Chapter 10

"Let's get you home."

Brass' comment caught Sara off guard, and she lowered her cellphone angrily. She had texted updates to Catherine and Greg while the detective tried to locate Doctor Sharon Mankiller. She wasn't about to drop the case when they had a potential match on their killer.

"You have to be kidding!"

He gave her a knowing look as he took her elbow in tow. "Look, you made the inside of my car smell like an explosion at the North Pole 'cause you knew you needed sleep," he said as he led her to the elevator.

"Jim," she started to say.

"Save it," Brass said in a tone that left no doubt how serious he was. "Look, Mankiller is taking part in some marathon surgery that's going to last all day. No way we're talking to her anytime soon. I left a message with her office to call me at the station later."

"But ..."

He continued to push her toward the elevators. "Look, it's all circumstantial at this point. And call me suspicious, but a 'friend' that volunteers an alibi that quickly?"

"And mentions a fiancee no one else knew about," Sara conceded as he herded her into the elevator.

On the surface, Mankiller matched the description of their suspect, but it was a vague description at best. Brunette, tan and wearing scrubs you could buy at any big box store wasn't definitive. It didn't help that their only witness was less than reliable.

"But it is the best lead we have," she added, not quite ready to call it a day.

"It's not going anywhere."

"What about Meier's comments? Did it jive with what anyone else said about Van Buren?" she persisted.

"I swear, I think Gonzalez sat at the diner eating doughnuts his whole last month on the job. He hardly talked to anyone who knew Van Buren. None of them mentioned he pissed everyone off," he said.

"Why didn't anyone else pick up the case?"

"You know, you're guess is as good as mine. We were swamped around that time. No family in town to push for answers, no one asking for updates."

"I guess that fits with someone who rubbed everyone the wrong way. Still, you'd think someone would have asked," Sara said sadly.

Brass shrugged, waiting until the other passengers got off when the elevator stopped. "I'll drop you off at your apartment and pick you up tonight. You try to sneak into the lab, and I'll have you pulled from the case."

"What?" she barked, causing people waiting for the elevator to hold off for the next one.

"You heard me. No offense, Sara, but you look like shit," he said as it began moving again.

"You and Greg should compare notes," she muttered, fixing him with a glare.

As she suspected, Brass didn't relent; he had far too much experience dealing with worse than her temper. Instead, he gave her a sad smile. "Greg's a good kid. He knows what I know – you've been pushing yourself too hard lately."

Sara slouched against the elevator wall and considered her options. She was beat, but she could still work a few more hours. But how well? Logically, she knew she'd be sharper after a rest, but it irked to be sent to bed like a wayward child.

Brass continued to return her glare calmly. She wanted to blame his demand on learning about her childhood, but the truth was he had always looked out for her. And she had told him less than an hour ago that she needed sleep. It was pointless getting angry with him because he agreed with her own assessment.

All thoughts of arguing with him ended when she couldn't resist a long yawn. "Okay, but only because I'm too tired to fight."

"Good. I wouldn't want to tell Grissom his favorite CSI needed a break because of overwork."

Sara raised an eyebrow at his teasing tone. Let him dig for clues all he wanted. Just because he figured it out, didn't mean she had to confirm his suspicions. "Something's up with Warrick?" she asked innocently.

"Hey, Warrick's okay, but he's not the one Grissom is missing right now," Brass said. Sara didn't reply, but her expression must have given him a clue that she hadn't heard from Gil. "Of course, not that he'd now how to come out and say it."

"What's next with the case?" she asked, wanting to drop the matter. She'd know soon enough where she stood with Grissom and worrying about it wouldn't help anything.

"You go home and sleep. You must be tired if you've forgotten that already."

"I'm not too tired to give you hell."

"Hey, what's the point in maxing out on overtime doing the prelim work anyway? Save something for when the big break comes," he said lightly.

"You're assuming we're going to get a better break," she pointed out.

Brass grunted. "Eh, I don't much a lot of faith in winos, but Stinky seemed fairly coherent once you got him talking. If nothing else, Meier gave us some other things to consider in Van Buren's murder."

"That everyone who knew him wanted him dead? Oh, you'll have fun with that one."

He flashed her another teasing look. "Doesn't Van Buren remind you of someone? From the lab? Socially awkward, never knowing the right thing to do, tends to piss people off?"

"I guess, but I'm not sure Hodges actually wants to be good," she said, causing him to burst out laughing.


"Okay, now put your hand at the base and hold firmly. Put your other hand on top," Grissom instructed.

Sara, her lips twitching, followed his directions.

"You want to keep a firm grip but not enough to be painful."

She started to chuckle softly.

"Keep your movements fluid. You don't want to jerk."

"It's a good thing no one's around," she finally laughed, looking over her shoulder quickly. "Do you know what that sounds like?"

Grissom pursed his lips for a moment before giving her a smirk. "I don't think you doing a j-stroke on me would be fun. Eyes forward. You're on the lookout for anything we might hit."

Turning back around, she waited for the canoe to settle. She was surprised at how quickly that happened. Besides the moment of entering, the canoe was much better balanced than she had been expecting.

Not that she had any idea that Grissom even knew how to canoe. He'd simply told her he had plans for them at the lake. He then drove them to the far side of Lake Mead where he rented the boat and proceeded to give her a quick overview of how to enter while she fiddled with her life vest. Now that they were on the water, he was teaching her the basics of propulsion.

"You know, Gil, this isn't exactly what I was imagining when you said you wanted to spend the day away from the city," she told him. "Although your directions sound in the right vein."

"Canoodling in a canoe is conducive to capsizing," he said jokingly.

"Voice of experience?" she laughed.

"No."

His answer had been short, in tone as well as in length, and she wondered if she'd hit on an embarrassing incident from his college days. He was only giving her rare glimpses into his past, and she wanted to encourage him to feel safe confiding in her. "Cite your source then."

It was a long moment before he answered. "If I'm not mistaken, Boston still has a law on the books outlawing canoodling on canoes because of the number of mishaps."

"Uh, huh. I'll check that when we get home," she teased.

"Canoeing was all the rage in the late nineteenth century. They learned the hard way that it's not the most stable canoodling platform."

"Well, it sounds like you have canoodling on your mind." She grinned as they continued moving through the water. So far, it had been easier than she had imagined – but not a device she'd consider for a romantic tumble. "It still sounds like you're talking about a personal experience."

"I'm not the one who likes to procreate on public transport," he pointed out.

"Okay, first off I don't think a canoe counts as public transport. Besides, Ken and I locked the bathroom door on the plane," she said, realizing immediately that had probably been the wrong thing to say.

When Grissom remained silent, Sara winced and risked another quick glance backwards.

"Gil, I never should have told you that story. I think I gave you the wrong idea," she sighed as she turned back around. The brief look had been enough to show he was upset. She had shared the story years ago, and she had no idea then that he could be so damned jealous.

After a beat, she went on. "It was the one and only wild thing I did in college. It was the only time I went on spring break. The scholarship covered my school fees, but I still had to pay rent during the summers."

"You deserved a vacation," he said, and she thought there was a note of contrition in his tone.

"You should know me well enough to know I'm not an exhibitionist."

"I know."

She raised an eyebrow as she continued paddling the canoe. It wasn't even like they knew each other when she entered the Mile High Club. It would be years before they met. "I never asked you about your first-hand experience with threesomes. That's more out there than doing it on a plane while drunk," she said, hoping he'd see the silliness of his being jealous.

Again, a prolonged silence followed before he answered, his voice somewhat put out. "I never told you I was in a threesome."

Sara grinned. Even without seeing his face, she could tell he was embarrassed now. "But you did talk about them at crime scenes before. How in your experience one person always ends up a third wheel, so to speak."

"Go ahead and switch sides."

She swung the paddle over the canoe and dunked into into the other side. "That's one way of changing the conversation."

"It's your first time canoeing. I don't want you to overexert yourself."

Sara grinned to herself. He was definitely starting to sound contrite – and not wanting to have to explain his threesome experiences.

"Gil, I know you had other lovers. It's normal. I don't care about it. But you aren't my first, either," she told him, a quick smile forming as an idea came to her. "But I kinda hope you're my last."

When he didn't answer immediately this time, she wondered if it had been a mistake. They had only been together a few weeks, and he was still figuring out how to make their relationship work. She didn't expect him to confess his undying love – she'd wonder if he had a concussion if he did – but he had to be wondering if she expected him to same something similar.

"Well, dear, that's something we have in common," he finally said.

She took another quick glance at him and he smiled at her before nodding. "Eyes left," he told her.

"Why? Oh, wow," she said, following his directions to stop paddling. Ahead and to their left was a large flock of water birds floating among the grasses.

"It's not the best time of year to look for bugs, but I figured you might enjoy the nature."

Sara resisted the urge to tell him she'd always prefer nature-watching to bug-hunting, pleased that he had thought of this surprise for her. "You know, you're definitely getting canoodled when we get home."

"Well, we don't want to overexert you on your first trip," he said.

"I'm not exerting at all right now," she told him, turning back to enjoy the scenery. "By the way, what is a j-stroke?"

"Something you don't need to practice on me," Grissom told her with a chuckle. "You won't need to know how to do that unless you want to take a solo trip."

"Why's that?"

"Pay attention when we start moving again. Every time you pull the paddle back, the front of the canoe will swing out slightly. Every few strokes, I'll need to move my paddle in a j-shape while turning my wrists, and that will straighten us back again."

"Okay, so why don't I need to practice?" she asked.

"You should always have the strongest person in the stern. If I were in front, the pull to the side would be more pronounced, and you'd constantly be fighting to get us straight again."

There was no question he had more upper-body strength – he was keeping the canoe in place against the current as they enjoyed the scenery – but Sara still felt a bit of a challenge from his comment. When they eventually began moving again, her thoughts turned to how she'd show her appreciation when they did get home. She also planned on finding a canoeing class that would fit with her schedule and surprise Grissom on their next expedition.

A noise outside roused her from the dream, and she did a double-take when she checked the time. She'd gone to bed as soon as Brass dropped her off, with plans to work at home after some rest. Instead, she'd been asleep almost all day – something she never did.

She stretched in bed slowly, trying to figure out if the noise that woke her was something she needed to worry about. After a beat, she decided it sounded like construction and promptly ignored it. She wasn't sure what prompted her to dream about their first trip canoeing, but it had been a pleasant trip. And their bout of canoodling afterwards had been memorable, too.

In hindsight, she suspected Gil was worried that he was too … staid? … for her. She knew the age difference was an issue – for him, at least. Whatever the reason, he certainly had gone the extra mile to please her when they got home after that trip. She had also made sure he knew how much she appreciated his attentions.

When she stretched again, it was with a familiar ache. Her body had reacted to the dream and memories it evoked. Taking another look at the clock, she decided she didn't need to start work just yet.

TBC

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