"We're all getting together for breakfast after shift this morning, at this little diner we sometimes go to," Catherine mentioned to Cecilia. The crimanlist's red-gold mane bent over a microscope. She lifted her head for a moment, her blue eyes finding the other woman's dark ones. "Nothing fancy. Just good food, and a chance to unwind after work. You're welcome to join us."
Cecilia felt a surge of pleasure at the invitation. She had been enjoying the past week, and her time spent with the graveyard shift. She found a lot to admire in Catherine Willows and learned a great deal by watching her work. Catherine had a sharp mind, and a college education that was tempered by common sense and an innate grasp of human nature. She was attentive to detail, and thorough in her work, and not afraid to adjust her theories as new evidence came to light.
Catherine also had a good sense of humour, and a caring nature. Cecilia had learned that Catherine was a single mother, raising a pre-adolescent daughter. The writer intuited how much the scientist loved her child and that things were stable for them right now, but also that their life had not been without difficulties. She had picked up on the undertones, when Catherine had spoken about trying to juggle work and home. And when Catherine had mentioned her ex, Lindsey's father, briefly touching on his recent death, Cecelia had detected a painful history there.
She had not pried, instead sharing briefly her own life history in turn. Her one engagement in her early thirties that had been called off when she had realized that her fiance Andy and she had different priorites when it came to family. Andy was content for them to live the double-income-no-kids lifestyle, while Cecilia had hungered for children.
Cecilia hadn't confided to Catherine that she sometimes wondered if ending the engagement had been a mistake. There had been no other serious relationship since calling off things with Andy six years ago. And as the years had progressed, Cecilia had realized that the likelihood of ever having a child was decreasing with each passing year. Of course, these days women in their forties were becoming pregnant and successfully carrying children, but Cecilia had come to accept that her dream might not ever come true.
In the intervening years she would wonder if Andy might have changed his mind over time. As his brother and sisters started their own families, she wondered if it would stir something in him. They parted friends, and stayed in touch. When he had married two years later, she had thought how ironic it would be if he and his new bride decided to have children. But four years later, there had still been no pregnancy announced, and it seemed as though Andy's wife Helene shared his priorities and enjoyed their present lifestyle. Long before Andy's marriage though, Cecilia had come to realize that though she cared for him, and had been intoxicated with the excitement of their early relationship, that really they did not have enough in common to sustain a real love.
Cecilia had begun to concentrate on other dreams instead. Such as her lifelong desire to be a novelist. She had thrown all of the energy that she would have put into a relationship, into her writing instead. And it had paid off for her. She was proud of her accomplishments. Even though there was a part of her that remained unfulfilled. Her desire for a partner to share her life. And a child to raise in the midst of their love.
Cecilia had even considered artificial insemination a few years previously. Thinking that even if she couldn't attain all of her dream, perhaps she could still orchestrate part of it. But finally, she had been unable to muffle the protestations of her old-fashioned values.
Cecilia didn't judge any other woman for her own choices. And she knew that many women were in Catherine's situation, and became single mothers out of necessity rather than choice. But Cecilia found herself unable to deliberately bring a child into the world without two parents. She used to console herself that one day, when she least expected it, she would find her Mr. Right. But now she lived for the moment, and took as much pleasure as she could from the life she was blessed with at this point in time.
Catherine's asking her to join them, hopefully meant that some of the positive feelings Cecilia had about Catherine, and the other CSIs, might be reciprocated. "I'd like that," Cecilia replied warmly to the other woman's overture.
Cecilia was appreciating getting to know the other members of the team, as well. One night, when Catherine and Warrick had gone out to a scene, Cecilia had remained behind with Gil Grissom. She had gotten him to share some of what seemed to be limitless knowledge on insects and how they related to the field of forensics. He gave her some of the articles he had published, once he saw that her interest was genuine. He brought up old case files for her to review, where blowflies had been instrumental in setting timelines that proved to narrow down the potential suspects until the real culprit was caught.
Grissom answered her questions patiently and with enthusiasm. She liked the way he would become so animated discussing topics that were near and dear to him. Cecilia enjoyed the sound of his voice, and the intensity of his blue-eyed gaze when he would quiz her sometimes, to determine whether or not she was really understanding the topics they covered.
Though he never came right out and said so, Cecilia sensed that Grissom approved of the efforts she was making. There was the occasional softening of his gaze, and the way he would lay a hand lightly on her shoulder, when she asked a relevant question or made a pertinent observation. Cecilia had a glimpse of what Gil Grissom might be like on a podium in front of his peers, discussing his passion. Different than the often introverted supervisor who sometimes seemed unsure of how to deal with the human elements of his job.
Warrick Brown and Nick Stokes were both strong, engaging personalities. They shared a professional rivalry that was based on mutual respect, and different from the self-centredness and resentment Cecilia had witnessed on day shift. Warrick was more laid back, with an understated sense of humour. Cecilia noted that he was good with numbers, and had a keen mathematical mind. Nick Stokes was more outgoing and energetic, and his dark eyes always mirrored compassion and empathy for others. He had an open appreciation for beautiful women, Cecilia observed, and a bit of a reputation as a ladies' man, that she didn't doubt that he deserved.
Sara Sidle was the most taciturn of the team. She maintained an aloofness, with Cecilia at least, that Cecilia tried to respect. Cecilia had learned that Sara was the newest member of the team. There had been some situation in the past, some tragedy, that had been hinted at but not openly discussed, that had brought Sara to Las Vegas at Grissom's invitation. Though Gil and Sara had apparently worked together before, and though Sara had been with the Vegas unit for a few years now, there was a distance between the two that Cecilia found puzzling.
Whatever had precipitated Sara's coming to Las Vegas had also been the harbinger of some fall from grace for Jim Brass, Cecilia had learned. It had been one of the lab assistants who had made mention of that one night, though he hadn't elaborated and Cecilia hadn't pressed for details. It had been alluded to that Brass had once headed the CSI unit. Cecilia thought that that might explain why the criminalists seemed closer to Jim Brass than to the other detectives. Because he had once been one of them.
After the police interrogation at headquarters, Cecilia had only seen Jim once. She had been walking past Grissom's office, and had glanced up to see the dark-haired detective seated across the desk from the supervisor. Brass had given a distracted nod, briefly acknowledging Cecilia, before turning back to Grissom.
It had been interesting getting to know the graveyard shift CSIs on a professional level and she looked forward to spending some time with them on a more personal level. While Cecilia wasn't an overly social person, she found that she was missing her co-workers and friends back in Pennsylvannia, and the small apartment that she rented seemed very lonely. She kept herself busy at her laptop keyboard, composing notes, information, and impressions from her time with the CSI unit. But she still hungered for a more informal exchange with other people, and Catherine's invitation was a lifeline that she reached for happily.
After the night's shift, Cecilia followed Catherine to the restaurant, her small, blue rental car trailing after the big, black Denali. The proprietor greeted Catherine warmly, pulling her close for a quick hug, and extending his welcome to Cecilia as Catherine introduced her. Cecilia followed the other woman to a large booth at the rear of the premises where Grissom, Warrick and Sara already sat waiting.
Warrick was the first to speak. "Hey, Cecilia," he greeted with an easy smile. "Welcome to Vegas's best kept secret. George makes the most incredible omelettes in the state of Nevada." His beautiful green eyes were friendly as he shifted over on the bench, then Sara beside him, so that Catherine could slide onto the seat.
Gil Grissom moved from his seat and stood up so that Cecilia could shuffle to the inside of the opposite bench, before he took the seat beside her. He smiled briefly, though he appeared distracted this morning. Celicia thanked him and then looked across the table at Sara, nodding a greeting. Sara inclined her head in return, her dark eyes observing the writer speculatively.
A buxom, middle-aged, red-headed waitress brought glasses to the three who had already ordered drinks, then waited as Catherine requested orange juice and Cecilia asked for tomato juice. They sipped their drinks and chatted, waiting to order. Warrick and Sara had been working on a vehicular accident on the interstate, that had resulted in three fatalities. Grissom had been holed up in his office devoting time to upcoming evaluations.
Nick Stokes finally strolled in, apologetic for being late, his grin wide and white-toothed. He had been questioning an employee at one of the casinos about a suspected inside job involving a robbery at a small but lucrative jewellry shop in the casino's lobby. He seemed genuinely happy to see that Cecilia had joined them, and winked at her as he took the seat next to Grissom.
The waitress returned, and everyone ordered breakfast. Cecilia realized with a sinking let down that for some reason she had been half expecting that Jim Brass would be joining them. She didn't know why she would think that, and hadn't even been consciously anticipating that he would, but nevertheless disappointment stole over her for a moment.
Cecilia's omlette was just as delicious as Warrick had promised it would be. She had ordered one with andouille sausage, emmenthal cheese and green and red peppers. Sara had ordered the 'vegetarian special', a mix of cheeses, mushrooms, and peppers. Cecilia knew two vegetarians back in Erie. One, a co-worker, became a vegetarian after going on a meat-restricted reducing diet and finding that she felt so much better overall. Another, Cecilia's friend Karen, had become a vegetarian for moral reasons.
"Have you been a vegetarian for long?" Cecilia asked Sara conversationally, trying to bridge the gulf between them. Sara shook her head, wiping her mouth with her napkin, and mumbling that it had only been a couple of years. "I've toyed with the idea, but I just don't think I could give up meat," Cecilia admitted. "Do you do it for ethical reasons, or for health reasons?" she queried.
Sara gave a lopsided smile, her dark eyes sparkling. In that instant, unguarded, she looked very pretty and Cecilia glimpsed another side of the serious CSI. "Neither, really. I don't have any moral compunctions about eating meat. I used to love it.
"Then one night I sat with Grissom in the parking lot during an experiment using the carcass of a pig." Sara grimaced, though her eyes were alight at the memory. "Charting the onset of flies and decomposition." She gave a short, apologetic laugh. "Sorry, not the best breakfast tale."
Cecilia gave a mock shudder, then shrugged and grinned, bringing a forkful of her eggs to her mouth to show that she had a cast iron stomache.
Sara continued. "After that, I just couldn't touch animal flesh. Just the thought makes me nauseous. I'm not a true vegan or anything, I'll eat eggs and dairy, but nothing that used to be alive." She turned her gaze to Gil. "Grissom forever ruined pork chops for me." Her voice was light and teasing.
From the corner of her eye, Cecilia noticed that Grissom wore a deadpan expression. He didn't smile, and didn't add anything to Sara's story. He looked down at his plate of toast, slowly spreading it with blackberry jam, as though he hadn't heard a word, or as if Sara was talking about someone else altogether.
Sara took in his cool detachment. Cecilia watched as a shadow replaced the light in the younger woman's eyes. The upturned corners of her mouth returned to their customary neutral line. There was a tension in her finely defined jawline. Then Sara dropped her eyes to her plate at the same time that her slender shoulders drooped.
'She cares for him,' Cecilia knew instantly. But Grissom, had erected an impenetrable wall between them. He did not return Sara's interest, it seemed. Cecilia's heart constricted at the heaviness in the air.
There was an uncomfortable pause, broken by Catherine's hearty interjection. "Monday morning is the evidentiary hearing for the Palmateer case."
Discussion turned gratefully to that topic. Greg Sanders tests on the DNA sample taken from Michael Strickland at his interrogation, had proven a match to the sample taken from Carly Palmateer. Catherine's joy at that, had been tempered by the brutal reality of what the young girl had endured at the hands of her mother's boyfriend. Catherine related that at least Lisa Palmateer was supporting her daughter against Michael. She had seen other sad cases where women, either desperate or in denial,had refused to believe the evidence or their own child's stories of abuse. Victimizing the poor child twice, and possibly even more damagingly.
Catherine and Jim Brass would be among those testifying at the hearing. Cecilia knew that an evidentiary hearing was a preliminary proceeding that would determine whether or not criminal charges would be heard in a court of law, and what evidence would be admitted. Cecilia was looking forward to observing the hearing and to watching the CSI and the detective in another aspect of their jobs.
Throughout the conversation, Cecilia's gaze would stray to Sara. The young woman was resiliently joining in, and adding to the discussion, determinedly not allowing Gil Grissom's treatment of her to get her down. Cecilia wondered how difficult it must be for Sara to work for a man that she had deep feelings for, and who did not reciprocate them.
CSICSICSICSICSICSICSICSI
He took a long swallow of coffee, savouring the bitter brew, swishing it around in his mouth. His eyes were trained on the newspaper article and accompanying photograph that he had saved out of the paper. The photograph was grainy, but he could pick out enough details to recognize his prey.
Every day, he would take the photograph down from where a magnet advertising a pizza chain, held it to the surface of the fridge. And he would sit and stare at it, and feel the power surge through his veins.
Now a bony finger traced the familiar visage, not too much changed by the intervening years. The finger quaked with an anger that he fought to force back down. Back to that secret centre where it would wait and grow until he needed it to dip into it. He whispered the name, over and over, trying to imagine his victim's features contorted with fear and recognition. Or perhaps slack-jawed with that stupification that had come over Denny Martens in that final satisfying moment before he had run him down.
The photograph had been taken on the day of Martens' funeral. When the broken-hearted had come to lament their loss. Never realizing that he in his genius had orchestrated the whole thing. That Denny had had to settle an old debt. And that he had had to pay with his life. There was the widow and the son. Leaning together for support. How touching.
But this one. This was the one that held his interest now. It would only be a matter of days before another score would be settled. He had planned this one out carefully too. That was half the fun, really. Making it look like an accident. But making sure that in those final moments, it would be his face they would see. And the knowledge that it was their own shortcomings that had led to their demise, would be the last thought to echo through their heads.
The sun had still not yet risen fully in the sky. How many more sunrises and sunsets would he grant to this one? How many more sleeps before that final rest? He picked up the pen and began to circle the face. Around and around his fingers traced, as the thick inky line separated this face from the other mourners. Harder and harder he pressed, until the tip of the ballpoint was slicing through the thin, recycled paper. Finally, it separated from the background photo, a bodiless head, floating on the formica of his kitchen table.
There were two left. And soon...very soon...there would only be one.