Disclaimer: I still don't own CSI, probably because I didn't win the lottery this Saturday. I'm just borrowing the characters and going on a sadistic little journey. Come along with me?
As soon as he locked the kennel Sara started screaming.
Why am I here?
Why have you done this to me?
What did I do?
What do you want from me?
What can I do to get out of here?
Please don't hurt me!
Please let me go!
Let me out of here!
After a while she gave up, her voice hoarse and futile against the soundproofing, figuring she would have to rely on herself to escape from the kennel. She hadn't had much of a chance to look around to see what she could use to her advantage, seeing as he turned off the lights on his way out.
She tried to move her hands but they were still bound together with the duct tape. She ran her lips over the tape, hoping to find the cut edge so she could pull and free her arms. She couldn't find it, and instead started using her teeth to gnaw through the tape. After much biting and tearing she was able to get through the many layers of tape and regain use of her hands.
The first thing she did after she freed her hands was reach up to her mouth and try to get all of the tape bits from between her teeth before stopping to rest on her neck. She could feel the leather; it was very thick and heavy. It was lined with something soft, almost like lambs wool, presumably so she wouldn't chafe her neck. The lock was rather large and cold, it felt like the sort you would put on the outside of your garden shed. She had nothing on her she would be able to use to pick the lock, much less any prior experience in lock picking to help her out.
Sara pulled on the chain, yanking on it, trying to find a weakness in the links or that it was possibly improperly secured, to no avail. There was just enough slack for her to maneuver around the kennel easily, and if she moved the air mattress to just under where the chain descended she could lay her entire body down on it relatively comfortably.
She grabbed his old shirt and put it on, more for comfort against the cold and dank basement than anything else. Not to mention the fact that her top was hanging on by only a strap. She wandered around the cage, feeling along the fencing and trying to get her bearings in the dark. Where the door hinged to the kennel she was slightly able to get her hand out up to the wrist before it got stuck and she had to wiggle it loose. After stubbing her toe on the port-a-pot (she had the habit of being barefoot around the house and wasn't exactly given the chance to grab her shoes before leaving) she sat herself down on the air mattress and started to work on how to fix the situation.
For a moment or two she tried to figure out his motives for these rather severe actions, before realizing that her energy would best be spent on trying to escape, not trying to figure out the man that had puzzled her since the day she met him. There was the lock on the collar, the lock on the kennel, the lock on the door to the basement, and quite possibly an alarm system upstairs with motion detectors. There were quite a few obstacles between her and freedom.
Suddenly it hit her; what was going on. She was being held prisoner in a basement by the man she once loved, idolized, and respected as an expert in his field. An expert in forensics had her chained up in his basement. She felt that she was doomed; there was nothing she could do but try to survive at this point. Her only hope was that he had never seemed like a violent man before, and although she never thought he was the type of man that kidnapped people before now either, she tried to convince herself that he would never actually hurt her.
The dark basement felt as if it were closing in on her. Every movement she made only caused the chain to clink against itself or the top of the kennel. The smell of damp wood, detergent and bleach surrounded her. She felt alone, so very alone, and frightened. About 30 minutes after being left in the basement with only her thoughts, she broke down and began to sob.
Meanwhile, Grissom had finished his shower and was ready for work. He went through to the kitchen and grabbed himself an apple before heading out to the lab. After double checking the door to the basement to assure him that it too was locked, he headed to the garage to start his commute. He had been rehearsing this day in his head for a while now, and was pretty sure he had it down pat and would be able to successfully field any questions the rest of the team might have about Sara's sudden absence. He was actually excited about this part; it would be a sign of how easily his plan would play out.
When all of the team had congregated in the break room before assignments, he informed them that Sara had turned in her resignation letter and would no longer be joining them. Nick and Greg seemed to take it the worst; the look of stunned silence keyed him in to that. Catherine didn't seem surprised; she had been concerned that Sara was burning out ever since the case with the mail-order brides. Warrick looked a little confused, but he was the one that spoke first.
"How long have you known?" There was a look in his eye when he asked this that Grissom had never seen before, he couldn't quite place it.
"Well, she handed it to me the requisite two weeks ago, and asked me to keep it to myself and not let anyone know until she was gone. It's no surprise that she's a private person, and I doubt she would have wanted any big celebrations or anything of that nature, so I'm sure she had her reasons."
It was Nick that asked if he knew where she went. Grissom said that he had no idea; she didn't say. With this, he handed out assignments and sent them all off on their way. Greg just sat there, silently staring at the far wall before Nick put his hand on the young man's shoulder, gently shaking it in an effort to rouse him.
Grissom watched as they all left the building for their assigned cases; he had paired up Nick and Greg for a trick roll (he assumed that Nick really like working those given his history) while allowing Catherine and Warrick to work together on a relatively straight-forward B & E. He stayed back at the lab to look over the resumes that were constantly streaming in to find a replacement for Sara's position. This time he would hire a male, he decided. Women were just too much trouble.
As soon as they got to their vehicle, Greg pulled out his cell phone and started dialing. He didn't think it sounded right, last time he had talked with Sara she seemed perfectly fine and had given no hint that she would be gone. When he finished entering her number in his cell phone and hit "send," he was rewarded with the automated message saying that the number was no longer in service.
