SLOW BURN

~ Chapter 21 ~

Pressing the last strip of bright blue tape tightly up against the window molding, Grissom took a couple of steps backwards into the middle of the room and surveyed his afternoon's work. It had taken over an hour of continual bending, stretching and, at times, crawling, but the nursery was now almost fully prepped to paint, the only thing left to do was to mask around the door frame and he'd be ready to go.

He flexed his left leg in an effort to ease the bone-deep ache his exertions had caused, wincing as the joint popped loudly in protest and then spun quickly as he sensed a presence behind him.

"You really should have woken me up, you know, I could have helped you out."

"I figured you needed the rest." Smiling into the still-sleepy face of his wife, Grissom shrugged. "As evidenced by the fact that you wandered off to take Ben's things to his room and, five minutes later, I found you curled up and dead to the world on his bed."

"I was feeling a little tired, I guess I didn't realize just how much though; I took one look at the pillow and that was that." Sara chuckled as she glanced over her shoulder towards the far end of the house. "Where is he?"

"Asleep in our room, he didn't last much longer than you did." Bending, he picked a few errant pieces of masking tape off the carpet. "I don't know what they did at daycare this morning but, apparently, it was exhausting."

"Hey, it's hard work playing in that sandbox." Sara glanced around the empty room. "So, we're ready to paint?"

"Almost," he nodded. "I spoke to Lily a little while ago and she's more than happy to have Ben spend the day with her tomorrow so I thought I'd get the first coat done after I drop him off and then the second one just before I leave to pick him up; that way I don't have to worry about little fingers trying to help out."

"Well, between the two of us-"

"Uh-uh," Grissom shook his head. "You're spending tomorrow on the sofa; after running from one end of this house to the other for me all weekend, you're going to put your feet up in front of the television and relax while I take care of you. Oh, and Catherine said to tell you that you're not allowed anywhere near the lab until tomorrow night."

"But I'm supposed to be working tonight."

"And now you're not," he told her. "According to Cath, a night of solid sleep instead of lying awake waiting for your husband's heart to stop is way more important that sitting at a desk doing case reviews and I tend to agree with her; I don't think you've had any proper rest since last Thursday and that's not good for you or the baby."

"No, I guess it isn't," Sara conceded. She'd tossed and turned each night since his collapse, afraid to nod off herself convinced that, if she did, she'd awaken to find him cold and still beside her. Looking back now, it was a foolish notion but one she hadn't been able to shake off and, despite her protest, she was actually more than happy with the prospect of a full night's sleep.

Moving the stepladder he'd been using closer to the doorway, Grissom surveyed the otherwise empty room. "So, we've just got a rug for the floor and the rocking chair to get now, right?"

"Yeah," Sara nodded. "I did consider moving Ben's chair in here but he still loves using it for bedtime stories so we're on the hunt for another one." She thought for a moment. "We got his from that furniture clearance place near my old apartment; they usually have at least a couple of different style rocking chairs to choose from."

"But that's also directly opposite the shopping mall where you were left, remember?"

"Vividly, but I can't blame the area for that now, can I?" Sara chuckled. "Not that I've always felt that way; Morgan and I were called to process a scene out that way a few weeks after it happened and the closer and closer we got, the more nauseous I became until, finally, I had to pull over and have her do the driving." She shrugged lightly. "I managed to convince her that it was pregnancy related but it wasn't; it was simply the first time I'd been in the vicinity since the day that happened."

"Are you sure you'd be alright now?" Grissom frowned. "I mean, there's bound to be dozens of other places in Vegas we can find a rocking chair."

"I'm sure," Sara smiled widely to alleviate his concern. "I used to love wandering around that place anyway, that's where I got most of the furniture for my apartment."

"Well, if I get all the painting done tomorrow as planned, we can spend Wednesday putting that decal of yours up and moving the crib and other stuff in from the garage then drop by the store on Thursday morning after your scan. I think there's a rug place around there too, isn't there?"

"A couple of blocks away, yeah," Sara nodded. "It'd be nice if we could get it all set up and ready to go," she smiled as she traced gentle circles across the mound of her belly. "It's going to make the whole thing seem so much more real when we have a completed nursery."

"So that bump you're caressing isn't real enough for you?"

"Oh no, that's definitely real but… I don't know," she shrugged, "I think seeing the room ready and waiting will underline the fact that we're only twelve weeks or so away from meeting our baby." She smiled self-consciously. "Considering the whole thing is something that I never thought I'd experience, I think it's probably normal that some aspects of it still seem a little unreal now and then."

"It probably is," Grissom conceded with a grin, "but I'd like to bet everything will feel all too real when you go into labor." He held up a finger. "Which reminds me, I was thinking maybe we could get away for a couple of days before the baby comes so-"

"Please tell me that the word 'babymoon' is not about to come out of your mouth." Leaning against the door jamb, Sara's mouth quirked up in a bemused grin.

"Do I look the type?" With a glare of mock disdain, he shook his head. "No, I was thinking more along the lines of the three of us driving over to Flagstaff-"

"Flagstaff?" Sara frowned. "Why?

"Well, we have to go to the courthouse in person to pick up Ben's new birth certificate so I thought it would be a good opportunity to do that and then play tourist for a day or so – it is his birthplace after all."

"The birth certificate with my name on it?" she nodded happily. "Yeah, I'd like that."

"I thought you might." Retrieving the painter's tape from the window sill, he smiled. "And sorting that out will give you something to do tomorrow while I'm busy in here; you can check out the hotels online and also pick out a couple of places that you'd like to see; this time of year there'll be snow around too so that should be more than enough to keep Ben amused."

"Okay," Quickly warming to the idea of a day on the couch, Sara's brows rose in question. "When?"

"Well, Jim's wedding is the week after next so pretty much any time after that, I guess," he shrugged. "You're on three day weekends until your leave starts and my work is flexible so any time should be good; we can leave here on the Friday morning, get the courthouse out of the way in the afternoon and then have the whole weekend to ourselves before driving back on the Monday; how does that sound?"

"It sounds good to me." Reaching across, she quickly pressed her lips to her husband's before she caught hold of his hand and held it to her belly. "And, apparently, I'm not the only one that thinks so."

Grissom chuckled as a decidedly sharp rap landed squarely in the middle of his palm. "That feels like an elbow."

"Either that or a knee." Sara smiled as he lovingly caressed the spot with his fingertips. "Now, I'd better go and wake his or her brother up otherwise it's going to be a nightmare trying to get him into bed tonight; you'll be, what?" She nodded towards the ladder. "Another ten minutes or so?"

"About that, I just have around this door to do then a final tidy up and I can close it all up for the night."

"Well, I'll keep Ben occupied while you do that, the last thing you need is him barging in here and undoing all your work." Sara turned towards the door only to turn back again. "Oh, since you bought up the subject of Jim's wedding, what are you doing for his bachelor party? That is the best man's responsibility, isn't it?"

"It is," Grissom nodded, "but, according to Jim, he doesn't want one. Helen's grandkids will be here by then and he's suggested taking them and Ben out for the afternoon instead." He shrugged. "He hasn't decided where yet but apparently burgers and soda will be on the menu for everyone."

"Grandpa Jim strikes again, huh? He does love that role." Sara smiled. "You can't leave it at that though; you've got to do something 'grownup' with him."

"I know and it's already organized; I thought we could drop the kids off after we're done and then I'll kidnap Jim for the night, I got a text message on the weekend that everything is good to go."

"And 'everything' is?' Sara's eyebrows rose in question.

"I can't tell you," he shrugged. "Sorry, honey, but-"

"You don't trust me," she finished for him.

"That's not true and you know it; I trust you with my life and, more importantly, I trust you with my children's lives, however, when it comes to my plans for Jim's night out…" leaning in, he quickly pressed his lips to hers before stepping back with an almost smug grin. "… I don't trust anyone."

"Hey, Catherine." Standing in the open doorway, Greg smiled warmly as his supervisor looked up from the report she was working on. "I thought I'd be the first one in tonight but I guess you beat me to it."

"By a couple of hours," Catherine glanced at her watch and then nodded towards the pile of staff evaluation beside her. "Now I know exactly why Grissom used to avoid these things like the plague; it doesn't seem so bad when you first start out but, there's really only so many times you can write 'always follows correct procedures for evidence collection and preservation' before you want to start pulling your hair out." Heaving a weary sigh, she flicked the current file closed and loosely clasped her hands on top of it. "So, what are you doing here so early?"

"I got a call from Detective Morrison in Gainesville a couple of hours ago and thought I'd come in and check something out before shift." He gestured back over his shoulder. "If you feel like a break, I've got a pot of the good stuff and a box of donuts waiting in the break room; I'm more than happy to share."

"You're on." The desk phone rang and she rolled her eyes as she reached towards it. "Just give me a moment to get this and I'll be right with you."

Five minutes later, Greg slid the box of assorted donuts into the middle of the large break room table before placing a steaming mug in front of Catherine.

"Good news about Grissom, huh?"

"Excellent news," she concurred as she picked up her coffee. "I don't mind admitting that I was expecting the worst."

'So was Sara." Greg made himself comfortable on the seat opposite. "She sounded so relieved on the phone I can only imagine what's been going on in her head over the weekend; the prospect of a toddler, a newborn and no Grissom," he shrugged, "she must have been terrified."

"She certainly sounded it when she called out to me after finding him on the floor." Catherine was racked by an involuntary shiver at the memory. "I hope I never hear my name being called with that particular tone again; that is one afternoon I am never going to forget."

"Is she working tonight?"

"Nope." She shook her head before taking a sip of the piping-hot brew. "She won't be in until tomorrow; I think having her fully rested is a lot more important than brushing the dust off some old casefiles just now." Placing her cup down on the table, she reached for a maple glazed donut. "So what did Morrison want?"

"Apparently, the medical examiner's office is still working through their backlog so, with no other real leads to follow, he decided to check through the traffic camera footage from I-75 both before and after Melissa's estimated time of death.

"And I assume he found something."

"Yeah, he did." Studying the open box before him, Greg opted for a Boston Kreme. "A light colored Volvo sedan with two front seat passengers, one male and one female, that took the turnoff you'd use to get to the apartment complex Melissa was found at and showed up again, heading north forty minutes later, minus the woman.

Reaching for a napkin, Catherine wiped frosting from her fingers before commenting. "I hate to point it out to you Greg but it might have been nothing more than some random guy dropping his date home after a night out."

"True," he conceded. "But when Morrison ran the tags from that car they came back to a Toyota Camry with a registered owner in Pensacola and it wasn't until the detective called the guy that he discovered he'd been driving around with someone else's plates on his car. When Morrison ran those plates through the system, it turned out they belonged to a silver Volvo S60 that was reported stolen last Wednesday from a mall parking lot on the other side of town. "

"So, he's stealing cars from one location and then swapping out the plates with some he's stolen from another vehicle?" Catherine shrugged. "I guess, when you think about it, no one really pays much attention to the tags on their car; you'd notice straight away if they were missing but as long as there's a physical plate where it should be, you'd just assume that it was yours."

"That's what Morrison thinks that he's doing and, with that knowledge, he managed to trace that car from Florida to Louisiana where it was found dumped out the back of a strip mall in a town called Ruston." Greg took a sip from his coffee cup. "He made a call to the local police department and asked about any vehicles that may have gone missing around the same time and discovered that a Ford Fusion was stolen from the parking lot of a bar later on that night; the owner was drunk at the time and had only a vague recollection of bumping into someone when he headed outside for a cigarette some time during the evening but couldn't get any more precise than that, and the bar has no exterior security cameras so there was literally nothing to go on."

"No missing number plates?"

"None were reported." He shrugged. "And there were no sightings of that car either; Morrison tried his best to track it but had zero luck and he was about to give up on it altogether when he stumbled across a report of an unusual incident involving a Ford Fusion on I-40 just outside of Santa Rosa, New Mexico."

Pulling a small notepad from his pocket, Greg flipped it open to the hastily scribbled notes he'd taken during his phone conversation with the detective.

"Apparently, one of the Highway Patrol officers out there radioed in the tags from a blue Ford he was following that was going a little faster than he was comfortable with and asked for dispatch to run a check on for him since they were out of state plates; that check came back showing they'd been stolen from a vehicle in Texas the day before so he told the dispatcher he was about to pull the car over and asked her to standby while he made the stop. When they didn't hear back from him, they sent a second officer out there who found the locked patrol car exactly where it should have been but no sign of either the Ford and the officer was missing as well. They did, however, find his crushed bodycam on the driver's seat."

"When they finally broke into the patrol car, the dashcam footage clearly showed the deputy approach the Ford and then reel back slightly as though something was thrown," leaning forward slightly, Greg emphasized the next two words, "or sprayed towards his face. He spends the next minute or so trying to wipe whatever it was off and then suddenly gives up and stands beside the car as though he's listening to the driver talk before he returns to the patrol car and moments later the dashcam is turned off."

Sitting back again, he swigged for his mug as he watched Catherine digest everything he'd just said. "A helicopter located him, two hours later, sitting on a rock about three miles into the desert; the man had no idea how he got there and absolutely no recall of either the Ford or its driver."

"Well…" placing what was left of her donut down on the table, Catherine breathed in deeply. "That certainly sounds familiar."

"It does, doesn't it?" Snapping his notebook closed, Greg slipped it back into his pocket. "The Fusion was found burnt out in the desert just outside of Albuquerque and, as far as Morrison can tell, there have been no stolen car reports that fit our suspect's M.O. since." Greg shrugged. "That's why I came in early; I want to see if I have any more luck from this end."

"So," Catherine frowned. "He's on his way back."

"Uh-uh. Greg shook his head. "That incident in New Mexico happened yesterday morning, Catherine; he's not on his way back, he's already here."

A/N2: Thanks, as always, to SylvieT for her beta of this chapter.