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Chapter 5: The Butterfly Gardens

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The sun was setting just as they pulled up to the Butterfly Gardens, casting an orange and pink glow over the hothouse flowers giving their last blooms of the year. A shiver ran down her spine as she fought to forget everything connected with the beautiful insects. Instead, she switched her focus to Vartann as he talked to the owner.

"Sir, my name is Detective Vartann and this is Sara Sidle with the Crime Lab."

"Well, Merry Christmas to you both on this fine day," he said, handing Sara a single red rose.

Looking to Vartann, she raised an eyebrow as he shrugged and began questioning.

"How long have you owned the place?" he asked.

"Goin' on ten years… Great memories here."

"Oh, well, since you seem to remember so well, do you remember a tall young woman with brown hair hanging around here? Answers to the name of Sara?"

The man sighed. "Honestly, I'm not all that great with names, and we don't get too many regulars. Well, except for Mr. Grissom. He comes round quite a bit, looking at his specimen."

Sara chuckled. "Why doesn't that surprise me? … Mind if I take a look around?"

"Nope," he shook his head. "Go ahead."

Taking the rose to join the others in the front seat of her Chevy SUV, she pondered the strange events of the day. She now had five roses, one from each scene, and two from the lab. Looking at the glow emanating from the deep red petals, she wondered: Could they all be from the same person, this not-so-secret admirer? Who was this mysterious person? It couldn't be…

'No.' She shrugged the thought away almost as quickly as it came to her. There's no way that Grissom would do all this… Or would he?

Shaking her head and clearing her mind, she closed the door and headed to the hothouse. Opening the door, she immediately felt the change in temperature. Taking off her jacket, she set her kit beside her and put on a pair of gloves. Looking around with her flashlight, she didn't find much in between the bushes, climbing vines, and butterflies except dirt and sprinkler heads.

After a half an hour and three hothouses' worth of searching, her mind began to drift again, this time settling on a case about two years ago. Many of the details had been hidden from Sara, as the victim had looked eerily similar to her, but the interrogation had been burned into her memory. She fought to keep her emotions in check as she remembered the words he had spoken:

'Sad, isn't it, doc? Guys like us… Couple of middle-aged men who've allowed their work to consume their lives. The only time we ever touch other people is when we're wearing our latex gloves… We wake up one day and realize that for fifty years we haven't really lived at all. But then, all of a sudden ... we get a second chance. Somebody young and beautiful shows up. Somebody ... we could care about. She offers us a new life with her... but we have a big decision to make, right? Because we have to risk everything we've worked for in order to have her. I couldn't do it... but you did.'

A lump rose in her throat. It had been a crushing blow to finally realize that he truly did care about her but was too afraid to risk letting her know, and the knowledge still ate at her heart almost two years later.

Suddenly, she heard footsteps behind her, and she turned to see Detective Vartann walking toward her.

"How goes it?" he asked.

"Not well," she answered, wiping at her brow. "There's nothing here."

"That's what you said at the rink, too. Are you sure you didn't miss anything?"

She sent him an angry stare. "I'm positive. I searched every inch of this hothouse and two others, and come up with nothing."

"Have you gone to the last one yet?"

Her shoulders fell. "No…"

"Well, let's go over there," he said confidently, holding open the door for her as she brushed by him and toward the last hothouse.

Once inside, she set down her kit and shone the flashlight around the room. As she scanned through the bushes and fallen petals, something caught her eye. With a gloved hand, she reached down to get a closer look.

"It's a parking decal… for my apartment complex. How'd this get here?"

He shrugged as she looked back to her Chevy to make sure her own was still in place.

"Maybe she lives in your complex," Vartann suggested. "Let's head over there. It's the only lead we've got."

Nodding absently, she thought for a moment before turning to him, "You don't think…"

"Think what?" he asked, starting back toward the door.

She hesitated. "You don't think that maybe… Grissom set us up to this?"

He stopped and stared for a moment, and then started to laugh. "Grissom? You're joking right? Come on, Sara… First of all, it's Grissom you're talking about! How would he be able to fix all this up without help? And second of all, the call was referred to me. I heard this guy ramble on about how much he loved this girl, even though he didn't know near enough about her to give me any useful information about her. This is for real."

Sighing, she nodded and, grabbing her jacket and kit, headed to the car, thanking the owner on the way out.

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