A/N: Another new chapter. Thank you for reading-and thanks to those who take time to review!
Gil Grissom's Romance Part 2
Chapter 28
Sara drove.
Grissom had always known she was the best driver on the team and he watched and listened, fascinated by the woman he had married, and captivated by her voice as she spoke. Words tumbled out in a hurried clip; after all these months, he knew she was irritated. With him.
Hiding a smile, he kept quiet and let her talk—about the lab, about Ecklie, about Hodges.
Sara was a master at hiding her anger; angry that Nick would bring Gil Grissom to Vegas without telling her. She was angry that he—Grissom—could be so cool and collected, but, of course, he'd had several hours to get prepared while she'd had minutes—no, seconds, from the time she had noticed Greg's quick glance and had turned to see him standing in the doorway.
So she talked. Probably didn't make sense; she'd over-talked to him for years. And he did not even try to say anything. Nothing! After—after nearly two years of silence, he had nothing to say. Mentally, she was beating herself for asking him to come with her—stupid move—when he could have remained at the lab and worked with Nick.
Her brain was racing so fast she drove past the street and had to make a couple of right turns to get back to the address. She pulled to a stop behind two patrol cars, an unmarked car, and a crime scene vehicle. The search warrant had been obtained hours ago; a detective had been at the house within minutes of the emergency call.
As Sara got out, she realized she could not remember all she had said to Grissom while driving. Damn the man, she thought. Her mind was scrambled eggs.
He had gotten out of the vehicle and waited for her. Approaching the porch, Sara decided she needed to say something.
She said, "Okay, before we go in—Heather's been with Detective Crawford—he and I don't always see eye-to-eye." Pausing, she shook her head wondering why she had said that, before continuing. "She was shaken up—but—but you've seen her that way before—so." She was trying to find something reasonable to say, "I—I—I just want to acknowledge that we haven't been in much contact—well, actually, we haven't had any contact for—for—nearly two years. I—I stayed here—you are doing your—your Paul Watson thing. I get it—things change. We went our separate ways. You surprised me by returning—and—and I thank you for coming. As a—as a consultant, I think—whatever it is—we need to be professional, to present a unified front."
Her hand waved in front of her face. "Put our game faces on—and see if we can get this—this wrapped up." Quickly, a smile flashed across her face. A forced smile.
Shuffling his stance, jamming hands in his pockets, Grissom was surprised at the emotions he had experienced since seeing Sara. He said, "Seeing you again left me a little speechless."
Sara rolled her eyes and inhaled a deep breath. "Okay," she said as she pressed the door bell, "let's do this."
Detective Crawford opened the door and, if he was surprised to see Grissom, he did not voice it. Instead, he pointed toward the back of the house and walked to a window, saying, "She's outside with her granddaughter."
"Learn anything useful?" Sara asked.
The detective shook his head. "Nothing else other than what she told first responders. The sheriff came every week—same time—worked out in her gym. Says she is his life coach and they spend an hour or so every week working on his goals and—and—what the heck is a life coach?"
Outside, in a beautifully landscaped garden with roses climbing on trellises and flower beds bordering a gravel path, Grissom could see Heather Kessler and he smiled.
Standing next to Grissom, Sara glanced at Heather and then looked at Grissom. He was smiling. With a sharp inhale and an eye roll, she turned to Crawford.
"Grissom has a history with Heather Kessler so maybe he can get something more from her." Turning back to Grissom, she added, "Remember, you are a consultant—I—we want to hear whatever she has to say."
She headed toward a door to the backyard and had to wait for the two men to catch up. "Where is this gym?"
Crawford waved a thumb in the opposite direction. When Grissom reached the door, Sara opened it and waved him through; she followed, thinking she wasn't going to miss this reunion.
Of course, the woman appeared to be perfectly dressed, Sara thought; make-up in place, wearing a tight black sweater, a lacy choker necklace around her neck, and a skirt so tight Sara wondered how Heather managed to move in it. The little girl was pretty, wearing a blue and white striped dress, as she picked flowers.
When Heather noticed three people on her porch, she seemed rooted to the path when she saw Grissom. Her mouth dropped open in surprise and then quickly closed.
Sara, exasperated, rolled her eyes again and stepped off the porch.
Heather's response was to say, "Grissom?" Slowly, she walked toward them, stopping a few feet away, and saying, "Sara—I know why you are here." She smiled. "I am surprised to see both of you—here—together."
"Hello, Heather."
Sara managed to suppress a groan as Grissom stepped forward, arms outstretched, and hugged the woman. Quickly deciding she didn't want to observe whatever was going too happened between the two, she turned, asking, "How do I get to the gym?"
Detective Crawford offered to show her the way.
"No, stay here. I'll find it."
A few minutes later, she opened the door to a modern gym in the basement of the house, walls painted a pale blue, reflecting the crystal clear water of a small pool. The ceiling was painted like brilliant blue with puffy white clouds; it looked familiar and then she remembered one of the casinos had a similar painted landscape.
On the left side of the pool, several crime scene investigators were working. Day shift had taken the case because David Hodges had worked primarily in the night-shift lab. One looked up and waved Sara under the tape.
"We're almost finished," she said.
Sara asked for a review of their findings and learned a few new discoveries. A ten pound weight had been used for the first blow, then a gun. Heather Kessler had been near enough to be covered with blood splatter—her clothes had been collected and sent to the lab.
She followed the investigator as they walked through a twisting turning hallway to an exit at the back of the house. Several passages made right or left turns to small rooms; Sara did not want to think about what those rooms had been used for in the past.
"We think the blood drops are all from the Sheriff. Hodges—I mean, the perpetrator, picked up the weight and carried it to the door but we've collected samples from the trail."
Sara glanced back toward the gym and asked, "Would you know how to find your way out? It appears he ran in a direct path to the outside door."
The investigator nodded, saying nothing.
"You think he knew the way?"
Nodding, the younger woman said, "We talked about that—nothing indicates he went into any other hall—and you see what a maze it is."
Sara opened the door and stepped outside. She said, "His car has been found on the Strip—in one of the parking garages."
"He's created chaos, that's for sure." The investigator hesitated a few minutes before adding, "We all heard you were going for the director's job—you'll make a great boss—everyone's behind you."
Sara didn't know what to say. She had not announced her plans but since she'd been put in charge of this case, perhaps everyone assumed she'd be the next director. Saying, "thank you. I appreciate that." Softly, she laughed, saying, "This case is a trial by fire."
"And it looks like we'll need a new sheriff, too."
Updates on Sheriff Ecklie were continuing to come out, sent as text messages to all in law enforcement. Prognosis was not good.
Agreeing with her, Sara headed outside and to the garden, hoping Grissom had managed to learn something from Heather. She was standing in a service driveway and, thinking it was easier to find an opening in the head-high hedge than to go around the front of the house, she walked until she found an opening. Not a real opening, but a place where the shrubs parted enough to let her slip through.
And then she realized she was in some kind of hedge-maze. She hated those things; taking ten steps in one direction, she walked into a dead-end, an open area with a gazebo. She reversed and found a right turn which she followed to a left turn, and realized it was a simple maze in curving rows with a well-tended grass path. She got to the third row and heard voices—primarily the soft voice of her ex-husband.
With the wall of shrubs between them, she stopped and listened to Grissom's words. He wasn't asking questions; he wasn't talking about the case. He was talking about…
"I've missed her every day since I left Vegas—I don't know why I left—she's the best person I'll ever know."
"You love her."
Sara, intently listening, tried to determine if Heather had asked a question.
Grissom said, "I'll always love her—for as long as I live."
Heather made a soft laugh. "Tell her, Gil!"
"Oh, no—I couldn't do that—not after all this time. She's—she's moved on. Look at her—she's ready to be the next director."
"Do you really want to live alone for the rest of your life," said Heather.
A/N: Another chapter soon.