Two

The San Francisco Crime Lab had undergone some rather impressive renovations since Gil Grissom's last visit. Although he wasn't too surprised that a city that understood the beauty that lay in sunshine and openness would translate such knowledge into the architecture of its government buildings. He knew enough about the use of space and light to appreciate it being put to good use.

He followed a rather quiet, plump, middle-aged woman down the brightly lit corridors, past the various laboratories laid out in neatly organized pods, and into a suite of offices, each of which made Sheriff Burdick's back in Vegas look like a library study carol in comparison.

He hadn't really expected the lab's Assistant Director to be in on a Saturday afternoon, but he had made the call on the off chance that the man was less devoted to his weekend tee-time than Conrad Ecklie, so Grissom was pleasantly surprised to find Jack Peters in and seeing unexpected out-of-town visitors.

The visit, itself, had been not entirely conceived upon a whim. He had figured that while he was in town, it wouldn't hurt to check in with Peters. As he had more than a few hours to kill before he had to pick up Sara, Grissom had hazarded a visit on the hope that it might prove enlightening.

The assistant rapped softly on an open door and called, "Mr. Peters. A Dr. Gil Grissom here to see you."

"Thanks, Mary," came a voice from inside. Mary motioned for Grissom to step inside and closed the door quietly behind him.

"I appreciate you taking the time to see me on short notice," Grissom began.

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't have you thrown out of here, Dr. Grissom," the assistant director demanded crossly, not bothering to look up from his files as he did so.

Gil Grissom looked nonplussed for a moment, until Jack Peters peered up at him from his paperwork and flashed him a very broad and welcoming grin before swiftly getting to his feet and shaking Grissom's hand warmly.

When he had last been in San Francisco four years ago, Grissom had taken little notice of the man. The department had called him out here as a special favor to help interpret some rather puzzling insect evidence in a double murder case that had the local investigators baffled. Peters had just recently been promoted to assistant director then and busy with other tasks about the lab so the two men hadn't had a great deal of contact.

Now that he had the opportunity to get a good look at him, Grissom thought that Peters was the sort of man he had imagined as the type that Sara should have ended up with -- one a good decade younger than himself, open, friendly, almost gregarious, well-dressed and even from his masculine point of view, attractive.

While those thoughts should have made him a little jealous of Peters or slightly ill at ease, Grissom also knew that Jack Peters was in no way a rival. If the man had any interest in Sara other that which was purely professional, it was hardly more than marginally platonic. For Sara, as she had once not so eloquently informed him, wasn't a member of his gender of choice.

"You here to abscond with another member of my staff yet again?" Jack Peters asked genially. Grissom shook his head. "It was bad enough that I never could manage to find a way to persuade Sara to come back," he continued to grumble, "but then you had to steal the best DNA tech this side of the Rockies right out from under my nose, too. Although I can't blame Wendy. When the number two lab in the country calls you, only a fool would say no. And Wendy is no fool. You guys in Vegas make us look like small fry here."

"Your solve rate says you are hardly that," Grissom replied.

"She seems to be doing well -- Wendy -- apart from the occasional complaint about having to pull a lot of added overtime and that some guy name Hodges is giving her grief in the lab."

Grissom couldn't help but smile as he said, "Yes, well Dave is quite good at that."

Peters shared his grin for a moment before he looked seriously grave for the first time since Grissom had entered his office. "I haven't heard from Sara since Christmas before last," he said. "We don't correspond that frequently any more so I was surprised even to hear from her in the first place. It was strange, her calling out of the blue like that. But it was even stranger when she told me she was calling to request copies of a case file. Well, that wasn't strange; we get that sort of request all the time. I'm sure you guys do, too. But when I asked her if she wanted me to send the case file to her at LVPD, she said would stop by and pick it up. Only she never showed. I was seriously thinking of calling you to make sure everything was all right."

Grissom sat there silent for a moment.

Of course everything was not all right.

Or at least it hadn't been.

But that was personal -- private.

So instead of commenting, Grissom asked, "What file was she requesting?"

The assistant director rummaged through his filing cabinet for a moment before withdrawing a large sealed manila envelope. "Murder case," he answered, placing the packet on his desk. "California versus Laura Sidle."

Peters misread Grissom's expression as one of incredulity. "Yeah, I thought that was strange, too. Sidle's not that common of a last name. So I had a look at the file. Turns out her mother killed her father when she was a kid. I never knew. You?"

Grissom only nodded.

"Harvard never talked about her family. Hell, she never talked about anything personal. Not one word about anybody. Until February of ninety-eight. She came back from the Forensics Academy Conference in town all a whirl about a Dr. Grissom from Las Vegas. I guess some people make a good first impression," Peters smirked.

Grissom smiled at this.

Sara had certainly succeeded in doing so with him. She had been an arresting sight -- so bright and engaging, so full of life and so thirsty to learn anything and everything she could.

He had never encountered anyone like her, before or since.

"If I had known what was going to happen, I would have killed Martin for having insisted that she go to that damn meeting -- continuing education credits and all that bureaucratic nonsense be damned. I knew the minute she said she needed time off to go help a friend out in Vegas there wasn't a chance in hell that she was ever coming back. One of the best CSI this department ever had, even fresh out of grad school.

"Worked her tail off, too. I don't think she would have ever gone home if Martin hadn't told her he'd suspend her if she didn't. Never understood why she would rather work than do anything, even sleep."

Grissom knew.

Sara's almost pathological aversion to sleep stemmed from her long-fought and often losing battle with nightmares. But that, too, was something intensely private and he didn't see the need to enlighten her former colleague.

Peters seemed to have thought he had said too much, because he abruptly changed the subject, saying, "Suspicions of attempting to prompt further staff desertions aside, why are you here Dr. Grissom?"

"Just Grissom, please."

"Well then, just Grissom?"

"Actually, I came to see you about Sara."