Ch. 9:
The morning sun lit up the inside of the hotel room as he lay awake watching Sara sleep. Her hair was spread out over the pillow, tousled and a mess, lips parted and swollen, and the skin around her neck red but not bruised, never bruised. The same with her wrists and thighs. There had been red marks, inflamed skin, but he never left bruises. It never went that far or got that rough.
She used to wake up in a sweat, panicked and her head full of pain from the nightmares that plagued her dreams. They involved her parents. Her dreams had been filled with screams and blood. Murder. Then, one day, it all stopped. There was no screaming, or panic, no twitching in her sleep, and no more night sweats. She was at peace in her sleep. Her face relaxed and calm, steady breathing, and completely oblivious to the world.
Safe. That was what it was she told him as to why she no longer woke up in a panic. She felt safe. He made her feel that way.
He had stood outside the hotel room for five minutes the night before, debating about what in the hell he was going to say. Nothing seemed right. Then she opened the door and everything went away. He knew just by looking into her eyes that he would be okay, that they would be okay. How he had let his mind convince him that she wouldn't still love him or accept him, he'd never know, because she had proven to him once again that not only did she love him, but that she wouldn't judge him.
He was sorry. Sorry that he ever doubted her. Sorry he let himself think otherwise. Sorry he went to Heather's house. Sorry he didn't know how to catch himself before he fell so far in his despair that he stopped caring. Sorry for not loving himself enough to truly value and accept the love and forgiveness that she gave him.
Pulling her into his arms, he felt it all fall apart. All the control he'd been holding onto since his daughter called him on the phone that morning had dissolved in an instant. He couldn't control this; he couldn't control anything. There was no such thing. Tears broke, a sob escaped his throat, and even though she didn't need to hear it, he told her anyway.
Then she kissed him as he nearly hit his knees, but before he could, she had pulled him back into the room and then shoved him down onto the bed.
His hands were inside her robe and felt only skin. She was naked under the hotel robe, and he moaned into her mouth. Pulling away, she told him, "You want to know a secret about me?"
"What?" he asked breathlessly as she stared down at him, her hands rubbed over his clothed chest.
"I wanted to say yes. Saturday night when you called me and wanted to meet for sex. I wanted to say yes."
"Is that why we're meeting in a hotel room?"
She was smiling, nearly laughing. "Partly. Honestly, I've missed this. Us meeting just for sex. No dates or expectations, just being who we want to be in a room where we can do anything. I think we need it more than a date. What'd you think?"
He couldn't think. All he knew was how he felt. He loved her. He really loved her more than he ever loved anyone. And she loved him. He wanted her love to seep so deeply inside of him that nothing on earth could break it. Last night, that love had been tested. He could've lost Sara for good. She had every right to hate him and to leave. She could've ripped his heart out of his body, and he wouldn't have stopped loving her. He would have even forgiven her for it. That was the only way he knew how to love. Completely and sincerely through anything.
She was worth the pain. She was worth the effort. Maybe that was why he expected the same in return. Maybe that was why he thought it okay to falter and break and to make mistakes, because he knew her love for him was the same. She would forgive him and continue on loving him because she thought he was worth the pain and effort.
"Gil?"
The shook his head at the thoughts that'd spun around it as he realized just how much he'd been wrong. How wrong his mind had been and his thinking. He felt the tears in his eyes again and had to close his eyes in anger. He was so angry at himself for being such an idiot.
"Hey." Her hands were on his face and he tried to take a breath as she bent down and kissed him.
She licked over his ear, something she knew he liked and got him going. She never had to work that hard; she could turn him on with a touch, a look, a smile. He felt the body against hers start to tremble. His hands were on her hips in an instant, steading her, but then he realized it wasn't Sara who was trembling. It was him. He was shaking.
Sara's hands were in his hair, on his face, his chest as he was being kissed. She was getting his mind off it. She didn't want to talk or to have answers. They were there in that hotel room because she wanted him to forget, if only for a few hours. This was their escape and it always had been until it stopped. Rolling over, he pushed her down into the mattress as he deepened the kiss with his tongue, inciting a moan as she pushed up against him.
He was extremely overdressed, but he knew she had a thing for him keeping his pants on, but everything else could go. Standing up, he took his jacket and shirt off, kicked off his shoes and pulled off his socks as she sat up undid his belt and pulled down his zipper. He gripped her hair in his hand and watched as she took him into his mouth.
"Oh, fuck—…God," he breathed out as the sensation was unlike any other. It was hard to keep breathing, hard to focus, so he closed his eyes and fought like hell to not end it too soon. "Yes, yeh—" his grunt got stuck in his throat as he choked back a groan.
Closing his eyes, he tensed as he felt Sara deep throat him. He grabbed her hair tighter, yanking her head back before she made him come, as he leaned down and gave her a deep kiss. He then pushed her down and climbed over her body.
He didn't want it to stop. Never wanted to stop.
He placed a kiss on her chest before taking a nipple into his mouth and biting it, making her gasp in pain, before he licked it better. Running his hands over her chest, he felt her body quivering and shaking under his palms. As his hand ran over Sara's body, he never felt more giddy, more alive, more in love than he'd ever felt before with anyone. He started laughing as he leaned down to kiss the bare skin that burned under his.
Then he kissed lower, parted her legs, and returned the favor. After making her come, he worked his way back up her body as his body ached for release.
Her lips felt so good on his body as her fingers worked over his neck and shoulders. It took everything he had to stay focused and to not give into the urge to come as quickly as possible. They hadn't used condom in a year, hadn't needed to since he had a vasectomy and had been, up until last night, strictly devoted to only being with her. Even though he'd used a condom with Heather, he wasn't sure if Sara still trusted him in that area.
She grabbed him and pulled her closer, their sweaty bodies sliding against one another. "Please fuck me. I want you in me, now."
He leaned down and kissed her as he hooked her leg around his, pulled her closer as he pushed in, filling her completely. Everything else in the world went away except for how good it felt. Focusing on the pleasure and shutting everything else out, he heard her voice urging him on.
"God, yes, babe, more. Don't stop. Don't...I want—"
He did as he was told as he started fucking her with abandon, making her choke on her sobs of how damn good it felt until Sara cried out as she came. Closing his eyes, he felt his body shutter as he came soon after. The euphoria that rushed through his body nearly sent him out of it.
It was hard to breathe as he felt her hands on his body, soothing him back down and kissing over his face and neck, anywhere her lips could reach. Then her lips were on his, kissing him as if her life depended on it.
God, he loved her so damn much he had to tell her. "I love you so much."
Her eyes were open as she watched him. Her hand was on his chest, coaxing him out of his thoughts and back to her. "We really need to talk."
"I know we do."
"Can I ask you something?"
"Always."
A soft smile twisted her lips, her eyes were still heavy with sleep, as she asked, "What was it like being with her?"
"Julia?"
"No, not Julia. I told you to come to me when you feel unsteady. I want to be the one to help you through it, but also the one you continue to escape life with. And instead, you chose on your own to go off and be with someone else. What were you thinking?"
It got hard to breathe suddenly but he understood why she would ask. What had he been thinking? "I thought you wouldn't love me anymore. I thought it was for the best. It would give you a reason to leave me for good." How did he feel? "Afterwards, I felt hollow. Driving home, I wanted to die. I felt so bad. I knew I hurt you."
She was quiet but her hand was still on his chest. "You love me?" He gave a nod. "Why? I mean, what is it about me that keeps you coming back when you can easily go back to being unattached? You can go back to living by your "I don't date" rules. Why don't you?"
Letting out a breath, his mind began swirling as he thought about the answer to that question. "That's not easy for me to answer," he said as he tried to form an answer. "It isn't a simple question of why. I'm not going to give you a list of reasons that only amount to personality quirks or traits that most everyone exhibits because, quite frankly, none of those things are why I love you."
She pushed up on her arm and stared down at him. A soft smile appeared on her face as she told him, "Take a breath. I wasn't expecting a list. All I want to hear is whatever answer you come up with. As long as it's the truth, I'm fine with whatever you have to tell me. Now, relax, and if you need a minute, or a day, to think about it I can wait." She laid back down and placed her hand back on his chest.
He almost let the question go all together, and gave it a day or two, or a week, but it had already been years. Her still being there, forgiving him, and not running away was all the proof he needed that her love for him wasn't conditional. She wanted to be with him even through the bad times. Through the times when he was lost not only to her but himself.
This was important to her; she really wanted an answer as to why he loved her. She wanted to know why he kept coming back to her when he could have been the one to end it. He never asked Sara why she loved him. It wasn't because he didn't care, it was because Sara never kept anything hidden. She made it clear every day they were together just what it was that made her come back for more. He felt guilty for not being able to do the same.
He worked his brain, trying to find a way to answer that question to the best of his ability. What made it so hard was that Sara didn't understand how hard it was for him to love anyone to begin with. She didn't know how deeply his pain went, his guilt, and how he wanted at times to hurt himself. How at times he didn't think anyone should love him. He figured the only way to answer that question was to explain how he learned to accept the parts of himself that he didn't like, and in accepting his flaws, began to accept the love she had for him.
Grabbing her hand, he rubbed at the abrasion on her wrist from where he'd tightly grabbed it and left a red mark. He placed a kiss over it as he kept his eyes on her. "I always have to be good all the time. The dutiful husband, adoring father…" He placed another kiss on her wrist. "I get tired of trying to be what I know I'm not." When she went to protest, he told her, "I know there are parts of me that's good, and honest, and loving. Just as I know that there are parts of me that are vindictive, and angry, and selfish. A part of me wants a relationship with you. One that involves commitment and marriage. Another part of me wants…depravity. I try not to feel ashamed by it anymore or feel guilty for being human. I try not to blame anyone but myself for my mistakes…I say I try because that's all I can do. I'm not always successful. And when I fail…"
He didn't have to say anything, she knew the rest. She was quiet for a while as she continued to massage his chest. A faint smirk appeared on her face as she told him, "I knew you were married in San Francisco. Our first time together. I, uh, snooped in your car and found your wedding ring."
She knew this entire time? He stared at her in disbelief as he asked, "And you never said anything?"
"I was waiting for you to be ready to share. Warrick said that you only share every nine years and thirty-four days. Granted it's only been six years and—" He nearly laughed as he rolled over and pushed her into the mattress as he kissed her. As he ended the kiss, she said, "You don't have to tell me about your marriage if you don't want to. You can keep your secrets if you need them—"
"It's been long enough. I don't want to hide from you anymore." He should have already talked to her about all this years ago, when she first moved to Las Vegas. But like everything, he put it off believing it wouldn't matter because she would leave him eventually. He'd been an idiot ignoring the truth. "I tried with Julia. I tried so hard to be everything she wanted me to be. It got to be where I sacrificed so much of myself that I lost who I was. That's when I knew I had to get away. I left her. Moved to Vegas."
She stared up at him, hand on his face, as she said, "You don't have to put yourself through being in a relationship with me if it's something you don't want—"
"I want you—"
"Sexually—"
"No," he said as he shook his head as he stared down at her. How could she think that was all he needed from her after all this time? She asked him why he loved her because she didn't know how much he truly needed her. "Not just sexually. Sara, you're more to me than this. You have no idea how much I need you." Letting out a breath, he said, "For years, I was under the misguided belief that my sense of worth, the only thing I could offer, was intertwined with my sexuality. Truth was, I only thought that because I didn't really know who I was. And I let the opinion of others dictate my opinion of myself. I thought something was wrong with me. I was, at the core, bad. I held onto that for a very long time. It still creeps in, plagues my mind, all that shame and guilt, when I get so lost and—"
"And that's what makes you unsteady and uncomfortable at times?"
He gave a nod. He swallowed hard at the feeling of loss he'd felt in his chest as he admitted all of that. He hadn't spoken that truth out to anyone. Now that it was out there for Sara to hear, he felt guilty for the sadness it must've caused her.
He could hear Sara's sudden stillness, the breath she held and then exhaled as she asked, "What helped you realize that nothing's wrong with you, because there isn't. That's why I love you despite what you did last night."
"How? I mean…" How? He thought again as he tried to figure it out.
"You see me," she told him, breaking him out of his thoughts. "I see you. That's what we give each other. There's no judgment, only understanding. You know, I spent my whole life feeling worthless and doomed to be like my mother. I was embarrassed and angry. You made me feel alive and worth something. Your confidence and consideration…Babe, you took my pain away. And when I'm with you, I know you only want me to be happy, even if you're wrong about my happiness being connected to yours. And I can forgive you because it's what you need me to do. It's how I take your pain away."
Again, he was reminded about how wrong he'd been. They should have done this a long time ago, but he was always so reluctant to talk about anything, especially their relationship. This was why he loved her. It was also why it was so hard for him to feel worthy of it. "I keep coming back to one question: how can I love you, if I can't love myself? It's not possible. It's not about loving or hating the parts of yourself that scare you the most, it's about accepting all of who you are and learning what you can and can't live with. You make me want to love and accept every aspect of who I am. I know how to be a good father, how to do my job, and now, with you, I want to learn how to be a good boyfriend, a good husband."
He felt her hand lift off his face and he missed the warmth before her fingers were in his hair. Sara pushed up into him and kissed him hard. Moaning into the kiss, he rolled over onto his side and kept going until Sara was on top of his body.
She was debating something; he knew that because of the way she bit her lip. "I want you to be honest—In the four years since I've moved to Vegas, how many other women have you been with sexually?"
"Two. Teri Miller and Heather."
"And how many before I moved to Vegas?"
He suddenly didn't want to speak. They never talked about his history before she came to Las Vegas. It'd been during a time when he was going through a lot of uncertainty. Before Julia reappeared in his life, he'd been extremely promiscuous. Going out, finding women to be with as he drowned himself in self-loathing and alcohol in-between working crime scenes and playing poker. Never the same woman twice because he didn't date. He was done with relationships; he just wanted sex, used it as an escape, much like he'd done with Sara. Then after Julia came back, they had tried to work things out once she got pregnant.
He had wanted to be a good father and husband. Again, he tried to please her, do what she wanted him to do despite himself. He was willing to try anything to make their relationship work for their child. Once he realized, yet again, it wouldn't work out, that he could never satisfy her, that was when they had developed their current agreement.
Shaking his head, he finally answered, "It doesn't matter. I don't want to go back to being who I was before we met. I didn't really like that guy." For a moment it looked like she wanted to cry, but then she leaned down and kissed him instead. Breaking the kiss, he stared up at her as he reached up and rubbed his thumb over her cheek and felt the wetness of tears. Sitting up, he kissed her before resting his forehead against hers as he told her, "I'll never fully be able to tell you how much I love you, or all the reasons why, but I do. I don't want this to stop. That's why I'm here with you and why I will always come home to you, for as long as you let me."
Sara's arms were around his shoulders, pulling him into a deep, long, kiss as she moved on top of him, getting him hard, until he could push up inside her. Her breath hitched in her throat as her hand twisted in his hair, nails racked over his back and shoulders. They stopped speaking as their bodies took over doing all the talking.
She was strong and affectionate and everything he wasn't but wanted to be. There were so many reasons why he loved her. So many things that came to his mind as to why he had given his heart and trust to Sara. Why he felt it safe with her to be human. It all came down to one simple fact and that was because Sara loved him. That was why. She really loved him, so how could he not return the love back?
Kissing Sara, he rolled over and pushed her down onto the bed, slid inside of her, and made love to her. It wasn't rough, or violent in any way. There was no tying up her wrists and smacking her ass. It was slow, there were deep kisses, gentle touches, and a longing that stirred within his chest as he let her roll him over and take control as she rocked on top of him.
Sara knew it all now. Over the last four years he'd told her everything. All his secrets. She knew of the other women. She knew of the times when he would disappear to drink and play poker for days because nothing else mattered. He would tell anyone else that he was going off to race cockroaches or something, but in reality, he was in a closed off room playing poker for days. He really didn't know where people thought he got the money he did to fund the things that he could fund. He had one job, and it was working for the city. The money he won playing poker wasn't just to fund his hobbies but to take care of his daughter.
Sara had become his best friend and partner in crime. He wanted her to be the only woman he ever had sex with for the rest of his life. She was worth all the pain her love caused his heart and all the effort it would take to say no to anyone else.
Hell, Julia betrayed him so many times, slept with both his best friends, but deep down, no matter what, he loved her enough to not be bitter and vindictive towards her about how their relationship started and how it ended. He didn't blame her for how he was now. Julia was the mother of his child. She was a friend to his mother. That was why he knew for a fact he hadn't done anything against her in any way.
But something had happened. He knew it. Something bad had happened that he couldn't remember, and whatever it was, it was his fault.
One Week Later
The television was on in the conference room and as she walked in, she heard the news coverage.
"What happened to Julia Holden? An accomplished author, a prominent professor and pillar of the Las Vegas deaf community, Julia Holden was last seen Sunday, March 14th, which had been a day of happiness as she celebrated her daughter's eighth birthday. Then, while her daughter was asleep in her room, she vanished without a trace. The suspect in her disappearance: her estranged husband. Dr. Gil Grissom. The once renowned Las Vegas criminalist—"
Grabbing the remote, she clicked the TV off as she said, "For the love of God, don't ever turn that back on." Catherine tossed the remote onto the conference table as everyone in the room turned to face her. Everyone that was except for Sara who had been reassigned to another case.
They all had other cases they were working on as well. Warrick had an arson, Nick a hit-and-run, and Sara was currently out on a homicide involving a minor. She was also working a homicide, and Gil, well, he was still on administrative leave and a requested vacation. This week was his daughter's spring break, and with the news coverage and insanity of office politics, he took the week off to be with his daughter.
Before walking into the conference room, Greg had given her the final results of the toxicology report. It's taken a week due to machine malfunctions and other cases taking prevalence and the fact that some tests took longer than others. It took time to process but now they had the results, which was the final piece of evidence they were waiting on in the missing person's case.
"Okay, let's go over this from the beginning," she said as she sat the file down along with her cup of coffee.
There wasn't enough coffee in the world to prepare her for having to file charges against Gil Grissom for the possible, suspected murder of his wife. She really hoped it wouldn't come to that, but she knew the evidence they had and so did the District Attorney, who followed her into the room along with Captain Brass and the Director of the lab.
District Attorney Jonathan Jefferson was newly elected and was looking to make a name for himself. He had promised the people of Las Vegas that reform would be his highest priority. That no one was above the law. He was a good D.A., but he also made her nervous if he was only looking for the glory and not real justice, or the truth.
They all took their seats around the conference table, and she looked at Nick first and said, "Start with the timeline."
Nick cleared his throat as he looked at the file in front of him containing snapshots of the neighbor's security camera footage. "Grissom leaves Julia's house and goes to Heather Kessler's. He's there from 10 pm to about 2 am. Dr. Lurie leaves the hospital, goes to Julia's house. He's there from 11:35 pm to 12:10 am. Arrives back at the hospital at 2:25am, that's confirmed by the staff and security cameras. Dr. Lurie never returned to Julia Holden's house. Further investigation by Brass concluded that he went to another woman's house. A nurse. Debbie Marlin. Grissom did go back to Julia's house, arriving at 2:15 am. He leaves eight minutes later at 2:23. No one else comes or goes from the house until Officer Mitchell arrives that morning." He spread out the snapshot of the video stills that Archie got for him as he shook his head in anger.
Catherine knew he was angry because they hadn't found anything else to prove that it wasn't Grissom driving the car. They had nothing to disprove that it was him who went back. "Warrick."
Warrick was leaning back in the chair, a frown on his face for the same reason. "Phone in Grissom's car with a single thumbprint. Grissom's print. We confirmed that the phone was Julia's cell phone. Wiped clean. Numbers are for women who meet with men and other women at a masquerade club. It's an off the Strip place, out in the desert and reservation only. They wear masks to conceal their faces, but Julia was a regular. She had, uh…" he gave a shrug as he said, "admirers."
"Admirers?" D.A. Jefferson asked.
"Yeah, you know, men and women who she gave her attention to while at the club. It's not a sex club but…they meet up to hook up," he said as he continued on, picking up a sheet of paper. "We also have the transcript of the voicemail that Julia left on Grissom's cell phone at 12:09. She basically tells him that the divorce is off, and she needs to see him."
D.A. Jefferson reached over and took the transcript. He read it over and said, "She doesn't specify who requested the divorce in the first place, just says that it's off."
"What difference does that make?" she asked as she felt where this was headed.
Jefferson handed the transcript back to Warrick as he told her, "All we have to go on is Grissom's word that Julia was the one who told him that she wanted a divorce. Evidence only shows that she called it off, not that she requested it."
"You think he lied?"
"I think he could have been lying, yes. Wasn't there a wedding ring found in his car as well, Mr. Brown?" Jefferson asked as he looked over at Warrick.
Warrick sighed as he gave a nod, "It was an engagement ring. I found it in the console."
"Anything else?" he asked.
Catherine could tell that Warrick was getting annoyed but only because of what the evidence suggested. He glanced her way before telling the D.A, "Grissom's car was cleaned, detailed. Bank transactions," he said as he pulled out the sheet and handed it over to Jefferson, "shows he paid with his debit card at the car wash off Tropicana."
"Yeah, the uh, night manager there remembered Grissom," Brass said as he spoke up from beside her. "Said that Grissom appeared drunk, or extremely exhausted, he couldn't tell."
"But it was Grissom who paid to have his car cleaned?" Jefferson asked.
Brass gave a nod. "The manager ID'd his picture. He remembered him very well because Grissom fell asleep in the lobby. It's one of those places where the employees clean the car while you wait. Then, uh, Grissom woke up, got in his car, and left."
"What does Grissom say?" Director Cavallo asked.
She answered as she told him, "He says that he doesn't remember. And Greg finished the tox screen." She opened the file and pulled it out as she told them, "The only substance found in his blood was zolpidem, otherwise known as Ambien."
Jefferson asked, "He had taken sleeping pills?"
As Director Cavallo spoke up, asking, "Could that explain Grissom's memory loss?"
"His so-called memory loss, you mean," Jefferson interjected as he leaned back in the chair.
"I'm not a medical expert, but I have heard of people reporting bouts of amnesia after taking sleeping pills, even medications for anxiety like Valium can cause memory loss."
"Yeah," Nick said as he gave a nod. "We had a case once where a woman was driving while on sleeping pills, got into a wreck and killed someone. She had no memory of waking or getting out of bed to drive anywhere."
"I've heard of "Ambien Sex"," Greg said as he walked into the room as everyone looked up at him. "What? It's a real phenomenon. Look it up."
"Thanks for the input, Greg," she said before asking, "What else have you got for us?"
"Oh, uh," Greg took the tox report as he told them, "I just wanted to clear something up about the medication in Grissom's blood. It's fast-acting and is eliminated from the body fairly quickly. The half-life is about two hours, with the depletion of it being cleared out of the blood within 5 to 6 half-life's, meaning two times five, or two times six, which gives us a 10-to-12-hour window. Grissom's blood was drawn after 7 pm. Twelve hours earlier was 7 am, not 2 am, which would have been—"
"Too late for him to use it as an excuse for not remembering what happened to his wife," Jefferson finished for Greg.
Catherine shook her head, saying, "Not necessarily. Greg's leaving out the part that the half-life is under ideal circumstances. The half-life can change depending on a number of factors, including metabolism, age, body mass, food and fluid intake, as well as the amount taken. There are a number of factors that can easily change that 10-to-12-hour window to 16 to 18 hours. There was a case where we detected sleeping medication in a victim's blood 20 hours after it'd been taken."
"I want to know why Grissom didn't get subjected to a urine test, wouldn't that have been the usual requirement?" Cavallo asked.
She shrugged, telling him, "The only substances undetectable in the blood after the first twelve hours is alcohol, LSD and morphine. Everything else remains in the blood for at least 12 hours or longer, including common drugs used to impair memory, like MDMA's, barbiturates, and Rohypnol."
Cavallo asked, "And Grissom had been drinking, correct?" She gave a nod that he had. "Tell me, Catherine, what happens when you combine alcohol and sleeping pills?"
"Well, again I'm not an expert, but I can surmise that the side effects of the sleeping medication would be made worse, including amnesia. He would appear highly intoxicated, experiencing dizziness, might have respiratory issues, odd behavior…vomiting. There are any number of things that could happen to the body and mind."
Jefferson asked as he leaned on the table, "Could he commit murder?" She couldn't answer that, and quite frankly, she didn't know if she wanted to answer it. "If "Ambien sex" is a thing, I wonder if "Ambien murder" is also one. The facts are these: Grissom was having an affair, the divorce was called off, he returned to her home and Julia is now missing, presumed dead. All evidence points to Grissom, her husband, who was last seen, and the only one seen, at the house at 2:23 the morning she went missing. There is evidence to suggest a cover-up after the crime. And his only defense is he doesn't remember due to sleeping pills in his blood that according to your own DNA expert, was administered possibly five hours after the time of the disappearance." Catherine felt a sinking feeling in her stomach as D.A. Jefferson stood and said, "File your report, Ms. Willows, and by this time tomorrow morning, there will be an arrest warrant issued for Gil Grissom for the suspected murder of his wife. The people demand justice."
"The people demand the truth," she countered as Jefferson went to leave the room.
"And it'll all come out in court, that is unless Dr. Grissom confesses."
Once Jefferson was out of the room, she said to Director Cavallo, "If we arrest Grissom now—"
"His career is already hanging in the balance, Catherine. I don't want him to be guilty any more than any one of you do, but we have to go where the evidence takes us. It's only taking us to one person. Unless you can present another name, this is where it's going."
She watched as he left the room and everyone, it seemed at the same time, sighed and hit the table. Nick stood and kicked the door before leaving, heading to the locker room. Warrick cursed and headed after him, rubbing the back of his neck.
Brass shook his head as he stood, groaning and shoving the chair under the table, saying, "We tried."
"Where's Detective Rodriguez?"
"Oh, he went out to California. That's where Julia Holden and Grissom were first together, so he went out there thinking he might be able to dig up something. We'll see."
She watched as he left and sighed heavily as she shook her head. Her gut was telling her that Grissom was innocent, but the evidence was saying otherwise. They had nothing else to go on, and unless Julia Holden was found, this was what they had. It was enough to bury him in circumstantial evidence.
D.A. Jefferson was going to take this to trial because Grissom would never confess. It was all going to come out in court. Hopefully, that included the truth.
She gathered up all the evidence into her file and shook her head, muttering as she picked up her cup of coffee, "This was going to be a character assassination."
Right then, she felt sorry for Grissom, for Sara, and for the publicity and media hell that was about to come their way.
TBC…