Author's note: Sorry for the delay! Here is chapter 14. Hope you enjoy!
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Sensing Sara needed to get away from the chaos inside the townhouse, Grissom moved her to the secluded back porch. His fingers skimmed her back as he lightly urged her out the sliding door, then shut it softly behind them. The night was quiet, the sounds of the city far in the distance. Sara's cloudy gaze settled on the glittering lights as she pulled her sweater tighter around her shaking shoulders. The Nevada night was warm; Sara was just in shock.
Silence hung thick around them, but Grissom didn't mind. His eyes were skimming the bush lines and the darkened streets below. Sometime during the silence, Sara shifted to look at him.
"He's out there. Not even far away, out there," she followed his gaze to the bushes and shuddered, her voice dropping to a low murmur, "He could be watching right now and we wouldn't even know it."
Grissom's eyes shifted to meet Sara's. He took in a deep breath, "You can't let him get to you, Sara. He may be out there, but he gave himself away. He'll be in custody soon."
Sara shook her head and turned away, "You still don't get it, do you?" Her voice was low. Fingers skimming over the rough wood railing, she lowered her gaze and breathed in slowly. Turning back to Grissom, she frowned, "Don't let him get to me? Newsflash, Grissom, he already has. And he's not going to stop."
Her voice rose against the noise of a passing car, anger growing more apparent with each word, "As long as he's free, we're in danger. He didn't spend the last two years doing nothing, Grissom. He spent every second wondering how he could inflict more pain, spending everyday planning the perfect way to get rid of us both," she paused and took a deep breath, turning to the city on the horizon once more, "Right now he's just toying with us. Tomorrow… tomorrow we could be dead."
Grissom shook his head, "Sara, you can't talk like that."
"No, Grissom, I can talk like that, but only because I spent the last two years fighting to get out of the hell hole he put me in, and only ended up listening to all the ways he could kill us. Now, you can admit that we're in danger and help me do something about it, or you can keep living in your delusional world that this guy is dumb enough to get caught."
Putting a hand on her shoulder, Grissom slowly turned Sara to face him. He brought a hand to her cheek, rubbing his thumb over the tear that had dropped from her eye, "What do you want me to do, because you know that I'll do anything to keep you safe."
Sara put her hand over his and spoke slowly, "Get us out of here. The further away from Las Vegas, the better. If he's running now, he's not watching us. The sooner we leave, the better chance we stand of actually getting away."
Grissom swallowed hard, "Sara, I don't know if you're thinking clearly. We can't just…"
Sara interlaced her fingers with his and pulled his hand down. She studied them carefully, marveling how they looked in the dim moonlight. Her bruised hand stood out against his untouched one. If they were ever going to get away, now would be their chance. Get way, from all the pain. Protect him. She wanted nothing more than his safety.
"I don't want to watch you die, Grissom. I don't want to see you suffer the way I did. I won't let that happen."
"Sara…"
"Gil, please," Sara pleaded.
Grissom flinched when he heard her use his first name. How long had it been since she had said it? He sighed, and gave in.
"I'll tell Brass. We'll leave until they've got him. And they will get him, Sara, I promise."
"I know they will. But until then, this is what's best. Not only for us, but them as well."
Grissom nodded reluctantly, turning them both to the door, "Go get some stuff. We'll leave as soon as I talk to Brass."
They both made their way inside, and left the night to the shadows.
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The drive to Grissom's was interrupted by the shrill chirp of Catherine's cell phone.
"Willows," she answered curtly.
"Catherine, it's me," she rolled her eyes as Hodges' voice greeted her from the other end, "I have a little more information for you on the GHB found in those blood samples."
"So spill," she replied.
"Well, I went over the results from the needles again, and realized something. It wasn't quite a match to what we found in the blood. The sample from the needles was a household, do-it-yourself brand, if you will, called GBL. It's actually a paint stripper. The GBL metabolized into GHB in your victim and Sara's blood stream, that's what it does, but upon further testing, some traces of the original GBL were found as well. I thought you'd like to know. Maybe you can find someone in Vegas who just happened to purchase paint stripper and hypodermic needles at the same time. If you do, I'd say that's your guy."
"Thanks, Hodges," Catherine said, then flipped her phone close. She was sure that, somewhere, Hodges was extremely offended.
"Well?" Warrick asked as he took a right.
"Homemade GHB. Paint stripper," opening her phone again, Catherine dialed Greg's number, "This guy may have just thrown us a bone."
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Brass hung up his phone as Sara stepped out of the bedroom, a small bag packed with a few clothes she had found in the same place she had left them two years ago. She shifted awkwardly as both Grissom and Brass turned to face her.
"I've booked you a room at a motel we use sometimes for drug stings. It's not much, but it's a ways outta town, and close enough we can check in on you if need be. Just be careful, and don't hesitate to call me if you need anything," Brass filled Sara in.
She nodded and gave him a small smile as she followed Grissom to the door. They reached it as Catherine and Warrick walked in.
"I'll fill you in," Brass said when he saw the looks on their faces.
Grissom and Sara exited, heading for Grissom's Denali. As they pulled out of the parking lot, they didn't notice the car that pulled out after them.
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Greg printed out his credit card check on purchases of paint thinner within the greater Las Vegas area within the last 24 hours as Nick skimmed over his check on hypodermic needles. Taking a seat next to him, Greg rubbed a hand over tired eyes.
"Find anything?" he said around a yawn.
"Not yet," said Nick, flipping the page.
"I never would have thought that so many people would actually have a reason for purchasing paint thinner in Vegas," Greg mumbled, skimming over his first page.
"Buildings constantly going up, walls that need to be painted… wife's unhappy with the color their husband chose," Nick cracked a tired smile, but it disappeared quickly, "Whoa, hold on, I may have something."
Nick reached out for the case file sitting in the middle of the table. He flipped it open and quickly passed over the words on the page until he found what he was looking for.
"Mathew Charbonneau," he whispered, then his eyes focused back to the credit card check, "Matthew Charbonneau," he said, louder this time.
Greg flipped through his papers, and when he finally stopped, he grinned, "This guy just keeps getting more and more popular."
"This was just too easy," Nick said with a smile as he stood up, pulling his cell phone out to call Catherine and Warrick with the update.
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The roads outside Las Vegas were dark and lonely. Above, the stars shone with a ferocity few city dwellers would ever see, and they sat against a shade of black darker than the mind could imagine. Grissom drove quickly down the quiet roads, his eyes shifting between the never-ending pavement, and Sara's still form.
"I never thought the dark would be comforting again, but this is kind of nice," Sara said, turning from the window.
Grissom nodded, and out of habit, checked his rearview mirror. Nothing but darkness.
"Grissom?" Sara whispered.
"Yeah?"
"Do you remember… do you remember when I said that it would take awhile for me to trust you again? I just wanted you to know that… I do trust you. And…"
Sara didn't get to finish her sentence, though. She was distracted by the sudden and bright headlights of a car behind them. And it was coming up fast.
"Grissom. Was that car…"
"Oh, God," Grissom pressed the gas down further.
But the car was catching up, and within seconds it's front bumper made contact with their back bumper, sending Grissom and Sara into a jarring throw forward. Sara screamed as Grissom tried to regain control of the Denali, but the other vehicle slammed into it again, sending them sliding hard into the desert off the road. The Denali caught loose gravel, and tipped, skidding across the dusty terrain. Grissom's head hit the steering wheel hard, sending a spurt of blood across the cracked windshield and knocking him out. Sara's head slammed across the passenger window. She screamed out in pain. She tried to reach for her seatbelt, but her body screamed in protest. Blackness started to cloud her vision as her head lolled against the back of her seat. Before it took over, though, she looked out the cracked windshield.
And met the steely and all too familiar gaze of the man she was trying to run from.