Chapter Three: Confessions
Time seemed to have stopped completely the minute Nick and Warrick walked behind the curtain to Sara's bed. It wasn't as if I was jealous that they got to see her before me, I knew they were closer to her than I had been. It wasn't that I was upset that I was the last to see her (Greg and Grissom had gone in first). It wasn't even that I wanted to see her in her present condition. Sure, I had some things I needed to say to her, but seeing the expression on Greg and Gil's faces when they walked out of ICU scared me enough to be apprehensive about seeing her.
After what seemed like ages, a pale Nick and a visibly upset Warrick pulled back the curtain and made a hasty exit, neither acknowledging my presence. I fought the rising fear and anxiety and took a deep breath, drawing back the curtain and walking over to the lifeless brunette, tears clouding my vision. I had expected her to look different, to be hooked up to machines, but my images were nothing like the scene playing out in front of me.
She had 9 different IV bags hooked up to the entourage of needles penetrating her greyish-white arm, and tubes coming from both her nose and mouth. Her eyes were closed, and she looked so serene under the fluorescent lights. If it were possible to ignore the needles, tubes, and monitors, you would assume she was resting comfortably. Sitting beside her, I took her fragile hand into my own and stroked it gently, "You've really given us a scare, don't you ever do that again."
I gave her hand a soft squeeze and whispered, "I've been horrible to you...over and over again...you don't deserve that. You have to pull through, you've got tons of people out here waiting for you to wake up. You've got tons of people who wouldn't know what to do if we lost you. I guess what I've been wanting to say since I got here...I'm sorry."
I stood, releasing her hand and wiping a tear from my eye. "I'm going to go now, you just concentrate on recovering."
I walked away from the room, not ashamed in the slightest to have been talking to an unconscious person. Experts believe that talking to people in a coma can bring them out of it, just as communicating with your premature baby can help them thrive. In the waiting room, our entire team was still seated on the hard plastic chairs.
The blank expressions on their faces matched mine, and as I scanned the room, Greg motioned for me to sit next to him. I sat down with a heavy sigh.
"What are you thinking?" Greg asked, "How did she seem to you?"
I hesitated, not wanting to tell Greg that she looked like something we'd see in the morgue. Instead, I replied with, "The nurses say she's showing some improvement."
"If she's improved, I don't want to imagine what she looked like before. She looks like she should be on a table with Doc Robbins." Greg replied dryly, "I can't believe this is really happening."
"I know." I replied softly, "When do you think the doctor will be back?"
Greg shrugged, suddenly seeming a lot older than his young years. "He just said he'd be back with an update, he didn't tell us when. Do you think we'll catch whoever did this?"
"Ecklie's shift may be working it, but we're still the number two lab in the country. We solve impossible cases every day. This time it's personal. We have to find whoever did this to Sara, it's not an "if", it's a "when". And when we do..."
"I want to get my hands on him." Greg said coldly, clenching his fists angrily, "Sara didn't deserve this."
"No, she didn't." I replied, trying to find some maternal words to comfort him, but failing miserably. I was about to invite him to take a walk with me, to get some fresh air, but before I could get the words out, her doctor walked into the room, wearing a solemn expression.
--
Her funeral was held on a Monday morning, the sky overcast and the wind blowing softly. Nick, Warrick, Grissom, Greg, and I stood around her casket, each dropping a single white rose as they began to shovel dirt onto the shiny wooden surface.
Greg silently turned away, walking back towards his car without a second glance to the rest of us. I watched as Nick and Warrick exchanged concerned glances, Greg had been pulling away from all of us since that last day at the hospital. He and Sara had been close, I'm still not sure how close, but it was clear that he was barely dealing with this tragedy.
I squeezed Grissom's hand, he looked nearly as bad as Greg did, and motioned towards my SUV, "Brass is interrogating Walker in about half an hour. We still have time to get there."
Jeffery Walker, we had learned, was Ecklie's team's only suspect. Ecklie had been generous enough to call Grissom and let him know that Walker was going to be brought in this morning. It had been one of the few favors the man had done for us over the last few days.
Warrick and Nick moved to where Grissom and I were standing, both dazed and grief stricken. I hadn't seen Warrick look this bad since the night Holly Gribbs had been shot on his watch. Actually, that was nothing compared to the misery on his face today. It was indescribable.
I almost felt like a traitor. Sara and I hadn't been close. They had obviously shared something that the brunette and I didn't share, and every once and awhile it felt like I was intruding on their private painful ceremony.
Nick decided he was going to come to the interrogation with us while Warrick went to check on Greg, and in a tense silence, Nick, Gil, and I rode back to the police station.
The moment I spotted Walker, I knew he did it. Grissom taught us not to rely on gut instincts, but there was no way of suppressing it this time. Looking at Nick, I could tell he felt the same way.
Sure enough, the first thing Nick said was, "He did it."
"They don't have enough evidence to prove that." Grissom replied automatically, although it was clear that his heart wasn't into it today. "Ecklie's going to be sitting in with Brass."
"They should let one of us in there." I said quietly, "She was one of ours."
"She wasn't a possession--" Nick began to say, but was cut off when the speakers kicked on in the viewing room.
Brass's voice filled the air, "Did you know a Sara Sidle?"
"No."
"Your fingerprints were in her apartment. Are you sure you didn't know her?" Brass asked, his voice hardening.
Walker shrugged, spitting on the floor and crossing his arms, "You tell me."
"I think you knew her. I think you killed her. I want to know why." Ecklie said, pushing Sara's case folder in front of himself, "Your prints were in her apartment and you had access to the chemical that killed her."
"I'd do it again, if I had the chance. Bitch put my brother away for life. Eye for an eye, you know? And if you try to lock me away, you're next."
Watching as they led him down the hall to lockup, I couldn't help but feel disappointed. After Eddie's murder got away, I felt like I would have had more peace knowing who did it, knowing they were behind jail. Now, I could see I was wrong. I knew who did it, I heard him confess, I watched him being dragged away in handcuffs, and it changed nothing.
We are all able to be touched by violence, it doesn't matter if you wear a badge or sit behind a desk. It doesn't matter if you carry a gun or a pocket protector. People prey on innocent people, people who don't deserve to be hurt, people who only try to do the best for the world.
Of all the losses the graveyard shift of the Las Vegas Crime Lab had suffered, this was the worst.
With an angry sigh, I walked out into the parking lot, lighting a cigarette for the first time in ten years. We lost a member of our family, over something so stupid. It was sickening. It was a nightmare. It was life.
The End.
