SLOW BURN

~ Chapter 17 ~

Leaning against the hood of the rented Chevy Impala, Grissom watched as Detective Alan Morrison exited the ground-floor apartment and strolled across the parking lot towards him. The man reminded him a lot of Jim Brass – a little taller and considerably heavier but wearing the same supposedly-jaded facade that, Grissom knew from experience, disguised a man who actually loved the work he was doing.

"He asked for a couple of minutes alone." Jerking his thumb back over his shoulder, Morrison shrugged. "God knows why though; it's not like the place is exactly welcoming."

"I know." Crossing his legs at the ankle, Grissom made himself a little more comfortable. Five minutes inside the place had been enough for him and he'd quickly excused himself from what had been Melissa's final abode; the thought that, had she kept him, Ben would have been living in similar surroundings, driving him out of the stale-smelling, almost bare rooms and into the relative freshness of the complex's overgrown grounds. "I'm guessing it was purely a base for her; it certainly doesn't feel like she spent much time here and I imagine the rent would be fairly inexpensive."

"Leaving plenty of money for alcohol," the detective commented dryly. "At least, I'm guessing from what Mr. Collins told me, that that's where a lot of her paycheck would have gone." He cocked his chin towards the apartment. "She certainly didn't spend anything on making that place livable; although, by the looks of this joint, the whole thing probably should have been pulled down years ago."

Moving in beside Grissom, he copied his stance against the sedan. "I hope you don't mind but I had a colleague of mine run your name through the system," he mentioned almost dismissively. "I though it sounded familiar when we were introduced back at the morgue but, given the circumstances, I didn't want to be rude and ask," he turned slightly, eyebrows raised in interest. "So, you're that CSI, huh? I'm surprised you didn't go into the morgue with him this morning."

"I was that CSI but it's been a long time since I was in the business," Grissom smiled "And, I did offer to go in with Glen but he decided that it was something he needed to do alone."

Morrison nodded. "I get that you're a friend of the family and all but Vegas is a heck of a long way from Gainesville; surely there was someone closer to Florida who could have come down here with Mr. Collins."

"Maybe there was but I lived here for a while before making my way back to Nevada and know the place so..."

"It made sense for you to come," Morrison finished for him.

"Well, that and I once had a very brief…" he paused as he searched for, and failed to find, an appropriate term, "… relationship, if you want to call it that, with Melissa which resulted in the birth of my son."

"Ah, I see." Morrison glanced back towards the apartment door. "And her husband was okay with that?"

"Ex-husband," Grissom clarified. "They'd been divorced for a long time before I met her."

"And you have the boy?"

"I've had sole custody since his birth." He grinned proudly. "Well, until my wife formally adopted him a few months ago, that is."

"Okay," Morrison nodded slowly as he digested the information. "I guess that means you hung around with Melissa while you were here, huh?"

"No, not at all," Grissom shook his head. "We both worked at the university but I really had little do with her until we met up one night at a bar and, thanks to that, I can probably verify anything that Glen told you about her drinking because she, pretty much, drank me under the table."

"The tests that came back this morning put her at almost three times the legal blood alcohol limit when she died so I can believe that," Morrison pulled out his notebook. "You wouldn't happen to know if there was anyone that she regularly drank with, would you?"

"I really can't help you, detective." Grissom shook his head. "The last time I had anything to do with Melissa was over two years ago on the day my son was born; I haven't seen or spoken with her since then," he shrugged. "In fact, the only contact we've had has been through her solicitor." He glanced across. "So, are you sure she was murdered?"

"Well, we can't be sure of anything until after the autopsy but I'm definitely leaning that way. Why?" The detective narrowed his eyes as he turned to stare at the man beside him. "You know something I don't?"

"No, as I said, when it comes to Melissa I'm essentially clueless but from past experience, drunks are much more likely to find ways of winding up dead than most people; accidents, disagreements, misadventure…" Grissom offered. "All sorts of ways that sober people would generally be able to avoid."

"That's true but, in this case, I don't think things went down that way." Reaching into his jacket pocket, Morrison pulled out a packet of Nicorette lozenges and quickly popped one in his mouth. "She was found in the pool area of an apartment complex on the other side of town, we canvassed the residents but nobody knew her and they hadn't seen her about at all either. There were no obvious signs of violence on or around the body, however, there are petechial hemorrhages visible in both eyes and faint marks around her mouth and nose that I'm willing to bet have been caused by someone applying pressure."

"So you're thinking asphyxia," Grissom commented. "That someone smothered her."

"That's what it looks like to me but, as you know, we won't be able to say for sure until after the autopsy is conducted."

"Which should be when?"

"At the moment, that's kind of hard to say." Morrison sighed. "Gainesville has two medical examiners who cover eight counties in total so, when one of them is unavailable, it doesn't take long for a backlog to start forming and, right now, our chief M.E. is out with the flu. They're working as hard as they can to catch up but, the way things look right now, it may be a couple more days before they get round to this case." He glanced sideways at Grissom, more than a little irritated by the expected delay. "I've tried cutting in line but, so far, I'm not having a lot of luck."

"It doesn't matter how fast you want to move on a case," Grissom commiserated. "Once the coroner has the body, everything goes at their speed, not yours."

"You got that right," Morrison allowed himself a small smile. "In the meantime though, there is one odd aspect of the case that I'm hoping might give us a lead so we're not at a complete standstill."

Grissom frowned. "Odd aspect?"

"Well, unexpected might be a better word," he corrected, "But until I've had a chance to check it out I'm going to keep that particular detail to myself." He turned and watched as Glen Collins finally exited the apartment and started heading their way. "Looks like he's finished so I'd better go and lock the place up." Shoving his notebook back in his jacket, he pushed himself off the front of the car. "I've just got another couple of questions and then I think we're done." He held up a finger as he remembered something. "Oh, and I'm going to need the name and number of that solicitor if you've got it on you; I'll probably want to talk to him as well."

As the detective made his way back to the building, Grissom pulled out his cellphone and began scrolling through his contact list.

"Finally giving Sara a call?" It was a variation of a question Glen had been asking him ever since they'd left the airport that morning.

"No, I think I'll wait a little longer before I do that." He looked up into his friend's tired, pale face. "You okay? You were in there a while."

"Yeah," Glen nodded. "It was a waste of time, really there's nothing in there worth keeping anyway; I've got more of her belongings stored in boxes in my basement than there are in that apartment." He brushed his hands down the front of his shirt. "I feel like I need a really long hot shower."

"Well, after we finish up with Morrison, we can go book into the hotel and get you one." Grissom checked his watch. "Then after that, we'll find the best steakhouse this town has to offer and I'll buy dinner." He held up a hand as Glen opened his mouth to protest. "You insisted on paying for both hotel rooms plus the rental that I'm driving so the least I can do is pay for a meal."

"Okay," Glen nodded his agreement, a small knowing smile appearing on his lips. "But, before we eat, you'll phone Sara."

It was a statement not a question and, knowing that he'd be hounded at every opportunity if he didn't, Grissom acquiesced with a low chuckle. "But, before we eat, I'll phone Sara."

"You got another one there, buddy?"

Standing in the shade of the patio, Sara smiled as her son filled his small plastic beach bucket from the mound of freshly-delivered soil and carried it across to the garden bed that was currently under construction. She watched, her smile widening into a grin, as he carefully upended his load, trying his hardest not to spill anything on the surrounding grass, before dropping the bucket and clapping his hands in glee, clearly proud of the part he was playing in the afternoon's work.

"That's the way." Spreading the little boy's contribution in amongst the rest of the dirt, the young laborer tasked with completing the last of the beds, chuckled as he watched the toddler's reaction. "If you're looking for a job, you just come and see me; I can use a hard-working apprentice like you anytime." He cocked his head towards the ground where Ben was standing. "Now, how about you sit down and have a couple of minutes break while I smooth all of this out and then the two of us will go over and choose the plants we want to put in here."

As Ben obediently plonked himself down, his mother's cell phone rang and, picking it up off the seat that she'd left it on, Sara glanced at the screen, her eyes narrowing slightly as she read the caller's name on the screen.

"So, finally worked up the courage to call me, did you?"

"Well, I had to after being tipped off that you were on the hunt for a hitman." She could hear the smile in his voice. "According to the text Catherine sent me, I'm, apparently, in danger of imminent assassination."

I think a hitman's a little too obvious," Sara commented dryly. "Especially since we now have a swimming pool filled with water; I was thinking more along the lines of a late-night drowning that I could pass off as a tragic accident."

"Why pay for a professional when you can do the job yourself, huh?"

"Well, you know how much I hate wasting money." Turning back towards the yard she kept her eye on Ben as he followed his new mentor across to the assortment of potted plants that were lined up along the far fence line. "And Catherine's on the hook too, you know; Jim as well for that matter, especially since it turns out he was the mastermind."

"They're guilty of nothing more than wanting to keep you safe, honey; you can't really blame them for that," Grissom reasoned. "Jim's looking out for you, pure and simple, and, while Cath's doing the same, she's also looking out for the lab; any incident involving an employee can be difficult to handle but an incident involving a pregnant employee would be a nightmare."

"And you?" she queried.

"Oh, my motives were entirely selfish," he answered honestly. "I watched you walking away from me at the airport and realized how much I had to lose if something went wrong while you were in the field. I can't protect you from everything but Catherine gave me the opportunity to protect you from that and, if I hadn't taken it and something happened…" he fell silent for a moment. "… I had to make that call, honey; I had to make sure that you and our baby were as safe as I possibly could because, if something were to happen, I'd never be able to live with myself if I hadn't."

"Nothing would have happened." Sara softened her tone, realizing just how much thoughts such as those he'd just expressed must have been playing on his mind. "I'd have made sure of that."

"Could you have guaranteed it because I couldn't; we've all seen what can happen at supposedly safe scenes but if you need a reminder of that just think back to why I asked you to come to Vegas in the first place," his voice waivered slightly as he spoke. "Just remember Holly Gribbs, Sara; I still feel guilty about what happened to her and I played absolutely no part in her being where she was when that all went down."

"You weren't her supervisor, Gil" Sara reasoned as she pulled one of the new seagrass chairs away from the patio setting and sat down. "You have no reason to feel guilty about that."

"I know but I do and, maybe that's why I know how much worse it would be to have something happen to you or our child when I had the chance to minimize the risk." He took a deep breath before continuing. "Maybe that's why I'll do whatever I have to do - make whatever decisions I have to make - to ensure that the two of you are safe."

"And I love you for it but it might have been nice if I was actually consulted about something that impacts on me, don't you think?" She shaded her eyes from the sun as she checked on Ben. "That's all I'm asking for; we're equal partners in this marriage remember and that means we make decisions together."

"I know and I'm sorry…" She had no doubt that he was sincere, she could hear that in his voice but she could also pick up a slight hardness to his tone and knew from past experience that, on this particular issue, he was prepared to dig in for all he was worth. "For the lack of consultation, I mean, but not for the decision; given the same circumstances, I'd make the exact same choice again."

Ben wandered by, both arms wrapped tightly around a pot of Morea Iris and, watching his progress, Sara decided that any further discussion on the topic would be pointless. "I'm never going to win on this one, am I?" She chuckled lightly and opted for a change of subject. "How's it going there? You sound tired."

"That's probably because I am," Grissom admitted wearily. "We really haven't stopped since we arrived this morning but I'm actually feeling pretty good; a lot better than I have lately anyway."

"That's good, maybe that means you've finally managed to shake that virus."

"That's what I'm thinking too but just to make sure I'm going to hit the sack as soon as Glen and I get back from dinner; his flight leaves an hour before mine in the morning so we have to be at the airport by 4a.m. How's my boy?

"Busy playing landscaper at the moment and loving every minute of it." Sara smiled as Ben ran by in search of another plant. "I think we have a budding gardener in our midst."

"He must be channeling his paternal grandfather," Grissom quipped. "Hey, we'll be able to save a small fortune in monthly bills if we can hand all the outside work to him instead of getting people in to do it."

"He's maybe a little young for that right now but I think it's something that we'll definitely encourage," she looked around the patio area. "Maybe we could grow some vegetables in tubs out here: tomatoes, bell peppers, that kind of thing; I bet he'd get a kick out of that."

"I'm sure he would," he quickly agreed. "Look, I'm going to have to go, Sara, Florida's three hours ahead of Vegas, remember and if Glen and I are going to make our six-thirty reservation, we'll have to start making tracks."

"Okay, well, we'll see you tomorrow morning at the airport."

"You promise it'll be you meeting me and not a hitman."

"I promise," she laughed. "I've already told Ben that we'll be going in a little early so we can watch the planes take off and land and that we'll be meeting Daddy there so I can't really disappoint him now, can I?"

"No, I don't suppose you can," Grissom remarked. "I love you, honey."

"That is something that I have never doubted," Sara told him with a soft smile as she raised her hand to wave to their son. "And, although there are times like today when I wonder why, I love you too."

"So, all's well in the Grissom household now?" Comfortably ensconced in his seat at the Firewater Grill, Glen Collins grinned across the table at his friend.

"Well, I don't think Sara wants me dead anymore," Grissom answered as he cut another slice from the thick ribeye steak he was thoroughly enjoying. "But I'm sure she'll make me pay for making that decision somewhere along the line." He smiled, still savoring the fact that he'd gotten his way. "However, as long as she and the baby are safe, I can live with that prospect." Popping the meat in his mouth, he chewed and swallowed. "So, how are the girls dealing with the news of their mother?"

"Well, to quote April, 'she didn't care about us so why should we care about her' and Macy seems to share those sentiments." Glen shrugged. "I spoke to my mom before we left the hotel and it's business as usual for them apparently; they've both been perfectly normal." He skewered the final piece of his New York strip. "That's kind of what I was expecting though, they were both so young when Melissa walked out that neither of them remembers her and she never even tried to make contact with them." He looked up. "What are you going to tell Ben about her; when he's older, I mean."

"The truth," Grissom answered easily. "Sara was adamant when we first got back together that nothing be kept from Ben about how we came to be a family and I agreed so, when we think he's old enough to understand, we'll sit him down and explain things to him." He put his cutlery down and reached for his glass of soda water. "I don't plan on sugar-coating it either, I want him to know just how much damage alcohol can do to someone and how it can control your life. I will be eternally grateful to Melissa for carrying and giving birth to Ben and also for making sure that he wound up with me but the truth is that those are the only things she did for him; she wasn't interested in him on the day that he was born and I really doubt she was interested in him on the day that she died. "

"I suppose, when you look at it, none of them have really lost anything, have they?" Glen commented. "All three of them are happy, confident and secure kids who are surrounded by people that love them: the girls have me and my folks, Ben has you and Sara and the three of them will always have each other," he chuckled, "although that'll soon be the four of them though, won't it? You two don't mind that the girls have decided Ben's baby brother or sister is theirs as well, do you? Because, if you need any proof of just how excited they are at the prospect you only have to look at how many times Sara's due date has been circled on our calendar."

"No, we're more than happy about that," Grissom assured him with a smile. "It's like you said, the four of them will always have each other." Deciding he'd had enough, he pushed his plate back a little. "You did well today; I know it wasn't easy for you."

"It could have been worse; having you around to tell me beforehand what I was walking into back at the morgue made the whole thing less…" Glen shrugged. "…scary, I guess is the word." Raising his glass of Heineken to his lips, he took a sip. "You might have warned me about the smell though, that sort took me by surprise."

"The smell of the morgue?" Grissom frowned then shook his head. "I suppose I didn't think of it; they always just smell like hospitals to me."

"No, not the morgue; I mean the smell that came off Mel when they unzipped that bag that she was in." Glen shook his head, a little embarrassed that he'd even brought it up. "I don't know what I was expecting, really… liquor maybe; I mean, she hadn't been dead all that long so I knew it wouldn't be decomposition but I never would have imagined she'd smell of kerosene."

A/N: Thanks, as always, goes out to SylvieT for the beta of this chapter.