Title: Last Chance - Chapter 3
Disclaimer: You really think if I owned them I would spend my time writing fanfics? Nope. I'd be gaining the love and admiration of GSR fans all over the world. I'm just playing with them and I promise I will return them unharmed with no profit gained. Unless you can count happy shivers as profit. :)
Authors Notes: This is a really short chapter. My muse went on vacation on me again and I couldn't even bribe him back with caffeine. Once again all mistakes are mine and only mine. Well, mine and my spell and grammar checker. So please forgive me. This is where we start realizing that I should probably seriously brush up on my forensics before writing . . . sorry. Please R&R. Even if you feel like flaming me. All feedback is positive to me! Thanks for reading!
Sara was startled back to consciousness by the persistent ringing of her cell phone. A quick glance at the clock confirmed she'd been asleep for just more than two hours. Stifling a yawn, she picked up the phone. "Yeah?" She tried hard not to sound like she'd been sound asleep.
"Sara?" through her sleep fuzzy hearing, she recognized Grissom's voice.
"Can I help you, Grissom?" It was rude and to the point but her eyes were still sticky from the tears she had cried over him and tonight his voice only made the hurt worse, knowing she would never have the one man she ever really wanted.
"Sara? Are you listening? Double homicide, a big name actor and his wife. We think the perp. snatched their five-year-old daughter. We need all hands on deck tonight. Cath and Nicky are working an arson in Henderson, so it'll be you, me, and Warrick. I'll pick you up in 15."
"Got it." Was all Sara said before disconnecting the call and slamming her tired body into drive.
She was dressed and waiting outside as Grissom pulled into the lot. She climbed into the front seat and slammed the door a little bit harder the necessary.
"Listen, Sara, I'm sorry for interrupting your night off, but with Greg still out . . . "
"Don't worry about it, it's not like I have a life anyway . . . " She mumbled. She lifted her head off the back of the seat and looked at him. "Any word on the girl?" She was hoping the child was with grandparents or friends or something.
"No, Warrick is at the scene right now. It appears all three were eating supper when they were attacked."
"My God Grissom . . . supper? That would have been hours ago. How far ahead of us is he?"
"David put initial TOD around 6:30 - 7:00 p.m., six to seven hours ago."
"You mean some guy broke into their home, killed them, and left with a child who was probably hysterical . . . and it took seven hours before anyone noticed? The neighbors didn't hear or see anything?"
"Most of these homes are seasonal. And this early in the year most of them are empty."
"Then what on earth was this family doing here?"
"The guy was wrapping up his latest, and turns out, last movie. Filming ended yesterday and they were flying back to New York tomorrow."
"At least the producers got their movie finished. They'll make a bundle off this one." Sara said dryly.
"Yep, nothing draws in acrowd like death . . . " Grissom shot back with an equally dry voice.
Sara just shook her head and stared out the window as they pulled up to the great house now decorated with yellow crime scene tape. And Grissom had called it. Even this early in the morning there was a crowd gathered behind the barriers. It took five uniformed police officers to control them. Especially the Media.
"God, I hate the press." Sara said quietly. "They're like vultures. They make a living off the bad things in people's lives." She stopped and thought about it. "Then again, so do we."
Grissom looked in her direction but she just pretended not to notice.
"Make sure you get some crowd shots, Sara." Is all he said instead of responding.
"Yep." She opened her car door and got out quickly.
Showing her badge, she followed Grissom under the tape and into the house. The smell was the first thing she noticed. Iron - strong - somewhere in this house a lot of blood had been spilled.
"Griss! Sara! Back here, watch your steps. We have shoe prints!" Warrick's voice traveled from the direction of the kitchen.
Looking down Sara saw a trail of footprints. Watching her step, she led the way to the kitchen area, What she saw flipped her stomach. "Oh my god Grissom . . . What the hell happened here?"
To Be Continued...