Chapter Five: Gunfire
She had, for the most part, slept soundly; despite an aching headache which most likely came from the emptiness in her stomach, she felt refreshed…somewhat. Now if only the grating noise would go away, everything would indeed be perfect. With a sigh she pulled the pillow of her head, muttering a few curses under her breath before shouting out a warning for the intruder to go away.
The response that came was unexpected, but not all too surprising considering her location. The shrill, yet somewhat muffled voice only added to her quickly growing mood.
"Housekeeping!"
She let out a groan, wrapping her arms around the pillow so that she could hold it close around her head. "We don't want any…"
Surely Greg must have put up the 'do not disturb' signs. It wouldn't have been that big of a deal, save for the fact they started cleaning right around the same time the pair normally slept. So in the end, it was a rather big deal, and a very annoying one.
There was another round of knocking, another shout through the door, prompting Sara to growl quietly. There was very little chance of her falling back asleep now. Still there had to be some way to get rid of the problem.
Grumpily she demanded that Greg should be the one answering the door, he was closer. She had no idea if he was listening, or even awake for that matter. She brought the covers up further around her chin, staving away the chill that had seized the room sometime during the early morning. As the voice came again there was a chill that ran down her spine. Did it seem closer than before?
Surely the maid wouldn't just wander in, and even if he or she had done so, they would have left once seeing the room was indeed in use. It came again, and this time she was certain, not only did it sound closer than before, but someone was now pulling the covers off of her.
Sitting up quickly one hand seized the retreating covers, the other balancing her weight as she cursed the man before her, blushing fiercely when realizing that it was Greg that was before her. He sat down laughing, a large grin split across his face.
"I was wondering how long it would take you to realize that it was me."
She scowled, sinking back into the pillows as her humiliation furthered. There was no maid, no housekeeper…just Greg, being more or less, Greg. And why she fell for it so easily appalled her, even being half asleep wasn't a real excuse.
"That wasn't funny," she grumbled, arms crossed over her chest as she worked to quiet her racing heart.
"Then why am I laughing?"
"Because you're an idiotic moron, that's why," she shot back at him, still angry, but unable to deny the smile that was working it's way across her face. Something about Greg always got her going; there were few times that she could actually stay angry with longer than the precise moment at hand.
"Then I'll keep in mind to keep clear of you today," Greg joked, stretching down across the bed. "The crime lab called, they say our results finally came in. I was figuring that you would probably want something to eat before we headed in. Mainly because I'm starving myself, and I know that small bag of sunflower seeds wasn't enough to fill you up."
Sara rubbed her head, glancing at the cheaply built alarm clock that was near the bed. "It's only ten," she replied with a frown, turning back to him. "We've slept for four hours, and I'm still tired."
He shrugged, "You've worked doubles on less sleep than that," he pointed out mildly.
"So, I'm still tired now. The results can wait. Besides, you can't tell me that you're fully rested. Obviously you've been up for a while, having showered and already dressed, and taking into consideration on how tired you were before…don't you ever sleep anymore?"
He drew back, up into a sitting position, his face drifting from the smile it held earlier, melting into a frown. "I just don't like sleeping in strange places, that's all…just drop it."
"You don't have to be so grouchy about it," she informed him, already moving to climb out of the bed.
"I'm sorry," he apologized quietly, one hand rubbing the back of his neck as he stood. "I'm just getting tired of everyone getting on me about my sleeping habits."
She came to a stop, glancing over her shoulder even as her hands dug through her bag. "Do you have a problem?"
"I don't want to talk about it," he warned, his voice growing edgy.
She snorted in response, before heading into the bathroom. Sometimes Greg drove her up the wall, other times he worried her. This was a combination of both. If others had noticed that something was up with him, then there most certainly was. But then again maybe she was the one overacting. After all, she pushed herself relentlessly sometimes, and had been reprimanded about the same fact many times over.
Would it really be fair to corner him, make him confess when she more and likely faced the same dilemma? With a sigh she stepped into the shower, relaxing under the gentle warm spray, hoping that it would be enough to shake the drowsiness out of her.
Placing her folded napkin on her lap, Sara glanced back up, resisting the urge to laugh at the bewildered look that occupied her companion's face. "Problem, Greg?"
"Absolutely none, as long as I order a glass of water, I should be fine," he set the menu down, running a hand through his hair. "Tell me one more time why you chose this place? There was a perfectly good fast food place right next door to the hotel."
"One, it's nicer than that fast food place. I'm surprised they haven't evacuated the building from the looks of it. Besides, I like quieter, cleaner places that don't smell like meat. And before you ask, I don't care what you order. You put up with my 'green stuff' as you like to call it; I think I can stand one meal smelling meat."
Greg smiled, shrugging his shoulders as he picked the menu back up. "I can't afford a meal here. The hotel alone is going to kill me. And here you are, just 'trying' to save me money. Doesn't seem like it." He let out a sigh, reconsidering his options.
"I'm going to have to get something; I'm too hungry to just wait until the next meal."
"If you're going to mope and groan over the prices, then I'll just pay," Sara broke in, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. It was amazing how men were able to find the smallest detail to complain over.
"I'm not going to let you pay my part of the meal," Greg shook his head, "I'm not poor you know."
She shrugged, "Just saying, after all, you are the one complaining about all the prices."
"I wasn't complaining." Greg muttered, shutting the menu, "Someone just woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning."
Sara laughed, "Maybe it was because someone was banging on my door like a fool, and dragging me out of bed with only four hours sleep."
"I still think its funny," he offered up.
"You think everything is funny."
"Not everything," he shrugged, "just most things."
"Whatever," she waved him off, rubbing her forehead with one free hand. "What was it exactly the crime lab had for us?"
"I gave trace the samples of the butter they collected, and had them do some comparisons with store bought brands. So I'm gathering they found something out. Mikayla was also doing some extra work for me, but I haven't heard back from her yet."
"You gave her your number?" Sara asked, skeptical now.
"Is there something wrong with that?"
She huffed lightly, but shook her head. Of course she had known Greg's number longer, but she had to get it from Warrick. Leave it to Greg to hand out his personal cell phone number to some complete stranger. Just because she was attractive.
"I know that look," Greg nodded towards, "you're jealous."
"I am not," Sara frowned, ready to defend herself.
"You are so jealous," Greg grinned, toying with his own napkin, "you want me so bad."
"I tend to disagree," she replied, trying to remain smug. She was surprised to see him laughing.
"You know I'm just joking," Greg smiled, his tone lightening up.
"Yeah," she nodded, feeling grim herself, realizing that Greg had been right, even in jest. The notion hit her hard, leaving her feeling empty. She was jealous that someone else had caught his eye.
"Are you okay?"
Nodding she looked up quickly, angry at the fact she had allowed herself to slip down so far in front of him like this. "I'm perfectly fine," she answered, her voice level, but clearly far from the truth.
It was a good thing it wasn't cold, because all Sara had was a short sleeved shirt. Her coat, amazingly enough, had been left behind at the hotel. After a brief argument, Greg and Sara finally agreed on checking out of the hotel after the scene, just in case they needed a place to crash before making the journey home.
Greg had wanted to check out then, that way they didn't have to back track. It wasn't until after Sara had pointed out they would need to go back to the crime lab anyways that he finally gave in.
Sara was the first to reach the officer, resisting the urge to roll her eyes as Greg followed up behind at a more leisurely pace. The Officer watched with a quiet expression, hands in back pocket. He seemed a little…tense.
"Were you the first responding officer?" Sara started, only to stop as she rethought her question. "I mean…to the original crime scene."
"Yeah," he nodded, shifting in his stance. "Officer Mckinely, I surveyed the team, they did everything that's right by them. Waited until they left, sent up the barricades. Just came back tonight."
Greg was already ahead of her, scanning the ground with his flashlight. Sara had already set her own case on the ground, choosing instead to stay behind with the officer. "Did you notice anything out of the ordinary?"
"Well…I haven't checked the scene out yet, not tonight at least."
"What about the first time you arrived? You got there before CSI, correct?" Sara offered up instead.
"Well yes, at least we're supposed to. Secure the scene and all of that, make sure it's actually a crime. No sense on calling CSI out for a phony, right?"
Sara nodded, moving to question him further but was interrupted by Greg, who motioned for her to come on over. With a short nod she stepped over a curl of loose crime scene tape, coming to a stop behind him. With a nod Greg shone his flashlight straight down. "What do you see?"
"A blood pool," Sara offered up quickly, frowning though after studying it for a moment. "A perfect blood pool."
"You've been a CSI for how long? How many perfect blood pools have you seen?"
"Not very many," Sara nodded in agreement, "most all of them were recreated crime scenes at conventions and such. This can't be right, I mean, the smell alone would attract coyotes, cougars, raccoons…this would be an invitation to a buffet."
She reached down with one gloved finger, sliding it through the undisturbed pool, watching as the barriers broke, allowing fresh blood underneath to flow over the hardening top layer.
Her bloody fingertip shone under Greg's flashlight even as she exchanged glances with him. "This isn't right, the blood is too fresh. It should be all the way dried by now."
"Fresh blood, fresh…body?"
"Another crime?" Sara wondered, frowning. "That doesn't even make sense…"
"Well," Greg suggested, "if the same killer had another body to dump, and he came back here, only to see that it was already a crime scene?"
"And he would wait clear until he was in the middle of the tapped off section to grow a conscious? Besides, a body dump wouldn't leave this much blood. This has to be a primary crime scene."
"Then where is the body?"
Sara let out a sigh, one hand resting on her hip, the other taking care not to get the blood on her clothes. "I don't know…it just doesn't make any sense."
Behind them the officer let out a silent breath, reaching to where he had his gun. He hadn't taken as much care this time as he had last, and the plan was starting to backfire. He had no choice to but to make a move now, before they decided to call in any help.
Drawing in another breath, he pulled his gun free, advancing slowly up to where the pair had wandered off to. It wasn't until he was almost on top of the pair that the brunette suddenly turned, aware of his presence at the very last moment. By then it was too late, and he didn't even breathe as gunfire tore through the silence of the night.
TBC