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Present Time
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The wind continued to whip around her, as the sun beat down on the quickly drying earth, the rock beneath her quickly becoming unbearably hot. Sara lost track of how long she sat there in despair, only once briefly seeing a helicopter flying far in the distance, unable to attract their attention despite her flashing mirror. Okay, Sidle, get up! Time to get moving again!
She allowed herself to slide slowly down the rock, landing softly in the sand beneath it. Well, we're back to the age old question, "Should I stay or should I go?" She glanced back the way she had come, clearly seeing her footprints in the protected areas near the shrubs. They'll be able to follow me if they find the car. Looked like the search was pretty far off base, though. They obviously haven't been able to get an exact location from Natalie yet... The roads are all to the east. East it is.
She glanced across the barren waste that stretched on toward the east and felt another wave of despair hit her, but she had made her decision and needed to stick by it. She started down the hill with a lot less care than she had climbed it and found her legs slipping out from under her, sand flying in the air as she rolled. OW! Ouch! -- Get up, Sidle, get up. It's just pain. You've been hurt worse than this. Just get up, and keep going.
Sara staggered to her feet, pressing her injured arm tight against her body. More carefully now, she continued her descent to the flatlands below. She kept her eyes tightly to the ground, willing her mind away from the desolate view she had seen from above. Keep going. Just concentrate on the positive, Sidle. You're pretty sure you know basically where you are, and the roads are to the east. Focus on the roads to the east. -- Ignore the pain. Face into the sun. Just head east.
Finally the land began to level out and her fear of slipping diminished. She chanced a glance back the way she had come, and saw the outline of her fall, but her footsteps were rapidly disappearing as the wind blew across the drying sand. Shit! How will they find me if I'm not leaving prints? -- Think Sidle! Looking down she caught sight of the small rocks littering the sandy floor. Bending carefully, painfully, still clutching the mirror, she managed to grasp a couple of stones in her good hand, systematically piling one on top of the other.
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October 1, 2006
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Stacks of coupons by a blue wicker chair, orange flowers peppering the cushion, an old LP player on a low side table, rose coloured carpet covering the floor, simple lamps scattered about the room, solid walls made of glass. Mottled tan and brown glasses perched on a crooked nose, cigarette clutched in a gnarled hand, handkerchief peaking out from a sagging sweater. The strong smell of cherry liqueur as she speaks in a low, raspy voice, her speech punctuated by coughs.
"So you're the one the maid service sent over. I'm Penny Garden. I hope you're better than the last incompetent they sent me. I'm too old and tired to do my own cleaning."
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October 18, 2006
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!beep! "You have .. one .. new message, sent .. Wednesday .. October .. eighteenth .. two-thousand .. six."
--Cough, cough, cough-- "This is Penny Garden, and I am calling to say... you're ... fired." --Cough, cough-- "If I tell you to bleach the damn grout, you're supposed to bleach the damn grout." --Cough-- "Dammit." --Cough, cough, cough-- "If I wanted unreliable, I'd hire my junkie nephew to tidy up around here..." --Cough--" You know, that's not a half bad i-dea." --Cough, cough-- "Oh yeah, oh yeah, and I want my key back."
!beep! "Message has been .. saved."
Fired...
Flash
The old LP player playing her favourite song, scissors and coupons covering the rose coloured carpet, gold cigarette case on the round glass table beside the heavy, old-fashioned lighter, walls of glass covered in curtains. Pot of daisies on the wicker table, roses beneath the window, drugs hidden beneath the largest rock in the garden.
Flash
Mottled tan and brown glasses perched on her crooked nose, cigarette clutched in her gnarled hand, filling her with nicotine, handkerchief peaking out from her sagging sweater. Bottle of Cherry Herring by her chair, glass slipping from her hand, eyes staring without sight, cigarette burning away.
Nicotine...
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November 8, 2006
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A perfect miniature waiting outside, a few drops of nicotine in her bottle, waiting, waiting... Barely distinguishable over the sound of music, the soft thud and splash as the glass hits the ground, a crinkling of papers, the crashing of a lamp from the side table. A loud, jarring crash as Penny falls through the glass wall of her house.
No! NO! It's wrong! It's all wrong!
Kicking out at the small wicker table, throwing the coupons to the floor, covering the shattered glass, colours swirling around her. The smell of blood filling the room, covering the sweet cherry smell, the acrid stench of smoke. -- Seeing lights go on at the neighbour's, glancing down at Penny's face, sneaking away as the sirens come closer, clutching the box to her chest.
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Earlier Today
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Grissom lost track of how long he had lain on the couch, but his voice had gotten rough as he talked to Bruno, regaling their pet with tales of the woman they both loved. Bruno didn't seem to mind, relishing the attention after being alone all night, willing to remain and listen if it helped his master, who was obviously distressed about something.
Grissom's phone broke into his monologue, and he glanced briefly at the caller ID before opening it, "Nick?"
"I think I found a connection, Natalie had the number for the Desert Diamond Auto Yard written down below a sketch of Sara. That's the dealer that salvaged the car. Natalie must have seen their name on the tow truck, and --"
Grissom broke through this rambling dialogue to focus on the important questions, "Have you told Brass?"
"Yeah, he's on his way there right now."
"Where are you now?"
"I'm still at Natalie's. Warrick took our SUV, but I can --"
"I'll be right there to get you. We're heading out to Red Rock Canyon. Hopefully Brass will have a more precise location by the time we get there." He didn't even wait for Nick's reply, shutting off the phone, letting Bruno out briefly while he grabbed a quick drink, then heading back out to his car. This has got to be it, the last link. We'll find her.
As he drove through the streets of Vegas, though it had been several hours, Grissom was still amazed at how quickly the water had dried after the deluge of last night. There were still puddles in low lying areas, but the street was dry between these. In the distance, he could even see a little dust swirling in the haze. He barely had to stop for Nick to jump into the SUV, and they were off again.
"Look, Griss, I'm sorry I didn't think of this sooner... I mean, I wondered how she had gotten the car to the desert, but it never occurred to me to check with the auto yard, and I... I'm sorry."
None of us thought of it, so obvious... How could we have missed this? -- It doesn't matter now. We've got to keep up hope. "Nick, don't. It's not your fault. Any one of us could have seen the link, and we didn't. It might not have even made much difference if we did check with the auto yard earlier. With all the rain, and --" This time he cut himself off, the goal was to stop Nick blaming himself, not make him feel worse about what might be happening to Sara. He glanced over at the younger man, now slumped against the door of the SUV. God, Sara, please be all right. I don't know what it will do to him -- to me -- to the team -- if you're not.
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November 8, 2006
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Flash
Glass littering the floor, pieces stained with blood, remnants remaining in the cracked window pane.
A sharp blade behind the second window to the right of the door, lifting it from it's frame. Glass shattered with a sharp blow. Red paint applied to the jagged edges still left in the wood. Pieces scattered inside and out, fixed down with small dabs of glue. The window slowly, carefully fitted back in place.
Flash
Penny, slumped out the window, cuts marring her face, blood running down into the roses.
Tweezers carefully prying the miniature figure from the wicker chair. A thin brush streaking red paint on the doll's face, dribbling it down her sweater. A blade helping position her over the bloody glass frame.
Perfect...
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November 9, 2006
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"Ernie, I need your help."
"What is it, honey? Do you need some more parts?"
"N-no, not right now. I need to give this to someone... C-Could you br-bring it to her house t-tonight?"
"Sure, honey, I can do that for you."
"Thanks."
!beep! "You have .. one .. saved message, sent .. Wednesday .. October .. eighteenth .. two-thousand .. six."
"This is Penny Garden, and I am calling to say... you're ... fired. -- If I tell you to bleach the damn grout, you're supposed to bleach the damn grout. Dammit. -- If I wanted unreliable, I'd hire my junkie nephew to tidy up around here... -- You know, that's not a half bad idea. -- Oh yeah, oh yeah, and I want my key back."
!beep! "Message has been .. deleted."
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"Hey, what's a pretty thang like you doin' down here in this hell hole?"
"I-I-I was j-just v-visiting Ernie."
"Ernie, huh, old guy like that. You come with Raymundo, and he'll show you a real good time."
Hands grasping her shoulders, pushing her back against a barrel, the strong pungent odour drifting from an open lid.
Flash
Quilted comforter, blue, red, white, forced over the foot of the bed. Clothes thrown over the wooden desk and chair. White linen curtains blowing in the breeze. Sweat dripping from his tight cropped curls.
Flash
Metal tables on rolling wheels, one larger than the rest, high sides holding water, electric leads trailing from it. Clamps above to hold struggling chickens, suspended from steel beams criss-crossing the ceiling. Raymundo, grey and blue uniform drenched, face down in the pool of water.
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Earlier Today
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The silence in the car was almost tangible as both men sent their prayers speeding over the desert, reaching out to Sara, begging her to hold on, to wait for them. Grissom started as the scanner in the car buzzed to life, "All units, all units, this is Jim Brass. We have a location for Sara Sidle -- Ice Box Canyon in the far northwest of Red Rock Canyon Conservation Area. Air unit 3 is on its way there now."
Nick sat up straighter in his seat and spared a glance at his supervisor. Grissom knew they were both thinking the same thing. Thank God. A place to look.
He switched on the SUV's siren and lights, pressed his foot a little farther down on the gas pedal, and sped on his way toward the conservation park. Soon, they were joined by other patrol cars, the road turning to dirt. Good thing they make us all take those off-road driving courses, he thought as he expertly drove across dirt tracks, already rough before the rains, and through patches of sand that threatened to bog down the car.
The helicopter buzzed by overhead, letting the responding vehicles see that it had arrived, then flew ahead, searching over Ice Box Canyon. Grissom caught a glimpse of Greg's anxious face as the chopper passed by them. Good. He'll know what to look for. He's seen the model. He'll know the topography, the look of the car, as much as anyone. He'll have a good search image.
They flew over the bumpy tracks, neither saying anything, both waiting for the crackle of the radio, hoping desperately that someone would spot the car, or even better, spot Sara herself. Hang on, honey. We're almost there. We're coming.
Suddenly, the radio came to life, "Control, Air 3, we are 20 miles west of the 159 near Ice Box Canyon, red coloured vehicle is spotted. Fits the description."
Grissom looked up to see the helicopter hovering less than a mile up the track, and he put on a fresh burst of speed, pulling away from the pack of police cars behind him. Nick didn't say anything, just hung a little tighter to the overhead handle. They've found her... I'm almost there.
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TBC
A/N: Natalie's voice mail messages were taken from CBS's CSI miniature killer webpage.
Feedback greatly appreciated! Nitpicks welcome.