Title: Last Chance - Chapter 8

Disclaimer: I own all seasons on DVD . . . all three games . . . puzzles, so many I can't count . . . and god only knows what else. But unfortunately I still do not own the characters. So . . . still not mine. Still no infringement intended. Don't sue me . . . I am just getting my GSR fix this way. It's easier then arguing with TPTB . . . Nor do I own any products mentioned. So they shouldn't sue me either.

Authors note: I got some free time . . . it's my night off. So I am hoping to get most of the rest of what I got written typed. But I am not promising anything. :) But I will try. I love feedback and I want to thank all the kind souls who have taken a minute of their time to leave it. You guys rock. Thanks for reading. Hope you enjoy!

Grissom caught her grin as he got into the vehicle. "What are you so happy about?" he all but grumbled at her. He didn't mean to sound grouchy, but he was tired.

"I'm not smiling because I'm happy Grissom, I'm smiling because I am trying to stay optimistic."

Grissom just grunted. Sometimes he couldn't figure her out. That sure didn't look like a 'trying to stay optimistic' smile. But it might explain the undertone of sadness in her voice. He just shrugged and pulled out of the lot.

Sara chattered all the way to the police station but Grissom didn't hear a lot of it. His brain was occupied by four things. The case, how close Sara was to him . . . again, finding the girl, and that smell . . . Sara's smell. My god . . . what IS that? He interrupted her mid-sentence. "Are you wearing perfume?"

"You know better then that Griss . . . " Sara was looking at him suspiciously. "Why?"

"Lotion? Soap? Shampoo . . . ?" he trailed off as he suddenly realized what he was going on about.

"Grissom? What on earth? Lotion yes . . . but it's unscented. Same goes for the soap and the shampoo is Head and Shoulders . . . Why?"

"Uhh . . . something smells . . . goodimean . . . " Grissom groaned inwardly and rushed the last three words together. He saw Sara's blush creeping up her cheeks and could tell by the heat on his face that he was equally red.

Sara cleared her throat. "My laundry detergent maybe?" She held out her arm as though she was asking him to sniff it.

He was tempted to take her up on that offer but . . . "Forget it . . . we're here." He had shut off the car and gotten out before she could respond.

He walked around the back of the car and then around until he was standing beside her. "Shall we?"

She started a step ahead of him, and like it was meant to be there, his hand found its way to the small of her back. When he realized what his traitorous hand was doing he almost jerked it away. But she either didn't notice, or didn't care. And he was probably enjoying the feel of her back against his palm a little too much.

As they reached the door he regretfully pulled his hand away and opened the door.

Warrick was standing at the desk waiting for them. "Please tell me you guys have something." His tone was pleading and Grissom nodded shortly as Sara handed him the copy of the letter.

"Might be motive." Grissom stated.

Sara looked at him and smiled. "That's what we're here for. Lets go ask him."

As she started down the hall, Grissom just watched her. He turned to Warrick, who was watching him with interest.

"Everything ok Griss? You seem a little . . . distracted."

Grissom blinked twice. Am I that transparent today?

He shrugged. "I'm losing . . . " he let the sentence trail off as he followed after Sara, leaving poor Warrick all kinds of confused.

Sara was handing the note to Brass as Grissom walked into the room.

Jim smiled and handed the note back. "Gotcha." He turned to Grissom. "This guys the nervous type."

Grissom looked through the glass and saw a man probably five years his senior. He was wringing his hands and appeared to be grinding his teeth. Grissom grabbed a cup of coffee and followed Sara into the interrogation room. "Mr. Ampress? My name is Gil Grissom and this is my partner Sara Sidle. We work with the Las Vegas Crime Lab." He offered the coffee to the man.

"N..n..no thanks . . . c..c..coffee makes me j..j..jumpy."

"Just relax Mr. Ampress. We just want to ask you some easy questions."

"P..p..please Mr. G..g..grissom call me Anthony."

"Ok, Anthony. First, did you know Mr. and Mrs. Fina?"

"Y..y..yes sir. I have worked for the Fina family since I was just a boy. I've been Mr. Fina's personal cook for the last s..s..seven. His stutter seemed to diminish a bit when he relaxed. "B..b..but I already t...t..told the detective that."

"Yes Anthony, but I like to hear things firsthand. Can you tell me about your personal relationship with them?"

"W..w..what personal r..r...relationship? I c..c..came in f..four times a week. Cooked. D..d..did the d..d..dishes when they were d..d...done eating. That's the ex...ex..extent of our r..r..relationship." He was staring at the table now, his hands limp on his thighs.

"Well, Anthony, we found a piece of evidence in the Fina house to refute that statement. A letter from you to him. Enclosed was a photo of your granddaughter . . . " Grissom let his words trail off.

"Yes, Penelope, she's ill . . . " He stopped and looked up at Grissom. "A b...b...blood d...d...disease. If she d...d...doesn't get t...t...treatment soon it will eat away at her heart . . . "

Sara slid the paper across the table to Ampress. "Sir, did he help you? Was he willing to lend you the money you needed?"

Anthony's eyes grew into tiny slits. "No, that filthy man said he couldn't spare the expense. Said money was going to be tight until he got paid for his last movie. Said HIS family had to come first." Ampress was angry now. "That bastard might have killed my 'nele and he didn't even care!" Apparently he lost his stutter when he was upset too, Grissom noted. "But then the damn dogs got sick. The fucking dogs..." Ampress didn't say anything else except "I think I want a lawyer." After that he clammed up.

Sara and Grissom pushed themselves away from the table and stood up. As they walked out of the room and the door shut behind them Sara looked at him and grinned. "I'm sure we got the right guy Griss...'blood' disease, 'eat her heart', who talks like that? And the dogs...the damn dogs..."

Grissom nodded. "I know it, you know it, now we have to find the evidence to prove it." He turned to Brass. "Can we get a warrant for his home? We might find something to point us to the girl."

Brass smiled. "I know a judge who's a pushover when it comes to kids and dogs. Let me make a call."

Just then Grissom's phone rang. "Grissom..."

"Hey Griss, its Nick. We got a DB here...female, young, maybe six or seven. She fits the description of your girl. Al's bringing her in now. You should probably go check it out."

Grissom sighed "Thanks Nicky, we'll go now." He hung up the phone and gave the news to Sara.

She just closed her eyes. "Oh No..."

To Be Continued...