight.
(H/C)
Eric looked up from the computer as Horatio came into the lab. "H, look at this. I'm running the fingerprints I got from the picture this morning. Five clear sets. One of them is the housekeeper who found it on the floor and moved it to the nightstand. One of them is probably Sam."
Horatio pulled out two print cards. "I just took his, by the way, in case we needed to rule him out. Also Sarah's."
"I'll check them. So there's three sets left. Two unidentified, but one of them turns up a Carlos Sanchez. He's done small time here and there for drug charges and grand theft auto. General crook for hire. No known address."
"So this is the picture." Horatio picked a snapshot up from the desk and studied it. "By the way, Sarah identifies the necklace, but she also thinks it's slightly different from this shot to the actual necklace given to her.
"Great. That's all we need. I take it she doesn't know how it's different?"
"No, she can't put her finger on it. She's not unintelligent, but she is absentminded, and she isn't that good on details. She's also worried sick about her brother at the moment, so she's hardly at her best." He pulled out an evidence envelope. "She made up for it today, though. Because she insisted on being processed immediately instead of treated for her scratch, I retrieved a fingernail. I was just on the way to take it to Valera when I saw you. What else do you have from the conference?"
Eric stood and went over to the wall, where several enlarged pictures had been hung. "Look at this, H. Sam Carpenter attended a conference that ended at 3:00. Nothing wrong. At 4:45, someone on the front desk saw him leaving, looking worried. At 5:30, a housekeeper noticed a book lying in this chair in a little side nook of the lobby." There were pictures of the chair and retreating pictures, gradually giving the large view. "It had Sam's name in it, and she turned it in at the desk to be given to him the next time anyone saw him."
"So he probably was reading for a while there. Any idea how long the book had been there?"
"An employee was watering the plants at 2:00. It wasn't there then. I think Sam came back from his conference, and with only two hours – he had another event scheduled at 5:00 – he just sat there to read for a while. But look at the big plant, H. These pictures here show that chair from all angles, and from several of them, you couldn't tell anybody was there."
"You think that's where Sam overheard whatever he overheard and then found the picture?"
"Could be. A couple of men having a quick conversation in a quiet corner of the lobby. It would be a lot less noticeable than one of them sneaking into the other's room looking in all directions for spies. If a housekeeper or someone happened to see, it would have just looked casual."
"Anything else on processing Sam's room?"
"No. I took prints, but most of them are one set." He picked up Sam's print card. "Probably his. Nothing odd in his luggage. I think he overheard something in that corner of the lobby."
Horatio nodded. "Excellent work, Eric. Okay, I'll run this fingernail to Valera. Rule out Sam's prints, then get started running these from Speed." He handed Eric a few other envelopes. "That's what he got so far from the house, and you can rule Sarah's out, too."
"He still working on the house?"
"Probably will be all day. It was really torn apart. Calleigh went back to help him for the moment. We're picking up Sarah at 5:00, though."
Eric straightened up from his fingerprints. "H?"
Horatio had started to leave, but he stopped, turning back. "What is it?"
"You and Calleigh be careful tonight. I've already processed your death scene once, okay? I'm not doing it again."
Horatio's professional expression softened a bit. "We will be. Thanks, Eric." He spun around, once again totally wrapped up in the case, and left. Eric watched his retreating back for a minute, then remembered his task. He pulled out the two fingerprints cards, clearly marked Sarah and Sam, and dove back into the analysis, but the worry at the pit of his stomach remained.
(H/C)
"Carlos Sanchez." Sarah paused between bites of her sandwich. "I've never heard of him. So he's the one who attacked me?"
"His fingernail did, at least," Horatio replied. "He handled that picture of the necklace, too, and he was in your bathroom. Unfortunately, we haven't found him. Yet." He had already finished his sandwich and was sitting at the table, his gaze traveling repeatedly from Calleigh to Rosalind to Sarah and back to Rosalind.
Sarah noticed. "I'm really sorry about all of this, Horatio."
His attention returned to her. "It's okay, Sarah. We've got the alarm system here, plus officers in the street and on the beach tonight. Besides, this house is unlisted. It would take more resources than I think Sanchez has to track down where I live, and I'm positive no one followed us from the hospital." He had been driving, and a trip that should have been 30 minutes had been over an hour. "I know I'd given you my card, so that was in your purse, but it only had the cell phone number on it, not an address. They probably recognized me this morning when I showed up at the hospital with you, anyway. You're safer here tonight than you would be almost anywhere else." He hesitated. "I do wonder about choir practice tonight, though."
Her eyes fell to the remainder of her sandwich, and she put it down. "If you really think we shouldn't go, okay, but I think it's the only thing that's kept me sane this week. If they don't know I'm here, and you're careful not to let us be followed, what's the danger in it?"
Calleigh spoke up. "Sarah, was there a day planner in your purse? Did you have it marked where you would be?"
Sarah closed her eyes, visualizing it. "Yes, there was a day planner. I write down everything. I swear, though, it only had an acronym and a time. SFS, for South Florida Singers. There wasn't any location. They probably would have trouble interpreting what it meant. I didn't need to write the location; I knew that." She opened her eyes. "I don't see how they would know where I'd be tonight."
Horatio debated with himself. He'd rather be here with Calleigh and Rosalind, but that was his personal feelings, not logic. With guards on the house, they were perfectly safe. He couldn't fault Sarah's logic, either. Logic aside, though, he knew how much the music meant to her. She hadn't been exaggerating when she said it had kept her sane this week. He appealed to Calleigh by look, leaving the decision in her hands.
"Go on," Calleigh said. "Just be careful."
Horatio stood up quickly. "We'd better get on the way, then. We aren't going there directly." He kissed Calleigh. "Be careful yourself. Take care of my girls, both of them, okay?"
She kissed him back. "We'll be fine, Horatio. Won't we, Rosalind?"
Rosalind had been sitting quietly through the meal, following the conversation with an attention that made both of her parents wonder exactly how much after all she understood. Now, she stretched up her arms out of the high chair, appealing to be picked up, and Horatio obliged. "Be good, Angel." He squeezed her tightly enough that she squirmed a bit in protest.
"Bye, bye, Dada. Home soon?"
"Not until after you're asleep, I'm afraid. So the sooner you go to sleep, the sooner I'll be back." He gave her a final squeeze and put her down. "Okay, Sarah, let's go."
Sarah had been cramming down the last bites of her sandwich. She stood up. "Thank you, both of you. I know it sounds crazy for a choir to mean that much with everything else, but . . . "
Horatio cut across her apology. "It isn't crazy, Sarah. I can't count the nights I've played the piano to piece my soul back together during a rough case. I understand."
Sarah stared at him, stunned for a moment, then relaxed. "To piece my soul back together. That's it exactly. You two are destroying all of my preconceptions about the police, you know it?"
"Good," Horatio replied. "Let's go." With a final look at Calleigh of both promise and request, he opened the door.
(H/C)
The piano changed key, and the choir surged forward with the music, making it a triumphant promise.
"Let peace begin with me. Let this be the moment now.
With every breath I take, let this be my solemn vow:
To take each moment and live each moment in peace eternally.
Let there be peace on earth, and let it begin with me."
They cut off together, but Brian didn't lower his hands, holding the moment. No one stirred, not even Horatio, who was sitting on the back row of the auditorium by Brian's request (but only after he had made sure all the side doors to the room were locked). After several seconds, Brian's hands fell, and the choir took a collective breath and relaxed. "That," their director said, "was brilliant. The tone, the expression, the ensemble . . . truly brilliant. I had an instructor once who said that the best part of choral singing was taking part in perfecting something that you could never, ever achieve on your own, not even if you were the best soloist in the world. We can't do this alone. I'm honored to be a part of it with you." He reverted suddenly to his usual style. "This is going to be a fabulous concert. You all should come!" As they chuckled, he spun around like a top, looking toward the back of the large room. "What about the words, Horatio? Could you get everything back there?"
"Every one. It was marvelous," Horatio said sincerely. He watched Sarah in the group. The difference from a few hours ago was incredible. She was piecing her soul back together. He was glad he hadn't denied her this, although he intended to be just as careful driving home as he had been coming. He was certain no one had followed them.
Brian turned back to face the group. "Okay, that just leaves Circle of Starlight." There was a snap of binder rings on their folders from all over the choir as they removed that piece. Almost all of them removed the music one piece at a time during rehearsal instead of holding up the entire folder. After three hours, it got heavy. "And tomorrow night, we won't rehearse." He had been weighing their readiness against their tiredness all evening. The Friday rehearsal had always been optional in pre concert week, but they were truly brilliant tonight, right on the peak. They needed rest more than they needed more practice. "We'll meet two hours before the concert Saturday and that will give us an hour and a half for a short rehearsal before we clear the hall 30 minutes out and start letting the audience in. So I'll see you at the concert hall Saturday evening." He nodded to Tom, who was standing quietly to one side, and then Brian turned and left the platform, walking all the way to the back of the room to join Horatio as Tom started the piece.
Neither Horatio nor Brian spoke. The music deserved and received their attention. Brian was sorting out the tapestry as he always did, following the individual threads and the whole. He gave a sigh of contentment as the piece ended. "Sometimes I wish I could be in the audience and direct at the same time," he said.
"Do you record the concerts?" Horatio asked.
"Yes, we have CDs of all of them. I love listening to them. But to listen live is something special." He grinned suddenly and popped up out of the seat like a jack-in-the-box. "But directing them is pretty special, too. Okay, choir, I'll see you Saturday."
Tom came up the aisle to them, eager for feedback. "What did you think?"
"Masterful," Brian said simply.
"Why do you direct that one?" Horatio asked.
"I wrote it as a present for my wife. Saturday is our fiftieth wedding anniversary."
Horatio was impressed. "It's beautiful. It reminds me of my wife." He had been watching Sarah closely all the time they were talking, and now he stepped out into the aisle as she reached them. "Ready?"
Sarah nodded. "Thank you for this, Horatio." She looked beyond him to the two other men. "Thank you for this, too. It's kept me going this week. I'll see you Saturday, Brian, Tom. Unless anything changes with Sam, of course."
"We understand," Brian assured her. "See you Saturday." He and Tom watched as Horatio and Sarah left the auditorium. "Poor Sarah. I'm glad she's had the music, at least."
"And the people who care," Tom added. He glanced back up at the people still milling around on the platform. Brian, who had been about to leave, stopped and looked back at him.
"Aren't you coming, Tom?"
"I've got to be last one out, to lock the door and set the security system. The custodian is ill tonight." Tom and Lynella had been members of the church the choir borrowed for rehearsal for 30 years, and he had been asked to lock up a few times in the past on similar occasions.
Brian stepped back into the row. "Since we have a minute, there's something I wanted to ask you. From a composer's point of view, even though it isn't your song. On Sing Me to Heaven, when the choir enters for the final chorus after the bridge, do you think it would be more effective if I . . ."
Tom sat down, and Brian joined him, the two musicians intently talking as the rest of the choir gradually filed out.
(H/C)
Horatio turned right again, completing a perfect two-block square. Nothing. No lights stayed behind him throughout. All of his senses were stretched to their furthest extent, but all of them were giving him the same message. No one was following them. He turned for home. "Sarah, could I still buy tickets for the concert? I'd love for Calleigh and Rosalind to hear this."
"Oh, sure. The concerts usually sell out, but there are a lot of people who buy tickets at the door. Just come a little early, and you'll probably get in." Her expression suddenly went serious. "Of course, you'll probably come early anyway, coming with me."
"Hopefully we'll have the case wrapped up by then." His eyes constantly checked the mirrors. Nothing.
Sarah switched back from the case to thinking about the concert, not ready to lose the musical afterglow of the evening yet. "Just be sure, if you do bring Rosalind, that she doesn't disturb anyone. She seems pretty quiet, but there's nothing more annoying to a group than a kid who's crying in a concert and whose parents won't take him out."
Horatio smiled at the thought of Rosalind. "She's special. She'll sit for hours and listen to me play. I'm sure she'd enjoy the concert, but believe me, I wouldn't let her disturb other people."
"Good," Sarah said. "It's something that gets to all of us. Even having the rehearsals disrupted is annoying. Kim had to bring her son to rehearsal Monday night when the baby-sitter didn't show, and she threatened him thoroughly before she joined us. He was pretty good, though. Guess the threats worked."
Horatio's hands abruptly tightened on the wheel of the Hummer. "There was a child at the rehearsal Monday night?"
"Yes. Why?"
"Where was he? What did he do?"
"Kim left him out in the auditorium where she'd be facing him and watching Brian at the same time. He climbed around under the pews and played with Matchbox cars."
The puzzle piece fell into place with an almost audible click. A child, climbing around under the pews. A child, like any child looking for new treasures and collecting them. "How old is he, Sarah?"
"Five." She was confused. Horatio had switched into a machine again, just like he had at her house that morning. "Horatio, what is it?"
"The necklace. I didn't find it at rehearsal Wednesday because her son found it Monday night. Where do they live?"
"Horatio, you can't go over there at this hour. He'll be asleep."
Horatio glanced at the dashboard clock and wrestled mentally with himself. Sarah had a point. Even if he found the child, woke the child, and retrieved the necklace, what would follow was a whole night of processing the necklace, unlocking its secrets. But he couldn't keep Sarah with him through all that; the whole reason she wasn't allowed to sit in the ICU 24 hours a day was so she would get a little bit of rest and recharge time, which she desperately needed. And he knew he couldn't return Sarah to his house and then leave again, even with the guards there. Calleigh was the most capable woman he had ever known, but his place was there beside her, beside her and Rosalind. There was no way the criminals could know about Kim's son. Would another nine hours in retrieving the necklace make a difference?
Sarah was still watching him, trying to read his expression. "You're right. I can't do anything tonight, not this late. But give me Kim's address, just the same. I'm calling to have a guard put on their house tonight, too. Just in case."
(H/C)
Brian abruptly looked around the deserted parking lot. "I hadn't realized we'd been talking so long. Everybody's left us."
Tom chuckled. "Lynn always says I could talk music for hours." The musical discussion they had started in the church had walked out to the parking lot.
"It hasn't been hours," Brian corrected. "But Cindy always says the same thing about me. Well, I'll see you Saturday at the concert hall, Tom." He unlocked his car, which they had been leaning on for the last 20 minutes.
"See you then. Good night, Brian." Tom started for his own car, parked two slots down, both of them in the very end of the lot. He only made it a few steps, though, before he slammed to a halt with a muttered curse. Brian, getting in his own car, heard him and hesitated.
"What's wrong?"
"I left my music folder up in the loft. I just took the music to Circle out of it when we practiced, and then I wanted to ask your opinion, so I came straight down the aisle from the platform. I never went back up to my chair. I'll need it at the hall on Saturday." He fished out his keys, separating the one he had been given to the church. "I'll run back in and get it. I know the security code. Go on, it's all right."
"Okay. See you Saturday." Brian turned on his car and drove off, humming to himself.
Tom walked back across the lot to the church door, humming as well but so softly that it was barely audible. He keyed in the code to disarm the system, then unlocked the door. His hand came out for the light switch, and he hesitated. The moon was shining through the ample windows of the curved entryway and lobby, and between that and the one security light at each end, he could see well enough. It wasn't quite a circle of starlight, but it was close, and he hated to fracture the moonlight with artificial glare. Still humming almost soundlessly to himself, he pulled his hand back from the switch and walked on into the darkened building alone.