A/N: Thanks again everyone for the reviews and favorites. This story was definitely a risk, given the subject matter and what I have planned, but I've been wanting to read a story like this forever. I never saw Gil and Sara having a child, but I could see Gil having a kid with someone else. And I only wanted him to have a deaf child. It just makes sense in my head. I hope everyone is liking Charlotte because I love her. I also hope that I got Sara's reaction right. I've been doing a lot of debating about how she'd handle everything, but at the end of the day it's my story and an AU, so I wrote what I felt was right.
Anyway, onward.
Ch. 6
"This doesn't bother you—"
"Why should it? He has the same right to privacy as you and me, and we all know how he is. What'd I say when we first learned that Grissom knew sign language? Who knows what that man does when he leaves work. He doesn't owe us a damn thing, Nicky."
"We're his friends, we—"
"No, we're not. I'm your friend. We talk about more than just work. We hang out and grab a beer. Grissom's your co-worker. The moment he's out the door, he's out of your life. Work is where his friendship ends."
"I found someone's little soldiers on the bed sheets," Catherine said, interrupting Warrick and Nick's banter.
She'd been doing overhead shots of the house, both inside and out, while Warrick, Nick, and Catherine did all the processing of evidence. Catherine had been confused with her decision to take a more hands-off approach but let her as everyone else was willing to jump in with both feet into the missing person's case. It wasn't that she didn't want to find the missing woman, she did, it was because she was in a relationship with Gil. She didn't want to get accused of any wrong-doings or tampering of evidence if any legal action was taken against Gil.
They've been informed by Brass before he left that they were handling this no different than any other missing person case. And since Gil was married to Julia Holden, then he was a suspect and was to be treated as such. They didn't want any claims of bias.
"Catherine. He never said anything to you about being married or having a kid?"
When Nick asked Catherine that question, she lowered the camera and looked around the master bedroom as she heard Catherine answer, "I had no idea."
It was a white room with framed artwork and photographs, not one of Gil and she was glad that Julia felt no need to have framed photos of the man who didn't live in her house but was still legally married to. In fact, so far, she saw no pictures of Gil in the entire house. There were plenty of Julia and all her escapades around the world. She was a very adventurous and famous person who had a lot of famous friends. There were only a few of Charlotte; posed photos from school or professionally taken in a studio.
"Sara?"
She turned to look at the night shift team as they were looking at her expectantly. "Huh?"
Catherine asked, "Did you know he was married?"
She could lie, but she never wanted to lie, especially to them. Gil did consider them all as his co-workers, but they were her friends. She gave a nod and went back to taking pictures, saying, "I knew he was married. Not about his daughter."
"You knew and didn't tell anybody?" Catherine asked in disbelief.
"Like Warrick said, he's a private guy."
"I'm not surprised," Nick said. "Sara is the only one who receives Christmas presents from Grissom."
"They're subscriptions and books, Nick—"
"Still gifts," he shot back.
Warrick huffed out a laugh when she took a glance at Catherine. She saw a curious look in her eyes, probably wondering if they were together. She'd have to tell her sooner rather than later that the answer was yes. Now wasn't the time.
She finished the master bedroom, took photos of the master bath, and then headed down the hallway. As Warrick and Nick kept bickering back-and-forth about the concept of privacy and if Grissom was entitled to it or not, she walked into the daughter's room. There was no need to turn on the lights as they were already on.
It was a white room, just as the master bedroom, with a butterfly and flower-patterned bedspread and pillowcases with a butterfly shaped pillow on the bed. A pink rug on the floor and a white nightstand with a drawer and a purple lamp on top of it. There were framed pictures on the walls as well of a butterfly and horses. A bookcase full of children's picture books and a desk that was free of clutter with a framed photo on top of it of Charlotte next to a pony in a horse-riding uniform. Opening the closet, she saw her clothes organized, along with a riding jacket and pants, and on the floor a horse saddle. Everything in its place and a place for everything. Picture perfect for a catalog, just as Julia's room.
Looking at the photo again of Charlotte, she saw her smiling at the camera, a blue ribbon on her riding jacket, and felt herself smile. She looked happy. And her blue eyes were reminiscent of Gil when he got excited about something. She also had his nose. A cute kid.
Again, not a single picture of Gil anywhere. She took photos of the room and checked the desk drawers and then the nightstand drawer. A photo album and diary were in the drawer and she picked them both up and sat on the bed. Opening the photo album first, she found the photos of Gil. Every page of the album book was full and all of them at various stages of Charlotte's life. All in order of year from birth.
Charlotte had been premature and the photo she was looking at was of a very nervous looking Gil holding a very tiny baby Charlotte. He looked the way he did when they first met in 1996 and she did the math and realized that it was the same year. Charlotte was born March 1996 and Gil had been in San Francisco later that year for the fall semester of 1996, October until November.
Pulling the picture out, she flipped it over and read that Charlotte had been three months premature and only weighed three pounds and eight ounces. September 1995 was when Gil and Julia had been together. Then a year later, they were together. She remembered how Gil was back then, nearly a decade ago, and shook her head.
She remembered finding the wedding ring in his car, making assumptions of his life in order to justify her actions in being with him despite the possibility that he was married. She'd been young and naive and also full of desire. Abandoning all rationale to get what she wanted, she hadn't even considered the possibility that he was also a father.
All she knew was that he wasn't happy. It was evident in how he was, acted, and the things he said. He'd been sad, and in pain, and he was running away from it all over the course of one weekend and he'd taken her along for the ride. A ride that hasn't stopped. He'd gotten a better handle on his drinking, and he wasn't as impulsive as he had been, but he was still in pain and still running away from it. When she learned to deal with her pain, Gil was still burying it. Punishing himself in his shame and guilt.
It all made her heart hurt. Flipping through the photos, she knew one thing: Charlotte brought him so much joy. And she obviously felt the same way about her dad. Gil's nervousness and concern in the early photos had quickly changed to happiness and joy in all the others. He loved his daughter. And he had hidden this part of his life from her all these years the same way Charlotte had hidden the photo album in her nightstand. Gil and Charlotte's life together was to be kept secret and hidden away.
"Sara?"
Glancing over at Catherine, she saw her standing in the doorway. Holding the picture album and diary, she told her, "Found these in the nightstand. I haven't checked the diary yet. There might be something in it."
Catherine walked around the bed and sat down, her eyes taking in the room. "Pretty room. The only thing that's Gil's influence are the butterflies."
"It's uh, too perfect."
"Either it has to be for the mother's liking, or, she's overcompensating for something. After my divorce from Eddie, my daughter thought that if she kept her room nice and neat that he'd come back. Kids tend to blame themselves for their parents' problems. She doesn't feel that way now," she hurriedly said, "but it took a lot of reassurances from the both of us for her to understand that she wasn't to blame."
Sara handed the photo album to Catherine and then opened the diary to the last page. Reading over the words, she felt herself smile. "Listen to this: "Today was the best day ever! Daddy got me a pool for my birthday, and he showed all my friends the butterflies in the garden and told Michelle not to be scared of the spider I named Rajah who made a web in the tree. Mommy wants to kill him, but I told her he was nice and that he ate all the mosquitos. That's his job!"" She lowered the diary and said, "He raised a mini-Grissom."
Catherine laughed as she took the diary from her. "Not at all surprised." She read back a few pages and said, "This is interesting. "Mommy's friend came over and he was very tall and looks like Jafar…" Rajah and Jafar. She's a fan of Aladdin."
"I've never seen it."
"You don't have any kids. Jafar has a goatee." She went back to reading the diary entry and said, "Charlotte wasn't a fan of her mother's boyfriend. Says he wasn't her daddy and her mom told her to go to her room."
"Sounds like they wanted alone time."
"It sounds like they didn't want her around at all." She handed the diary back as she did a more extensive search around the room which revealed a hidden baseball glove and sketchbook. Tossing the glove on the bed, she opened the sketchbook and said, "Not all was perfect in the Julia Holden household."
Getting up, she felt a twisting in her gut before she was shown the drawings in the sketchbook. Charlotte was angry about something, and it was evident in the pictures she'd drawn. Most, if not all of the pictures, involved her mother. "Do you think Gil knows anything about this?"
"I don't know. We're going to have to ask him. This," Catherine said as she bagged it, "could be seen as motive."
"You actually think Gil did something to her?"
Catherine shook her head as she wrote her information and case number on the bagged evidence. "Sara, we just found out that he has a family. What can you honestly say you know about the man?" She was giving her that look again. "Is there something you need to tell me?"
"I'm done here. I'll meet you guys back at the lab." Packing up her field kit, she headed out of the room, down the hallway and steps, and then out of Julia Holden's house.
~"Now here you go again, you say you want your freedom, well, who am I to keep you down? It's only right that you should play the way you feel it, but listen carefully to the sound of your loneliness, like a heartbeat drives you mad, in the stillness of remembering what you had, and what you lost, and what you had, and what you lost…"~
As "Dreams" by Fleetwood Mac played out from her Walkman cassette player, headphones wrapped around her ears, she was led down a long hallway as she clutched her stuffed cat to her chest, bag heavy on her shoulders. They were the only things she could take from the house.
The door at the end of the hallway opened and she walked inside the brightly colored office and sat in the chair. A certificate hung on the wall over the desk declaring that the doctor was certified in psychology. Dr. Andrew Hopkins was a psychiatrist, and she was to be evaluated before being put in a foster home. She didn't understand it but she figured they had to make sure she wasn't like her mother.
Clutching her stuffed cat tighter, she closed her eyes and let out a deep breath as she tried to steady her nervousness as she listened to the music in her ears.
~"...Oh, thunder only happens when it's raining, players only love you when they're playing. Say, women, they will come and they will go, when the rain washes you clean, you'll know…you'll know…"~
Her mother was schizophrenic and during a paranoid episode where she'd accused her father of cheating, grabbed a knife and in her rage, she'd stabbed him to death. She'd murdered her dad. A tear broke and slid down her face. Her family, her whole world, was gone in a matter of seconds. Her dad, even though he'd been abusive, was still her dad. She still loved him. And her mom, despite her illness, was so beautiful and funny. Now they were both gone, her world was so much smaller, lonelier, and all she had was what she'd taken from the house.
~"Now here I go again, I see the crystal vision, I keep my visions to myself, but it's only me who wants to wrap around your dreams, and have you any dreams you'd like to sell, dreams of loneliness?"~
As the door opened, she was wiping the tear away as she hit 'stop' on the Walkman and pulled off the headphones. She watched the psychiatrist walk in and shut the door. Sitting behind his desk, he had a folder in his hands. He opened it and shuffled through the papers that were inside it with a concerned look on his face, which made her concerned and worried.
Then he handed the pictures over to her and she nearly gapped when she saw the hand drawn pictures. They were the pictures she'd drawn. She left them in her bedroom, hidden away in a book on her bookshelf.
Cleaning her throat, she told him, "I read Moby Dick. I'm not crazy."
"I didn't say you were, Miss Sidle, but not all of those drawings are of a dying whale."
She looked back down at the pictures and felt the anger in her chest.
"It's my job to make sure that I'm not endangering—"
"I'm not a danger to anyone! I'm—" she let out a breath and shook her head. "Okay, I'm angry but I'm not going to go off and murder anyone if that's what you think! I'm not my mother."
He gave a nod and said, "Let's talk about that—"
"I don't want to talk about it."
"Miss Sidle—"
"And stop with the pleasantries already." She tossed the pictures on the desk and crossed her arms as she looked out the window, out over the buildings toward the Golden Gate Bridge. "This is a waste of time. There's nothing wrong. I'm not crazy."
He didn't say much after that as he took notes and waited for her to speak again. She never did. An hour later, he let her go and she was placed in a foster home with other kids who were just like her: alone and afraid. Some who became friends and were no longer alone and dealt with their fear.
She was left alone as she buried herself in her books and music and her class work. She never was any good at making friends.
Walking into the crime lab, she noticed how quiet it was in the lobby. Everyone was gathered in the reception area, standing around the television. She spotted through the bodies gathered in the room what was on the screen. It was Gil. He was walking out of the police department with his daughter in his arms. His daughter had her face practically buried into his neck as he tried to get through the rush of reporters shoving microphones and cameras into his face. With his sunglasses on, she couldn't see his eyes, but she knew that he was terrified. What Gil had always feared the most was being known, and she knew that this was going to kill him and make him turn even further in on himself.
She dropped off the field kit, deposited the camera with Archie in the A/V lab, and then headed to the locker room after clocking out. She changed into the clothes that were in her gym bag, a pair of jogger pants and a light jacket over her tank top. Grabbing her iPod and headphones, she left the building. She put on the headphones, stretched out, and then started with a light jog down the sidewalk before picking up speed as she crossed the street and entered the park.
As she ran, Joni Mitchell's songs playing in her head, she couldn't help but think about the man she'd been dating for the past year but had been with for the past eight years and their relationship. She'd always been so accepting of it from the very beginning and despite the rules, secrecy, and emotional unavailability, she'd gotten to know him really well. Even though he didn't want the world to know him, he was okay with her knowing exactly how he was. He'd told her all those years ago when they first met that he knew her anger. He understood her because they were the same.
~"I came upon a child of God, he was walking along the road, and I asked him where are you going, and this he told me "I'm going on down to Yasgur's farm, I'm going to join in a rock 'n' roll band. I'm going to camp out on the land, I'm going to try an' get my soul free…"~
He'd said: "Have you ever felt at home anywhere? In someone's arms? Have you ever felt safe?" And when she told him never, he'd said "And that's what's making you afraid. It's why you feel so angry, deep down."
"How—?" she went to ask him when he tilted his head back so he could look her in the eyes.
"I feel that way too. And I don't want you to have to feel that way when you're with me."
She never felt safe anywhere and never trusted anyone. How could she when her father went from the most loving man to the most violent and when her mother's own mind deceived her and made her kill. Nothing and no one could be trusted. Nowhere was safe anymore. She thought she'd be alone forever, until she met Gil.
~"We are stardust. We are golden. And we've got to get ourselves, back to the garden…"~
And with him she started to feel safe, accepted, and mostly loved. As she continued to run over the paths through the park, she couldn't help but remember their second time together when he'd returned to San Francisco in 1998.
She slammed the car door shut, tossed her bag into the backseat and tried not to let the tears fall beyond the edge of her sunglasses. Reaching up, she wiped a tear away before it could fall. Before her was the open road that led up the hill and then back down it towards the bay. They weren't moving. Turning her head, she saw Gil watching her behind his sunglasses. The top of his convertible was down, it was in drive, but he hadn't released the brake.
"Are you—"
"Drive."
He didn't argue as he finally released the brake and headed up the hill and then over it as he drove. Without even asking her where she wanted to go, he drove until the city was in the rearview mirror and they were in the hills heading north. She had no idea where they were going but she had a pretty good idea and that was good enough for her. He told her to pack an overnight bag, bring hiking boots, and plenty of water.
She wasn't afraid when she was with him. With him, she felt okay to just jump in his car and let him drive without wondering where they were going or what he'd do to her once they got there. He told her not to fear him and she didn't.
They arrived at Palomarin Trailhead near Palomarin Beach and parked. He got out, grabbed his own bag, closed the hood on his car and locked the doors. It'd been two years since they'd been together but that didn't mean that they lost touch. They'd kept in touch with emails, a few phone calls, and the forensic journals he'd sent her as Christmas gifts.
~"Then can I walk beside you? I have come here to lose the smog and I feel to be a cog in something turning. Well maybe it is just the time of year, or maybe it's the time of man, I don't know who I am but you know life is for learning…"~
As they hiked through the trails, getting closer to Alamere Falls, which was a waterfall called a "tidefall" since it was directly on a beach and flowed right into the ocean, she found herself taking his hand and gripping it tight. He let her and also seemed to reach for her hand even though he wasn't helping her over a fallen tree or along the slippery rocks through the river.
The Coast Trail that took them to the falls was over an hour's hike and it was exactly what she needed. Fresh air to clear her head with someone she trusted and who made her feel better. As they walked around Bass Lake, she finally told him why she'd been so angry when she got into his car.
"I've never been good with making friends." He kept a hold of her hand as they walked under the tall redwoods. "I thought I found one. She's a photojournalist and we decided to rent an apartment together to help save money. Turns out she spent all the money I'd given her for rent and bills, thinking she'd get it made up in time to pay everything off…She didn't."
"Are you going to get kicked out?"
"I talked to the landlord and he's willing to give me more time, but our electricity was shut off. That's why I was angry when you pulled up. I told her to get out, she didn't want to leave, and we got into it. I'll probably go back home to a destroyed apartment."
"At least you'll have electricity."
"I don't know how—"
"I'll pay for it. Get you caught back up."
She stopped walking and he kept going until he nearly pulled her off her feet because they hadn't let go of each other's hands. He turned around in surprise as she gaped at him. "I'm not asking you to—"
"I know," he said as he stepped up to her, squeezing her hand as he grabbed her around the waist and kissed her. Stepping away, he pulled her along the trail with him as he told her, "You never have to ask me for anything. I want to help you out, anyway I can."
They came along a sheltered cove with a small sandy beach, and he stopped and removed his bag off his shoulders. Then he pulled off his shirt. Glancing over at her with a sly grin on his face, he asked, "Wanna swim?"
He didn't have to ask her twice, and she'd been prepared as she wore her two-piece swimsuit under her clothes. She untied the light wind jacket from around her waist and dropped it to the ground along with her bag, kicked off her hiking boots and pulled down her pants. Gil had also been prepared as he had swim shorts under his pants as well.
Taking her hand in his, he pulled her with him into the lukewarm water of the lake. Because of Gil, she'd become more spontaneous and adventurous when it came to sex. She'd joined the "mile-high club" on a flight to Miami with some random guy in a fraternity. She was also seeing another guy who she knew was just using her for sex but didn't care. They were having a good time while they were together and that was all that mattered. This thing with Gil was them just enjoying their time together as well, but unlike the other guy, she actually loved Gil.
~"We are stardust. We are golden. And we've got to get ourselves, back to the garden…"~
They swam in the water, made out under the shade the trees provided, which made her need for him ache over her whole body, before they continued on their way to the waterfall.
Standing on the edge of the forty-foot cliff on top of the waterfall, looking out at the Atlantic Ocean with Gil's arms wrapped around her waist and lips on her neck, she hadn't felt happier since he was last there two years ago.
She thought they were heading back to the car, it was an hour's hike back and it was getting late, but he had other plans as they kept walking north. And as the sun was setting over the ocean, making the sky a dark shade of red and the mountains around them a cooper color and the grass orange and gold, they arrived at Wildcat Campgrounds. She'd noticed the sleeping bag on the backpack on Gil's bag but hadn't realized that he had two small pillows rolled up inside it and a tent in the bag.
~"By the time we got to Woodstock we were half a million strong, and everywhere there was song and celebration. And I dreamed I saw the bombers riding shotgun in the sky, and they were turning into butterflies above our nation…"~
They made a small fire, set up the tent with a view of the mountains so they'd see the sunrise in the morning. Sitting on the ground to warm up by the fire, he sat behind her and wrapped her up in his arms again as they sipped on the whiskey he'd brought. During the entire hike he'd pointed out every butterfly, insect and spider that they'd passed, educating her all everything about them and now, as they sat under the stars, he pointed out all the constellations.
~"We are stardust, billion year old carbon…"~
His lips were on her neck again as his hands roamed up the front of her body, under her shirt, and she let out a breath as she leaned back against him. She'd missed him so much it hurt. He didn't do much talking on the walk about anything personal, it was all about his job or what she'd been up to. It didn't matter, she told herself, all she ever cared about was how he made her feel. She was safe, accepted, and wanted.
He wanted her and she wanted him. Turning in his arms, she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him. All she could hear in the dark night was the crackling of the fire, the chirping of the crickets, and their kissing and breathing. His hands were sending shivers down her back as his fingers barely glided down her skin. She was getting needy; the aching that'd been building since they kissed at the lake was threatening to burst out as she pushed him onto his back and moved over him.
He groaned into her mouth as he grabbed her ass, the back of her thighs, and she felt his hands gripping and squeezing. Letting go of his mouth, he breathed out, "God damn, Sara, you feel so good."
Once they were lying down on the sleeping bag, his lips and hands were soothing all her pain away once again. Unlike the first time, this time was different. It wasn't rough or wild, but calm and gentle. He took his time in everything he did from removing their clothes to taking her in his mouth, making her ache for what felt like hours before he moved up her body and slid inside her.
Then he didn't move for a long moment as he rested his head against hers, breathing out as he kissed her lips before telling her, "I've missed you."
Running her hands through his hair, she told him, "Me too."
He smiled slightly, kissed her again, deeply, before he started to move. It was slow, deliberate, and she didn't want it to stop. They weren't just having sex anymore to take the pain away, and she felt the difference whether he wanted to admit it or not. They were making love.
The next morning, as they watched out the door of the tent as the sun came up over the mountains, she didn't want him to leave.
~"...We are golden, caught in the devil's bargain…"~
As they hiked the near two-hour trip back to the car, she asked, "Why don't you move to San Francisco? You seem to like it here."
"I can't," he told her without any hesitation.
"Why not? I'm sure you can find a job—"
"Sara," he still had a hold of her hand, and she felt the pressure he'd put on it. He was debating now, as if he didn't know how to answer her. "I told you not to fall in love with me."
"Gil—"
"I can't move here," was all he said as they kept walking. Despite his words, he still didn't let go of her hand.
He wasn't upset. He almost seemed dejected. She didn't know why; she wasn't rejecting him. She knew that she made him happy. She could feel it. He was rejecting what he felt.
There was something in Las Vegas that he couldn't leave behind, not even for her.
~"And we've got to get ourselves back to the garden."~
Getting back to the lab, she took a long shower and then changed back into her work clothes. Leaving the locker room, she nearly ran into Nick in the hallway but kept walking as he called out after her.
"Sara. Hey, Sara!" She stopped and turned around as he headed towards her. "I got some results back and since Cath and Warrick went to the PD first, I thought we'd go over it as we grab something to eat. You okay?"
"Yeah," she said as they started for the breakroom. "Fine. Went for a run."
Nick pushed open the door and held it for her before heading over to the refrigerator as she sat down at the table. "You must be starving." He grabbed the takeout box from the leftovers they had last night and was saving for tonight and handed it over.
It wasn't anything she needed to heat up, half of a sandwich awaited her as she flipped the lid open. Nick grabbed his food and made some selections from the vending machine and tossed her a bag of chips and placed two cans of soda between them on the table. She grabbed one and he grabbed the other.
Then he got down to business as he held up the two printouts in his hand. She couldn't believe he'd gotten results back so fast. "How long have you been back?"
He glanced at the clock on the wall as he told her, "Half an hour."
"And you got results back that quickly? It takes Day Shift half an hour to remember how to work the machines."
He chuckled but it quickly died on his face as he looked at the results. "Well, these didn't take any time because they first ran them against exemplars. But got matches instead."
She frowned at him as she took the two printouts and looked them over. Two positive matches. First on prints and then on DNA. "Grissom was there last night."
"He didn't say he wasn't." They both looked up to see Catherine and Warrick standing in the doorway, neither looked happy. Catherine had more printouts in her hand, and she placed them on the table as she pulled out a chair to sit down. Warrick went to the vending machine to get himself a soda. She continued, saying, "Grissom confirmed he was there last night. He stayed after the birthday party to help cleanup. Had a glass of wine—"
"That's where the DNA came from," Nick told her. "The wine glass. The prints as well."
"His prints were found all over the house, including both bedrooms," Catherine said as she held up another printout. "And the master bathroom. His DNA was on the bed in the master bedroom."
They'd gotten results back so fast due to them wanting to exclude Gil, but instead he was the one getting all the hits. She was afraid to ask but somehow found her voice. "The semen on the bed?"
Catherine shook her head. "The only negative. He told Brass that he and Julia haven't been together in years. They have their own separate lives and have been with, and are dating, other people."
"So, why was he in her bed?" Nick asked.
Catherine shrugged, saying, "Many reasons. He could have been playing with his daughter, and…tackled her in the bed. Eddie used to do that with Lindsey."
Nick let out a breath and said, "That's plausible."
"According to Grissom, they were officially getting a divorce. She told him last night."
Warrick had sat down beside her and sipped on the soda as he said, "That's motive."
She turned to Warrick in disbelief as she said, "You can't possibly think that Grissom did something—"
"Of course not, but what I think and what the evidence could say are two completely different things. What are the three elements of the crime triangle? Motive, opportunity, and intent. And what's the other Holy Trinity Grissom is always preaching? Victim, suspect, crime scene. Grissom's wrapped all up in this every which way. Check it, Julia told him that he'd only be free of her and their marriage under two conditions: their daughter turning eighteen, or Julia meets her future husband. But Grissom's seeing someone too. He says that Julia was the one who told him that she wanted a divorce, but what if he's lying? What if he went to her to tell her he wants out, he's in love and wants a divorce, but she refuses. He reacts and, things escalate."
"I can't believe you," she said as she shook her head.
Warrick held up his hands in self-defense as he shot back, "Someone has to play Devil's Advocate, because we all know the D.A. will. Unless his alibi can be confirmed, he's looking like the only one who could have done it." He eyed Nick who was chewing his food and asked, "What'd you think?"
Nick glanced around the table before answering him, "No way. He'd never leave his daughter there alone."
"She was asleep—"
"She woke up to an empty house, Rick," Nick shot back. "Okay, say you're right. Gris would have gone back to the house and got his daughter so she wouldn't be left alone, man. He loves that little girl. You can tell by the photos and the news coverage. No," he shook his head, "he wouldn't do that to her. He had no idea that Julia was missing. Whoever took his wife, didn't care about his daughter."
Warrick smiled as he gave a pleased nod, saying, "I like that. That's what a good defense attorney would argue."
"This is looking like it could go both ways," Catherine said as she gathered the printouts into one pile. "The same evidence that could clear him, can also be the evidence that buries him. It'll all come down to if the D.A. believes he's lying or telling the truth. Or, if Juila Holden is found, dead or alive, and there's evidence to clear him."
She let out a breath as she pushed her food away. She wasn't hungry anymore. "You think they'd push for a trial even if Julia isn't found?"
Catherine shrugged, saying, "I don't know. But we've charged and convicted plenty of people for murder or suspicion of murder despite a body never being recovered due to the evidence. Corpus delicti: body of evidence. All the D.A. has to prove is that a crime has been committed. So far, with this circumstantial evidence, and the fact that he's technically having an affair, it's not looking good."
Grabbing her uneaten food up, she tossed it into the trash and headed out the door. She thought of clocking out and going home but found herself in Catherine's office, waiting for her.
Catherine didn't seem surprised to see her as she shut the door and sat beside her on the sofa. "Sara—"
"We're in a relationship."
"I thought you two were, but then he confessed to Jim that he was with another woman last night, who wasn't you, and I wasn't so sure."
Staring at the opposite wall, she felt the anger stirring in her gut and up into her chest. "Catherine—"
"If you tell me that he's cheated on you before—"
She shook her head as she told her, "Gil didn't cheat on me. It had nothing to do with me. He…cheated on himself." She let out a deep breath, trying to relieve herself of the anger but it wasn't working. "Not that he needs defending, or that I need to defend why I still love him and want to be with him, but…I've known this about him for eight years now. He made a mistake, and he knows it. I'm not going to punish him for it; he's too busy doing that to himself. It's why he did it. It's punishment."
"For what?"
Finally looking at Catherine, she told her, "Being alive. You wouldn't know it, working side-by-side with him all these years, Catherine, but spend any amount of private time with him and you find out very quickly how much he hates himself. He can't be happy. He won't allow it. That's why after he finally heard the word "divorce", he went out and ruined it all."
TBC…
Disclaimer song used: "Dreams" by Fleetwood Mac. "Woodstock" by Joni Mitchell.