Title: Last Chance - Chapter 7

Disclaimer: One day I might own them. But for today I still don't. So I don't mean to upset anyone by using them. Just don't sue me. Thanks.

Authors Note: The longest chapter yet . . . and I didn't want to type it because all my fun time is being taken up playing CSI: 3DoM. So you should feel very honored that I got this done. :) Anyway. All mistakes (and I know there are a lot) are mine and only mine. Please R&R. I love feedback. In fact I thrive on it. :) Ok. Enough of my rambling. Enjoy!

As Grissom pulled the Tahoe into the drive of the victim's house, she was already opening her door when her cell phone rang. "Sidle . . . "

"Hey Sara its Brass. Turns out the couple did have a cook, part time; a nanny, but she didn't come along in this trip; and a three times a week housekeeper. We're heading over to pick up the cook now. Mr. Anthony Ampress. You want in on the initial questioning?"

"Griss and I are actually at the crime scene right now. Call Warrick and ask him to sit in. We'll try to find something to lead your questions in the right direction. "

"Got it - "

Sara hung up the phone and turned around to catch Grissom staring at her intently. She smiled. "There was a chef. Brass is picking him up right now for questioning. Let's see what we can see."

Grissom nodded and led the way into the house. Once inside he pointed to the study.

"You start in there. I'll take the kitchen, and we'll meet in the middle . . . " his voice trailed off as the walked through the dining room doors.

Sara turned and started toward the study. "Boy, I have been trying to do that for years . . . "

The study was neat and organized. Sara knew that in an office as organized as this there were only three places that people hid things that they didn't want anyone else to find. In the back of the file cabinet, in the bottom of the bottom desk drawer, or in the trash can. People were so predictable. What nobody seemed to realize that was that if you wanted to hide documents from someone, you should put them in a file, label them something boring like 'orthodontist bills' and file the file correctly. Not that she wouldn't find it anyway . . . but it would make it more difficult. But lucky for her nobody seemed to have that much common sense.

She headed first for the filing cabinet. Unlocked, meaning, she most likely wasn't going to find anything important here. Despite that she began flipping through files. "A place for everything and everything in its place . . . " she muttered.

Starting with 'Acting lessons - Maddie' and ending with 'Vet bills - 06', everything was perfectly organized and in its correct place. Only briefly did Sara wonder why Mr. Fina kept his files in a temporary home instead of in New York in the permanent residence. But some people were anal about their files and bills. She might never admit it, but she kept a zip disk with her at all times with anything she thought was important about herself. It was currently hidden in the lining of her purse. So she decided that it wasn't that strange for him to want to have these things with him at all times. You never knew when things would come in handy or you might actually need something. Still, there was nothing of use to her here.

She turned and walked over to the trash can. She reached a gloved hand into the almost full waste can. "Must be the maid's week off . . . "

She pulled out balled pieces of paper out one at a time. Smoothing each one she quickly skimmed each document. Memos from his agent, a reminder to pick the dogs up at the kennel today, an old home schooling application partially filled out by Mrs. Fina. Apparently they were not planning on hiring someone or sending Maddie to school in the fall. Bagging each one just incase Sara stood.

She sat down in the leather chair behind the desk and began opening drawers. Rifling through staples, crayons, rubber bands, pens, pencils, and the like; the first three drawers held nothing of interest except a few pictures of Maddie's birthday party which she pocketed incase they needed to make an identification.

As predictable as people could be, the bottom drawer closest to the wall was locked. After fiddling with it for a minute Sara stood again.

Walking out toward the kitchen "Grissom?"

"Yeah, Sara?" he was bagging was appeared to be one of the plates from the table.

"You didn't happen to see keys around here did you? Bottom desk drawer islocked in the office."

"Uh . . . try the top drawer of the night stand . . . behind the condoms."

Sara smiled. "Thanks."

She left in the direction of the master bedroom. On the way she passed the open door of the little girl's bedroom. She stopped and looked inside. Everything just screamed innocence. From the pale pink of the walls to the bright bubble-gum-colored comforter. The teddy bears littering the shelves and the bed. The barbies scattered over the floor. Pictures of the child with either one parent or the other covered the walls. Sara assumed that the other was the one taking the photo.

"She was loved . . . " she hadn't heard Grissom come up behind her.

"Grissom, even if we find her - her whole world has been flipped upside down. She'll never be . . . " Sara stopped and waved her hand into the room " . . . this innocent again."

"Sara, she's young. Little kids are resilient . . . she'll be ok."

Sara looked at him and tears burned in her eyes. "I wasn't." She turned around from the doorway and blinked the tears away. She heard Grissom's sigh but ignored him as she walked down the hallway to the parent's bedroom.

She found the keys right were Grissom said they would be, behind the condoms.

What kind of married couple uses condoms? She thought absently.

When she tried the keys in the desk drawer the second one opened it with a click. "Presto . . . " she mumbled pulling the drawer open. Inside she found almost what she was expecting. Files with no labels. One was full of rejection letters from casting directors. One held what she could only call his little black book. Around 300 names and dates . . . give or take a few. From what Sara could tell none since he'd gotten married. There was nothing illegal in this drawer. Just a lot of things that the man had been ashamed of. No wonder he kept it locked. If a person was dumb enough to put all the things he hated about himself into a single drawer it only made sense that he'd keep it under lock and key. He wouldn't want anyone, not even his wife, to have access to the darkness it contained.

Sara kept flipping through the files one after another. She came to realize that if this was as bad as Andrew's secrets got then he hadn't been a bad man at all. Little things that he was probably really ashamed of. But small enough things that most people wouldn't have given them a second glance.

At the very bottom of the drawer Sara found a photograph of a little girl, probably six or seven years old. She picked it up and flipped it over. 'Penelope - Age 6' was written across the back. Did Andrew have another daughter? Looking at the girl in the photo, Sara decided not. What was he doing with this picture? Then she noticed the envelope tucked into the corner of the drawer. She pulled it free. As she read over the letter inside she knew that Penelope wasn't Mr. Fina's daughter. And she was pretty sure she had found the cook's motive.

She almost ran into the kitchen. "Griss . . . I think I've got something. The cook. . . Anthony Ampress?" she was a little out of breath. " Check this out." She handed him the letter to read for himself.

"Dear Mr. Fina

I am writing to you, sir, to ask your help. I have enclosed a photo of my dear granddaughter, Penelope. The photo was taken at her last birthday. Sir, I have been working for your family since before my own daughter was born and I have been working for you personally, sir, for as long as my Penelope has been alive. Two weeks ago, she was diagnosed with a rare, but treatable, blood disorder. But, sir, my family and I cannot afford this treatment. I know it is a large favor to ask of you sir, but I have been your faithful employee for many years. I would repay you, sir, but to earn the money takes time. Time my grand baby does not have. This is hard for me to ask, being a man who has always provided for my family. But, please, sir, what if it were your daughter? I'm begging you sir, please help us.

Sincerely,

Anthony Ampress"

Grissom's eyes lit up as he handed the note back to Sara. "Do we know if Mr. Fina gave him the money?"

"No, not for sure. But it's a good place to start digging. And I didn't find anything in the office to suggest that he did. And the man was very organized. I don't think any sum of money left their bank accounts without leaving a paper trail."

That made Grissom smile. "Ok Sara, bag it, tag it, and lets get this stuff back to the lab. Then we'll head over and have a little conversation with Mr. Ampress."

Sara had her evidence ready to go in five minutes flat and stood in the hall tapping her feet as Grissom finished bagging what was left of the three meals.

The drive back to the lab seemed to last forever. Sara was eager to get going and wished Grissom would drive a little faster. She was tapping her fingers on the center console in a rather impatient tune when she felt Grissoms's fingers cover her own.

"Sara, I'm doing the speed limit. I'll get us there as fast as I can. But I'd like to get us there alive." He never took his eyes off the road and as soon as he was done talking his hand left hers.

How on earth did he always know what she was thinking? Was she that obvious? "Sorry Griss...I just want a good outcome on my..." she trailed off horrified of what she had almost said.

"...last case..." that would have started that conversation she was dreading and once again she was stuck in a moving vehicle. This time Grissom did glance over, finishing her sentence with a look and a sigh. Sorrow? Pity? There was something in that sigh that Sara couldn't identify.

"All in good time Sara...we do the best we can. Expecting the worst and praying for the best."

"I thought you weren't a religious man Dr. Grissom." Sara was eager to change the subject.

Grissom took the bait. "Just because I don't like the way that we, as the human race, observe God doesn't mean I don't believe in him. People kill in His name. Fight in His name. When they're in trouble everyone prays. Even an atheist - faced with something terrible, horrible...will utter 'Oh my God...' Or a silent plea of 'Please help me...' and why would you even say it if you honestly thought it wouldn't do any good? And who's there to help you other then a God? So in response to your statement. No, I am not a religious man. I don't like the organization of the religion business. But yes, I do believe in a God."

"Ahh, I get it..." Sara looked out the window.

The rest of the drive to the lab was in silence. Still the comfortable silence. This time, though, not because it just was...but because this time Sara was silently praying for the small girl she wanted desperately to save. She hadn't prayed in a long time. It had never really done her any good...but if there was even a chance...well this time they could use all the help they could get.

They finally reached the lab and logged in the evidence. Grissom asked that all of his samples form the kitchen get tested for cyanide. Sara took the letter and all the other papers to documents and got a copy made, which she then took with her back to the Tahoe.

Waiting for Grissom she felt an impish urge to honk the horn at him when he walked out of the building. But she restrained herself...that wouldn't make him happy. He had put on his ball cap again and Sara smiled. He was adorable in that thing. His curls poking free from underneath. She had the desire to just reach out and touch them. Give them a small tug. What was it about this man that made her feel like a highschool girl with a crush. As he climbed into the vehicle she hid her grin. God, she was going to miss him.

To Be Continued...