One of the cursed things about the cerebronic implant was its painful ability to make one stay wide awake for up to a week before succumbing to any form of exhaustion. When one would normally collapse inside of a horrific event through fear and kill time with haunted sleep, the proud owner of a Federation implant would remain completely alert and conscious. The implant was specifically designed to aid the wearer in remaining completely lucid and energized in the middle of conflict.
Ordinarily this would be a welcome thing. In the midst of battle or confinement, where the knowledge of immediate rescue and resulting fight would most definitely require the captive to be alert, the implant was a Godsend. When off the battlefield, however, this gift was not so welcome.
She was mentally exhausted right now. All she felt she needed to clear her mind and formulate a decent escape plan was an hour's sleep. A clear mind; that's all she wanted; but with the swirling energies of fear and uncertainty keeping her implant active that wasn't going to happen.
The damn implant thrived on these emotions to keep it alight. This was like a recharge for the stupid thing…
She cursed at the implant designers as she lay relatively still on her back and blew bubbles of air out of her mouth through her top lip. Boredom made her play with the odd method of exhale and she concentrated mildly on staggering the actual part of her mouth the air audibly left her mouth.
So she was in a hotel. A hotel. That would make it more difficult for the team to find her with what limited information she was able to offer them. No doubt they'd be looking at actual residences for her if they did do a sweep of the LVPD staff databases. There would be no reason for them to think otherwise. Serial killers didn't use hotels for their crimes – well, not if they were actually holding their victims for any longer than perhaps a fast rape and murder.
Rape.
"Oh crap." She thought painfully. She'd forgotten about that part of the serial's M.O.
The thought made her green eyes flare wide. She'd have absolutely no course of action against such an attack. She was shackled in a spread-Eagle position with no chance to defend herself.
She felt a new wave of uncertainty and fear ripple through her chest and she found herself looking back up at the cuffs to see if she could maybe channel the strength of Tiny to rip apart the bed and free herself. For a brief moment she entertained the notion she might be able to. She closed her eyes, grit her teeth and sucked in a lungful of cool breath. Without exhaling she clenched her fists and slowly flexed her biceps to pull her arms down against the cuffs.
Her exhale came in the form of a long and low moan of agony as her wrists protested the pressure of cold metal against the flare of her hand off the wrist. That didn't stop her, however, from continuing to try and pull the headboard apart. It wasn't until she felt the sting of breaking skin that she stopped.
"Fuck!" she yelled in an uncharacteristic manner as she relaxed the pull and let the headboard smack heavily against the wall. "God damn it!"
The final words expelled more as a sob than speech. The pain of a new injury and the frustration of being held my a mere man drover her to loudly yank and pull at her arms. The chains scraped loudly against the painted aluminum, further driving her to struggle and yell for whatever deity might be willing to offer her a hand out of this.
After a long minute or so her struggling finally subsided, only to be replaced by wracking sobs that, while quieter than metal on metal, reverberated with more echo around the room. She could hear her own tears. They were tears of defeat.
All she could do was wail for Mark to please find her.
"You promised me we'd die together," she sobbed in the direction of her unlit communicator. "You promised."
A sound from beyond her room forced her sob to catch in her throat. Her alter ego stepped up to the plate as she widened her eyes and stared to one side to focus her hearing on what was beyond the door. Princess was momentarily cast aside as the Swan took control and ended her weeping for the time being.
"Who are you?" she whispered softly as she movement drew closer to the doorway to the bedroom.
The answer to her question arrived in the form of her captor carrying a large steel bowl of water and a towel opening the door with a smile.
"Good afternoon, Sarah. Did you sleep well while I was at work?"
Her bottom lip held off quivering as her eyes scanned his paraphernalia for anything that could be used as a weapon against her. "Why are you doing this?" she asked meekly as he set the bowl on the mattress beside her.
He tilted his head to look at her and blinked his eyes slowly as he smiled. "Do I really need to explain it to you again?"
She inhaled sharply as she watched him soak a washcloth in the water, then rub a piece of soap against it. "I've never done anything to you, Chris, why are you doing this?"
He let out a short breath in a laugh and ran the wet cloth up the length of her leg. "I told you. My name isn't Chris."
She shuddered at the sting of cold breeze on her wet skin. "Then what is your name?"
He continued to wash her legs, concentrating his gaze on the movements of the washcloth. "Call me whatever you want, Sarah."
She writhed uncomfortably against him. "And have you correct me when I get it wrong? This isn't a game of twenty questions."
He hummed and drew his finger along a deep scar on her belly. "Did you have a hard childhood, Sara?"
She frowned at the change in topic, and the personal nature of the questions he was asking. She sucked in her stomach to attempt to escape his touch. "If you won't tell me your name, then why should I indulge you with stories of my childhood?"
His eyes met hers. "When you're asked a question, it's impolite of you to not to answer."
"I did answer you," she snarled back, forgetting for a moment the position she was in. "How about you actually crawl out of your imaginary …."
Her words caught as she caught a flash of darkness in his eyes. Before she could formulate an apology his lip curled and his wrist flicked. The washcloth in his hand slapped heavily across her cheek. She gasped as he leapt up onto the bed and straddled her belly and gripped either side of the washcloth to stretch it out.
"You need to be taught some manners," he snarled as he pressed the stretched toweling fabric across her face, over her mouth and nose. "I'll discipline you until you learn to behave like a lady."
She gagged against the soapy material as it oozed white creamy lather into her nose and mouth. "Pl … ease," she choked as she struggled to find clean air to breathe. The sharp taste of the soap teased at her gag-reflex and she found herself fighting not only to breathe, but to not vomit.
He snarled at her as he finally released her face from the washcloth. "Does it hurt? Will it make you learn?" he demanded as his hands found her throat. He pressed his hands hard into her throat and practically purred as her face began to take on a magenta hue. She gagged and gasped for breath.
Then. As quickly as he launched his attack, it was over.
His lips dropped to the side of her soapy mouth as he slowly released her throat. "I need to get back to work, Sweetheart," he whispered lovingly as he smoothed her hair with both hands and looked into her terrified face. "I only told them I had to go and grab a sandwich. Fortunately the lab is only a couple of blocks from here, so I have a little time."
He seemed to fail to register the fact that she was wide-eyed, short breathed and shaking. He spoke as if she were his wife and he the man telling her about his day.
"We definitely got the Eagle's attention, Darling. He's absolutely frantic wondering where you are." He let go a laugh and actually slapped his knee as if what he was saying was a funny joke. "For a minute there I had to wonder if I'd managed to capture the attention of the Swan." She looked at her with a tilted head. "It took her so long to arrive at the lab that we were all wondering if that's who you were."
She blinked slowly. The Swan?
Mark must have called in Lola for support. God, she loved his tactical mind.
"So you're working alongside G-Force?" she asked meekly.
He gave her a wink. "The Commander approached me directly to work with him. I am his intelligence contact – well, that's how he termed it."
She swallowed hard. "Oh? And. Uh. What has he told you about the case?"
He pursed his lips and brushed stray suds off his shirt collar. "Nothing as yet. I'm sure he'll call me in to speak with me sooner rather than later. " He walked to her and sat on the mattress beside her. "And how brilliant. I will know I'm one step ahead of him all the way. How can I not be? I'm his go-to on this."
Now Princess' bottom lip gave a quiver. "Really?"
He twirled a few strands of her hair around his index finger. "Yes, Darling. Now I have to go back to work. We have a serial killer to catch."
"No. Don't go," she whispered, hoping to keep him as far from Mark and the new information as possible. "Stay."
He smiled down at her. "I have to go, but don't worry, I'll be home soon." He gave her a smile, then curled a lip and tugged the hair to pull out a small section. He gently shushed her as she yelped in pain.
"Sorry. But I need these."
~~O-O-O-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-O-O-O~~
Mark shuddered with an imaginary breeze as the first package of crime scene photos were emptied onto the table in front of him. One after another the images documented the horror that this young woman had suffered at the hands of her captor. Bruises, more pronounced in death than they would ever have been in life, were only the most minor of all injuries. The purple, red, and black discolourations were more than injuries, they were carbon copies of the entity that struck the area.
He dared not look beyond the bruising in fear he'd not be able to hold down the ham and Swiss sandwich he'd had for lunch. He was somewhat familiar with the extent of injuries of these girls; not through news casts or his beloved's gasps as she studied the case; but through the whispers of the staff inside the lab.
Honestly, he didn't want to know. He did not want to have any level of idea about what Princess might have to suffer through if they didn't find her in time.
Lola stood quietly beside him, wide-eyed and as horrified as he was pretending not to be. She drew a gloved finger along the jawline of one of the victims and let out a whimpering sigh.
"God, Mark. We have to find her."
He sniffed, more to find alertness than to hide emotion. "Dr. Grissom," he began as he slid his eyes across the table to where Grissom was opening up a floral fifties-style dress to lay on the table. "Is there anything I can do to help that doesn't include looking at photographs of dead women?"
"Finding objectiveness difficult, Commander?"
Mark blinked slowly and tilted his head to one side in challenge. "When the woman you love is at the mercy of a serial killer, I challenge you to remain completely objective."
Grissom raised his eyes to look over the rims of his glasses at the Eagle, but it was Catherine who spoke up. "Gil's wife, Sara," she said breathlessly without looking at Grissom for permission to share, "was the target of a serial killer a little over twelve months ago, Commander."
Mark shot a quick gaze to Grissom, who had begun o busy himself in evidence, then looked back at Catherine to wordlessly ask her to continue.
So she did. "It was a hell of a twenty four hours. Gil," she paused only long enough to look admiringly down her shoulder at him, "he went to hell and back trying first to prove he was able to stay on the case, and then viewing and reviewing evidence of brutal and horrific murders…"
"You have to detach yourself from the human element," Grissom muttered in interruption, somewhat irritated at Catherine spilling anything remotely personal about him. "Forget you're a boyfriend and that who you're looking at is the only person in your life who truly means something. Forget empathy and emotion – don't fight them – re-channel that energy into finding them. Find that small piece of evidence that tells you exactly where they're waiting for you." He smoothed out the fabric in front of him and passed a large magnifying glass over the top of it. "Cry when you find her, Commander. Don't waste tears on the search."
Catherine blinked and gave her head a small and quick shake of surprise. "Gil. Wow. That's pretty deep, especially for you."
He flicked a brow and raised his eyes to her. "Would you prefer I just say, "been there, done that"?"
Mark gaped somewhat at the man in front of him. "You know, Dr. Grissom. My second had pretty much that identical speech with me about an hour ago."
Grissom sighed and raised his head to the young man in front of him. "Commander. If you can't do this, then don't. Step away from the case and let us help her."
"No."
Grissom all but rolled his eyes. "If she was lost in the field of battle, what would you do?"
Lola smiled from her place in the room. "Can I answer that?"
Mark fixed her with a warning glare, which made her draw one side of her mouth down in a guilty grimace. "As you team are so adept at saying, Doctor, been there, done that. When she was sixteen, actually."
Catherine's eyes widened. "So young."
He smiled and blinked his eyes slowly. "But she's brilliant, Catherine."
"I don't doubt it."
"Which means," Grissom interrupted, "that we need to focus and bring her home."
Mark gave a firm nod and pressed both hands into the table surface to scan the images of the women and crime scenes. "If not just to find Princess, to make sure no other woman ends up like this … "
~~O-O-O-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-O-O-O~~
It had to have taken Sara, Jason and Keyop a good twenty minutes to make it to the computing lab. Along the way they'd encountered staff fans of the Condor and Swallow and had to pause for a handful of photos, autographs and mindless drivel. Adding to that, an exasperated Nick Stokes, Jim Brass and Greg Sanders had accosted Sara in the hallway. They pulled her into the men's washroom and barraged her with the who, what, and why's of the woman wearing the pink micro-mini and white wings who had suddenly appeared.
It was Greg who had initially offered up the suggestion to his fellow investigators that the Eagle had called in a replacement Swan. What other choice did the Commander have when he was given the suggestion that someone inside the department was the killer?
Sara merely confirmed that suspicion.
Once she had offered up her five-word confirmation as to who the new Swan was, which was made in such short time that it was unnecessary to have to inhale the toxic aroma that was the Men's, she'd bolted back out into the hallway – and into the arms of a waiting Condor.
His brow waggled when she collided with his chest in her hurry to escape the horror beyond the washroom door. "Accosted by three men, Sara? Do you need the Condor to swoop in, kick their asses and save your day?"
She painfully rolled her eyes at him and pulled backward, deliberately making sure to brush her lab-coat down as if wiping him off her. "Let's not and say we did."
He shrugged and rolled his eyes. "Can't say I'm not giving it my best shot."
"You should be focusing, Jason."
He grinned and tilted his head sideways so, although her was looking ahead of him as they walked, he was still regarding her politely. "Oh I'm focused."
"On your Swan, Jason. Not me." She had to walk into him to direct him toward the lab door. "As an FYI, I'm married."
Before he could respond, Archie's voice sounded from the desk. "You and Griss took the vows, Sara? When?"
She walked by him and dipped her mouth to his ear. She smiled when she answered. "That's our secret."
Archie groaned as he shifted the pink laptop in front of him and hooked it up to a large flat screen monitor on the wall in front of the desk. "I'm pretty sure I can find out," he muttered in his own defence.
"I'm sure you can," she sighed as she narrowed her eyes to look at the various desktop icons on the screen to her front. "Swallow, do you know what we're looking for?"
Keyop gave a broop and pulled up a seat beside Archie. "Need to … check email … folder."
Archie's head turned quickly to Keyop in surprise at his stilted way of speaking but respectfully remained quiet on the subject. Instead he turned to business. "How do you know what we're looking for, Swallow?"
Keyop pursed his lips. "Um. Computer … genius."
"The kid's almost as good as Princess," Jason inserted in an obvious attempt at a save.
Archie didn't buy it. "Then why is he here and not your Swan?"
"She's with the Skipper." He caught a clearing of a throat from the Asian male and narrowed his eyes at him. "The Swan and Eagle always work together."
"Uh-huh." He tapped at the computer and kept his attention on the laptop monitor rather than the large TV-style screen on the wall. "This girl, she's Federation, right?"
Jason gave a short nod. "Yeah. She works with us."
"In wings by any chance," he tried as he scrolled through the email inbox past a myriad of messages from each of the birds, as well as President Kane and Chief Anderson.
Jason growled low and unimpressed. "Just look for what you're supposed to, okay?" He set his sight on Keyop, who was actually smiling at Archie in a manner to suggest he was going to enjoy working with him. "Keyop, you wanna take over and show him what he's actually looking for?"
Keyop pursed his lips and blew out a small breath of air. "I don't … know exactly what … myself."
Sara gripped lightly at the back rest of Archie's chair. "She said there was a hidden folder somewhere in her email. Apparently there are a few messages she's saved from this guy."
Archie didn't look up, but he opened explorer and began to click through the pathways to the destination suggested. "But none of you have spoken to her since she was taken, how would you know?"
"The Commander's got ESP," Jason growled low.
Sara angled her head enough that she looked up at Jason, "do you honestly think he's not going to work it out, Jason? He's got her personal laptop there."
The Condor curled a disgruntled lip and slid his eyes up to the doorway, where he could see the silhouette of Mark and Grissom working through some piece of evidence on their table. "Tell anyone, man, and I'll rip 'em off."
Archie smirked to one side and clicked the cursor of the mouse over a folder icon that said, simply, "Chris". Immediately a dialogue box popped up asking for a password.
"This might take a while," Archie ventured as he began to attempt a couple of random words.
Keyop gave a broop and cradled his fingers to outstretch his arms and crack his knuckles. "Time for … Mighty Swallow … magic." Inside of ten seconds, the Swallow had unlocked the folder and slid the laptop back across to Archie.
Jason flicked a brow. "What was the password?"
"Won't tell," Keyop answered with a wink.
"Same as her diary?" He ventured.
Keyop pursed his lips into a narrow "O" shape and chuckled through it. But before he could answer one way or another, he was interrupted by a horrified gasp from Sara.
"Oh good God. Why didn't she tell anyone?"
~~O-O-O-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-O-O-O~~
The photos were getting them nowhere. The evidence Grissom seemed intent on making them go through was offering them much of the same. Nothing. Absolutely nothing.
Well. Nothing except giving a rise of bile in his throat that threatened to expel in a volcanic manner if he had to look at one more bloody photograph.
Lola hadn't lasted nearly as long as he had before she thrust her head in to the closest receptacle and retched. Catherine had settled the shaking and green faux-Swan with a Styrofoam cup of cold water and a chair.
He watched Lola with concern via a sideways glance as he tapped his fingertips on the layout table. He watched her take a couple of deep breaths and shake her head at Catherine's offer to take her outside and finally looked across at Grissom, who was jotting down information onto his clipboard as he analyzed a text message on his cell-phone.
"We're getting nowhere," he moaned.
Grissom's lip twitched on one side, but he didn't take his attention from the clipboard. "All it takes is one piece of evidence, Commander."
"But we've been looking through this evidence for over an hour, now. We've found nothing new."
Grissom finally raised his eyes to Mark. "Feel free to check in on your other team members, Commander. Perhaps you can gather them together and formulate a game plan of sorts for the remainder of this investigation." He looked back down at his phone with pursed lips. "Take a break, step outside, leave it to us."
Mark's head tilted to one side. He knew dismissal when he heard it – God knows Anderson pulled it on him enough times – and that meant only one thing: Grissom likely had found something he wasn't willing to share just yet. His eyes narrowed a pinch. "I … just might do that," he said softly.
Grissom gave a firm nod and rose from his stool. He seemed focused as he walked to the doorway and paused just outside the room. "Page me if you need me, Catherine." He glanced across at Mark. "Commander, if you need me have Catherine page me. There's something I need to do."
Mark's gaze steeled on the criminalist in a manner to accuse him of mistrust, but he voiced nothing of that nature. Instead he gave a short nod. "Will you be long, Doctor Grissom."
The tone was full of mistrust and accusation, but Grissom internally shook it off. "The timing for the call of nature varies. You may join me if you feel it necessary."
Mark snorted. The lie was a good one, he surmised, but a lie none-the-less. He forced a smirk and shook his head as he heard Catherine groan her displeasure at being given too much information. "I'm sure that is something you can manage on your own, Doctor."
Grissom held back a roll of the eyes and said nothing as he turned in the direction of the men's washroom. He had a vague impression that he was being watched and, rather than be seen requesting Sara follow him, he dropped his attention to his cell-phone to send a text message.
Mark watched the man closely as he awkwardly walked and typed at the same time. As Grissom turned a corner out of sight, he heard a shrill beep that snapped his attention to the AV lab. Sara appeared to snarl as she pulled her cell phone from her belt to read the message. She paused, gasped and raised her head to the door … Then hurriedly excused herself and in a fast walk down the same corridor as the Entomologist.
"What have you got, Doctor Grissom?" he muttered under his breath.
Catherine's voice stole him from his focus. "What was that, Mark?"
He turned his face, but not his eyes to her. "Oh, nothing, Catherine."
She pouted and shrugged her shoulders. "Okay."
David Hodges, the man Mark had earlier recruited to help him with internal information, walked past the office. He held a brown paper with what must have been a deli lunch in it, and was actually … smiling. Not finding it particularly unusual considering he'd met the man only once, Mark let out a shrill whistle and stepped into the hallway behind him.
Hodges spun on the ball of his foot and let a sly grin spread across his face as he took a handful of steps toward the Eagle. "Yes, Commander?"
"Call me Mark," he responded quietly as he flicked his fingers to ask Hodges to follow him. "I need your help."
Hodges allowed himself a moment to scan the hallways suspiciously and lowered his head in a covert manner. "What do you need, Mark?"
Mark began with a fishing question. "How trusted by Grissom with sensitive information are you?"
He smirked and let his head tilt back in a self appreciating manner. "Moreso than his wife."
"Good," he breathed in more of a whisper than in voice. "He's withholding information. I want to know what."
"What kind of information?" Hodges questioned with a frown.
"If I knew that," he answered shortly, "I wouldn't be asking for your help."
"I understand."
"I assume the rumour and whisper mill is as effective and wide-reaching as the one we have at Centre Neptune. Please put your ear to the ground and find out what you can."
He nodded in acceptance of he Eagle's orders. "Where is Grissom now?"
He tipped a shoulder in a shrug and flicked his eyes up to the end of the corridor. "He walked in that direction, supposedly to the men's …"
"The men's is in the opposite direction," he interrupted with a raised brow.
Mark took a deep breath. "I thought as much."
"He went alone I take it?"
"Not exactly. He was texting Sara as he left the exam room. She took off pretty quickly …"
"Which means they're together," he interrupted again, eager to show allegiance by being able to finish the Eagle's sentences.
"That's my thinking."
He rubbed thoughtfully at his chin. "They could be pretty much anywhere in the building."
"Are you too busy to find them?"
Hodges adopted a salacious grin. "I'll find out all of the information they have, Mark."
"I appreciate it."
"How will I find you?"
Mark pursed his lips and flicked open his wings to pull a small communications device from his belt pocket. "This will link to my bracelet. Whatever you find, I want to know."
Hodges gave a nod. "Will do, Commander."
Mark pursed his lips and stared down the corridor. He let his eyes flick to the AV room, where he could see Jason and Keyop looking almost horrified at whatever they'd found on Princess' hard drive. He turned his head to offer Hodges a last look. "I'm trusting you to supply me with the information I need to find this woman alive, and unharmed…." He took a breath and curled a lip. "And to have this killer punished for his crimes."
Hodges swallowed hard and gave a minute tilt of the head. "G-Force justice, I take it?"
"Yes," Mark answered firmly.
"Who is this girl," he questioned curiously, "to have you so desperate to find her?"
Mark didn't register the slightest bit of panic in his voice. He replied low and steady without thinking. "Someone very close to me, David.' He flicked his eyes at him and took a single step toward the AV room. "And I want her back alive."
Hodges blinked in a start and all but gagged in response. "No wonder you're all here …"
Mark ignored the comment, his attention and focus now elsewhere. "Find that information for me, David. Tell me the instant you hear anything."
Hodges watched as Mark slowly stalked toward the AV room and finally let out a sharp breath. He let his gaze fall on the girl wearing the Swan uniform and watched as she maintained a girlishly innocent stance while letting her yo-yo roll up and down its string. There was no doubt in his mind as he watched that the woman was the true Swan. The thought allowed him to release a held breath of relief.
The Swan he would never harm, or wish harm upon. She was a legitimate lady … one who needed a longer skirt, but a lady none-the-less.
He switched his gaze at Mark and let a dangerous smile kiss at the air.
"Yes, Mark. You'll have the information – as soon as I plant it."
~~O-O-O-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-O-O-O~~
Sara Sidle, out of breath and switching her emotions between disgust, horror, empathy and curiosity, quickly rounded the corner toward the garage. Grissom's page had been short and … sweet?
"Garage, now. Need you. G"
While she knew the message had absolutely no personal meaning to them at all, she allowed herself a brief nano-second to entertain the fantasy that he had something sordid in mind. Her fantasy was short lived, however, as she double-palmed the garage doors open and practically burst inside the room.
She frowned when she saw him; he was pacing.
Grissom wasn't a pacing kind of person. He'd much rather find calm inside a report or with his bugs and evidence than chew his nails and pace the room and expend energies that could otherwise be used to find a killer.
She was immediately alarmed and gently stopped his pacing by touching him on the upper arm.
"Gris? You okay?"
He wiped his hand down his face and offered her a tired look in response. "Only one hit from Benefits, Sara."
Her eyes widened and she found herself dipping her head to force herself to look up at him curiously. "And? Who is it?"
"Chris Weston," he sighed long. "His last claim was only a month ago."
She frowned and angled her head doubtfully. "No. That doesn't sound …." She suddenly inhaled hard and actually found herself bringing her hands to her mouth in shock. "God. Grissom. The sender of the emails was someone calling himself Chris."
Grissom grunted and tapped his finger on his clipboard. "He is also on our list of potentials."
"He's got scratches on his neck …"
"And he's a Trek fan."
She frowned and folded her arms against her chest. "I don't know, Grissom. This seems a little too easy, don't you think?"
"2 years is not an easy case, Sara," he countered gruffly.
She pursed her lips. "You know what I mean. Chris just doesn't seem the type … and he certainly isn't capable of overpowering the Swan."
"Ted Bundy," he reminded her knowing he didn't need to elaborate further. When he watched her roll her eyes in agreement, he spoke again. "I'm going to need you to team with Nick and Warrick to go through his history as closely as possible. Get hold of Jim and arrange an interrogation with Chris…"
She raised her hand to stop him speaking. "Grissom." She sighed hard. "Shouldn't you and Catherine be arranging this?"
His eyes steeled on her, their hardening being the equivalent of he shaking his head at her. "Not with G-Force here. Those kids want blood and reputation suggests they'll shoot first ask later."
"Not the Eagle," she offered gently. "He'll keep them all down."
Grissom fell silent for a short moment. He looked into her, took a breath and then squinted his eyes just a little as his gaze softened. "No, Sara," he corrected as he raised his hand to cup her face. "He won't, he can't … And I don't blame him."
She lightly leaned into his touch, but said nothing in favour of letting his continue.
"Sara. When the person you love most is at the mercy of someone like that, rational thought goes out of the window." He stroked her face with his thumb. "I know. I've been there … and I don't blame him."
"Gil," she sighed softly as she reluctantly removed his hand from her face. "We aren't going to be able to keep this from him, you know that."
"For as long as we can," he asked on a breath. He then took a cautionary look around and stepped a single step back from her in an attempt to gain a more commanding position. "I want to make sure we have the right person before they find out about it. Our entire investigation and any chance we have of making absolute sure we've got the perp will be lost the minute he finds out we have a prime suspect."
"Try the second he knows," she sighed in response as she rubbed at her brows.
"I can keep him in the dark for at least another twelve hours. You and the team will need to work fast and quietly."
"What about the Condor and Swallow?"
"Leave them with Archie. There's no doubt a lot if information to analyse in that computer."
Her head tilted in time with her face creasing in a grimace. "God. You should see what we found in there, Griss. I don't understand how she didn't perceive a threat."
"Hindsight's 20/20, Sara."
A well manicured brow flicked upward. "Wait until you see it."
"I'll send the Eagle in there, then."
She gasped. "No. Don't. Don't let him anywhere near it, Griss. If you think he's be uncontrollable with his current knowledge … once he sees that …" she blew air out of her mouth through pursed lips. "Not a great idea."
He nodded. "I'll return to the lab, then. Keep me updated with any and all new evidence you turn up."
"Will do."
Without saying anything further, Grissom turned on his heel and walked out of the garage, leaving Sara alone to begin to rally the players to the game.
~~O-O-O-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-O-O-O~~
From beside the emergency exit door, Hodges watched with a darkened glare at Sara as she began the first of her calls to the rest of the team. His lip gave a slight twitch of annoyance that he'd not receive the credit for his work. But his study and his tenacity had been worth it. He'd flawlessly framed the young man for his crime.
Perfect payback for the "dude, you got punked" act Chris pulled on him some while back by pulling down his pants in the main corridor of the LVPD.
With a smile that lifted his lip only high enough to show the lowest part of his front teeth, he brought the small communicator to his mouth and cleared his throat.
"Commander. About your request for information … This is what I found out."