Chapter 7
Alex smiled as she cleared the dishes from the dinner table. Greg had actually made it home on time from work and so they were able to have dinner as a family. It was a good sign for their future. Ollie had already gone upstairs to change for youth group. Greg had retired to his office where he would check his e-mail and, not so secretly, work on reports for the lab. It was a nice routine.
She looked down at her watch. She had about thirty minutes until she needed to get going or she and Ollie were going to be late—her for prayer group, him for youth group. For some reason, the thought of it made her think of her father, Gil Grissom. He had come to respect her beliefs, even though his own had waned. She smiled again, knowing Gil was resting peacefully in the arms of angels.
Alex quickly finished loading the dishwasher and headed upstairs to see if Ollie needed anything to finish getting ready. Finding him fully dressed and messing with his hair, she next checked in on Greg, who quickly changed his screen when she walked in the room.
"It's ok," she told him. "I know you're working."
He gave her a half-smile back. "Am I that transparent?"
"My intuition is kicking in," she kissed him on the cheek. "And you left the computer up the other day with a report."
His smile grew and he let out a small chuckle. "Always the investigator."
"It's in my blood, what can I say?" she responded as he gently pulled her into his lap, wrapping his arms around her. She, in turn, wrapped her arms around his neck.
He kissed her gently. "I love you."
"Love you, too," she replied. "But I got to go."
He gave her a fake pout. "Do you have to?"
She nodded. "We won't be gone long," she promised, as she stood up.
"Ok, back to work for me," Greg told her and turned his attention back to the computer screen.
Alex grabbed her purse and car keys, thinking she was forgetting something, but not knowing what. Ollie was waiting for her by the car in the garage. Both hopped in and she slowly back out, saying a silent good-bye to Greg like she did every time she left.
From his position, he could see her back out, right on schedule. The boy was in the passenger seat, which meant that Greg Sanders was alone in the house for the next couple hours.
When her car was out of sight, he hit the button on the remote to open the garage door. Unbeknownst to the Sanders, Nick Stokes had 'borrowed' one of the garage remotes on his last visit. He would return it on this visit and no one would be the wiser.
He ducked under the door as soon as he could fit and then quickly closed it. He wasn't sure where Greg was in the house or if he could hear the door. He hoped that if Greg could hear it, he would just think it was Alex.
He approached the door the led into the house, listening for any sound coming from inside. He paused with his hand on the doorknob and put his ear to the door. Nothing. Greg either didn't hear the door or wasn't curious. He slowly turned the doorknob.
Nick crept in to the home and closed the door silently. He paused again, trying to listen for any sound that would give away where Greg was. He took a few steps towards the living room, trying to hear something.
All of a sudden, loud music started to play. Nick, in his many visits, had memorized the layout of the home. He could tell from the sound, that it was coming from the home's office. So that was the direction he headed.
Nick stood outside the office door, flexing his gloved hands. He patted his pocket and felt the knife. He had thought about a gun, but worried that the noise would attract too much attention. Not to mention that gun shot residue is a bitch to get rid of. Plus, this was a very intimate crime and it deserved an intimate weapon.
For Nick this was very personal. After his epiphany, he had decided that there was no way he could hurt Greg—or anyone for that matter. But that changed a week ago when he had come to ask Greg about taking Oliver on a trip to Texas to see his parents.
"No, you can't take him," Greg told Nick.
"It's his grandparents!" Nick replied angrily.
"Nick, I have no problems with your parents," Greg was trying to clarify. "It's you I don't trust."
"It's been four months and have I done anything wrong?" Nick questioned, being very animated.
"In the last four months, no. In the last 13 years, yes."
"I've made mistakes. I admit that. But this is my son. I deserve a chance to be a father to him," Nick was almost pleading.
"Nick, you disappeared. That is not a mistake. It's very purposeful. And I don't want you to disappear with my son," Greg explained.
"I'm taking him to visit my parents!" Nick exclaimed.
"Yeah, in Texas. Then you wind up in Mexico and before we can do anything you end up in prison again!" Greg's anger matched Nick's.
Rage flashed across Nick's face before it quickly dissipated. "What do you mean 'again'?" Nick barely got out.
"I know you were in prison," Greg answered and then decided to explain. "When Jill's death became headline news, I did some searching. I didn't want you coming back and screwing everything up. That's when I found out."
"And you didn't do anything to help me?" Nick was incredulous.
"You're free, aren't you?" Greg shot back. "And believe me, that wasn't cheap. Alex thought I gambled away the money and made me go to GA meetings for two years."
Nick wanted to kill Greg right then and there, but Alex and Oliver were home and he wasn't prepared. Greg knew he was stuck in some godforsaken country and did nothing to help him get back. Sure, he was grateful that Greg had gotten him out of prison, but to just leave him after that? Especially after what he had been through? It was unforgivable. And that's what had brought him here.
Nick knew without looking in that Greg would be sitting at the computer desk and facing the doorway. There would be no surprise attack. There would be some awkward conversation and then he would accomplish what he had come for.
Nick moved in to the doorway, only to find himself nose to nose with Greg.
"What are you doing here?" Greg's anger flared. He remembered their last conversation very well. As well as Nick's threats when he left.
"I've come to finish this," Nick replied, his face set with determination.
"Finish what?" Greg demanded to know.
Greg's answer came in the form of Nick's fist connecting with his jaw. Greg was able to maintain his balance and remained on his feet. Nick punched him a couple of more times, but it was the hit to the chest and knee to the head that finally caused Greg to lose his balance.
Greg was stunned that Nick had moved so fast. Greg was no slouch—he worked out four times a week and ran five miles a day. He just couldn't believe he didn't even get a punch in. And when he hit the ground, he got the wind knocked out of him.
Nick quickly straddled Greg, pinning his arms under him. Seeing the man who once used to be his best friend like that, he had a moment of lucidity and almost got up. But then Greg started to laugh. It was a tight, raspy sound that Nick just didn't understand.
"Why are you laughing?" Nick asked, as he picked up and slammed Greg's head into the floor to get him to stop.
"You're going to kill me," Greg answered once he found his voice. His eyes fluttered slightly. He guessed he had a concussion, although he figured that was the least of his worries.
An odd smile crossed Nick's face. "It's the only way."
"She'll never take you back," Greg told him.
"When she finds out the truth—how you left me in some shit-hole country to die—she just might," Nick replied.
Greg started to laugh again. "I didn't leave you. They told me you were dead. After all the money, they told me you were dead."
"I don't believe you," Nick said through clenched teeth and he punched Greg again. When Greg didn't stop laughing, Nick hit him harder.
Nick was unbelievably frustrated. This was not how he imagined it would be. He thought Greg would be pleading for his life. And that was what was going to make this sweet—to see Greg crying and whining for his life, like Nick had been all those years ago. But all Greg was doing was laughing! Nick punched him again.
Greg was having problems breathing with Nick on his chest. His vision was going blurry due to the trauma to his head. But still he managed to get out his thought, "Ironic."
Nick stopped his assault at the word. "What's ironic?"
Between gasps for breath, he got out, "She's pregnant."