Irrefutable
By: Manigault
Thank you for sticking with this story, and thanks to those of you who have commented!
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Sara found Warrick in the Trace lab when she arrived for shift that evening. Hesitating for only a second, she gathered her resolve and forced herself to sound normal.
"Hi, Warrick," She felt the need to check on their currrent case before seeking out Brass and searching for the tag number on the Chevy that had driven past her home.
"Hey there, Sara," Warrick returned her greeting without looking up from the microscope.
"Any breaks in our case?"
"No," Warrick waved her over to the microscope. "Take a look at this fiber."
"What fiber is that?"
Sara was uncomfortable as Warrick's chin snapped up and his eyes narrowed on her face.
"What's going on with you?" Warrick asked.
"Don't start on me Warrick. Not today." She had endured the questions and odd looks from both Warrick and Nick yesterday and the sense of it beginning again was alarming.
"Sara, you haven't been yourself lately."
"I asked you what was new with our case. Is that so strange? Have I never asked such an elementary question before Warrick?" She knew that her voice was rising and she was allowing her frustration to seep through.
"Is there a problem here?" Catherine asked from just behind Sara. "I could hear Sara all the way down the hall."
Sara turned at the sound of Catherine's question. "Warrick decided that I'm not being myself. I hadn't realized that I wasn't keeping up with my share of the case or that by my asking if there were any new breaks, I was in someway out of character."
Warrick sighed loudly. "That's not what I meant and you know it. You just haven't been focused. You found some fibers yesterday, bagged it and insisted it was important, and now you act like you've never seen it?"
Sara felt her face heat with embarrassment. Of course she remembered the fibers now, but it had slipped from her mind seconds ago when Warrick mentioned it.
"You want to talk about this Sara?" Catherine asked.
"Not really," Sara didn't want to talk about this with Catherine, Warrick, or anyone other than Brass. If she did then she would confess everything. All discretion would be off.
Catherine turned to Warrick. "Can you do without Sara's help on this case?"
"Catherine, I'm fine." Sara insisted.
"Warrick?" Catherine continued as if she had not spoken.
Warrick shifted nervously but kept his eyes steady. "If Sara needs some time off then Nicky and I will manage."
"I'm standing right here." Sara said through gritted teeth.
"I need you to go with me on a double at a small motel off the strip. Greg's already there and David should be with him as well."
"I guess so," Sara mumbled. What choice did she have? Catherine was the acting supervisor and once she made up her mind there was no changing it.
Warrick met Sara's eyes and smiled slightly. "We're cool?"
"Yeah," Sara knew that Warrick was right concerning her lack of focus. She hadn't been herself and that was going to stop.
Sara was on edge as she and Catherine walked to the parking lot and then drove the sort distance to the strip. She knew that it was a matter of time before the other woman questioned her about what was going on to make her so uncharacteristically unfocused.
Catherine chatted briefly about Lyndsey and teenagers in general. She complained about Grissom leaving her with a stack of paperwork that he somehow avoided like the plague. Sara listened. She made the appropriate comments concerning teens, but when Grissom was brought up she withdrew and turned to stare out of the window.
It was a small, nondescript motel off the strip. Sara was eager to move inside and prove to Catherine and herself that she could focus on the evidence. Focus. She didn't notice the odd look she was receiving from Catherine as the older woman followed her inside the motel and past the officers that were holding back the curious onlookers. Losing a step, Sara searched for the familiar face of Brass before shaking her head slightly and concentrating on the directions one of the officers was giving.
Room 112. Sara heard the room number as they moved past the officers and along the hallway. Vartrann stepped out of a room and spotted her approach, nodding a greeting to her and then to Catherine.
"Apparently the killer phoned headquarters and told the officer that answered what he had done and where the bodies could be found. He used a voice disguisher."
Vartrann stepped aside to allow Catherine to enter as Sara stood transfixed in the hallway staring at him with an odd expression.
"Is there a problem, Sara?"
Sara shook her head as she pushed the coincidence of the use of the device from her mind. It was a coincidence and just that. Greg was still snapping photos as she entered the room and he looked from her to Catherine with a troubled look.
"This is just weird," Greg told them and waited as they moved around the bed until they could see the victims. An older man, late forties to early fifties, lay sprawled on the bed wearing only deep blue boxers. His beard was peppered with gray and there was an air of familiarity about him that made even Catherine step back and gasp.
The woman appeared to be early forties, dyed black hair cut in an Egyptian style, black leather clinging to her lithe frame. She was handcuffed to the man and both appeared to have one commonality---they had red gashes along the base of their throats.
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Grissom's whole body ached. The aroma of coffee met his senses and he jerked awake as an uneasy feeling settled over his mind and he realized that he was not on the floor, and Sara wasn't in his arms.
Looking around, he reminded himself that he was in a hotel room with Heather, and Sara would be working. He pushed the chair back and rubbed the back of his neck as his eyes fell on his cell phone. Suddenly alert, he realized it had never awakened him.
"He failed to check in with us," Heather said from her position at the end of the bed. "Perhaps something has altered his plans."
Grissom thought about the cameras in his house and anger began to creep back inside his mind.
"I would love some hot tea," Heather told him when he continued to glare at the phone as if it were his enemy. "However, we only have coffee that I retrieved from the main office." She indicated the cup of brew that she had placed on the small table near his phone. Cream and sugar sat beside it.
"He has cameras in my home." Grissom said. His eyes moved from the phone to Heather and he gave no indication that he heard her in regards to the coffee. "I need to warn Sara, and the only way I can do that is to call her or return home."
Apprehension stole over Heather as she realized he was seriously on the verge of returning to Vegas, abandoning his agreement to help her find her grandchild. "Gil, if you don't continue with me to L.A. then I may never find out where Chloe's child is."
"He may not ever give you that infomation, Heather. This whole thing may be a ruse to get me away from Vegas and Sara." The more he considered the evidence, the more doubtful he was as to the lunatic intending on Heather finding this child. If not for the DNA information she had shown him, he would never have agreed to going this far.
"The child may not be in L.A." Grissom leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees as he stared at the stained carpet. "If I don't speak with Sara then there is no way I'm going to continue this farce."
"You gave your word to me that you would help me find my grandchild." Heather's statement was accusatory but her voice was unsteady.
Grabbing his phone from the table, Grissom strode to the door and said briskly. "Let's go."
He didn't look to see if Heather was following as he pulled his keys from his pocket and knew there was a decision to be made.
TBC
