3 – Exhausted
"Please fasten your seat belts and place your tables in an upright position, we are about to land in Las Vegas." Was heard through the speakers, and Grissom put his seat belt on. They were finally landing.
He was sure the flight attendants were glad to see him leave. He had been rude the entire flight, snapping at people left and right. It wasn't his intention, but he was just so desperate to get home that he didn't consider how his behaviour affected other people.
As soon as the 'Fasten your seat belts' sign had been turned off, he was out of his seat and pushed past his fellow passengers to get off the plane. He had to wait for a moment before the exit was opened, but the second it was, he practically ran into the terminal. He didn't have any luggage, so he just headed straight through McCarran International and flagged down a cab on the street.
Half an hour later, he handed the driver a few bills and got out of the cab in front of the lab. Desperate to find out what had happened since he spoke to Catherine, he rushed into the lab and down the corridor until he was standing in front of his old office, which currently was inhabited by the very person he was looking for.
"Anything?" He asked breathlessly as he walked through the open door.
"Hey." Catherine offered him a sympathetic smile. "Was your flight OK?"
"It was fine, tell me what's going on." He insisted, leaning against the desk in what, to anyone else, would have appeared as a threatening position. But Catherine knew better.
"What we have can be listed on a single piece of paper." She sighed before continuing. "This model…" She indicated the model on the desk between them. "Is absolutely useless. We have no prints, no DNA, nothing to link us to him. We have a picture of a doll, which didn't help us before, and a tiny cloth drenched in chloroform."
"What about Sara's place?"
"All we've found is the larger version of the rag with chloroform he must have used to subdue her." Catherine could see Grissom wince at her choice of words. "The boys are still there, but they've checked every inch of that apartment, Gil. Nothing. We'll run the prints as soon as they get back, but I'm pretty sure there won't be any unknown. Jim's guys are going door to door, but so far nothing."
"Then we have to focus on what we already have." Grissom said, going into CSI mode. "The other models, have you looked at them again?"
"I was just about to get them from evidence." Catherine replied, getting up from the chair. "Care to join me?"
xxxxx
"Good morning, Sleeping Beauty." Sara jumped awake at the words whispered into her ear.
She had tried not to fall asleep, she really had, but whatever he had used to knock her out must still be in her system. She wasn't sure how long she had been asleep.
"Sweet dreams?" 'Dick' asked. She had christened him Dick in her mind, since the procedure made her feel like she at least had some control over the situation. Plus, she hated the name.
"Not like I'm gonna tell you about it." She grumbled, pulling herself into an upright position and, in the process, moving away from him a little.
"Well, I didn't really care." His voice turned cold. "I need to do something that you won't like, but if you don't let me, I'll just kill you right away. Got it?"
"Fine." Sara relized there was no use in arguing. "What do you want?" She asked.
"I need some of your blood." He replied, holding up a syringe. "It'll only hurt for a moment."
It was obvious that he had no idea how to draw blood, and Sara only hoped that he hadn't accidentally inserted a fatal bubble of air in her veins. Though that would probably be a better way to die than what he had planned for her.
"There, all done." He smiled as he withdrew the needle. "That wasn't so bad, was it?"
"What are you gonna do with it?" Sara wanted to know, and 'Dick' frowned for a moment, seemingly deep in thought.
"Well, I guess it doesn't matter if I tell you." He concluded. "I'm going to send your boyfriend and those friends of yours a little message."
"What kind of message?" She wondered.
"The scene of your death." He told her, standing up to leave. It finally dawned on Sara.
"It's you! You're the model murderer!" She exclaimed, and he gave her an appreciative nod.
"I'm impressed. I thought it would take you longer to figure out." He noted. "Not that it matters. What matters is if they figure it out."
"Why?" Sara asked before he closed the door. "Why Izzy Delancy, why Penny Gardner. And why me?"
"Oh, they had nothing to do with it. Just random. You, on the other hand, now that's personal."
"I thought you said it had nothing to do with me?" Sara frowned.
"It doesn't."
xxxxx
They had been looking at the model from the Penny Gardner case for almost half an hour when Warrick entered the room.
"Everything's in Trace, what do you need us to do?" He asked before noticing Grissom. "Grissom, man, it's good to have you back. I mean, not…"
"I know, Warrick, it's OK." Grissom interrupted, not wanting to be reminded of the situation. As long as he stayed focused on the evidence in front of him, he was fine.
"Why don't you and the guys have a look at the miniature too?" Catherine suggested. "I've been over it from every possible angle, but maybe you can find something I've missed."
"I doubt that, but it's worth a try." Warrick agreed. He got the model from the table. "Good luck with that, I'll let you know if we find anything."
"Thanks, Warrick." Catherine acknowledged as he left the room. A moment later, they were interrupted again.
"You look busy." They both looked up at Brass' voice. "Gil, good to see you."
"You too." Grissom nodded. "Door knocking turn up anything?"
"An old lady who claims she saw a purple – not pink, mind you, because that would be crazy talk – elephant climbing the fire escape." Brass said dryly. "She appears to have been the only one in the building at the time, and she's more than a little loopy."
"Damn it." Grissom leaned his head in his hands for a moment. "We need something."
"We'll get it." Brass assured him.
"Catherine? There's a package for you at the reception." Wendy peeked into the room.
"I'll be right back." Catherine told the men as she left the office.
"How're you holding up?" Brass asked when she was gone.
"I guess Catherine told you?" Grissom assumed, rubbing his tired eyes.
"Well, yes, but she didn't have to." Brass cocked his head to the side. "How long have we known each other?"
"Apparently too long." Grissom noted. "Why didn't you say anything?"
"Why didn't you?" Brass countered.
"I just wanted to keep it between the two of us for a while." Grissom stated. "I didn't want everyone poking around, asking questions. She wanted to go public, though. Maybe if I hadn't been so stubborn, she wouldn't be…"
"Oh no." Brass interrupted him. "Don't you go there."
"Why not?" Grissom wondered. "If I hadn't been so stubborn about not telling people, we may not be in this situation."
"And how would telling people change anything?" Brass questioned. "Would you not have gone to New York?"
"Well, of course I would, but…"
"No buts. You would still have been in New York yesterday morning, and this sick SOB still would have taken her. End of story."
"Thanks." Grissom offered his friend a small smile.
"Anytime, buddy." Brass nodded.
"Hey, guys. You need to come look at this." Catherine was standing in the doorway, an unreadable expression in her face.
"What is it?" Brass wondered, frowning as they followed her down the corridor and into the break room. "We've already seen the models." He stated as he spotted the box on the table.
"This is a new one." Catherine told him, and both Grissom and Brass took a step closer. Nick, Warrick and Greg, who had been examining the model, stepped back.
Inside the box was a model of what appeared to be a basement of some sorts. There were no windows, only a door linking the room with the outside world. The floor and walls were grey, and the only thing on the floor was a model of a mattress and a tiny bucket. On the mattress was a bloody doll with brown hair.
"Sara." Grissom's voice was hardly a whisper as he realized what he was looking at. The doll had blood everywhere, but he couldn't tell where it was supposed to come from. Not that it mattered, he knew what it meant. She was dead.
Rushing out of the room, he barely made it into the men's room before the contents in his stomach made a re-appearance.
xxxxx
"Is he OK?" Greg wondered as Grissom left the room. Catherine only gave him a look.
"Damn it!" Brass exclaimed. "Why would he take her just to kill her right away?"
"I don't think he did…" Nick started, getting a magnifier from his kit before leaning in to look more closely at the wall of the miniature. "Look at this." He handed the magnifier to Warrick.
"She's still alive." Warrick concluded, giving the magnifier to Catherine so she could see what they were looking at.
"How can you tell that by looking at a doll?" Brass wondered. "It's not like it's breathing or anything."
"Oh, no, the doll's definitely dead." Catherine told him. "But Sara's not, at least not yet." Grabbing a pair of tweezers from Nick's kit, she retrieved something from the wall of the miniature. "See?" She put the item in a plastic evidence bag before holding it up, offering Brass the magnifier.
It was a small replica of a calendar, with the date April 9th circled.
"April 9th." Brass mumbled. "Today's only March 19th."
"He's telling us that we have three weeks to find her, or he'll kill her."
xxxxx
Rinsing his mouth with water before spitting it out in the sink, Grissom stared at himself in the mirror.
She couldn't be dead. He would know, wouldn't he? He would be able to feel that her spirit wasn't in this world anymore. Clinging to that thought for only a moment, he sighed. Through the years, he had met more than one grieving relative who insisted that their loved one couldn't possibly be dead, because they would know. More often than not, they were wrong.
What was he supposed to do without her?
"Gil, you in there?" He heard Brass' voice from outside. Not wanting to face his friend just yet, he remained quiet, hoping Jim would go away. But no such luck. "Look, it wasn't what it looked like. She's still alive."
At Brass' words, Grissom threw the door open, almost knocking the cop over.
"What do you mean?" He demanded.
"Nick found this miniature calendar on the wall, had April 9th circled." Brass explained.
"So he's letting us know that he hasn't killed her yet, but he's going to." Grissom pondered. "What kind of sick person are we dealing with?"
"Beats me." Brass shrugged. "But we better figure it out fast, or Sara won't stand a chance."
xxxxx
Over thirty hours later, they were back to square one.
The latest addition to their growing model collection had given them nothing new to work with, other than the fact that the blood in the miniature was Sara's. Which they had pretty much figured out before the sample was even sent to DNA.
The by now well known picture of a bloody doll had been found on the back of the calendar, but they still couldn't figure out what it meant. Everyone were racking their brains for some connection – to someone they had put behind bars, or someone who had not been happy with their findings on a case, anyone related to anything concerning Sara. Nothing had so far raised any alarms.
Not that there weren't possible suspects. Catherine had pulled up every case Sara had worked since arriving in Las Vegas and she and Grissom were going through them one by one, checking if anyone had been released from prison in the past year. So far, they had gotten through a little more than half of the cases.
Nick and Warrick were currently making house calls to the ones who were not safely behind bars, checking alibis. Grissom had insisted that Greg handle all the work in the lab, claiming that he didn't trust anyone else. Greg hadn't objected, happy to be able to at least help a little. He was running prints through AFIS, but still hadn't found anything.
"Is it just me, or are we really getting nowhere?" Catherine wondered, dropping the file she had just been skimming on the table in the break room. Grissom looked up at her for a moment before reaching for another case folder.
"We have to keep going until we find something." He replied, opening the folder.
"What if there's nothing to find?" Catherine asked.
"There has to be, he must have a reason for taking her." Grissom stated.
"Maybe he doesn't. Maybe he just wanted to send a message to the LVPD or something, tell us to get off his back." Catherine reasoned.
"We were never on his back." Grissom flipped the folder shut. "We have absolutely nothing leading us nowhere."
"I'm just saying…"
"Plus, if he just wanted to send us a message, he would have killed her right away." Grissom interrupted her.
"I guess you're right." Catherine agreed after a moment of silence. It did make sense.
"Now that we've established that, will you keep looking?"
Catherine chose not to comment on the fact that he wasn't her boss at the moment and that he couldn't give her orders due to the situation. She knew he was under a lot of pressure.
They kept going through file after file for over three hours when Catherine suddenly slammed the file she'd been reading down on the table.
"What is it? Did you find something?" Grissom looked up with hope in his eyes.
"No, but I have a theory." Catherine explained. "What if this has nothing to do with Sara?"
"Then why would he take her? No, I think…"
"Hear me out." Catherine cut him off. "What if this vendetta, or whatever it is he's got going, is about you?"
"No." Grissom brushed her theory off, returning to the folder in front of him.
"Look, Gil, I'm not trying to put any blame on you, I'm just saying look at the evidence." Catherine insisted. "If he wanted to get back at Sara for putting him away or whatever, wouldn't he be focused on making her pay? Now, he seems to be more interested in letting us know that it is up to us to find her. Up to you to find her."
Grissom was quiet for a moment, contemplating Catherine's theory.
"You could be right." He admitted after a couple of minutes.
"Told you." Catherine said with a triumphant smile on her face.
"You do realize this means more work, right?" Grissom raised an eyebrow. "I have maybe five times as many cases behind me as Sara."
"I knew there was a downside." Catherine grumbled. "But we can't really do much now. We've both been up way too long, we need some sleep. And so do the guys."
"I'll stay here, keep going through these." Grissom told her. "If I finish, I'll get started on my cases. You go home, get a couple of hours of sleep."
"No, you're leaving too." Catherine insisted. "Gil, you're no good to Sara if you pass out from exhaustion." He was quiet for a moment, eyes firmly planted on the file in front of him.
"In case you haven't noticed, I don't really have anywhere to go." He said quietly after a while. "My place's rented to that couple from LA until the end of June, and Sara's…" He didn't finish the sentence.
"Well, lucky for you, I have a very nice guest room." Catherine told him.
"Are you sure?" He asked.
"Of course." Catherine huffed. "I wouldn't let you wander the streets, and you can hardly sleep on the couch in here."
"And Lindsey won't mind?"
"Are you kidding? She loves you." Catherine assured him, gathering the folders before standing up.
"If you're sure…" He stood up too, taking some of the folders from her. "We should probably call Nick and Warrick, let them know they can take a break."
"We'll call from the car."
xxxxx
"You haven't eaten anything." 'Dick' noted as he entered the basement. Sara looked up at his words, not even trying to hide the disgust in her eyes.
He had brought her a glass of water and a couple of sandwiches half an hour earlier, but she wasn't planning on eating any of it. She was sure he had put something in it, trying to drug her again. No, thank you. She had every intention on remaining fully coherent so she wouldn't miss any possibility to escape.
Not that there had been any so far. Every time he came into the basement, he had the gun pointed at her. She wanted to get out of there, but she wasn't suicidal, and she knew he wouldn't hesitate to shoot her if she tried anything.
When she was by herself, she searched the room over and over again, looking for a way out. There was nothing. The door was locked from the outside, and she was pretty sure there was another door at the top of the stairs she had seen through the doorway. So no getting out that way.
The absence of windows had made her curious. What basement didn't have windows? Searching the walls more closely, he hands touching every inch of the concrete, she had found where he had bricked the windows shut before covering the surface with cement. No use even trying to get out through there.
That left pretty much nothing. All she could hope for was that someone would find her, and soon.
Grissom.
Was he in Las Vegas? He would come back when someone called him to tell him what was going on, right? But would anyone do that? Nobody knew about their relationship, so why would they think to call him? He would probably find out when he talked to Catherine for the semi-weekly update on what was going on at the lab, but that could be days away.
What if he couldn't figure out who this lunatic was, and didn't find her in time?
Shrugging the depressing thoughts away, Sara realized that 'Dick' was still in the room, staring at her and waiting for her to say something.
"I don't intend to let you poison me." She spat.
"Oh, Sara, your words hurt me." He sighed. "Would I do that?"
"Oh, I have no doubt that you would." She replied.
"You're right, I probably would." He laughed coldly. "But not this time. Besides, you need to eat, or I won't have to kill you. Lack of food and water will take care of that." He turned to leave, letting the tray of food remain on the floor.
She knew he was right, but eating the food he had prepared for her felt wrong. As if he could read her thoughts, he looked over his shoulder before closing the door.
"You know I'm right."