A/N: Thanks for reading and reviewing! We hope you enjoy this chapter.
I don't own CSI. Some inspiration and dialogue are taken from episode 410, "Coming of Rage."
December 2003
Brass surveyed the scene, taking in the teenager's dead body and the three blood-spattered walls with practiced eyes. He finally looked at Grissom.
"Help me out here," he said. "Any ideas on this one?"
Grissom, from his position crouching next to the body, looked at the victim's clothes. "Well, based on his pants around the knees, I would say … crime of passion," he said with a slight shrug. He stood up and surveyed the blood that seemed to be everywhere – both on the walls and around the body, concentrated around the victim's head. "Given the brutality of it … seems to me an act of rage."
"Yeah, well, most homicides are," Brass replied. "You want to call in some help on this one?"
Grissom crouched down next to the body again, brushing the victim's hair aside to look at the gash that was source of a great deal of the blood around him. He had certainly seen wounds like this before … "See that mark on his head?"
"What you call a mark, I have a feeling Robbins is going to call cause of death," Brass said.
"Well, whatever you call it, it looks like it could have been made by a hammer," Grissom said.
Brass exhaled. "Which gives us about fifty suspects in the immediate vicinity."
"Yeah."
"Okay," Brass said. "Let me know when your helpers get here."
Grissom smiled faintly. "Will do."
Brass walked outside to talk to the site foreman, leaving Grissom alone with the body. He studied the wounds for several long moments. There were multiple injuries that all seemed to have been made by a hammer. He sighed. This boy was so young … too young to have met with such a violent end.
To stop himself from going down a rather melancholy, philosophical path, Grissom focused on the injuries. While not common, they weren't uncommon, either. In fact, he had used similar injuries in a lecture that he gave a several forensics conferences one summer. Double murder in a garage …
A twisted smile crossed his face. He knew exactly which CSI he wanted as his helper. He just wasn't sure that he could trust himself alone with her – not yet. Not while his emotions were still so close to the surface.
He exhaled as he took out his phone. He wanted to work with her. He wanted to be close to her. Even if he could never be close to her in that way again, he wanted to at least have the pleasure of being in her company … even if another person would be right there, working alongside them.
He placed the call.
"Brown."
"Warrick, it's Grissom. Is Sara with you?"
"Yeah, she's right here," Warrick said, looking across the layout room table at Sara, with whom he had been going over evidence from a recent case.
"Great. Put me on speaker."
"You've got it."
Sara looked at Warrick questioningly as he pressed the button for speaker phone and put his phone down on the table.
"Okay, Grissom, go ahead."
"Hi, Sara."
"Hi, Grissom," she replied, still looking at Warrick quizzically. He shrugged.
"I'm at a homicide scene with Brass," he said. "A kid was killed at a construction site. I'm going to need both of you for back up."
"Okay," Warrick said. "We're working on our evidence from the Anderson case. We'll put it on hold and meet you there."
"Good. Sara, you're in?"
"I'll make sure Warrick gets there," she said.
Warrick made a face and shook his head, but Sara merely smiled.
"Good," Grissom said again. "I'll be waiting."
He clicked off, and Warrick picked up his phone again.
"Girl, you are so not driving."
"I have to now," she teased. "I promised our boss I'd get you there in one piece."
Warrick shook his head. "You'd have a better shot at that if you let me drive."
Sara laughed as she went to get her kit. "I'll meet you at the car."
December 2015
On his third day with the Grissom family, Jake attends his first day of school. It is not the school he attended before his parents died, or even the one he attended while at the group home. Las Vegas is home to quite a few public high schools, each serving its own neighborhood; his parents' home, the group home, and the Grissoms' home are each in different neighborhoods.
Attending a different school because he lives across town does not bother Jake. Attending a private school, however, does.
"Can't I just go to whatever public school you have here?" he asks as Sara presents him with his uniform.
"We're sending you to the same school Anna attends," Sara says. "She'll be in the lower school, and you'll be in the upper school, of course, but, well …" She shrugs. "Based on all the research we've done, it's the best school in the city."
"Public schools are fine," he mumbles.
"I'm not saying you're wrong," Sara says fairly. "Gil and I both went to public schools." She smiles faintly. "To be honest, he's the one who pushed for Anna to go to the private school. In the end …" She shrugs again. "He's the academic, you know? When it comes to education, I can't argue with a teacher."
"I get why you're sending your daughter there," Jake says. "But, why me?"
Sara looks surprised that he would ask. "We want you to go to a good school," she says as though it is common sense. "Anna isn't the only one whose future matters, Jake. Yours is just as important as hers."
He exhales a long breath. Sara studies him, knowing that she's dropped a lot on him only three days into his stay.
"Anna really likes her classmates," she finally says. "I'm sure you'll like the other kids."
"Yeah," he says sarcastically. "I'm sure they're just like me. I'm sure they watched their dad beat up their mom every night, too."
Sara maintains eye contact, looking at him levelly. "You'd be surprised what other people have in their past," she says evenly. "Everyone has skeletons in their closets."
Jake frowns slightly, but doesn't press her. Sara, for her part, does not explain anything further. It is not time. Jake is not ready to hear about it.
"Gil will drive you and Anna to school in the morning," she says. "They leave at eight. Make sure you're ready." She turns to leave, but pauses in the doorway, giving him a smile. "Good night."
He nods, but doesn't repeat the words. Sara nods back, and leaves his room, gently closing the door behind her.
When Jake walks into the kitchen the next morning, Grissom and Anna are the only ones he sees. He glances around before sitting down at the table with Anna.
"Where's Sara?" he asks. In the short amount of time he has spent with them, he has learned that his new foster parents prefer to be called by their first names.
"At work," Grissom replies.
"Mommy works all night long," Anna says. "She sleeps when I'm at school and Daddy's at work."
"Jake will be at school, too," Grissom says.
"We won't be in the same building," she says anxiously. "Will you be all right without me?"
"Yeah," Jake says, feeling the urge to smile for the first time in what feels like years. "I think I'll be all right."
Anna looks relieved. "Good."
Grissom glances at the clock. "Okay, we need to leave in fifteen minutes. Make sure you both have everything you need and that you've brushed your teeth."
Jake shoots him a look of pure annoyance. Grissom smiles slightly.
"I'm used to a younger crowd."
Jakes rolls his eyes. "Whatever." He slides off his chair to get his backpack.
Grissom watches him go and sighs. He's nervous … let it go.
December 2003
Brass was the first member of the LVPD that Warrick and Sara saw as they arrived at the scene. He was busy arguing with the site foreman; they left him alone and continued to the house. Crime scene tape closed off one entrance; they ducked under it and wound their way through the skeletal building until they found Grissom in the room with a dead body. He looked up from photographing as they entered the room.
"Take a look at his head," he said. "Tell me what you see."
Warrick, who was closer, crouched down next to the body. He pulled back the victim's collar to reveal the wounds Grissom had been studying since before calling them. Sara leaned forward to get a better look.
"Definitely blunt force," Warrick said.
Sara felt an odd sense of déjà vu. The injuries were remarkably like the ones Grissom had shown during a seminar she had attended while working in San Francisco … "That's a hammer head," she said.
Grissom looked at her, holding her eyes longer than was strictly necessary. In that moment, she knew that he remembered that conference just as well as she did.
"I thought you might say that," he said.
Sara broke the eye contact before it could become uncomfortable and walked away under the pretense of studying the blood patterns on the walls.
"Well, we know that people often commit crimes in places they're familiar with," Grissom said, giving Sara a significant look.
She quirked an eyebrow and ducked out of the room.
Men were milling around outside the house, obviously waiting for their boss to tell them to get back to work. Every single one of the construction workers had a hammer hanging from his tool belt. Sara felt her heart sink. She turned back into the room where Grissom was watching her.
"You've gotta be kidding me!"
He gave her a look that, although somewhat teasing, said he was most definitely not kidding her. Sara glared at him, but went to find Brass. She wanted a uniform to help in the hammer collection.
Grissom turned away from Warrick to begin photo documenting the blood on the walls. As much as he had wanted Sara with him … he was glad to be in the room with Warrick. With Warrick, there were no emotions, no expectations, no awkward moments, no fears … It was simple. It was easy.
It was exactly what he wanted in that moment.
"Hi."
Grissom looked up as Sara came back into the room, and then, after acknowledging her with a slight smile, went back to processing the body. "How did it go with the hammers?"
"Oh, you know, a little sexual harassment is always a high point in my day."
Grissom's head snapped up. "What?"
"We're at a construction site, Griss," Sara said with a sarcastic smile. "What more could I expect?"
Shame filled him. I should have sent Warrick to do that job. "I'm sorry, Sara. I didn't think …"
"Hey, it's no big deal," she said. "In case you haven't noticed, I'm pretty good at taking care of myself."
"Yeah," he said quietly. "Still …"
She shook her head. "Forget about it. Should I go back to the lab to start processing the hammers?"
"No," he said. "Warrick can do that."
She quirked an eyebrow.
"They're bringing in the scent dogs," he said. "I'm hoping we can get one to follow the trail of the fabric our vic is holding."
Sara nodded, noting the scrap of material clenched in the hand of their victim. "I've seen them work with samples that small before."
"You like animals, right?" Grissom said.
She nodded.
"Stick around."
"Okay," she agreed. "What still needs to be done right now?"
"Perimeter."
"I'm on it."
Grissom exhaled as she walked out of the room. He knew it was silly, and that it hardly made up for the earlier task he had given her, but he felt slightly better after asking her to stay to see the scent dogs. He knew she loved them. It was a small consolation, but he hoped it would help.
December 2015
Jake walks into the sunny lunch room with the rest of his classmates. His morning has not been particularly good or bad – although the teachers have introduced him in each class, and the other students have looked at him curiously, no one has approached him.
His classmates all look very much the same to him. Aside from the uniforms that give the classrooms a sense of homogeny, the others all have similar haircuts, similar accessories, and similar looks in their eyes. The bright, sparkling students in this school have never known any real hardship. They have lived sheltered lives, and have developed a sense of entitlement that gives them an attitude that Jake finds rather threatening. Fearing contact with these rich, spoiled teenagers, Jake is grateful they have left him alone thus far.
The cafeteria, though, is a new test of his loner endurance. He gets his food as quickly as possible, and seeks out a small table tucked away in a corner of the room. He sits with his back to the wall so he can observe his classmates.
He has barely begun to eat his lunch when a girl approaches him.
"Hi," she says.
"Hi," he replies cautiously.
"Can I sit down?"
Jake shrugs. "I guess."
She sits down and smiles at him. "I'm Molly."
"I'm Jake."
"Yeah, I was in history with you when Mr. Anderson introduced you."
"Oh."
"Did you just move here?"
"Sort of," Jake mumbles.
"Well … I can show you around, if you'd like. I've lived in Vegas all my life."
"Have you?"
"Yup. Same house and everything. My little sister and brother go to school here, too. They're in the lower school. Do you have any siblings?"
"Sort of," he says again, thinking of Anna.
She frowns. "You're not making any sense. Are you trying to make fun of me?"
"No," he says quickly. "No, I'm not. I'm just …" He sighs. "Things are … complicated."
"Oh. Well, maybe –"
"Molly! There you are!"
Another girl runs up to their table, her blond hair flying behind her.
"Hi, Shannon," Molly says. She turns to Jake. "This is my friend, Shannon. Shannon, this is Jake. He's new. He's in my history class."
"Hi," Shannon says, barely looking at him. "We have a meeting," she says to Molly, giving her a pointed look.
"A meeting?" Molly asks blankly.
"Yes," she says forcefully, grabbing Molly's arm to pull her up from her seat. "A meeting. Right now."
"Okay," Molly says, clearly bewildered. "I'll see you later, Jake."
He nods and watches Shannon drag Molly away. She has her head close to Molly's, and is clearly whispering to her. Molly's head pops up and looks back in Jake's direction for a moment before Shannon pulls her out of sight.
"Great," Jake mutters. "Word must be out already."
Jake doesn't see Molly until the end of the day, when he is walking out of the building. She approaches him rapidly, her cheeks flushed.
"You lied to me," she says.
"What are you talking about?"
"You told me you just moved here. Shannon said that's not true. She said you're living with the Grissoms … that you're their …"
"Foster child?" Jake supplies. "Yeah. Can't even say the word, can you?"
She stares at him.
"That's right," he says. "I told you I just moved here. Well, I did. I've never lived in this part of town before. But, Shannon's right, too. I'm the Grissoms' foster child. So, their daughter is my foster sister." He exhales. "Explain to me how I lied to you again?"
Her eyes narrow. "What did you do to wind up in foster care?"
He laughs mirthlessly. "Why don't you ask Shannon? She seems to know everything about me."
"I'm asking you," Molly says.
"Yeah, well, I don't want to talk about it. Especially not with someone like you."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means that you're just liked everyone else in this school. You're a rich, spoiled bitch who wants nothing to do with a poor, troubled kid like me."
Tears fill Molly's eyes. "How can you say such horrible things?"
"You know what? When you've seen what I've seen – when you really know me – come back and talk to me." He looks up and sees Anna waving to him. "I'm out of here."
Anna meets Jake halfway.
"Mommy's over there," she tells him.
He nods and follows her to her mother.
"Did you have fun today?" Anna asks. "I told my friends that you'd be there, and that they should tell their brothers and sisters to be nice to you."
"Oh," Jake says. Well, that's how they found out. Thanks, Anna.
"Hi, guys," Sara greets them as Jake and Anna approach her. "Who was that you were talking to, Jake?"
"Some girl," he mumbles.
"That's Molly," Anna supplies. "She's Lizzie's sister."
Jake sighs. It would be her friend's sister.
"Oh," Sara says, apparently content with that small amount of knowledge. "Did you enjoy your first day of school, Jake?"
"It was what I expected," he says.
Sara nods slightly. "It'll get better."
"Doubt it."
She frowns. "Good attitude, Jake."
"If these stuck-up snobs don't like my attitude, they can go –"
"Okay," Sara says quickly, looking from him to Anna. "Let's get you two home so you can do your homework."
"Great," Jake mutters. "I can hardly wait."
December 2003
The scent dog and her handlers arrived right on time. Sara was lured away from the perimeter to greet them. She patted the dog on the head.
"This is Penny," the officer holding her leash said.
"Hi, Penny," Sara said, scratching behind her ears. "Grissom is with the body now. He's got the scent exemplar."
"Great," the officer said, following Sara into the house. "I'm Lisa, by the way."
"Sara," Sara replied.
They found Grissom who smiled in greeting. He pointed to the scrap of red cloth in the victim's hand.
"I think our vic got a little piece of his killer."
"Well, Penny's ready to help you find the person who was wearing that," Lisa replied.
"Great." Grissom carefully pulled the material from the victim's hand and held it up for the dog to sniff.
"Distinguish," Lisa commanded. She looked at Grissom. "You ready to run?"
Grissom pointed back at Sara, who was standing behind him. "She does all my running."
"Thanks," she said, giving him a slightly sarcastic smile.
As much as she might complain about all the hard work he was putting her through, she would much rather chase the dog than continue to process the scene.
And …
She had a feeling he knew that.
Between Sara's dog chase and Warrick's hammer testing, they found Gregory Curtwell, the owner of the hammer used to bash in the victim's head. Although he claimed to never have seen the victim before, he could identify a picture Sara had of the owner of the red shirt that had been torn – Archie had found it on a mall security camera.
"That's my kid sister, Ashley," he said, staring at her picture. "Why? What's she got to do with it?"
"You tell us," Brass said.
Gregory ran his hand over his face. "I have no idea."
"Can we talk to her?"
"Yeah, sure. I'll get her here now."
Ashley seemed shaky when she came into the police station. She was shown to an interrogation room to wait; Brass and Warrick watched her for a moment from the observation room.
"She looks … nervous," Warrick said.
"Almost traumatized," Brass observed.
Warrick shook his head. "We've been assuming that the fabric was torn from her shirt as she killed the vic. What if it went the other way around? What if she's our initial victim?"
"All right, I'll buy it," Brass said. "Get Sara in here. She'll probably feel more comfortable talking to a woman."
December 2015
Jake walks down the hall to his last period class with his eyes downcast. Everyone in his freshmen class has heard, so it seems, that he is the Grissoms' foster child. And, these sheltered, petted teenagers have only seen foster children on movies and made for TV specials; they only know them as runaways and drug addicts. Because this is all they know, and because Jake is so quiet and withdrawn, they think that is what he is. They are afraid of him.
Jake, however, does not see their fear. He sees the hostility and rudeness they use to mask it. As he told Sara the day before, it is no better or worse than he expected.
He turns the corner and feels something heavy connect with his shoulder. He jumps back and looks up into the face of a towering upper classman.
"Hey!" the other boy yells. "Watch it!"
"Sorry," Jake says.
The boy shoves Jake back into the lockers behind him. "You … you're new here."
"Yeah," Jake says, his temper rising. "What's it to you?"
The older boy closes in on him, standing well inside Jake's personal space. "You're that freaky kid aren't you? The one who ran away from home and found some nice family to take him in?"
"Nope, not me," Jake says, his head going down instinctively as his shoulder smacks against his opponent's. "I'm definitely not a freak."
"You're a freak if I say you're a freak." They begin to circle each other, still knocking into each other's shoulders.
Jake falls back on the oldest, most effective line he can think to use in this situation. "That's not what your mom said."
"You asshole!"
The other boy slams into Jake, throwing him backwards. Jake pushes him back, and, within seconds, an all-out fight has begun. Mindless of the other students who have gathered to watch or the teachers who are yelling at them to stop, they continue punching and kicking each other.
An arm comes across Jake's chest, pulling him back. His opponent, too, is being restrained. The two teachers who have broken up the battle take the boys to the assistant principal's office, while two other teachers shoo the onlookers to class.
Jake exhales and shakes his hair out of his eyes. It is not going to be a good first week of school.
December 2003
"Hi, Ashley," Sara said as she walked into the interrogation room. "I'm Sara Sidle. I work with the crime lab."
"Hi," Ashley said in a very small voice.
As she crossed the room, Sara looked at the scared teenager and felt her heart break. It was like seeing Susanna Kirkwood again. Susanna, though, had been too scared to tell Sara what had happened. She had been too terrified to seek help, and Sara had been too late to give it. With Ashley … it was like being handed a second chance. And, this time, Sara did not intend to fail like she had with Susanna.
She sat down across from Ashley. "I'm just here to ask you some questions," she said.
"About … last night?"
Sara nodded. "Yes. Where were you?"
"Not at home," Ashley admitted.
"Can you be more specific? Who was with you?"
"No one," she said.
"You were all alone?"
"I was alone all weekend," Ashley said.
"Why?"
"My parents died in a car accident four years ago," she said.
"I'm very sorry," Sara said. "Your brother, Gregory, is your guardian, right?"
"Yeah."
"And … he left you alone all weekend?"
"He goes away a lot."
"Okay." Sara's heart broke again for this poor little girl. "Why don't you tell me what happened last night?"
Ashley began a slow, halting story about cutting through the construction site on her way home and running into Brian Haddick, a boy she knew from school. He fed her a story about a lost cat, and, when she tried to help him find it, he got her into the half-built house and tried to rape her. She was saved by a mystery man, who bashed Brian over the head with a hammer and gave her time to run for it.
"Okay," Sara said as Ashley dissolved into tears. "Okay. You're safe now, Ashley. No one can hurt you."
Ashley drew a shaky breath. "Can I see my brother now? Please? I want to see Gregory."
"I'll go see if I can find him," Sara said.
She left the interrogation room; Brass and Warrick met her in the hallway.
"She's covering for her brother," Brass said. "Up close and personal like that, she had to see the assailant's face."
"Wouldn't you?" Sara said. "She doesn't want to lose him now."
"That's what I said, too," Warrick agreed. He looked at Sara, who was fighting to keep her emotions from her face. "You okay, Sara?"
"I'm fine," Sara said quickly. She shook her head. "Those are never my favorite statements to take, you know?"
"Why don't you go back to the lab?" Warrick said. "Tell Grissom what you learned. I'll find the girl's brother and make sure she gets home safely."
Sara nodded. "Thanks, Warrick."
"Anytime."
Grissom was in his office when Sara arrived. He looked up as she sat down.
"How did it go with the girl?" he asked.
"She identified the vic," Sara said. "His name is Brian Haddick. They went to school together. She said she was cutting through the construction site, he cornered her, tried to rape her, and had his head bashed in by her hammer-wielding savior."
"Did she happen to know her savior?"
"No," Sara said, suddenly feeling weary. "Brass and Warrick think it had to be her brother, though."
"Well, his hammer had the vic's blood on it," Grissom said.
Sara nodded. "I just … feel bad. Their parents are dead; he's her only family."
"Don't, Sara," Grissom said. "Don't get emotionally involved. You'll lose perspective."
Sara nodded. "Yeah. I know." She looked away. "I just … I really want to help this girl, Griss. I want to make a difference."
"You already have," Grissom said.
Sara's eyes snapped back to his face.
"You listened, and you didn't judge her. You let her talk out everything that happened to her. And, Sara, I know that made all the difference in the world to her."
Sara smiled for the first time since coming into his office – for the first time around him since he had broken up with her.
"Thanks, Griss. That … means a lot."
He returned her smile.
December 2015
"Sara?" Grissom gently kisses her cheek. "Wake up, honey."
Sara struggles to open her eyes. She is sure she fell asleep only moments before; he cannot possibly be home from work so soon.
"Good afternoon, sleepyhead," Grissom teases.
"What time is it?" Sara asks.
"Almost time to pick up the kids."
Sara sighs and rolls onto her back. "How can that be? I just went to bed."
"At least eight hours ago," Grissom says with a smile. "I know you were home on time this morning."
Sara nods. "I'm so tired," she says with a jaw-splitting yawn.
"Well, taking on another child is difficult," Grissom says.
"You're not exhausted."
"I'm tougher than you are," he teases.
Sara tosses her pillow at him. "You're mean."
The phone rings, interrupting anything Grissom would have said back to her. He leans across her to pick it up.
"Hello? … Yes, this is Dr. Grissom. … Is Anna – oh. … What? … Okay. … Yes, I understand. … We'll talk to him. … I'm sorry, Dr. Jennings. This won't happen again. … Thank you for calling."
Sara looks at Grissom with huge eyes. "What happened?"
Grissom exhales. "Jake's been suspended for three days."
"Suspended? Why? What happened?"
"He got into a fight."
"Oh, no."
Grissom sighs. "Sara …"
"Don't, Griss. We knew when we took him in that there would be issues … lingering pain. But, we agreed to help him. And, that's what we're going to do."
"How?" Grissom asks bleakly. "I don't know anything about dealing with troubled teenagers, Sara."
"We need to …" She trails off. "Be firm. Tell him that we won't tolerate this sort of behavior."
"Obviously."
"And, we won't threaten him."
Grissom raised an eyebrow.
"To threaten to take him out of the school would only encourage the behavior," she explains. "He's got a thing against private schools. And, to threaten to send him back to the group home …" She shook her head. "Never. Never would I threaten a child with something like that."
"Okay," Grissom says. "You're the boss."
She gives him a coy smile. "And, don't you know it."