A/N – Thank you all so much for the positive feed back. This is hugely encouraging to a first time poster such as myself. To answer a question made by Zooky, there is a pairing but I want to keep it a bit of a surprise. I will become clear in the next few chapters I promise. But I'll give you a hint. I am a strong supporter of the whole Grissom and Sara thing. If you can't figure that out then you'll just have to keep reading! J
Chapter Two – Invisible Man
Sara took the paper towels - wet with coffee and filled with her broken mug, and dumped them in the sink before turning back to Warrick, who was now standing by the dining table.
"So he sent you over? Wow, his concern is overwhelming. And to think all it took for him to pay attention was me yelling in his face."
Sara turned the stereo volume back up slightly, then returned to the dining room table and began stabbing at her eggs again.
"Your drinking started because of stress, and you looked stressed. Grissom made the automatic assumption."
Sara shook her head, pointing her fork at Warrick. "Which is kind of funny considering he is always the one saying, 'Assuming makes an ass out of you and me'? At the moment he is the gigantic ass. He should just stick with his bugs. Drinking is not the problem." Hot tears began again as she moved over to the bottom drawer, where she kept the letters and roses, gathering them up in her arms, then dumping them in front of Warrick. "These are."
Warrick looked from the bags then to Sara.
"Why didn't you say anything?"
Sara ran her fingers through her hair.
"I thought it was stupid. You all have enough on your plates without me coming on board, and I was so scared that if I told anyone, I would look like a complete idiot. Knowing my luck it would be nothing and here I am making a huge deal out of it."
Warrick shook his head and he shifted through the notes and roses.
"You should have told us. And it always means something if you are scared. No wonder you've been stressed. We need to call Grissom and Brass. Now."
He held up his hand as Sara started to protest, so she started making a fresh batch of coffee, relieved that someone now knew what was going on, the relief making her mood a little lighter.
She had just turned off the stereo when the doorbell rang. Glancing at Warrick quickly, she looked through her peephole. She released the breath she had been holding in a large sigh, and turned to Warrick.
"It's just my neighbour."
She quickly unlocked the door and chatted to the women for a few minutes, and upon insistence from her neighbour, introduced Warrick then said goodbye.
Warrick shut the door and relocked it, and turned to face Sara, her pale face and wide eyes shocking him slightly.
"You need to rest. I guess that you haven't been sleeping too well lately, which would explain the whole luggage set under your eyes." He led her gently to her sofa, and placed a rug over her. "Try to catch some ZZZs, ok? I'll be here."
Sara snuggled deeper into her sofa, and for the first time in months, drifted to sleep effortlessly in her own home.
A low murmur of voices stirred Sara out of her peaceful slumber, and she lay quite still, enjoying the warmth and safety she hadn't felt in a while.
Grissom and Warrick were discussing her and the situation she had gotten herself into, and Grissom sounded far too calm, which meant he was pissed off.
"Why didn't she tell anyone? Why didn't she tell me?"
Sara sat up slowly and peeped over the top of the sofa.
"I was scared and you were busy. As always."
Her voice made them both jump slightly and turn towards her. She stood, stretched, and came to sit at the dining room table, running her fingers through her hair, her sleep deprived body calling for coffee.
"What did Brass say?" Sara turned her attention to Warrick, ignoring Grissom's steely, intense gaze.
"Not a lot. All the usual legal mumbo jumbo, not a real threat, etc, but he's going to keep an ear to the ground."
Sara nodded slightly, and moved to the kitchen, turning her back to the two men, trying to hide the fear on her face and in her voice. She proceeded to make herself a cup of coffee. Finally, steaming mug in hand, she took a few deep breaths before turning to them again.
"I refuse to let this rule my life. It's probably some loser who will get bored soon enough. Now, I need to grab a shower, so as touching as all this concern is, it's time for you to go."
Sara went to the front door, unlocked it and swung it open. Warrick and Grissom looked at each other and stood.
"Be careful, Sara. This isn't a joke."
Grissom's voice was firm as he walked past her, gently touching her shoulder. Before she could process her feelings from the touch, the warm reassuring hand had gone.
Sara watched them leave for a couple of seconds before locking the door again. The warm sense of peace she had while they were here was gone, replaced with the all too familiar cold fear. She proceeded to the bathroom and turned on the shower. Once it was the right temperature, she stripped off and jumped under the hot spray.
After having a wash and conditioning her hair, she regretfully turned it off, patted herself dry, and slipped on her big baby blue bathrobe. As she was heading to her room, she decided to go and get the mail before it was too late. She was expecting a bill she wanted to pay today.
She slid on her slippers and padded to her door, unlocked it, and hurried down the stairs to where the mailboxes were kept. Grabbing her mail without looking at it, she headed back up the steps, relief flooding into her as she slipped back into her apartment.
Locking the door behind her, she turned and froze. Something about the apartment was…off. She didn't know what, but the hairs on the back of her neck were up, and her instincts screamed that someone was there.
She crept into the kitchen, and grabbing a large kitchen knife, walked slowly down her hallway. By the time she realized someone was behind her, it was too late. They snaked their arms around Sara's, pinning them to her sides, and although Sara fought hard, he was stronger. One of her arms was freed, but by the time she had reacted it was too late. A scream bubbled in her throat, dying at her lips as Sara felt a sharp pain in her neck. After a few seconds, her legs grew weak and her mind fuzzed over.
Her last thought was of Grissom, before the dark abyss claimed her.
Grissom arrived back at the lab at 10pm, slightly late but he wasn't too worried. They had narrowed their lists of suspects to one, and that one had confessed - he had convinced his friends to help him kill the families to help save Stevie and cover his own tracks of his affair with Helena. So tonight may be a quiet night, which he was looking forward to.
Grissom entered the break room and felt his blood freeze. Sara wasn't there. He glanced at Warrick, who shrugged. Grissom proceeded to call Brass.
"Brass, its Grissom. Look, Sara's a no-show for work and I'm worried after all that's been going on… Okay."
Catherine and Nick had paused their conversation and were looking at Grissom.
"What was that about?" Catherine asked, munching on a bag of potato chips she was sharing with Nick. Grissom took a deep breath, trying unsuccessfully to calm his nerves.
"For the last couple of months Sara has been getting these weird letters and flowers from a stalker." Grissom watched as their faces went from shock then to confusion.
"Why didn't she tell anyone?" Nick's voice was tight with worry.
"I don't know. But I wish she had."
Grissom sat in silence and waited for his phone to ring, hoping against hope that he was wrong, and that nothing had happened to Sara. His phone rang, and he felt all eyes fix on him as he picked it up.
"Okay… we're there." Grissom struggled to keep the emotion out of his voice and off his face as he looked at his team. "Sara's gone."
Grissom's heart was thumping loudly. Stabs of guilt were attacking his chest as scenarios of what had happened to Sara floated in and out of his head. Arriving at the front of Sara's apartment, another wave of guilt washed over him. I never should have listened. I should have stayed with her.
He followed Catherine, Warrick, and Nick up the two flights of stairs to Sara's apartment, and they paused at the front door, slipping on latex gloves and shoe covers. Catherine put a hand on Grissom's shoulder.
"Are you ready?"
Grissom shook his head.
"No."
Catherine took the lead handing out assignments after she did the walk-through that was required for their investigation. Nick was to interview the neighbours, Warrick to dust the door, Grissom to go through the letters, while she did the photographing.
She knew that sending Grissom away would be a waste of time - there was no way he would leave, and this wasn't just a missing team member. This was Sara.
"One of the neighbours called it in, saying she saw a strange man carry Sara out of here."
Catherine jumped slightly as Brass came up behind her.
"Yeah, sent Nick over already."
Brass nodded and walked to where Grissom was looking at the letters that were spread across the dining room table.
"We'll find her. I promise."
Grissom nodded and turned back to the letters, shoulders hunched.
Catherine pulled Brass aside and said in a low voice, "Do you have anything to go on yet?"
Brass shook his head.
"Nothing really, other then the neighbour, who I will take to the station after Nick is done. I'll leave you to it."
Brass exited, leaving Catherine to cope on her own. She watched as a clearly broken Grissom determinedly looked over the letters and roses, murmuring to himself and taking notes.
Catherine gave herself a shake and then slowly began heading down the hallway looking for clues. She found the knife in the hallway, along with a large syringe. She photographed and bagged them, heading for the bathroom, where she found Sara's work clothes and some under garments. Catherine looked around the bathroom, Holly Gibbs, a young CSI who had been killed while handling a scene alone came into her thoughts.
"Sara where are you?"
Sara didn't want to open her eyes. She knew that she had been taken out of her own home. She also knew that nobody would know where she was. She waited until her mind was completely clear before she opened her eyes, and was shocked to find herself surrounded by complete darkness. She tried to stand but found that her wrists were shackled to the wall by what felt like metal wristbands. The chains were just long enough for her hands to reach her upper chest, where she was relived to find that her robe was still tied and her body covered. She did a quick assessment of her body, and other than feeling weak, she didn't have any complaints, aside from the rubbing of the metal on her wrists. She still had no idea how long she had been out - whether it had been hours or days.
There were no windows from what Sara could see, which was very little. She sat quietly for a while, trying to gather her thoughts. That was when she heard the footsteps, starting first above her, then proceeding down the wall furthest from her, until a door swung open allowing bright light to enter the darkened room.
After a few seconds, Sara's eyes adjusted to the blinding light and she was able to see her prison more clearly. The room was small and damp, with no windows, as she had guessed - just walls. The only objects in the room other then herself and the shackles that bound her was a 10-litre paint bucket just beside her. Sara shuddered to think about what it was for.
The man before her was tall - well built - with muscular arms, limp brown hair, and watery blue eyes. The man rang a bell in her mind, but she couldn't place his face. When he spoke to her, his voice was slick and slow, making Sara shiver more then his actual words did.
"I know, I know. It's not much, but its home, you know?"
He held up his hands, looking around at the room, and then looked back down at Sara, smiling.
"This is not what I had in mind, but desperate times call for desperate measures. I knew that the time to save you was coming but when I saw the men going into your house – not chaperoned, I might add - I was pretty horrified and I knew the time had come. It was a little sooner then I had expected, but hey."
The man shrugged his shoulders in a who-can-help-it gesture, hands up, a small smile on his face.
"I guessed you might be hungry."
He reached out of the door for a second, returning with a tray filled with stale-looking sandwiches and a tall glass of water. He placed it just within her reach, standing back to watch her.
Sara drank the water in thirsty gulps, not caring that it spilt down her chin and neck. She put the glass back onto the tray, and despite her stomach's protests, she ignored the sandwiches. The man looked disappointed.
"Don't you trust me Sara?" A deep frown covered his face and his eyes became dark, his voice low and menacing. "Well you had better learn, Sara, because we will be together for a while."
He took the tray, and without looking back, closed the door behind him, encasing Sara in darkness again.
Grissom was going insane - that was the only way to describe how he felt. Sara had been missing for 72 hours now, and they were the longest hours of his entire life. They had pushed all other cases aside, handing them over to the day shift, and despite the Mayor breathing down his neck to take cases, he was standing firm, allowing the day shift to pick up the slack. He could not have cared less. He wanted - and needed - his team to stay focused on finding Sara.
A knock on his office door jolted him out of his daydream. He smiled sadly when Catherine walked in, coming to sit on the edge of his desk.
"How are you doing?" she started.
Grissom loudly blew out his breath, rubbing his tired eyes.
"Regretting everything bad I ever said to her, regretting leaving her alone in her apartment and not telling her things that I should have."
His voice broke and he dropped his eyes, avoiding contact with Catherine's blue ones.
"I think you need to talk to her when we find her. And don't you dare pretend to not know what I mean." Catherine's voice had become stern and determined.
Grissom shook his head. "I'm losing hope, maybe it's because I know the numbers, but the longer she's gone, the more chance…" He halted again and swallowed hard, it felt like his stomach was coming into his throat. Catherine put a hand on his shoulder, and squeezed it.
"We are all having a hard time dealing. I just caught Nick abusing his locker, Warrick hasn't spoken much since you told us Sara was gone, and me… well, I'm stubborn, so I'm determined that Sara will be alive. She's tougher than she looks. You also need to remember that this guy has an obsession with her. He will keep her alive as long as possible before anything happens. He is under the delusion that he is in love with her, and Sara with him. So maybe our numbers will be off with this case. We might have longer then we suspect."
Grissom nodded and ran his hands through his messy hair.
"What happens if I've left it too late? What if we find her, and it's too late?"
Catherine shook her head, putting a gentle hand on his clenched fist.
"It won't be. Trust me. Now, you need to freshen up. Sara needs us fresh for the fight. Why don't you go home and sleep?"
Grissom shook his head hard.
"No, I need to be here. And if I do fall asleep, I have nightmares and dreams involving Sara and then I wake up feeling worse then I did before I slept."
Catherine nodded and moved to his door.
"Fine - you go have a shower and I'll track down some food for you, then you can rest in the break room, okay?"
Grissom nodded, feeling extreme guilt all over again. He was off to have a hot shower and food, while Sara was in danger somewhere - somewhere that Grissom could not find. He put his head onto his desk, guilt, sorrow, and regrets pulsating within him like a living being, matching his heartbeat.
Despite all of her determination, fear was starting to seep into Sara's heart. She hadn't eaten once since coming here - she just drank the water that arrived without fail twice a day, delivered by the same man in the blue overalls, who talked of marriage and how she had been living in sin.
Her body was feeling the effects of not eating. She felt light-headed and weak, and her back and tailbone were sore from sitting on the hard floor with limited movement. The room stank - the bucket and the damp made for an unbearable smell. She still had no idea what day it was, or what time, but she had had enough time to remember the man now.
She had come across him when his vehicle had broken down, and so she had lent him her phone to call AA, and waited with him until they had come. She had never seen him again after that, never hearing from him.
Sara heard the beginning of the footsteps, and within seconds the door swung open, allowing the blinding light in again, and the man in the blue overalls.
"Sara, you haven't been eating. Well today that's going to change, because we are moving into our new place. So eat." He placed the tray in front of her, and watched as she drunk the water and as always ignored the sandwiches. "Sara, I said eat. Do it now."
His eyes became steely and his mouth scrunched in anger as she shook her head. "Fine, but you're forcing me to do this."
He pulled out a gun from under his shirt - one that Sara recognized as her own - and he swung it low, striking Sara in the jaw. Her vision fuzzed as pain shot through her jaw and up the side of her face, grimacing as she tasted the copper of her own blood.
"Eat." He pointed the gun at her, cocking the trigger, and waited. Sara shakily ate the sandwiches, ignoring the blinding pain in her jaw that every movement invoked, and the odd taste the sandwiches had.
She knew why they tasted odd the moment her vision started to blur, and the man put her gun away. He had drugged her again and now he was going to move her. Further away from her hopes and from Grissom.
Please find me Grissom, and hurry. Her silent plea was the last thing she thought before her world fell into darkness.
"The chemicals in the syringe you found, Cath, are ones that relate to a new government drug they are trailing for people who suffer from back pain, which is why it took so long to get the results. The drug is still being tested, and they were trying to keep it under wraps."
Greg handed the results back to Grissom, who quickly scanned the sheet of paper.
"Thyedrin?"
Greg nodded, and handed another piece of paper to Grissom.
"And only two people in the area use it, one of which died last year. That leaves just Zachary James. Now, I ran it through a system we recently acquired, and this drug has some serious side affects - delusions, hallucinations, and comas."
Catherine's eyes flashed over Grissom's shoulder.
"She could be in a coma?"
Greg nodded slowly but then smiled slightly.
"If it's any consolation, the amount in the syringe was just enough to produce the other side effects, which are weakness, thirst and unconsciousness. In order for her to slip into a coma she would need more then double the dose that it appears she was given."
Catherine allowed Greg a small grin.
"It does, thanks Greg."
The young lab technician passed another sheet of paper to Grissom.
"The man has a criminal record longer than my arm. He's been arrested for assault with a deadly weapon, rape, and - believe it or not - kidnapping. He kidnapped his ex-wife just after their divorce, keeping her hidden in his basement for three weeks, all the time putting on a big production over how she had left with a new boyfriend and had moved to Paris."
Everybody turned to Grissom when his phone rang seconds later, and silence fell as they waited for news.
"Grissom… You did… What name was it under? Yeah, he's the guy… Okay, give us ten minutes." Grissom allowed a grin for the first time in days, and it infused hope into the rest of the team.
"They found his car." As they got up to leave, Grissom paused and stopped Catherine with a hand on her shoulder.
"I need you to track down his ex-wife and his doctor. Interview them. Find out where he kept his ex-wife, and find out more about this drug."
Catherine nodded and stood aside as Grissom moved past her and strode purposefully down the hall, happy that he now had a purpose, happy that they had finally gotten a lead that they so desperately needed.
Sara awoke to a new environment around her. For one, the shackles were off her wrists, and there was a window - though it was boarded, it was still a window, so Sara formulated a form of escape. She had to wait though. Had to wait for him to come with her drink and sandwiches as he always did.
The new room was also a plain square but this time Sara could see the faint outline of a toilet sitting in a corner, and the damp smell was absent. But it concerned Sara that she could hear nothing - no city noises, no birds, no cars… nothing. When the footsteps came this time, they came from a distance and then got closer and closer until they were directly outside of the door. When it swung open very little light followed the man in.
"Ah, you're awake I see. I hope your face feels better, and that you like your new surroundings. But don't get too comfortable, we may be moving again soon enough. Now, here's something to eat and drink."
Sara tried to hold back her shock when she saw what was on the tray - no sandwiches, but a packet of chocolate biscuits, still sealed, and a glass of water.
"I know you don't trust me yet so I thought I would humour you for the moment. Now I'll leave you to eat, and I'll see you later."
Sara watched as he left, shutting the door behind him. Wasn't he worried? She could break the glass and kill herself, and he would never know. The only thing that Sara could draw from it was that he trusted her not to do that. Sara looked at the packaging around the biscuits as she drunk her glass of water. It was indeed still sealed, and after a few seconds of reservation, she tore open the packet and stuffed a cookie into her mouth, savouring the sweet chocolaty goodness.
In a matter of moments the whole packet was eaten, and with renewed energy, and slightly unsteady legs that caused her to lean on the wall next to the window, she started attacking the boards that covered her only escape.
Catherine sat across from a slim, pale woman, who was Zachary James's ex-wife. The women was tall, with long waist-length blonde hair pulled back into a French braid that revealed her sharp blue eyes, high cheek bones and full lips.
"So Mrs Dionna, could you please tell me what happened on the day of your kidnapping?"
The women smiled slightly, wrapping her slim hands around the can of soda that Catherine had brought her when she had first arrived.
"Sure. It is most certainly not something that one forgets in a hurry, however hard I might try. I was in the kitchen in our old house. I was packing up all of the dishes and such, when I heard a noise in the living room. I went to investigate, and that's when he hit me over the head with a lamp, knocking me out cold."
Catherine nodded, allowing the women to go at her own pace, knowing that putting pressure on the women and on the memories could quite possibly break any connection to any vital clues that could lead them to Sara.
"I awoke to find myself shackled to the wall of some dark dank little room, with a bucket for my most personal needs, and nothing else. He came and gave me food and water twice a day, and then one day he came down and said he loved me. And then he raped me."
The women looked Catherine square in the eye, acceptance and even a trace of sadness on her face.
"He then released me," she continued, "dumping me just outside of the Nevada desert, and I was picked up by a truck that was coming back into the city. Why do I need to tell you this again almost a year and a half afterwards?"
"We suspect that your ex-husband took one of our team members. We were hoping that you could tell us where he kept you. No detail is too small."
The women smiled sadly and shook her head at Catherine.
"I do not know where he held me. He never told the cops. I do still wonder why he wasn't put away for longer. He got a slap on the wrist for what he did to me, nothing more, and now this. I am so sorry that he took someone else. Who is she?"
Catherine took a picture of Sara out of the file in front of her, sliding it in front of the women, who picked up the picture, gazing into the smiling face of Sara.
"Her name is Sara Sidle. She is one of our scientists. Sara was taken five days ago. She was drugged and carried from her own home. It appears that your ex-husband had been stalking her for a number of months now, sending her letters and roses."
The women continued to look at the picture of Sara, her eyes growing sad.
"The police said that he had been following me for months before we were married," she replied, "and then again after I filed the papers for the divorce. He wasn't always this way you know. When I first met him he was sweet and romantic, writing me poetry. Then soon after we were married he turned to religion, and then the drugs for the back pain that had been dogging him for years, and he became this person that was so different from whom I married. He became possessive and jealous, demanding that I stop working and stay at home, cooking and cleaning all day. When I tried to explain that I would not do that, he hit me. I put up with a lot from him and when I was hit, it was the final straw. I filed papers the next day and kicked him out. Until the night I got kidnapped, I heard nothing from him. The day I was kidnapped I received a bunch of roses with a note saying 'see you soon'. I am so sorry that I cannot help you."
She slid the picture back towards Catherine, one of her hands in a fist on the table in front of her, soda forgotten.
"My ex-husband has scarred me in a way that will never heal," she continued. "My new husband has to deal with the nightmares and the fear that has dominated me since the kidnapping. I hate that scum for what he has done to me. I don't know what's sadder, really. The fact that I loved him, or that he thought he was doing something right in kidnapping me, shoving me in a basement for three weeks, raping me and then finally dumping me naked in the middle of the desert. I hope for her sake that you find your girl, because who knows what he will do to her. I am so sorry that I could give you nothing new."
Catherine handed the woman a tissue and put a hand on her arm, watching sadly as the women cried openly, her tears making faint noises as they hit the metal table in front of her.
When the woman was calmer, Catherine left the room and entered the one next to it where a squat man with a shiny bald head and black-rimmed glasses sat patiently.
"Hello Mr Frazier, thank you for taking some time to talk to us. Did the officer explain what it was regarding?"
Mr Frazier nodded, and shifted slightly in his seat.
"So when did Zachary start taking Thyedrin?"
Mr Frazier pulled a medical file from a briefcase that was beside him, leaning against his chair legs.
"About two and a half years ago. He has a slipped disc that cannot be fixed with surgery. He wanted something to numb the pain, and he was desperate enough to be willing to try the drug, despite the risks that came with it."
He handed Catherine the file, which she discovered contained his medical records. Catherine skimmed it quickly and then closed it.
"So you know about what happened with his wife? How he kidnapped, and raped her?"
The man nodded slowly.
"Then why is it he came back onto the drug after he was released from prison? If you knew what had happened, why didn't you take him off the drug?"
The man shifted in his seat again, clearly uncomfortable under Catherine's hard gaze.
"He offered me extra cash to keep him in the experiment. My practice was falling down around my ears and I couldn't say no. What choice did I have?"
Catherine took a deep breath, trying to keep her temper in check for a little longer.
"Does he have any memory of his actions when he is off the drug? Any at all?"
The doctor nodded his head.
"He has haphazard memories of his actions. And at times can be fully aware of what's going on."
Catherine pushed the chair she was sitting on behind her, and leaned over the table, putting her face closer to the man's.
"If this young woman dies, I'm coming after you. You will be as responsible for her death as Zachary James will be. So start praying, Mr Frazier."
With that, she turned on her heel and left the room, the door slamming behind her.
The car was a 4-wheel-drive, blue with a black interior. It was dumped in the middle of nowhere, spotted by a passer-by and called into Brass. Grissom was relieved to see the car until Nick and himself started working the interior.
"We have blood."
Nick swabbed the bloodspot that was in the rear of the vehicle, popping it into an evidence bag.
"And we have hair."
Grissom carefully placed the single hair into an evidence bag, calling Brass over.
"I want these delivered to Greg, ASAP."
With a nod Brass was gone in a swirl of sirens, lights, and dust. Nick and Grissom continued to work the car, finding nothing apart from empty potato chip packets and a 7/11 till receipt.
Nick and Grissom gathered up their kits, and telling Warrick to continue with the truck, they headed over to the 7/11.
A young girl was manning the checkout, no older then 16. Nick quickly put on a charming smile and shined it on the girl.
"Hi, I was wondering if you could help us. I'm Nick Stokes and this is Gil Grissom. We're working on a case, and our suspect came in here - do you think you could help us?"
The young girl looked a little overwhelmed, but she was smiling shyly at Nick.
"Sure. What could I do?"
Nick pushed the receipt over to the girl, along with the picture of Zachary.
"Do you recognize this man?"
The girl nodded eagerly and then looked thoughtful for a second.
"I served him two days ago exactly. I remember because it was our busiest time for some weird reason, and because I thought he should wash his hair. It looked kind of greasy, and lank. He bought, like, ten litres of bottled water, and some junk food. He didn't say anything to me but he looked royally pissed off."
Nick nodded at the girl, smiling.
"Now, did you happen to see what vehicle he drove off in?"
The girl nodded again.
"It was a blue 4-wheel-drive, and there was a lady in the backseat, leaning against the window."
Grissom pushed Nick aside lightly.
"How did she look?"
The girl scrunched up her nose.
"She was leaning against the window, there was a little blood coming out of the corner of her mouth and her head was twisted at a weird angle, looked uncomfortable to say the least. But I forgot about it as soon as he left, because, as I said, it was really busy in here."
Grissom nodded curtly and let Nick move forward again to finish the questioning.
They left the store shortly afterwards, and headed back to the 4-wheel–drive, where Warrick had just finished processing the vehicle. He handed Grissom photos that he had discovered in the glove compartment.
There were hundreds of them, all of Sara. Sara at the supermarket, Sara at the video store, Sara coming out of her apartment, and most disturbing of all was the fact that there were a few pictures that had the rest of them in it also - Catherine, Warrick, Nick, and even Grissom himself. They all headed back to headquarters at the same time, giving the findings to Greg.
They moved into Grissom's office, where they found Catherine waiting behind his desk. She rose and handed Grissom a sheet of paper with very little writing on it, frowning slightly.
"The ex-wife could tell us nothing more then we already knew. She had no idea where she had been held captive, and he dumped her on the side of the road just outside of the desert. She was raped, Grissom. She said that he kept telling her that he loved her and it was all for her own good."
Grissom nodded solemnly and sat stiffly in his chair. The silence fell heavily on the small room, no one daring to speak, and no one able to think of any words that could lift the heavy silence or their heavy hearts.
Sara had managed to remove two of the six boards that covered the window. It was harder then she had first anticipated - the boards were nailed down much more securely then she had expected.
The result was bloodied hands, covered with splinters from where she had been tearing at the wood. She carefully placed the boards back after a little while, knowing that the man would be back down soon enough, and she didn't want it to be discovered before she had a chance to get a glimpse of her surroundings.
She made herself as comfortable as she could, leaning against one of the walls facing the door, and wiping her hands on the back of her robe to make the blood less obvious. She wanted a clear view of where the guy came from, just in case she needed it later.
As she was sitting there, she noticed for the first time the ache in her wrists and her jaw. She could feel dry blood on her chin and lower lip, which had split at some point, she presumed, during her transportation. She also felt the bruising on her jaw, and a bump that was very pronounced. As for her wrists, they had been stripped of skin and were left raw - she could tell exactly where the shackles had been placed.
As she pondered her wounds, she began to wonder how he had gotten her here. Surely somebody saw him, or herself. Maybe they thought her wounds were a little suspicious. She heard the footsteps then, gradually getting closer and closer until the door swung open and he stood before her with another tray of goodies.
She managed to glimpse the area behind him, until he closed the door slightly so she lost sight of it. It had been a small staircase with a room of some sort at the top. She was only able to see a couple of chairs before the door closed. It was a dining room, maybe.
"Good to see you've eaten those cookies that I brought for you. Now, I'll just put this tray down here, and then I've got something for you. Now just stay here, okay?"
Sara watched, poised for the attack should he try anything on her. He came back one or two minutes later with a plastic bag filled with clothes.
"Now, these are kind of old, but we can't have you being half naked for much longer now, can we?"
He smiled down on her, leering at her exposed legs. Sara quickly rearranged her robe, covering her legs. He pulled out a grey nightshirt, the material thin and worn in places. Sara shook her head and spoke for the first time, her voice sounding dry and foreign to her own ears.
"I'm not wearing that. I will freeze and it's basically see-through."
The frown appeared again on the man's face and he shook his head.
"I don't want to make you, but I will if you force me to. You will wear it. You will do as you are told."
Sara nodded silently, knowing that he would hurt her as he had before. Sara held out her hand for the nightshirt, and the man handed it to her and stood back and waited.
"I am not changing while you are standing there."
Sara gritted her teeth, waiting for some sort of backlash from her comment and was surprised when he smiled and held up his hands.
"Fine, who am I to damage a girl's modesty?"
He turned on his heel and left, plunging her back into the familiar darkness. Sara changed quickly, not wanting to risk him coming back while she was half undressed.
The nightshirt fabric was cool, and rough, and it fell just below her knees, leaving her feeling more naked then she did in her now-discarded robe.
Sara sat back down against the wall facing the door, and waited. She was dying to pull out the rest of those wooden boards covering the window, but didn't want to risk being caught. The man could come back at any time. It was then that Sara heard a vehicle, and by the sounds of it, it was leaving.
Her hopes soared and she made a dive for the window, attacking the last of the boards that stood in the way of her freedom. When she finally revealed the window, she was shocked to find that the window was at ground level, and that her prison was below it.
Taking a deep breath, she gathered all of the strength she had left, and pulled herself up and out of the small window, her arms straining under her weight. Never in her life had the sun felt so good, or the air tasted so fresh. She did a quick evaluation of her surroundings, noting that there wasn't any - they were in the middle of nowhere.
Sara looked to the horizon and, seeing some trees in the distance, she decided to make them her goal destination. Even if there were no houses she could at least hide from him there. Her bare feet made no sound as she slowly started to inch her way towards the trees, keeping the need to sprint controlled. She was a regular on the jogging circuit at home, but days of sitting and limited movement made her joints and muscles ache with protest.
She was a good few meters from the house when she heard the door swing open and that voice scream, "SARA!"
Sara gritted her teeth and started to sprint. Twigs and stones dug into the bare flesh of her feet, making tears stream down her dirty face. Her spirit started to soar when she saw the trees come closer and closer, her footsteps carrying her to her goal. The sense of victory was shattered when she heard him cock a gun, and a bang louder then any she had heard before echoed across the clear blue sky.
Sara felt the bullet tear through her right arm, shattering the bone as it pierced through it, the burning pain making her fall to the ground. It was there, surrounded by her own blood, that any hope of escape fled. It was all up to her team now, and even they had limited options.
She heard his footsteps coming closer and closer as her vision started to blur, the loss of blood and exhaustion making it impossible to focus. His face came close to hers, his rancid breath making her cough.
"Why did you do that? You stupid girl."
His face became blurry, and she slipped in and out of consciousness as he painfully dragged her back to her prison.
Greg knocked on Grissom's office door, wanting to personally deliver this news himself. The loss of Sara had hit the whole office hard, making it impossible to throw any kind of enthusiasm into his work.
"Enter."
Greg swung the door open, finding eight pairs of eyes watching him.
"It was Sara's blood and hair," he confirmed.
He set the sheet in front of Grissom and moved to the filing cabinet, leaning against it, knowing that the exhaustion etched on each of his colleague's faces was also found on his.
Grissom's face fell as he read the sheet of paper, and then handed it to Catherine, who had dragged a chair over beside him. She, in turn, handed it to Nick, then Warrick, each reading the paper for themselves, not wanting to believe his findings.
"Where is he? How could two people disappear off the face of the earth?"
Grissom hung his head between his hands, knowing there was no answer. It was then that Brass walked in.
"I have a plan."
Skipping the pleasantries entirely, he closed the door behind him and faced the sad team.
"You're not going to like this but it's the only chance we have for getting Sara back."
He looked at Grissom when he said this, knowing the man would be affected most. Five pairs of eyes followed him as he sat on the edge of Grissom's desk, facing them.
"We need to drop this case."
Song: Invisible Man – Theory Of A Dead Man