Chapter Eight: What One Has Done

There was only one thing she knew for sure. Complete and utter fear. Here they were, out in the middle of nowhere. She was thoroughly soaked from the continuous torrential downpour, her hair plastered against her face, the drops of rain intermixing with her own tears, shielding her weakness from her captures. At least in one way.

Shivering and holding back sobs she pulled against the bonds, as if willing the thick rope to fray, or suddenly become untied. Pain exploded in her head as the blow, sharp and precise, connected with the back of her head, unleashing the sob she had so diligently held back. "Greg…"

She could see him, from where she knelt, her eyes roaming over his still form. His arms bound like hers, and like her, an unknown assailant stood guard. His chest, she could see, would rise and fall every so often, as if encouraging her, proving that he was still alive. Unconscious, Sara knowing that the beating he had sustained would cause him far too much pain to breathe normally if he was indeed awake. But he was alive. And that gave her hope.

Sara could only wonder why no one had come yet. A flash of lighting spread over the sky, and for a moment she could see the man looming over her, his face expressionless, almost hidden, and it was dark once again, the rain still falling. Her entire body was caked in mud, the ground beneath her soft, and she closed her eyes as the tears continued to fall.

It was her fault; she should have never listened to Greg. If she hadn't tried to escape…if she had just ignored him. Greg's life was now in danger…she wasn't sure how much more time they had, but when time was up, they would finish what they had started. She didn't fear for her own life though…it was Greg's life she was worried for.

Sara wasn't sure how much more he could handle. The beating, the injuries, and she certainly could not forget the icy chill that was beginning to creep over the land. Would he…could he handle the elements as well. Her eyes opened as she heard the gasping cry, her own heart tearing as she watched the assailant forced Greg into a sitting position, one hand twisted painfully in his hair.

Sara heard her own voice cry out above the noise even though she couldn't remember saying something. A knife was suddenly present, the blade resting against the pale flesh of his throat. Greg's eyes were barely open, but Sara could easily see the fear in the man's eyes. She could also see the tears, and feel her own as she shook her head. "No…"

It happened in slow motion, as though it would never finish, and yet before she knew it, it was over. The blood spilled forth, drenching his shirt, the rain washing it away even before it could stain. His eyes opened, in either pain, or disbelief, or maybe both, and yet in the next second they closed as he slumped forward, falling to the ground as his captor let him go.

"Greg!"

Sara sat up quickly, her breaths coming in short gasps, her stomach twisting into knots as she forced her eyes closed. She breathed in the air around her, the gentle smells lingering in her nose, the sounds of streets, of daily life touching her ears, muffled by the walls.

Sara pulled the blanket around her as she sank back into the mattress, unable to stop the tears that were now running down her cheeks, wetting the sheets under her. Her heart still hammered in her chest as her body trembled lightly, and she cursed, mentally scolding herself. It was just a dream, it wasn't real. And now…it was over. She had to let it go, she couldn't allow a simple nightmare to control her life.

But it had seemed so real…

Sara rolled over, Greg's side of the bed empty, her eyes moving next to the clock to see what time it actually was. Shift started in another few hours, but Sara knew she would not be able to sleep anymore…not for a while that was. Rolling back over she pulled her cell off the nightstand, flipping it open as she pressed the button for Greg's number. Swallowing lightly she listened to it ring once, then twice, and a third time before she hung up.

It had been a long while since she last had a nightmare like that. And it showed…her body was still trembling, even as she forced herself out of bed, groaning as he stomach twisted once again. Sara knew that if she wasn't careful, that she would end up getting sick.

Moving into the bathroom she stepped on the scale, checking her weight, unsure if being at 94 pounds was a reason to celebrate or worry over. It was a few more pounds than before, but not as much as she had wanted. She knew Greg had been worried…was still worried, as was her doctor. 'Eat more' her doctor had said 'It's as easy as that'. Sara rolled her eyes. Easy…yeah, except for the fact that everything she ate came right back up. Wasn't morning sickness supposed to be only in the morning?

Sara closed her eyes, leaning her head against the bathroom wall as she turned the water on. She had found out about her pregnancy just over a week ago now…and still had not been able to find a way to tell Greg. She was almost at two months now, and her doctor was threatening bed rest if her weight did not improve anytime soon. Sara laughed softly, shaking her head as she pulled her clothes off. She should have known earlier, should have gone in earlier. She was a scientist after all…there was a reason for her mood swings, her irritability, and most certainly the fact that she was late…and by more than just a few days.

Stepping under the warm spray Sara let out a sigh. Greg had the right to know…and the sooner the better. After all, she couldn't exactly wait to explain that he would be a father after dropping the kid out between her legs. She grimaced, leaning against the wall as the water came down, her stomach turning again. All she could do was hope she wouldn't get sick. She really wasn't looking forward to cleaning the tub out at the moment.

She should be happy…all expectant parents were, weren't they? All she could feel was worry, and an unnerving fear. What would Greg say? What would he do? What would Sara do, if she found herself suddenly alone? Sara loved Greg…she trusted him. She was fairly certain that he loved her back, but at the same time the man hadn't seemed interested in moving on in their relationship. How then, could she expect him to raise a family? Sara herself was still coming to terms with the fact that she would be a mother.

A sudden fear ate at her. What if she turned out like her mother? What if Greg wouldn't accept the fact that this would be their child? What if he would blame her for everything, and leave her, or even worse, what if he became like her father? Sara bit her lip as the sob threatened to break forth. She could never imagine Greg being like that, not ever, but her father had not always been abusive either. The last time she had seen her mother, the woman had told her they once loved each other.

Sara would not, could not force Greg into commitment with this. That was why it was important to keep it quiet, at least until she found a time to seriously talk with him. Then again maybe it would be best just to drive him away. Her mind recoiled at the thought, but the idea remained. Greg deserved better then this.

He was a bright, and skilled young man, and Sara had relied on him on more than one occasion. She felt as though she owed him something in return. What would she be doing by forcing him to make a choice on what he wanted to do? Sara knew he wouldn't leave willingly…Greg just didn't have it in him, to be rude, to turn her down. He would stay…but would he actually want to?

She dried her eyes, turning off the shower as she stepped out, finished even though she hadn't really washed at all. She wrapped the towel around her after drying her hair, moving into the bedroom for some fresh clothes. Her eyes still stung, but her composure was back, the idea still lingering in her head. She couldn't bear the idea of having to hurt him, but Sara knew it was for a good cause, even if Greg didn't realize it at the time. It was the least she could do for the one she loved.

"We have blood."

Greg leaned backwards, just enough to where he could peer inside the room before actually backing up a few steps. "Blood? In the classroom?"

Warrick nodded, glancing up at the younger man. "Nick and I found quite a few puddles dispersed over the classroom. A good amount, nothing that suggests something fatal happened, but enough to worry."

"Any chance of finding who the blood belongs to?"

Warrick shook his head. "Bleach, and lots of it. Brass is brining the teacher in so we can question her about it. I ran a background check against her; it appears Miss Brown has a record of child abuse, and it appears she raped a student in another state."

"What the hell was she doing in a classroom then?" Greg asked, sliding into a chair across from him. "Did they know?"

"I don't see how they wouldn't," Warrick pointed out grimly, hands working over the clothing, his eyes searching for anything that might have been missed while back at the scene. "You have an adult with young kids…someone should have done a background check, Miss Brown shouldn't have been anywhere near them."

"The real question is if anyone really cared," Greg offered, his voice quiet.

"I care," Warrick responded gruffly. "I'll make sure that the school knows that too. When this case goes public I'm making sure the media knows this woman was alone with little kids. Maybe then when the school starts hiring people to be teachers, they'll actually follow up with a proper background check."

Greg rubbed his head, letting out a sigh. The case just entered a whole new level of complication, and it seemed as though they were only going backwards. The ex boyfriend was a dead end, and they hadn't gotten any leads on a family. No one had claimed the mother or daughter yet, and no one was stepping forward to help. Catherine had found nothing at the victim's apartment that pointed to any friends, or indicated she was having trouble with anyone. Bills were always paid in cash, and on time, and she didn't have any ties to groups or functions where she could have picked up enemies.

The only thing that remained in their favor was the fact Brass had found out the woman had moved nearly seven times in the last four years. She was running from something, but what exactly? Pulling the child's birth records only listed her mother as a biological parent, the father unknown. Greg wasn't sure how much more of a dead end they could get in to.

Greg fished out his pager as it went off; frowning at the nine-one-one message he had received, glancing up at Warrick who also had a similar look. Neither of them said much, Greg moving from his chair as Warrick quickly put the evidence away, following the ex-lab rat out into the hallway, and into the break room.

There was already a small crowd in there, quiet murmurs floating over the room as they watched the television, the words 'breaking news' scrolling over the screen. Greg was already shaking his head.

"I thought we weren't going to release information about the case yet."

"We weren't," Warrick replied quietly, watching the story unfold, "this is in-depth information. You interviewed Walters right? Was the media there?"

Greg shook his head, mouth hanging open slightly. "No one…they wouldn't have known, couldn't have. No one on the outside knows that Walters was dating our victim…"

Greg matched eyes with the other man, ignoring the other stares that went around the room. "No…don't look at me, I haven't said anything to anyone; I know better, besides, that's not even the statement I took."

"And yet they site their source as 'someone from the crime lab'," Hodges pointed out briskly. "Seems kind of funny to me…you take the guys statement, and hours later it's breaking news on the television?"

"Are you sure you didn't tell anyone?" Warrick pressed him, ignoring Hodges comment. "You didn't say anything over the phone while in public, or leave your notes out?"

"I came straight from the hospital to here," Greg defended himself, trying to push aside his rising emotions. Getting angry would definitely not help in this situation. "All the evidence is in lock-up. And I swear that is not what Walters told me. I have everything written down and recorded; you can listen to the tape if you don't believe me."

Greg knew that they couldn't blame him, his eyes drifting back up to the screen as the reporter continued to support the theory that Walters had confessed to the murder of his girlfriend and her child. It was enough to make an assumption, but the man hadn't even accused anyone of doing the dirty job.

"I'd like to hear it."

Greg swallowed, turning around to face Ecklie. Somehow it didn't really surprise him; Ecklie had a knack for showing up at the worst possible moments. Still he nodded, leaving the room, more than eager to escape all the stares. Someone on the inside had leaked information, and Greg knew that it hadn't been him. At least he was sufficiently able to prove it, there would be no doubts after Ecklie and the others reviewed the tape.

He turned into the room, moving to the cabinet that still held his evidence safe. Unlocking it he pulled open the drawer, moving to the file that held everything, thumbing through the papers. He could feel his throat tighten, his heart speed up a notch as he went through it a second time, and then a third. It couldn't be…it wasn't possible. He had carried it here, he had put it away, he could swear on his life that he had.

And yet it was gone….the statement, the notes, the tap, everything. As though they had never been there in the first place. He closed the drawer, his hand still on the handle, and took a moment to compose himself. How was he supposed to explain this?

"The tape?"

Greg swallowed, turning to face possibly the most feared man in the entire crime lab itself. "I don't have it."

TBC