Professional Courtesy
Sofia arrived at the Thompson residence at midnight, about an hour after the call had come in. Their daughter, a blue eyed blonde was missing. It could be completely unrelated. She could have run away or anything. Sofia knew though, deep in her gut, that this had to be another one of his victims. The likeness were far too close for it to be otherwise.
She was not the only one to have made the connection. Like sick vultures, the press was already there. The uniforms had to physically keep them behind the crime scene tape. As soon as she got out of her car, they turned on her. An annoyingly familiar redhead got to her first. She shoved a microphone at Sofia. "Detective Curtis, is this another victim of the Doll Collector?" Shock actually stopped Sofia dead in her tracks. "The WHAT?" It was the first time they'd gotten something other then "No Comment" and the media moved in on it. The redhead, Rymer, continued, "Experts hypothesize that a cult group is attacking little girls and leaving them positioned like life size dolls. That perhaps they are offerings to the Devil." Sofia hadn't heard any of these "Experts" theories, and doubted that Internet geeks on their computers and old palm readers could be considered experts. "Of all the ridiculous...no, no comment." She shouldered her way past a camera man and his camera's microphone picked up her muttered obseneties.
Two things would never cease to amaze her: the horrible acts one human could inflict on another, and how low the press would go. She'd found that she'd had less and less patience for the media since Hard Crime had turned it's cameras on her case.
When she finally reached the door, she had to stop herself from slamming it behind her. Two children were sitting on the couch, totally silent. A boy and a girl. The boy was dressed in stiff khakis and a white dress shirt and the girl was in a floor length skirt and blouse. Her long blonde tresses were tied back with a ribbon. There was also a very pale man who was dressed to match the boy. The father she was sure. Sofia looked around. She didn't see Sara anywhere.
Catherine came back from the girl's bedroom and saw Sofia standing in the living room. "Ah, detective, I'm glad you're here."
Sofia raised a brow. "Catherine." The CSI looked at her, "Sofia." A scowl worked across her face. "Where's Sara?"
Sara was at home. Grissom had sent her packing. Apparently if he found you asleep in the break room more then once, twice or erm, a few times in the same week you were "over doing it". So she was at home, living it up. She had four different kinds of Lean Cuisine in the freezer and there was a Stargate SG1 marathon on. Since the brave and beautiful Sam Carter was on commercial, Sara flipped over to Channel 5 to see if the weather was going to be merely hot or hot as hell in the morning. The redhead was on again, Maria Something or Other. She was about to turn it, because she really didn't need to hear any more crazy theories about the media dubbed 'Doll Collector'. Something paused her hand, though. That something was Catherine Willows in all of her glory. "The Crime Lab has no comment at the moment." The banner at the bottom of the screen read 'Doll Collector Takes a Third Victim' Sara indulged her rage and threw the remote against the wall. "SON OF A BITCH!"
Sara slammed the door to her Tahoe and ducked under the crime scene tape. She stalked past the uniforms and opened the door. Inside there were uniforms and family members. She caught a glimpse of Sofia out of the corner of her eye, but she did not stop. She went straight back to the hallway and followed her ears. The little girl's room did indeed have Catherine in it. Sara shut the door behind her. The soft click caught Catherine's attention and she turned around. What she saw was five feet, eight inches of a very angry brunette.
She met the angry brown eyes with her own cool blue. "Sara."
Sara Sidle said nothing at first. She clenched her fists, the knuckles on the hand that held her kit turned bone white and the nails of the other hand dug into her flesh. "Catherine. I want you to pretend for five seconds that you know the meaning of ethics and ask you why you didn't have the courtesy of calling me, the LEAD CSI on this case. I'm not asking for much, just for some fucking professional courtesy." Sara's entire being vibrated with anger, but her voice was even and controlled. It was her eyes, though, almost black, that conveyed her true rage.
Catherine looked at her. "I caught a lead and I ran with it. Get over yourself, Sara." Catherine moved towards the door, but Sara didn't budge. "I'd appreciate it if next time when you get a lead on my case, you call me. Understand?" They stood almost nose to nose, "I am the senior CSI here, Sidle, do you understand that?" Sara didn't flinch, "You wouldn't do this to Warrick or Nick, don't do it to me." Catherine didn't flinch either. "What are you going to go crying to Grissom?" Sara shook her head. "No. I trust this won't happen again. Now update me, please."
Sofia watched Sara walk back down the hall and she intercepted her before she reached the den. If there was anything they didn't need it was a pissed off Sara Sidle meeting the male chauvinist and to be blunt, Bible Thumping Alexander Thompson talking to her.
She took her and lead her by the arm to the deserted back yard. She could feel the tension coming off of Sara. She pulled her around to look in her eyes. She could actually see the anger sparking in the woman's chocolate brown eyes. "Calm down, Baby." Sara shook her head. "It's just...God, why can't Catherine..." Sofia put her finger against Sara's lips, silencing her words. "Don't you worry about Willows anymore. She's not important." Sara sighed, but nodded her head. Sofia smiled, "Good. Now, we'll go back in and I'll introduce you to the parents, but prepare yourself, they're not exactly...nice." Sara slid her arms around Sofia's waist. "Thank you." Sofia pressed a kiss to the brunette's forehead, "Don't mention it." Sara sagged against her for a minute, then stood up straight. Her shoulders went stiff and she put on her mask, icy cold and stoic. Sofia watched her girlfriend walk back into house. The detective heaved a sigh and wished on one twinkling sigh that the rest of the investigation went better.
Author's Note: Okay, for those of you who are less familiar with my assorted works... I like Catherine Willows, I honestly do. She's a complex character that challenges me as a viewer and a writer. She's also a bitch. Sorry, but I speak the truth and even you die-hard Cath fans know that she has her moments. So yes, right now Catherine is really showing her 'bad' streak. I will tell you guys that there is a method to my madness and all of this has a point. Honestly, what's a sudden life changing epiphany worth if you haven't done anything that you can truly regret?
Now on another note... I have nothing against religion and neither am I attacking it. The use of the term "Bible Thumping" is derogatory, however, and I know that. I would like to say that this remark is not pointed at all Christians or all Baptists, even. Just to people who use religion as some kind of scare tactic to keep people behaving like they think they should. My, this isn't working out like I thought it would. Ah, well, no offense meant to anyone. I am Southern, though, and felt I needed to explain this and further references to religion in this story. It's just good form, proper manners that have been pounded into my head since birth.
That's all the yaking for this chapter. Please send the reviews along.