Chapter 16

Knocking gently, Grissom waited anxiously for Sara to unlock her door. The night had gone from bad to worse, and he had the irrational urge to see her, to ensure himself that she was safe. Seeing Linley Parker's lifeless body had shaken him to the core.

He cursed himself for not getting her key. Bending down on one knee, he searched his pockets for his key chain. Opening a small black case hanging from the silver ring, he pulled out a set of lock picks, and made quick work of the doorknob.

The door swung open, but stopped abruptly. He had forgotten she used her chain. "Sara?" he called out hoping she would answer.

Getting no response he felt the chain. All he needed was his kit, and he could unscrew the chain from the door post.

Hearing a pounding noise, Sara's eyes flew open, but she shut them instantly. She tried to determine if the pounding was real, or just the throbbing in her head.

Lying still, she instantly regretted every shot she drank. Suddenly Grissom's voice invaded her conscience.

Groaning she rolled out of bed, and stumbled into her living room in time to see a hand groping her doorpost. "Grissom?"

His movements froze, "Sara, are you ok?"

Slightly annoyed she made her way to the door. "Yeah, yeah. Back up," she commanded, shutting the door and releasing the chain, and walked away not bothering to reopen the door for him.

Finally Grissom got the hint, and let himself in. Surveying her apartment, his gaze fell on her slight form huddled on the couch.

"Breaking and entering Grissom?" she asked, slight annoyance was mixed with exhaustion.

He remained standing, trying to determine his next move, "I didn't actually get to the entering part."

She waved him off, "That's only because I let you in before you got a screwdriver out."

While she spoke he spotted an empty vodka bottle next to a shot glass and he immediately reach for it.

"It wasn't full," she explained before he even got the opportunity to ask.

Silently, he poured her a glass of water, and brought it to her. He sat across from her, "I'm concerned."

Staring at him, she tried hard to take personal offence to his words, "You don't have to worry about me."

Having learned many lessons in his experiences with her over the course of one week, he knew he needed to keep the conversation light or it would only make matters worse. "I'm not worried, I'm concerned," he explained with a small smirk.

Leaning her head back, she closed her eyes. He was trying. "What's the difference Gris?"

"Worry implies anxiety. Concern denotes care. I care about you, and want to keep you from doing something you may regret," he told her.

"Thank you Merriam-Webster," she returned.

Grissom watched her body language, she wasn't tensing up, and clearly wasn't taking offense to his words. He mentally celebrated his mini victory.

"I'm fine," she told him, finally looking at him. She could tell he wasn't buying her words and continued. "I definitely drank for the wrong reasons, but I learned my lesson. The buzz is gone, and now I'm still scared but feel like crap on top of it."

Admitting she was scared was a huge step for her. The words made her remember the reason for the renewed fear. "Linley?" her name was all she was able to utter.

Grissom shifted uncomfortably and stood. He pulled her gently to her feet, "Go take a shower, and I'll make you some breakfast."

"No food, Gris," she told him. "Just let me shower, brush my teeth and change, and then we can head to work."

Before she could leave, he placed a hand on her arm to stop her. "Sara, I think you should stay here."

She studied him, and saw the genuine sorrow in his eyes, and she knew instantly. "She's dead."

He had no words for her. Shame and relief were intertwined as he was glad it wasn't her.

Nodding numbly, Sara walked toward the bathroom. "I'm going to work."

---/---

The night shift was gathered around the layout table comparing notes. The atmosphere was somber, and the conversation was subdued. Everyone only spoke when they had something pertaining to the case to add.

Sara couldn't help but remember the last time they were all together working on case files. Until that point she hadn't considered 'what if' situations. She needed something to do to keep her mind focused. "I'll research the property. Has anyone asked the question 'Why did he bring her there?'. It wasn't like it was on his way to somewhere. He felt safe there."

Her words sunk in to everyone. No one had considered that question; a clear clue that no one was objective. They were all still recovering from the trauma of Sara's attack.

Grissom considered her words briefly, and couldn't argue with her. It was just research, and he would be able to keep his eyes on her.

Catherine nodded and closed her notebook. "Doc Robbins should be ready for me to process the body," she announced.

Grissom nodded. "Come find me when he's ready to complete the autopsy. Everyone else has there assignments," he ordered, and stood to return to his office.

Sara started to leave but was stopped by Nick. She looked into his eyes, tears were welling up. "Nick, are you alright?"

Unable to speak, he nodded, and pulled her into a hug.

Confused, she returned the hug. "It's ok," she tried to comfort him.

Resting his cheek on top of her head, the irony of her comforting him was not lost on him. "When I saw Linley… I don't know. I just thought of everything–"

"–that could have happened to me," she finished for him.

Pulling back he cupped her face with both hands, "Yeah. I'm just really glad you're ok."

Resting a hand on his forearm, she squeezed it, "I'm ok."

"Yeah," he whispered and released her.

---/---

Almost running down the hall, Sara clutched a read out in her hands. The property search was mildly painless, and she wasn't at all surprised that 20 acres were owned by the Coombs' brothers. Stopping short of Grissom's office she felt the need to compose herself.

Before she could take another step she heard Catherine's voice float out of his office, "…all the photos I needed, and collected some samples from her skin."

"How are you?" Grissom asked.

"I guess I'm finally understanding how Sara can get so invested."

"This isn't your fault."

"I know."

Sara heard the pause and felt guilty that she was eavesdropping. She stopped her movement again when she heard her name.

"How's Sara handling everything?" Catherine asked, sounding genuinely concerned.

Sara heard Grissom sigh, and waited for his response.

"I honestly don't know… I know this case can't be helping her recovery. I shouldn't have even let her back so soon."

"But she's getting help?"

Another sigh, "No. Pushing only pushes her away."

Sara knew his words were true, but she couldn't help but feel offended. They were talking about her like she was incapable of doing her job, and in need of serious therapy. Stepping away from her hideout, she made her way back to the layout room.

Taking out her cell phone, she dialed a familiar number.

After one ring the officer answered, "Vartann."

---/---

Sara walked along side the detective, "Thanks for coming out here."

"I told you anytime you need back up," he returned. "Now, why are we here?"

Moving toward the trailer she explained, "Checked with county records. Crime scenes on a 20-acre plot. Guess who owns the property."

"One of the Coombs Brothers," he concluded.

"Coombs Brother's company," she supplied. Taking off her sun glasses she surveyed the grounds. "Guy's an artist," she offered sarcastically, hoping her nervousness was well hidden.

If he picked up on it, he was courteous enough to not call her on it. "You call that art?" he replied.

Sara didn't hear him because blood was rushing through her ears. "Black SUV," it was more of an observation then a statement. She hadn't fully considered the possible outcomes, and suddenly realized they may encounter the rapist. She had been so focused on proving she could do her job, she wasn't evaluating where her job was leading her.

Further contemplation was stopped short as the trailer doors burst open.

"You're on my property!" a man shouted, but all Sara saw was the shot gun.

She pulled out her sig, and heard Vartann shout next to her.

"Put the weapon down," he ordered.

But the man did not back down, "You're on my property!"

Training had instantly kicked in, and Sara stood her ground.

"Las Vegas Police, drop it or we shoot," Vartann announced.

Once the man dropped his gun, the detective jumped in. "Turn around," he ordered the suspect as he pushed him up against the trailer.

Sara's focus did not waver the entire time, adrenaline keeping her senses exceptionally aware of every movement that was made.

"Are you Kevin Coombs?" she finally asked once she was sure he was secure.

Vartann for his part was feeling a mixture of annoyance, and over-protectiveness. "I can see the family resemblance. Come on," he finished, trying to drag him away from the CSI. The last thing he needed was for Gil Grissom to find out he let a rape suspect even breathe on Sara.

Watching the pair walk away, Sara took a moment to calm herself. The adrenaline left her shaking, and feeling slightly nauseous. As she turned toward her SUV she was quickly grateful they had driven separate vehicles, and brought a black and white with them. The mere thought of getting into an enclosed space with a possible rapist was too much. She was also glad she was going to have the short drive back into town to compose herself.

Looking around the property once more she had evidence collect. Once the suspect was taken away, she moved to get her kit.

---/---

"Cause of death, asphyxia due to strangulation. Victim has a hairline fracture of the right third metacarpal with some soft tissue swelling," Robbins explained to his colleague, and then pointed to the wounded knuckles.

Grissom examined the hands, "Defensive wounds."

"She was a fighter," Robbins offered before getting to the hard part. "There's also fresh contusions of the right labia."

Surprise hit the older CSI. "She was raped again?" he asked.

"I did a wet mount of the vaginal secretion with a Christmas Tree stain. Slide's under the scope," Robbins finished allowing the slide to be examined. He was aware of Sara's attack, and wasn't sure how detailed he should get with his friend.

"Sperm," he concluded knowing Robbins already documented the detail.

"If he was trying to silence a witness, why not just kill her, why rape her again?" he genuinely wanted to know the answer. The criminal mind was not one he ever tried to understand, but when someone so young was brutalized he was always left asking the 'why' question.

"Maybe rape was just foreplay for this guy. Maybe what he really gets off on is killing," Grissom offered. Any further thoughts were silenced by his cell phone. Offering a look of apology, he flipped it open. "Grissom."

"It's Brass," the voice announced. "Vartann wanted to call you, but I volunteered for martyrdom."

"Brass, what happened?" he asked, his pulse quickening.

"Sara–"

Before the man could say another syllable, Grissom was racing out of the autopsy bay. "What happened?" he demanded.

"Nothing happened, but she convinced Detective Vartann to back her up. They arrested Kevin Coombs after he pulled a shot gun on them." Brass explained quickly.

"Where is she?" Grissom asked as he stopped in the hallway.

"I just sent her back to the lab. She collected evidence, and Coombs' is here for booking and questioning."

"Next time, have your detectives tell me before one of my CSI's–"

"–Sara–" Brass supplied.

"Brass!" he was shouting now.

"Gil, I understand, but I would rather have her feel more comfortable calling Vartann, then going out on her own," he explained calmly.

Before Grissom could comment, he saw Sara walking down the hall toward him. "Brass, she's here," he said into the phone and then shut it.

Without breaking his stride, he walked up to her, grabbed her kit out of her hand, and spun her around. He was surprised she wasn't protesting being handled.

Once inside the safety of his office, he fought the urge to yell at her. "Now I'm worried," he said hoping she would understand the nuisance.

"Grissom, I was just doing my job," her words were hard, but he could tell her fight was gone.

"Last time I checked, I ran this lab," he told her, clenching his jaw, fighting for control.

"And what? You think I shouldn't be here? That's why I went without telling you. To prove to you that I can still do my job," her voice sounded small. She stood before he had a chance to say another word. "I'm going home."

"Sara," he wanted to stop her.

"I'm fine. We're fine. I just need to go home," she told him, and was out the door.

Grissom removed his glasses, and took a moment to compose himself before heading to the police station.

TBC