To those of you who took the time to review: thank you very very much. And to those who put me on alert without leaving reviews... thanks. I'm flattered. Now review :)!
To Black Tulip: You've got me worried now. I think I'm about to disapoint you but I hope you enjoy the ride anyway. I'd love to hear your thoughts on this one, even if it comes as a let down to you.
Chapter 2
Sara squeezed the dull pain starting in her shoulder as she and Greg watched Doc Robbins remove the white sheet from the victim.
"Young Cassie has a displaced fracture to the femur, a crushed skull, several broken ribs and a compound fracture to the humerus," Robbins explained, pointing out the various abrasions and lacerations.
"All consistent with a fall," Greg intoned. Robbins nodded in agreement. "So possibly suicide?" Greg asked, casting a questioning glance at Sara.
"Maybe. But I think it's unlikely," she replied. "Look at the cuts on her face. She was wearing her glasses when she fell. Most jumpers prefer not to see the ground rushing up at them." Sara's mind drifted back to the day she'd arrived in Vegas. Grissom had told her exactly the same thing. It seemed like an age ago. Back then, she hadn't known what a rough ride she was in for with Grissom: years of uncertainty and doubt –hurt, that had often left her feeling betrayed and exposed. If I'd known then what I know now, Sara thought, I'd still have moved to Vegas. A ripple of excitement rushed through her as she thought of their planned breakfast for after shift. It was so good to be connecting with Grissom again, to be able to chat and laugh as they had back in San Francisco. After the lab explosion, they'd found themselves in far too many uncomfortable situations and she'd begun to give up hope of ever being close to him again – until he'd shown up on her doorstep the day Ecklie suspended her. The hope for something a little more serious constantly lingered in her mind, but, for the moment, Sara was happy to just be comfortable with Grissom. Over the last few weeks, he'd become visibly more at ease in her presence. He'd begun sharing himself with her again, offering wry smiles and challenging her to guess who'd said the words he often quoted. To Sara, it was Heaven.
"Sara's right," Doc Robbins confirmed. He gestured to a deep purple bruise on the girl's neck. "Chances are, somebody killed her. COD is asphyxiation. All the other injuries are post-mortem. Squeezed and dumped."
Sara was silent for a moment, feeling immense pity for the small, broken girl on the table before her while simultaneously building a mental list of suspects. She was considering the possibility of a boyfriend when a sudden wave of nausea swept over her. She squeezed her eyes shut and took a deep breath. For a moment, dizziness seized her mind and she lost track of the floor. Her hand gripped the side of the table in a desperate attempt to keep her upright. After a few more deep breaths, the feeling began to fade.
"Sara?" Greg's voice was tentative and she opened her eyes to find both him and Doc Robbins frowning at her. "You okay?"
"Yeah," she said vaguely, "I just…need a little air." She turned to Greg, "Can you finish up here?"
"Sure," Greg nodded slowly, concern written across his face.
"Thanks. Thanks Doc," Sara said. She squeezed Greg's hand and waved to Robbins before turning and making a quick - albeit unsteady - exit.
Doc Robbins frowned as the door swung closed. "Hmmm," his voice trailed off.
"Doc?" Greg raised a questioning eyebrow at the coroner's reaction.
"Sara has never walked out of an autopsy before, no matter how gruesome it's been. This case is child's play compared to the wrecked shells of people she's seen on my table. I wonder what's up."
Greg shrugged, "She worked a triple yesterday, so she's probably tired. Shift's almost over so I'll make sure she's okay as soon as we're done here."
x
It was going to be a moody day in Nevada. Menacing grey clouds hulked in the sky above Las Vegas and its surrounds, allowing little of the rising sunlight to show. The result was a dim, almost too-dark day.
Lightning stabbed across the sky, illuminating the trees with a blinding white and casting jagged shadows over the clearing in the trees of the Forberg Nature Reserve. A crack of thunder followed and Catherine Willows jumped, flashing her eyes over the trees as if something was about to spring out of them. She squinted, trying to force her eyes to focus in the dim light of dawn. Something felt…off.
She couldn't quite put her finger on it but something about the reserve had changed – and it was unnerving her. Nearby, Nick Stokes crouched down and shone his flashlight over the soil. He cast a glance up at the tall tree above them and sighed then pulled his gloves from his vest proceeded to pull them on.
"Hey Cath!" he called, "Could you pass me that specimen jar?"
When there came no answer, her turned around on his haunches and found her scrutinising the surrounding trees with narrowed eyes.
"Catherine?" he called to her, raising his voice slightly to break through her daze.
She spun around, "What? Oh…sorry!" She shook her head, "What did you say?"
"Specimen jar please," Nick pointed to his target.
"Sure," Catherine said as she tossed it to him and cast a glance over her shoulder.
"Something wrong Cath?" Nick questioned, frowning slightly at her behaviour.
"Just a little spooky out here without a uniforn, you know? Weather's creepy. It's not supposed to be this dark at 7am,"she explained with a nervous shrug.
"I'll be done in a jiff," Nick said, scooping soil into the specimen jar.
Somewhere in the trees, a twig cracked, Catherine jumped and quickly clicked on her flashlight and scanned the trees. Nick chuckled and sat back to close the jar. It was totally out of character for Catherine to be this nervous. She was normally so straight-laced that a simple twig snapping would have gone unnoticed or been scoffed.
"Don't be scared. You're out here with a strapping Texan with a 9 milimetre," he grinned winningly at her over his shoulder and she let out a wry chuckle.
"Call it womens' intuition, but I thi-" Her retort was interrupted by a bullet that zipped through the air and hit the ground a metre from her. Catherine shrieked and leapt backwards. Nick's hand immediately went to his gun and he stood, aiming blindly at the trees.
"What the hell?!" Catherine uttered, shining her torch where his gun was aimed.
Suddenly, a second bullet flew through the air, knocking Nick's gun from his hand. He stared down at it in shock until a bullet zipped past his head.
"Catherine!" he shouted, "Run!"
Bullets rained down on them now, sending leaves and dirt flying up at their heels. Nick was ahead by a few feet and cast a backwards glance over his shoulder. Catherine was frantically tugging her phone out of her CSI vest pocket as she ran. She flipped it open and let out an instinctive shriek as a bullet missed her, embedding itself in a nearby tree. She jammed her finger onto the button to call for help but was silenced by a gunshot that hit her on the right side of her torso. With a cry of pain, she spun to the ground and skidded to a halt behind a big pile of leaves. Her phone flew from her hands, immediately lost in the fallen brown foliage.
"Catherine!" Nick cried, quickly turning back. The bullets stopped suddenly and the only sound that could be heard was the rustle of leaves around Nick's feet and his laboured breathing. He fell to the ground beside his fallen partner and reached to check her pulse. She lay facedown in the leaves, out cold. He froze when he heard with click of a stock in front of him.
"Stop righ' there," a deep voice growled. Nick looked up to see a figure clad – predictably – in black, pointing a gun at him. He raised his arms slowly.
"Now ge' up!" The figure commanded. With a reluctant glance at Catherine, Nick obeyed and took a cautious step back.
"Tha's righ'. Now back up real slow."
"Lets just take it easy here," Nick started, trying to keep his voice calm and steady.
"Shut up an' move back!"
Nick hesitated, then took another step and continued, "Listen, you don't know what you're doing-"
"I said shut up!" The man roared, pulling the trigger. The bullet hit Nick square in the chest and he stumbled backwards, the air knocked out of his lungs and his centre of gravity totally offset. Suddenly, there was no ground beneath his feet and he found himself falling. When he hit the bottom of the pit, a sharp pain raced through his leg before he blacked out completely.
x
Sara leaned with both hands on the basin in the ladies' room and took a deep breath. The momentary dizziness had returned and built to a huge whirlpool of nausea, swirling dangerously at the back of her throat. She turned the tap on, wet her hands and put them against her cheeks. The coolness was soothing and, for a few moments, the nausea seemed to fade. She cast her eyes up to the mirror in front of her and chuckled wryly at her flushed appearance.
"Shouldn't have eaten that leftover pizza for lunch," she muttered at her dishevelled reflection.
Beneath her fingers, her face was burning and Sara ran her hands through her hair, praying the feeling would pass. Instead, a fresh wave of nausea crashed down over her and she tore herself from the sink and emptied her stomach into the toilet of the nearest cubicle. When it finally subsided, Sara stepped back and stood with her back against the cubicle divider. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. All this from day-old pizza? Her mind questioned. She sighed. This was all she needed before her breakfast with Grissom. She was determined not to cancel on him, lest he panic and withdraw back into himself: she did not want a repeat of the last three years! It was amazing her that he had even agreed to her invitations and she certainly did not want to ruin what was building into a most enjoyable tradition. The renewing of their mutual trust of one another had been a long process and Sara was not going to allow old pizza to disrupt it.
The nausea seemed to have faded since losing her lunch so she held her head high and exited the cubicle with as much dignity as she could muster under the circumstances. She rinsed out her mouth and splashed some more water onto her face. She was hot, as if she had fever, but guessed it was just a side effect of the bad pizza which, she hoped, would soon fade considering that it was no longer in her body.
Shift was officially ending in 10 minutes so she decided to head home to get a headstart on the pancakes she'd promised Grissom. He'd said he'd meet her at her apartment after shift so she doubted he'd mind if she left a few minutes. As she reached for the door handle to exit the bathroom, Sara felt a strange chill settle over her body. She rubbed her upper arms and made a mental note to pull an extra jacket on over her sweater before leaving.
x
"Yeah, I'm on my way," Jim Brass said into his cell phone. "I've got two officers with me. Don't sweat it. I'm sure they're fine."
"Well shift's ending so when you get there, tell them to go home. No doubles tonight. I want the team at home resting," Grissom's voice came over the line.
Brass frowned. Grissom, king of the workplace, outdone occasionally by Sara, was banning overtime?
"That must have been some review tonight, huh?" Brass teased.
Grissom's voice showed no amusement, "Just tell them Jim."
"Okay," Brass sighed, turning into the parking lot of the Reserve. Suddenly, his car lights caught a dark figure and his blood ran cold. The figure, dressed fully in black, was carrying a clearly unconscious CSI Willows, bound, towards the open boot of an old Ford truck. He jammed his foot on the break.
"Gil! Call the EMTs now!" he barked into the phone, "Things have gone wrong!" He grabbed his gun and leapt from the car, on the tail of the two officers who were in the car with him.
"LVPD! Freeze!" he shouted.
The man spun around and immediately dropped Catherine. A surge of anger flooded through the detective at seeing his friend so carelessly dropped.
"Hey! Gently!" he snapped. "Now put your hands where we can see them!"
The man offered little resistance and the officers were quick to cuff him. Sirens sounded in the distance and Brass knelt to tend to Catherine. She was breathing, but also badly scratched up. He removed the ropes from her hands and pulled her onto his lap, shaking her gently. "Catherine? Wake up," he tried softly. His hand moved over her back and suddenly grazed something cold. It was then that he noticed the bullet embedded firmly in her vest.
"Damn…" his voice trailed off. "Thank God someone listened to me when I told them to make these damn utility vests of yours bulletproof."
In the distance, the red lights of the EMTs' vehicles drew closer and Brass cast his eyes around the lot in search of Nick. But the Texan was nowhere in sight.
A/N And so ends another chapter. This one was a bit busy but I hope you enjoyed it anyway. I'd love to know what you think :)