A/N: New chapter! Thank you for reading! A special thanks to those who review!

In Search of Truth

Chapter 5

"I'm going with you today."

Grissom turned from selecting his shirt, asking, "To the lab? For the seminar?"

Sara pulled a shirt over Ellie's head and ruffled her daughter's curls. In a playful voice, she said, "Yes! I'm going to check out this McCall woman in person—and she signed up for your bug seminar today." She lifted the squirming baby from the bed to the floor; Ellie grabbed the edge of the bed and tentatively gained her balance.

Kneeling beside her youngest daughter, she realized how quickly her baby was becoming a toddler.

Loud giggles came from the bathroom so Grissom left his shirt on a hanger and stepped to the open doorway. On the floor, rolling around wrapped in a large white towel was one of his children. All he could see was a mop of hair and for a few seconds, he did not know which name to call.

A second voice came from the direction of the toilet, "I pooped! I pooped!"

Grissom would never understand the need of his two oldest children to announce their bathroom events as his daughter just did.

"Everett, why are you on the floor? And wrapped in a towel?"

The little boy scooted away from him, giggling before saying, "I'm a caterpillar!"

Taking a few steps, Grissom caught the white shrouded child, lifting him over his shoulder as Everett erupted in laughter.

"Dadda, I need wiping." The high-pitched voice of his daughter came from the toilet cubicle.

Grissom turned toward the sound to see a naked little girl trailing a line of paper behind her. The bidet fixture on the toilet was a strange and different device for his kids—as was the use of toilet tissue if he was nearby.

Placing his son on the floor, he said, "Find your clothes for the day, Everett."

"Can I wear my swim shorts all day?"

A week into their visit with Catherine, Grissom knew Everett would stay in the pool all his waking hours if permitted. "Sure, but wear a shirt at breakfast."

"Dadda! I have poop on my bottom!" Waving her arms like a cheerleader, Libby's feet danced on the marble floor while toilet paper sailed above her head.

"Okay, okay," he said as he headed to his daughter. Taking the tissue from her hand, he said, "You know, Libby, it takes just a little paper to wipe your little bottom. We don't need half a roll. And you can sit on the toilet until I come to you."

Her long arms went around his neck. "I was all by myself." Her lips pursed in an air kiss. "Love you, Dadda." She placed a kiss on his chin.

As long as he lived, he would never understand how genetics gave their daughter his childhood face yet bestowed the ability to look at him with her mother's mannerisms. Constantly, he was amazed at his ability to love these children—even as he cleaned a small bottom and picked up her unicorn printed underwear as his first daughter ran to catch her brother—he felt a deep wonderment as happy noise moved around the bedroom, Sara's voice added to those of their children.

Smiling as he walked to the closet, his thoughts on his children. His son was his duplicate in looks, actions, characteristics; Libby, her appearance so similar to Everett the two were often taken for twins, was Sara in distinctive gestures and in intelligence. At age three, the little girl had a vocabulary that improved daily; she grasped concepts that far exceeded her age. He knew she would be the rebel, the free spirit who would lead the others.

Later that morning, he and Sara entered a much-changed lab from the place they had worked together. Even in five years, changes had been made. New equipment buzzed and whirred; new employees worked in specialized positions that Sara had never imagined.

While her husband was here to present a seminar on insect activity on bodies, Sara was here to snoop.

Maxine, the new lab director, met them at the entrance. The Grissoms had met her previously when Doc Robbins had retired and the three talked about the lab and recent updates as she walked with them to the conference room.

She said, "We appreciate this so much. Of all the specialized areas, we've not found an entomologist willing to work in the lab."

Her comment opened up a discussion with Grissom and Sara wandered around the room, looking at the many photographs hanging on the wall. Someone had decided the room should be decorated with poster size crime scene photos cropped to show a small segment of the photograph. She was surprised to recognize several photos from crime scenes she'd worked years ago. One photo showed a corner of a miniature apartment, another was of a brightly colored gum wrapper, a third of a shiny car bumper with smudged fingerprint powder along the bright white paint of the trunk; she recalled instantly each case in a flood of memories of sounds, smells, and people.

As employees entered the room, Sara moved to the back and watched. Anna McCall was supposed to attend the seminar; she wanted to observe the ballistic expert who might—probably was—the person causing problems with court cases.

The room filled quickly. Popular speaker, Sara thought with a smile, or everyone wanted a forty-five minute break from work. She waved at David Hodges when he entered. For a while, he had worked in the field before deciding his abilities were better suited for lab work.

One of the last people to file in was the young woman she knew as Anna McCall. Hair not as blonde as her employee photo, cut shorter with the sweeping bangs across her face. And today, she wore glasses, heavy frames for her delicate face.

As Grissom introduced himself and began to tell an often told story of insects, Sara scrutinized the young woman. Finally, she settled on the face—wishing she could hear Anna McCall speak.

Grissom entertained. Even Sara laughed at his corny jokes she'd heard a thousand times. She groaned as he related another crime scene story involving insects. For a few minutes, he went through life stages of beetles and got delayed laughter when he called one Ringo.

Quickly, Sara glanced at Anna McCall in time to see a brief smile as her hand brushed her bangs aside. That face, Sara thought, as she closed her eyes and tried to imagine a younger face, a different hair style.

After thirty minutes, Grissom asked for questions and a surprising number of hands shot up. She sat back in her chair, knowing the answers could go on for another hour. When a few people shuffled toward the door, Anna McCall stood and left the room; Sara followed.

McCall's first stop—the restroom, along with three others.

No longer a small room next to lockers, the restroom was brightly lighted with long rows of stalls and a dozen hand washing sinks; Sara lost sight of the young woman. Sara headed to the last sink and turned on water, letting it run as she waited for McCall to reappear.

As quickly as she'd disappeared into a stall, the young woman reappeared, washed her hands, and never seemed to notice Sara at the end of the room. Again, Sara followed Anna McCall.

Immediately, in the hallway, Sara almost collided with David Hodges.

"Sara! I heard you were here!" While he had not shouted, his voice carried along the hallway.

As Hodges talked in a one-sided conversation, Sara knew Anna McCall had turned her head, not for a quick glance, but a look of surprise.

And in that moment, Sara knew Anna McCall was a person from the past. She held her hand up for Hodges to stop talking as she reached for her phone. She needed to call Lahn—immediately—and find her husband.

A/N: Now...time to review! We appreciate all of you and look forward to hearing your thoughts on this chapter! Who has Sara discovered from her past? This story will have one or two more chapters.