Chapter LII

Adrenaline Crash

"Suspect is around five-seven, one hundred and twenty pounds. She has blonde hair, and is in her fifties." She glanced at Jim and he nodded slightly. "Suspect should be considered armed and dangerous."

She was releasing the hounds on a college professor for God's sake.

She put the mic on it's hook beside the radio that had been bolted under the car's dash. She had been there, Sofia berated herself. She had spoken to the woman, and nothing. She as a cop and had been standing with a criminal and she hadn't even realized it.

Hindsight, of course, was 20-20. Looking at it now, Blake had set it up perfectly. She had pulled everyone's strings and they had all danced like merry marionettes. Blake had been an ethics professor, but she also held various degrees in psychology, sociology and women's studies. It was a perfect storm of ability and evil all wrapped up in a nice normal package.

She had raped and mutilated men all over the country and had used the lecture tour to cover herself. God only knew how long she'd been doing it. She had even lead two disciples, if one wanted to call Kera and the unfortunate Erica Green that, to commit murder. Then on top of that, she had given them a believable patsy on a silver platter and a juicy scandal in one single woman.

Oh yes, Alexandra Dupree had been a character in Blake's grand theatre production just they all had been. They, Sara and herself, had unwittingly started the entire chain reaction on a clear Sunday morning after eating a couple of burritos. She wanted to say that they had somehow made a mistake. Had they gone against procedure? No, of course they hadn't. She and Sara weren't on the take, they weren't dirty. There had been no reason to think that some intellectuals at a library could possibly be connected to a murder that had been effectively closed. How could anyone have known? She couldn't help but think she should have.

"Stop that."

She turned her head sharply, and Jim Brass shrugged, "You couldn't possibly have known."

He wasn't psychic. Brass was a cop, a good one, and he could read people very well. That didn't make her feel any better. She thumped her fist against the passenger window. "I talked to her, Jim. I stood right there and talked to her. I showed her a picture of her own sick device."

Jim slowed the car to a stop at an intersection, "We all got the wool pulled over our eyes on this one." He sounded calm, like a professional. She was a professional, but at the moment she sounded like a whiney fourteen-year old.

"It the last's not the first time, and it's not the last, probably not even this month."

Sofia stared out the window at tourists, casinos and hotels passing by. He was right, which only made her feel more foolish. "Probably not."

"You can't take it personally, Sofie. There will be other cases and other killers and I need to know you've got you head level again."

Sofia blew out a breathe, "I'm fine, more or less."

They, followed by several black and whites, turned into the Paris's main drive.

He killed the engine and looked over at her, "That's good, more or less."

She got out of the car and looked over her shoulder at the uniforms behind her. Everyone, including herself and Jim, were wearing their Kevlar.

The entire lecture tour had been staying at the hotel with Alexandra Dupree. Of course the other guests were housed in far less expensive rooms. Victoria Blake was registered in a single room on the twenty-third floor.

Vega and O'Riley were covering McKarren and they had sent the information along to the State Police. The Feds were supposed to be circulating her picture around.

"Half of you are with me in the elevator, the other half go with Detective Curtis to cover the stairs."

Jogging up some twenty-odd flights of stairs with a gun in her hand put Sofia in an odd headspace. She didn't know about other cops, but for her it was hard to describe. The calm before the storm, she supposed it was the quiet buildup to action. The only sounds were the rhythmic footfalls of five people going up stairs and their huffing and puffing breathes.

She and her team hit the twenty-third floor and cleared the hallways quickly and efficiently, just as she knew Jim was doing from the elevator. Room 2341 didn't look especially menacing or at all different, but you could never judge a book by it's cover or a room by it's door.

Her pulse picked up and she could feel it beating in her temples, in her fingers, throbbing in her chest like a bass drum. Jim didn't speak, but his eyes were stone-cold serious and his hand signals very clear. She took her position behind him as his immediate cover. Jim dropped the key-card into the slot, the door was ready to be opened.

"LVPD!" Jim pushed the door open and she followed him closely, checking her left and right with motions that her muscles knew well. She checked beside the bed and one of the uniforms followed Jim to check the bathroom.

"Clear!"

"Clear!"

"Clear!"

Sofia unclipped the radio from her belt, "Dispatch, we are Code Four."

She holstered her Glock and looked around. Her eyes darted around the room and she took everything in. The bed was unmade, room service tray was still on the cart by the small table. The breakfast plate only had a few crumbs and smears of maple syrup on it. The morning edition of The Sun was sitting beside the tray, open to the second and third pages where the Roggen boys looked up at her, forever frozen in time in their respective pictures.

Blake had left, quickly, probably right after reading about the new murder. She had hours on them and could have gone anywhere. Wherever she had gone, she was traveling light. There were three matching suitcases, but no toiletry bag, carry-on bag or purse. Sofia looked at the three bags one at a time and focused on the one sitting on her far left. It was open. Sofia looked, without touching. She wouldn't dare contaminate possible evidence by touching it with her bare hands. "Muldoon," She looked to the uniformed officer closest to her, "let me see your baton." The mocha-skinned man quickly handed her the club without hesitation. Its weight was familiar and settled comfortably in her hand. She extended it to its full length with a practiced flick of her wrist and smirked a little. Sofia carefully used the baton to move the suitcase's flap. She almost wished she hadn't. There was a thick black rubber, silicone and plastic sex toy sitting right on top of a white oxford shirt. It wasn't a neck massager. She looked at the table and then at Jim Brass.

All the Homicide Capitan could do was shake his head, "She's gone."

Sofia let the flap drop back in place, "Yeah," Her words were sharp, caustic and unapologetically sarcastic, "she's in the wind."

"They have officially taken this case away from us. They are jetting Dupree off to some undisclosed location for her protection, ah yes and the woman at the root of all this just disappeared into thin air. Long Legged Lawyer is telling me that all the case files have to be handed over and that blonde Marshall bitch is telling me that I have to drop all charges against Dupree. The press is having a field day with this entire spectacle on top of everything else. I have the Sheriff, the mayor, I even have the Governor calling me, demanding to know what's going on and all I can say is-"

Undersheriff Jeffery McKeen threw up his hands in absolute disgust, "All I can say is oops, our bad? Am I getting all of this strait? Have I missed anything here, CSI Sidle?"

She honestly had no idea what to say to that. Sara continued to wring her hands behind her back, "I guess that's about it, sir."

She was standing in the Undersheriff's office, almost at parade rest, preparing herself for the eventual pink slip. Between McKeen and Ecklie she didn't have a sympathetic ear in the room. Grissom hadn't even shown up to show support for her. Not that she could blame him much, she wouldn't have come either if she could have gotten around it.

The sun filtered through the blinds and dust danced in it. The office was more meticulously decorated then a cop's should have been. There were framed photographs of McKeen with various politicians and mid-level celebrities. She liked Brass's office much better. It had a lived-and-worked in feeling to it. It was a cop's space, not a politician's. The desk was an antique, the chair he sat in was leather, and his suit was Italian. Of course hers was too at the moment. Still, it lacked something. Her detail-oriented mind and quick eyes took everything in and her left-brained mind filed it away weather she wanted to or not. It was a hazard of the job she did.

"Jeff, I don't think that-"

Conrad Ecklie's words were quickly cut off by a grunt from the undersherriff.

"Don't think what, Conrad? I know you didn't call the Feds, and I as sure as hell didn't. Now let's think about this, who benefits from getting Dupree off the hook here?"

She hadn't called the Feds. She had lost her temper with Catherine, Gil, and had gone to see Alex, which were all terrible ideas, but she had not called the Feds. She knew who had, but this was her mess; there was no reason to drag Nick and Sofia down with her.

"But I-"

McKeen held up his hand to silence her and she bit the inside of her cheek to keep herself quiet.

"This kind of shit belongs over at Circus Circus, not my department. I mean we have rape, murder, gay love affairs, the Feds swooping in and cleaning up after us. Do you have any idea how damaging this all is?"

Sara blinked, was he kidding? Was he actually kidding? It had been her name and picture that had been splashed across the front page of every newspaper in tri-state area. It had been Sara Sidle, not the LVPD at large, who had been talked about, and condemned on Larry King Live, Nancy Grace and even Access Hollywood. The lab and the LVPD would survive, her career would not. Even if she wasn't fired, she could kiss any promotions goodbye.

"Sir, I think I understand."

McKeen leaned his elbows on his large mahogany desk, "No I don't think you do, Sidle." He shook his head, "Now you get one and only one chance here to explain yourself."

Ecklie, who was sitting in one of the guest chairs in the room, turned his head to look at her. If she didn't know any better, she would swear the assistant director was on her side.

"All right, Sara, you need to tell us everything here."

She was going looney-tunes because now he even sounded like he was on her side of this interrogation. She felt like she was back at Harvard, taking her oral exams. It was all 'yes sir', 'no sir', pressure to perform and mentally racing for answers that she knew she knew, but had problems vocalizing. Of course she had known the answers back at Harvard backwards, forward and in her sleep, just as she did now. Only now she was she wasn't so eager to answer. She would not lie, but she definitely wasn't telling the whole truth. There was a fine line between loyalty and stupidity and she had crossed that a while back, there was no need to back peddle now.

Sara clenched her hands behind her back tighter. Her fingers were strangling each other, and she could feel her knuckles and nails blanching white from the pressure.

"I didn't call the Marshall Service or The DOJ. I made a mistake by going to see Al-Miss Dupree, but the visit did not become intimate."

McKeen's eyebrow rose, "Really, Miss Sidle, because that's not what I heard."

Sara felt the words that she kept stockpiled for employee-boss situations drain out of her. She had only dealt with the undersherriff a handful of times. They didn't play golf on Sundays, but this was ridiculous.

"Jeff."

Sara turned to look at Ecklie, and was startled to see that his face was turning red and his beady eyes were narrowed at McKeen

"Grissom and Willows took Sidle off the case. Her trip to see Dupree was certainly ill-advised, but she didn't do it to throw the investigation."

McKeen folded his hands into a steeple, "Really, Conrad, because from where I'm sitting your CSI just saved her girlfriend's bacon and gave us a whole lot of trouble for it."

Sara had a quick almost whimsical impulse to say that she and Alex weren't together anymore. Some part of her, the part that desired to remain gainfully employed, squashed it before the words reached her mouth.

Ecklie, on the other hand screwed his thin lips into a scowl, "Yes, but I still don't think she blew the whistle. Sidle is nothing if not dedicated to this department."

Sara blinked, startled. That had sounded almost like a compliment. Ecklie had more then enough ammo to blow her out of the water right about now. So why was he defending her?

"If she's as loyal as you say she's going to be eager to help me close this case."

Ecklie nodded at her, and Sara didn't know what to do so she nodded too. If she was anything, she was loyal, that was for sure.

"Well," McKeen looked at her, "If you didn't call the Feds, who did, Miss Sidle?"

She shook her head, "I don't know, Sir. I didn't know they were here until they were-" Sara shrugged and let her hands drop in a vague motion, "here."

The Undersheriff didn't like that answer. She hadn't expected him to. She wasn't dumb. He wanted a quick, clean explanation that he could repeat to the six o'clock news. She didn't have one of those. Considering the case they'd dealt with she doubted anyone did. He was looking for a scapegoat. The way things were going she might as well put on a fuzzy sweater and call herself Billi.

"Let me make this very clear, Miss Sidle," She jerked herself out of her thoughts and focused on what she was sure was going to be important. "You can either tell me what I want to know or I can sign off on your thirty day suspension." He picked up a brown folder with the department seal on it. Sara recognized it as her own record, her jacket.

"Now, who leaked this case to the Department of Justice?"

"What?-"

McKeen slapped the folder against the edge of the desk, "Are you protecting your old professor too, Sidle?"

She and Ecklie's exclamations of, "What?!" were synchronized and almost in perfect harmony.

"Sir I never-if I had known Blake was a killer I would have brought her in myself!" She had no loyalty to murderers.

Ecklie nodded, "CSI Sidle is one of the most dedicated investigators I have. She would bring her own mother in if she thought she was guilty for something."

Sara swallowed bile and desperately fought to maintain her composure for more then one reason.

"Who's the mole, Sidle?"

Sara's eyebrows shot up and her mouth fell open, "Mole, sir?"

McKeen scowled at her, "Forty-five days."

Ecklie stood now, "Sidle and her suspension are under my purview, Jeff."

Mckeen shrugged, "And you're under mine, Conrad." He picked up his engraved and gold-plated fountain pen, "Who was it, Sidle? Was it one of your buddies, Stokes, Sanders or Brown maybe?

Sara felt her stomach grind and sweat pop up on the back of her neck. "No I don't-"

"Or was it Grissom or your big fan Catherine?"

Sara struggled to keep the bitter laughter bubbling up in her throat from coming out. The man obviously had no idea what was going on at the lab.

McKeen flipped open her folder, "Sixty days without pay or you tell me who called Shannon and Carmichael."

"I don't know, Sir." Her tone was serious and the meaning behind her words was painfully obvious. McKeen stared her down, and while she didn't say anything more, she didn't break eye-contact either.

"You brought this on yourself, Sidle. Two months with no pay." He signed off on the order, making it a permanent black mark in her record. "Get her the hell out of here, Ecklie."

She was frozen in place, amazed she still had a job at all, and simultaneously horrified that she was suspended. Ecklie's non-too-subtle nudge was the thing that got her moving. She put one foot in front of the other and found her way into the hallway. If she hadn't thrown up most of her internal organs earlier she would have right then.

She still had her job, which was a miracle in itself, but was suspended for two months. Two months? What was she supposed to do with two months of down time? How the hell did she keep getting herself into these completely screwed up situations? She kept going, one foot in front of the other, and stopped only when she heard her name.

"Sidle."

Sara turned and blinked but didn't respond, she was still trying to catch up with what had happened.

"Sara."

She looked at the speaker and slowly focused on Conrad Ecklie, her boss.

"Sara, I need your gun, id and access cards, and you'll need to turn in any other tools and supplies that you have in your possession." He paused, "And I'll need your kit."

Was that all? He just needed the things that were pieces of her. The things that defined her. Her tools, her job, her life.

Her movements were brusque and mechanical, like she didn't care at all. She unclipped the holster and removed the laminated id from their respective places on her belt. It lightened up considerably, but she was used to the weight. She felt unbalanced and her belt, the belt that Alex had bought her just that morning, fell strangely at her waist. Sara took out her wallet and handed over the magnetic access card with the same emotionless movements, and swore that her wallet weighed significantly less.

"I've got the paperwork in my office. You'll be able to draw unemployment if you need it."

Sara shook her head, she wasn't unemployed. She didn't need handouts, charity or pity. "No, I have savings and" She paused, "I'll be fine."

Ecklie didn't look especially convinced. "You're still entitled to your medical insurance and union resources."

Ecklie had pocketed her cards and had her gun in one hand, "Are you going to be okay?"

She didn't answer because she didn't really know and wasn't sure why he was asking anyway.

"Is it so surprising?"

Yes, it was, her entire day had been an endless line of unpleasant surprises. Which one was he talking about? It hardly mattered.

"That I care about you and the rest of your team?"

Sara blinked, "I-"

"My career has revolved around keeping this lab going strong. In that time I've seen allot of things. I've seen investigators come and go. CSIs are a dime a dozen and we both know that. Your team, on the other hand has been shot at, kidnapped, beaten, buried, left for dead and split up, yet you're all still here, together. I am your supervisor, in charge of keeping the lab afloat and certified. Vegas sets the bar for every other non-federal lab in the country because we have the best of the best. No one has ever questioned your skills, Sidle, or your loyalty."

Ecklie took a business card out of his jacket pocket and handed it to her.

"This is the fly-out information the Marshals handed over. Dupree's gone by tonight and since you're not LVPD at the moment there's no reason not to be there to see her off."

Sara held the hand-scrawled card in her hand and watched Ecklie walk away from her.

"Enjoy your time off, Sidle."

Sara sighed, "Right." It would take the whole two months to figure out exactly what had just happened.

Author's Note: Ecklie really is human, shocking.