Sara loitered in the doorway suddenly overcome by a sense of fear she hadn't anticipated. It seemed dark in there, dark and foreboding like something deep down inside her was telling her going in was a bad idea. Her breath trembled in her chest, her heart raced at a million miles an hour as Grissom rested his hand gently at the base of her spine. Spurred on by his support she took a deep breath and stepped across the doorway into the suffocating little room.
It took a few long moments for her eyes to adjust to the space; shadows seemed to cling to the corners like uninvited guests. The room was modestly furnished monopolised by a loveseat in the centre of the room and a huge overstuffed armchair by the window. A television and an overflowing bookcase completed the room and Sara found herself scanning the titles and wondering if her mother was an avid a reader as she was. She tried to picture her curled up in the armchair with a book nestled on her lap and the sunlight highlighting the subtle red tones in her hair and the lines of her face.
Sara carefully stepped across the hardwood flooring, scanning the room much like she would a crime scene. The walls were painted an off white colour making them look like they were uncared for and dirty. A thin yellow border ran along the top in line with the ceiling and she wondered if that was maybe her mother's favourite colour or if every one of these tiny lodgings was painted the same way.
A few paintings adorned the walls; a vase of flowers, a cheap attempt at a Monet rip-off and an undistinguishable landscape on the wall closest to her. Sara felt about as far removed from her mother as she ever had as she stared at those images. She wandered around the room searching for something personal she could cling to, something that would make her feel closer to her mother but it had no soul. This place was empty of more than just a life.
With a sigh she moved through the door on her right and found herself in a bedroom. A small sized double bed took pride of place in the centre of the room, a wardrobe sat in an alcove against the wall and a dressing table sat perched beside the window. Sara was drawn to the table, sitting down lightly on the stool and running her hands over the rich, dark wooden top. Experience told her that people often kept their most private and personal things in their bedroom, the collection of ornate little drawers could be where she would find the connection she was desperately craving.
The view from the window was of a lone willow tree, its branches draping to the ground like teardrops suspended in time. She watched a pair of finches dance and twirl among them before landing on their nest and settling down for the afternoon. Grissom crept into the room, sitting on the edge of the bed and regarding her carefully. He was worried about her; she could sense it in every glance and gentle touch. He had never known how to deal with the emotional aspect of death; he saw it as merely another stage of life a person had to go through. He saw the peace in death which was ironic given that he had spent so much of his life dealing with the horrors of it.
"Are you ok?" he asked her quietly as though the walls had ears.
"It's just…. There's nothing of her here. Where's her personality? Where's her soul? This is just a room"
She carefully opened the first drawer on the dresser, her eyes scanning the jumble of papers and trinkets. There was nothing surprising here; pamphlets and junk mail she'd received, appointment letter and reminders, a handful of takeout menus. Her mother never threw out anything. Her hand closed around a tiny golden box, a ruby ring nestled on a cushion of velvet sat inside. It looked antique, most likely it had belonged to some far removed relative of years gone by. She stared at the deep red stone as the sunlight danced across it. She wondered if it had some significance, maybe it had belonged to her great, great grandmother. It was possible it held a family secret or a fascinating story she would never learn. She placed it carefully on the table top, returning to the drawer. She fished out some more costume jewellery; a beaded necklace and some faux pearls. A smile worked its way across her face when the familiar image of her wedding day came into view.
She held the photograph in her hands staring at herself and Grissom smiling out at her. The fact that her mother had kept hold of it meant more to her than she could have imagined. She was surprised any of the things she had sent still survived today.
"That was a good day..." she whispered, passing it to her husband with a smile.
The second drawer contained much the same clutter and jumble of belongings. She found an old address book, placing it carefully inside her purse to comb through later.
The bottom drawer seemed to hold her most personal things. A handful of newspaper clippings with no obvious reason, tiny leather bound poetry book with a pressed flower inside and an inscription from her father, her wedding ring looped on a fine gold chain along with a cross that was inlaid with a tiny diamond. At the bottom of the drawer she found a collection of old photographs. They were mostly images she hadn't seen before; her first day at school, her brother playing football, a picnic on a clear summers day and a barbeque in the garden. She remembered those parties, people filling every available space and milling around with drinks and burgers. She would always be sent to bed early where she would sit at her window and peer out at all the people smiling and laughing. She chuckled slightly under her breath at the display of 80's fashion and passed the image to Grissom before pulling out some more.
She sifted through the grainy images letting the memories wash over her. Christmas day when her brother got a train set he had broken before the end of the day, the Easter pageant when she refused to wear a bonnet and stuck her tongue out at the photographer, the huge trophy her brother's football team had won, her first science fair in the third grade. She was beginning to form the good memories she had been searching for.
There was one last image at the bottom of the drawer, one that had been torn up and lovingly taped back together. The image was of a little girl around 4 years old with light brown pigtails tied in pink ribbons and a very well loved bear clutched to her chest. She stared at the girl, searching for a glimmer of recognition. On the back of the image was simply the name 'Amy' and a date - March 1980. She slipped the photograph into her purse beside the address book, suspecting it had some kind of significance. The only thing in the third drawer was a few tattered old letters bound together with an elastic band. She was about to delve into the contents when Mary's voice filled the room.
"Ms Sidle... I've sent Richard to collect you. It's almost time for shift change and we really should get those papers signed"
Sara's eyes darted to Grissom and then to the letters in her hands. She resolved that they could wait, slipping them into her purse along with the rest of her collection.
"We'll be right out" she stated to the air.
Grissom waited for her to put all the discarded paperwork away and then followed her out of the house and back into the sunshine. Richard was a burly gigantor of a security guard, probably enlisted to deal with the most violent patients. He didn't say much as he led them back to the main building and directed them to Mary's office.
Mary was on the telephone when they arrived but she waved them through with a smile and gestured for them to take the two empty chairs across the desk from her. Sara and Grissom dutifully sunk into the chairs, casting their eyes around the office with some interest.
Bookcases lined the walls like it had once been a library, she wondered briefly if one of them opened a secret passageway or panic room. The desk took up almost all of the available floor space and the wall behind it was covered with framed diplomas and certificates. Two huge arched windows's looked out onto the back gardens of the building adorned with statues and flowers. Butterflies fluttered around a buddleia bush. Grissom had once told her the name meant 'butterfly bush' and now she could see why.
"Now..." Mary declared after signing off from the call. "Did you find what you were looking for?"
"I wasn't really looking for anything..." Sara declared, taken aback by the woman's accusatory tone. She narrowed her eyes suspiciously in her direction. "I didn't really find anything... official though. No passport or birth certificate, no bills or financial records..."
"Well we keep those things here in a locker" Mary explained "less risk of them being destroyed or misplaced that way"
Sara nodded her understanding, it made sense. She was surprised to find so many of her mother's paper belongings survived this long. She filled in the paperwork only half listening to Mary's endless drabble. When she was finished Mary handed her a security pass and a small brass key.
"Take as long as you need to sort through her things. I know she doesn't have much. I'll have the locker emptied for you tomorrow"
Mary shook Sara and Grissom's hands and they thanked her for her time despite Sara's reluctance to trust her. She and Grissom waited outside for their cab watching the fading sunlight as a somewhat melancholy mood settling between them. Grissom swung his arm around her shoulders, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead.
"I'm very proud of you" he whispered into her hair as he held her close.
"For what?" she frowned, stroking a hand across his chest.
"For everything" Grissom smiled, his clear blue eyes sparkling and combatting her eye roll "today couldn't have been easy"
"I couldn't have done it without you" she smiled, holding his gaze for a few long moments as the cab pulled up beside them.
The short drive across town took less than half the time their adventure earlier had. They pulled up to a small blue Bistro a couple of blocks from the hotel and settled in for the dinner time rush. A dainty blonde waitress took their order, the name 'Amy' proudly presented on her shiny gold name badge. It reminded Sara of the mystery photograph and letters in her purse. She slipped the image out and placed it on the table warranting a frown from Grissom.
"Is this you?" he asked, raising a questioning eyebrow and inspecting the photograph carefully.
"No, that's the thing... I have no idea who she is"
Grissom cast his careful eye over the little girl smiling out at him. He took in the pale freckled skin and warm brown eyes; he tried to picture how she would look now as an adult. He had a talent for picturing people this way. She would probably have grown into an attractive woman, the pale complexion and flecks of green in her eyes would be the same. In this day and age it was likely she would have changed hair colour and could have personalised a limitless number of physical traits. There was nothing particularly distinctive about her that would make her stand out from the crowd.
"She looks a little like you, a cousin perhaps?"
Sara pursed her lips and focussed her eyes out of the window searching her memory banks for relatives. Social services had found none and she couldn't remember many children frequenting their home when she was a child. The house was always packed full of people but it was strictly adults only.
"I don't have any relatives" she stated, folding the first letter out of the envelope and scanning the return address.
"Sandra Clark" she declared as though Grissom should automatically know what that meant.
She read through the contents quickly, feeling a little like she was prying into her mother's private life more than she should until she spotted another reference to the mysterious Amy.
"I had an update on our angel Amy today, she's 4 years old now who knew time would slip by so fast?" she read aloud, quirking a suspicious eyebrow towards Grissom.
"Our Amy?" Grissom remarked, instantly as intrigued as she was.
Sara studied the letter, drinking in the words over and over again. Sandra made reference to the photograph Sara had found too and asked about her and her brother by name. This woman must have been close to her mother and somehow Amy must have been too, what didn't sit well with her was that if she was so important to them then why had she never heard of her?
With a sigh she scanned the letter once more, her eyes fixing on the date in the corner. So close to a date she had memorised for all the worst reasons.
"This is dated 4 days before my dad died" Sara whispered, the words feeling like chalk in her throat. Grissom immediately raised his eyes to hers; surprise, fear and confusion all reflecting back to her in the endless oceans of his eyes.
"Is there anything to suggest the letter could be related to it?" Grissom asked, taking the letter gingerly from her hands and reading through it. Sara shrugged, she wasn't entirely sure she wanted to delve into the circumstances surrounding his death. She had worked so hard at supressing it but the way things were unravelling in front of her only convinced her that there was a lot more to this story than met the eye.
"I guess I should check out this Sandra woman? She probably knows a lot more about this than I do"