A/N: hey guys, hope the few people that are reading this are enjoying it, there's some action in this one and I hope you're seeing some improvement in my writing. As always, please review!
The air in Grissom's dark office was heavy with emotion. The three criminalists sat in a stunned silence as the reality of what was happening sank in. They had the corpse of a US Senator's daughter on their hands, and in situations like this, someone was bound to get dirty. The feds would eventually have to be called in; there was no getting around that. The various creatures suspended in glass around the room seemed to stare at them as if to say, "Well, what the Hell are you going to do about it?"
Grissom, apparently, was the one who was going to answer them. He looked at Sara, his face grim, jaw set. "We have to go to Ecklie."
Sara's face flashed with anger. "There's no way in Hell he's working on this case."
"Sara, it's not up to you!" he said, his voice hardening. She opened her mouth to retaliate but he stopped her, saying, "And it's not up to me either. We can't just sit on this, it's too big, we can't treat it like any other case. Ecklie runs this lab whether we like it or not, and if he finds out that we went over his head and worked it without him, it's all of our asses on the line."
"Since when did you ever care about my ass?" she asked, her voice dangerously quiet. Grissom's eyes flicked to Joslyn, who he had apparently forgotten was in the room. "Sara—
She held up a hand, silencing him. "Fine, fine. We tell Ecklie. But Joslyn and I get to remain on the case."
He closed his eyes in exasperation, "I can't guarantee that. Do you really think that they're going to want a rookie on the highest profile case of the year?"
Sara was silent, having no good argument against that, and she heard Joslyn suck in a breath at the thought being pulled off the investigation. Grissom continued, "Look, we're going to Ecklie and we're going to see what he says. Now." They all stood to leave, but Grissom gingerly put a cool hand on Sara's arm, stopping her. "Sara?"
"Yeah?" she said, her tone softening.
"Please behave yourself with Ecklie."
She flashed him a mischievous smile, and they headed for their boss' domain.
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The three of them stood facing their hostile supervisor's desk, like criminals in front of the firing squad. The small office was stuffy and uncomfortable, not built for four people. The sun, gaining strength, was hot on their faces as they looked down at him. They regarded the aging man's face as the news of their discovery washed over him. A vein could be visible pulsing on the right side of his forehead, the pencil he had been holding in his hand looked like it was on the verge of breaking in two. This was obviously not what he had been hoping for when he had come in for his shift only minutes before. He rubbed his face with his hands, the stress already radiating off of him in great waves.
"Okay," he began, " We'll have the Mayor call the Senator and break the news to him. He's going to want answers, what do we have so far?" he asked, looking at Grissom.
"Well nothing yet, the case is still in its preliminary stages Conrad."
Ecklie looked at him warily, "I need something to give him, Gil."
Grissom shrugged his shoulders, "I'm sorry, the case is only hours old. We're going to need some time."
"You have four hours, get me something."
"It doesn't work like that, and you know it," Sara snarled.
"I'm sorry Sidle, I was under the impression you wanted to stay on this case. But if you and your little sidekick don't think you're up to it, I can easily pass it off to one of my guys from day shift."
Sara was seething, but the gentle pressure of Grissom's hand on the small of her back brought her down a notch or two. This was his way, she knew, of stopping her before she got herself kicked off the case.
"You'll allow Joslyn to remain then?" asked Grissom, this having been one of his major concerns. He didn't want to see the two women split up; not when he could tell that they had already began to compliment each other so well. He hadn't met anyone other than himself that had been able to bring out the other side of Sara Sidle, the side that allowed people in, even if only for moments at a time. He was interested to see how their relationship would unfold.
"Seeing as how the apprentice program was the Senator's idea, we'll allow her to stay on the case for the time being."
"The program was his idea? Why would he do that?" asked Sara, perplexed.
"It's part of his "safe community" campaign," answered Joslyn, speaking for the first time. "He figures if people know there's more funding going towards police and criminalistics departments, it will deter anyone from committing a crime in the first place."
"That's the most ridiculous thing I ever heard," retorted Sara.
Joslyn shrugged, "I agree, but it got him elected. And it got me a position here, so I'm not complaining. One of the biggest problems with the crime labs is a lack of staff, so he decided to speed up the process and get us out in the field faster, through the apprenticeship program. There's only a few of us scattered throughout the state at the moment, but if it works out for us, that could change."
"Great, let's have more inexperienced people contaminating our evidence," spat Sara sarcastically. Then realizing what she'd said, she quickly added, "Present company excluded of course."
Joslyn raised an eyebrow, smirking. "Mm-hmm." Sara laughed softly, apologizing. Ecklie watched the exchange between them, obviously not used to hearing Sara apologize to anyone, then cleared his throat, "If you two are through, I suggest you get to work."
Sara's smile melted into a frown, making no attempt to hide her obvious distaste for her boss.
"Are the FBI going to be involved?" asked Grissom, voicing another major concern of his. He and the feds didn't tend to mesh well.
"That'll be for the Senator to decide. For now you're on your own. Let me know if you need assistance processing and I'll call in the reserves."
"Thank you, Conrad," replied Grissom, turning to leave.
"And Grissom?" Ecklie called him back, causing Sara to walk into him, and Joslyn into her. Disentangling himself from the women (but not before catching the tantalizingly spicy-sweet smell of Sara's hair) he turned. "Yes?"
Ecklie paused, for effect, before leaning forward and putting his elbows on the desk.
"No mistakes."
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Grissom, Sara, and Joslyn filed one by one out of the cramped, stuffy office, relieved to be free from the piercing gaze of Conrad Ecklie. They moved down the hall a bit, congregating in front of the bulletin board. Sara leaned up against the cork and paper wall and looked to Grissom. "So where do we start?"
"That's a very good question," he replied, thinking. He pressed his lips together, placing a finger to his mouth. Sara knew better than to interrupt him when he was like this, and she knew that Joslyn was smart enough to notice the gears turning as well. After a moment he looked up, his clear blue eyes satisfied. "Okay, here's what we're going to do. We're all going to go St. Mary's. I have a feeling that soup kitchen is going to take us somewhere, and I want all of us to be there when it does. Afterwards, I want the two of you to process the oil drum and what's left of the victim's clothing. They've been laid out in the garage, they're ready to be processed." Sara nodded her assent. Grissom looked at his watch; shift had officially ended 32 minutes ago. "It looks like we're going to be putting in some serious overtime on this one."
Sara smiled. "Overtime's my middle name." Joslyn reached out a hand to help her off the wall, and the three of them headed for the parking lot.
Grissom signed out a company Tahoe at the front desk on the way out, and they piled into the car. Joslyn scooted into the backseat, Grissom into the driver's, and Sara rode shotgun. None of them thought about the seating arrangement, they just went to their respective spots as though that's the way it had always been. As Grissom pulled out of the lot, Sara reached forward and turned on the radio. The throaty voice of Diana Krall filled the car. "Oh, I love her," said Sara, sinking into her seat and shutting her eyes. Grissom looked over at her for a moment. The early morning sun shone on her through the window, shadow and light dancing across her face as they drove past the palm trees lining the Strip.
"Uh, Grissom?" came Joslyn's voice from the backseat. "You missed your turn." Sara opened her eyes in time to see their turn-off fly past.
"Yeah," said Grissom in as serious a tone as he could muster, "I thought we'd take the scenic route today."
"The scenic route?" echoed Sara skeptically, looking out the window. Grissom understood her suspicion. The city of Las Vegas during the day was not exactly a sight to behold. It was like standing in the middle of a nightclub with all the lights on; the light of day revealed the seedy underbelly to all of the hung over unfortunates who still wandered inside. Yes, the beauty of Las Vegas was only to be seen by night.
"Well, it's such a beautiful day out," continued Grissom, "And I don't know of anyone who appreciates beauty more than you." Sara looked at him for a second, and then stared straight ahead, choosing to say nothing. Diana continued to belt out her song, blissfully unaware of the mounting tension in the car. Joslyn squirmed uncomfortably, the pleather material beneath her squeaking. After what seemed like an eternity, they arrived at the soup kitchen and everyone gratefully got out.
Saint Mary's was a division of the Hands of Mercy charity group; a collective of several churches that had united to do various volunteer work around town. They held benefits and fundraisers, ran food and toy drives, shelters, and several soup kitchens in addition to the one that stood before them. Combined with the endorsement of several celebrities, Hands of Mercy had become a somewhat formidable entity.
The building was a simple, white, one-story with large, friendly windows and a welcoming red front door. A sign bearing its name stood out front, with an arrow pointing inside. The three investigators followed it through the front door and walked into a medium sized cafeteria, with a kitchen running the length of the far wall, and a small office off to the left. It had a slightly institutional feel to it, with white walls and tile floors, and steel tables and chairs filling the room. It was empty now, lunch not being for hours yet, and their footsteps echoed loudly against the sterile floor. They could hear the familiar domestic sounds of food being prepared emanating from the kitchen, and they all began to move toward it, the smell of frying onions coming out to greet them.
"Hello?" All three of them turned. "Hello, excuse me!" There was a woman shuffling towards them, high heels clicking on the tile floor, in her mid-forties wearing a navy pantsuit. She had shoulder length, mousy brown hair, and stress lines crinkled between her small eyes. "I'm sorry we don't open for another 3 and a half-" she stopped, her muddy brown eyes hardening. "Well honestly, now, we're not an all-you-can-eat buffet. You three can clearly afford to buy lunch anywhere you'd care-"
"Ma'am," Grissom stopped her, "We're with the Las Vegas crime lab. I'm Gil Grissom; these are my associates Sara Sidle, and Joslyn Grace." The woman held out a hand to each of them in turn, her grip firm.
"Nice to meet you, I'm Marjorie Hudson, the manager. How can I be of service?"
"Well, we recently received a phone call from someone at this establishment regarding a bad smell coming from the old night club a few blocks over."
"Yes," she replied, "Yes that was me. When your patrons are homeless people and even they are complaining about the smell you know it's time to take action. But we called the City to investigate, not the crime lab."
"Well the City called us after it was discovered that the body of a young woman was the source of the smell." Grissom explained gently.
The woman's eyes widened a fraction, her lips parting. "A young woman you say? Oh I am sorry to hear that. Do you know how she died?"
"Yes," Sara joined in the conversation, "Yes, she was murdered." Marjorie put a hand to her mouth. Sara continued, "We found this on the body," she pulled out the evidence bag containing the volunteer flyer, holding it up so Marjorie had a clear view. "Which leads us to believe that the victim may have been here in the hours prior to her death."
"Well we don't take down the names of the people who come to us, they just show up, eat, and leave. We have no reason to document who comes and goes." The older woman answered, not taking her eyes off the pink flyer.
"Ms. Hudson, we have reason to believe that the young woman we found was not a customer, but rather one of your volunteers," Sara answered.
Marjorie took in a breath, and put a hand out on the metal table beside her, falling into a seat. She looked up at each of them in turn. "Who? Which one of my team was it?" Sara looked to Grissom, not sure if they were willing to release the victim's name yet. He nodded at her, and she turned back to Marjorie Hudson. "We identified the body as that of…Trinity Wescott."
The color drained from the woman's face. She looked from Sara, to Grissom and back again, jaw working but no sound coming out. Her eyes welled up, but not from grief. The fear was evident on her face as she spoke in a whisper, "Are you sure?"
"Yes ma'am," said Joslyn softly, "We were able to make a positive ID off of her dental records."
"Dental…" Marjorie echoed vaguely. "How…how was she…"?
"We're not sure yet," answered Grissom. "But it would really help our investigation if you could answer a few questions for us."
"Yes," she answered, her voice regaining its strength, "Of course, anything to help find Trinity's killer."
"Thank you. Could you please tell me when was the last time you saw Trinity?"
"Yes," she began, remembering. "Yes it was here. About two weeks ago, on a Sunday. She and the Senator come by every Sunday after church. She was working in the kitchen from noon until around 2:30. Then…"she stopped.
"Yes?" pressed Grissom.
Something in Marjorie's countenance had changed. Her back was ramrod straight; her hands had begun to grip the edges of the table in a vice-like fashion. She avoided Grissom's gaze for a moment, and when she finally looked at him he saw something catch behind her eyes. He knew they'd lost her co-operation. "And then, I don't remember what happened after that," she finished simply. Sara's eyes met Grissom's in a "She's lying" kind of way, and Grissom blinked once at her before turning back to the disheveled manager.
"Okay," he responded. "Thank you. Would you mind if we took a look around?"
"What for?" she said a little too quickly, getting to her feet.
"Anything that may help us find out what happened to her," responded Sara sharply.
"I'm sorry, but I can't allow you to do that. It's my job to uphold the reputation of this establishment, and I don't think that the public would trust us very much if they found out we had been… 'Searched'."
"Ma'am, it's not a 'search' we were just hoping to have a look around. We could come back with a warrant, it you prefer."
While Grissom tried to persuade Marjorie (who's stress level was clearly increasing with every passing moment) to let them look around, Sara decided to take the opportunity to investigate a little before they were inevitably asked to leave. Joslyn glanced in her direction as she began to slip away, and Sara gave her a wink, putting a finger to her lips. Joslyn fought the urge to smile as she struggled to bring her attention back to the conversation.
The voices of Grissom and Marjorie Hudson began to fade into the background as Sara, desperately trying to avoid catching Marjorie's eye, slowly made her way to the office off to the left of the room. With a foot on the threshold she stopped and threw a glance over her shoulder. Marjorie was still deep in conversation with Grissom, so she figured it was safe to flick on the lights and step inside. She knew better than to touch or take anything, God forbid any evidence get thrown out of court because she'd taken it without due cause. But so far the office looked pretty uninteresting. The once white wallpaper had turned into a peeling yellow, a small desk sat up against the wall facing the door, covered in a layer of papers and memos. An old gray file cabinet stood beside it, and some wooden shelves held various dated, beaten cookbooks. She slowly traced the perimeter of the room, stopping here and there to run her eyes over post-it notes and old receipts. She was about to give up and turn around when something underneath the desk caught her eye. The corner of a light-pink envelope was sticking out from beneath it. Sara stuck out a foot to pull it closer to her, sliding it across the floor with the point of her shoe. She cocked her head to one side, squinting to read what was written across the front in a feminine, flowing, scrawl. Bending down to get a better look, she noticed that the envelope was of a superior quality to that of the rest she'd seen in the office. It was made of a thick, grainy paper, with a crest in the upper right hand corner. Her eyes focusing as she kneeled down, she was able to read the word on the envelope: "Daddy."
She began to reach into her pocket for a pair of gloves, but stopped, sensing someone behind her. Expecting to see Grissom standing over her, she turned, an excuse already formulating in her brain. But instead of the annoyed face of her boss, all she saw was the cold, unforgiving steel of a frying pan flying towards her at full speed.
She felt nothing, only heard the resounding crack of metal to bone. She staggered, trying to stand, to run, but the floor seemed so far away…
She nearly managed to stand upright, but at the last minute she saw the frying pan coming at her again, knocking her backwards into the desk. She slammed her shoulder into the corner of the file cabinet before sliding to the floor in a daze. She looked up and saw the side of a man's face, blurry and distorted, before slipping deep into sweet, utter nothingness.