Chapter Two:

A Certain Guy

So I'm going to seek a certain guy I've had in mind
Looking everywhere, haven't found him yet

Gershwin

It was the type of case that bothered everyone on the scene, including the hardnosed officers.

Brass had been there.

He spoke little but spoke volumes with his eyes as he followed a few steps behind.

She hesitated at the door, wondering why he insisted on escorting them to the carnage.

He'd already seen the horror and there was no reason to believe they couldn't find it for themselves.

Still, he followed.

Her eyes drifted back, meeting his briefly.

"Let me know if you need anything," he offered.

His hands suddenly sunk into the pocket of his jacket.

It was a bit cool these nights but they were now inside.

She stopped abruptly, staring at the sight before them.

"What the hell?" mumbled Warrick.

The room was like a meat locker.

"Whoever did this was trying to cover up the time of death," remarked Grissom.

"It's freezing in here," muttered Sara.

Warrick examined the first body. "Gunshot wound to the head. Hands tied behind her back. This was an execution."

Their eyes filtered over the other bodies.

"A family lived here," whispered Sara as her fingers held a family portrait.

"No one lives here now," remarked Warrick. "Even the dog was killed."

"May have killed it first to avoid it alerting the other family members or being attacked by it," commented Grissom as he glanced at Sara who still held the photo.

"Sara…you want to get the perimeter?" asked Grissom.

She stood there unmoving.

"Sara?" he asked once more.

"Shouldn't we…process this first? I mean…there are four bodies and…"

Greg stepped into the room. "You rang?" he announced.

Grissom frowned.

He knew Sara wanted to remain inside despite how it was affecting her.

"Greg, you can take the perimeter," said Grissom, his eyes meeting Sara's briefly, accepting the silent thank-you that shown in her eyes.

He took a deep breath focusing his attention on the bodies.

"I'll take this one," said Warrick as he began with the father.

"I'll take the children," stated Grissom.

Sara stepped over to the far side of the room. "I guess I get the mother."

She focused on the task, shooting off photos then slowly examining the area around the body for any trace evidence.

There were a few small fibers, along with a partial print was found on the woman's arm as if someone had grabbed her by the arm.

She gently rolled the body over.

There was a bullet entry to the head just as the other victims.

She finished quickly, moving to other parts of the room.

Warrick offered small talk.

She responded, needing to keep her heart distracted while her brain processed the crime scene.

Grissom entered into the conversation, talking about his first baseball game.

Warrick chuckled as he added his own memories of learning the game.

"I was the tall back dude…supposed to be able to play basketball but I loved baseball."

"It was the stats," chimed in Sara. "You like to count cards so…"

Warrick tsked at her. "It was the exhilaration you got just when the bat connected with the ball and you knew you were going to trot around all of the bases," announced Warrick.

"I got a new pair of ball socks for each game," said Grissom.

"Mr. Jensen used to treat all of us kids with a free ice cream cone after every game," said Warrick.

"I played," announced Sara.

"Yeah right…softball is not baseball," chuckled Warrick.

"I played baseball," she protested.

Grissom joined in on the laughter.

"Seriously, guys I can play baseball," she insisted.

"What position?" asked Grissom.

"Pitcher," she said proudly.

"I can see that…sort of," teased Warrick.

"The coach had to get special permission for me to play with the guys," she explained.

"Softball too soft?" Warrick asked, his teasing relentless.

"I liked this guy but he…"

"Loved baseball," finished Grissom and Warrick.

Sara grinned. "I was going to say he only had eyes for baseball so I joined his team."

"How did that go?" asked Warrick.

Sara slipped off her gloves.

"Not good….he was the team pitcher."

"Ouch! That is so not the way to get a boyfriend," laughed Warrick.

"Yeah, well, I soon found out that maybe I set my sights too low."

"I get it. You liked someone else on the team…the first baseman?" asked Warrick.

"The coach," she admitted.

Grissom's head popped up. "The coach?"

"I've always been attracted to older men," she purred.

He swallowed. "Besides the pitcher…of course."

"He was two years older."

Hours later the crime scene was finished with little or no evidence to show for it.

She got the water as hot as she dared, stepping into the tub to rid herself of the bitter cold.

Since returning from the crime scene she could not seem to shake the chills.

She knew part of it was because of the case.

A family had been executed.

She remained in the tub until the water turned cool.

She dressed warmly, turning up the heat as she grabbed a throw to wrap around her as she sat down in front of the computer.

A message was waiting for her.

My Sara,

I felt your melancholy this evening. Are you alright?

The message had just been sent.

I'm fine. She sent.

You're not fine came the reply.

Okay, I'm tired and cold.

Her hand propped up her head.

Can't sleep?

No. She typed.

Did the bath help?

She stilled.

How did he know she had taken a bath?

She could not keep from glancing around.

How did you know I took a bath? She replied, her eyes darting around the room.

Sorry, you're just predictable. Came the reply.

She let the tension seep away.

Why can't you sleep?

She waited for his response.

I'm worried about you.

Why? She typed wondering why he just didn't call her.

You let things bother you. You wear your heart on your sleeve. I want to protect you…watch over you.

She leaned back in the chair.

It was hard today…seeing that family…such a waste.

There was a pause but his reply came.

My Sara,

Was it the loss of the family or your yearning to have one of your own?

Her fingers caressed the keyboard, trying to be honest.

I don't want to be alone anymore.

His response was instant.

You're not alone, Sara. I'm with you always.

She rubbed her temple, leery of falling too deeply only to have him shy away once more.

I don't want to hurt anymore.

She turned away from the computer, leaving it on the coffee table as she curled her body into the couch, seeking warmth.

She heard the soft "ding" of the response but she wasn't ready to read it.

She closed her eyes, fighting back tears.

What is wrong with me?

Another "ding" alerted her of an additional response.

On the third "ding" she opened the first email.

I feel your pain. I'm worried about you. She gulped opening the other two emails.

Sara? Please respond.

Honey, please let me know you're okay.

She typed a response.

I'm okay. I'm letting the exhaustion talk. Night.

She had no idea why she didn't want to talk with him.

There had been thousands of times she had yearned for a conversation such as this.

It just seemed too good to be true.

My Sara,

If you'll let me, I'll soothe your hurt. Sweet dreams. Tread softly through my dreams.

G

She gulped, blinking through tears.

She expected to find it difficult to fall to sleep but she shut her eyes just for a moment and did not wake until several hours later.

There was an email message waiting for her.

My Sara,

When the world seems uncaring and harsh

When the tears in your eyes keep on asking me why?

I'll always be there.

G

She grabbed her phone calling him.

His voice indicated he had not been sleeping.

"Grissom."

"Hey."

"You should be sleeping," he said, easing himself down onto the couch, giving up on his bed hours ago.

"Did you?" she asked.

"Some."

"Gil, thanks for…processing the children."

"You should have taken the perimeter."

"The scene was affecting all of us. I just wanted to help."

There was a long pause.

"Get some sleep before shift," she urged.

"Were you a great pitcher?" he asked not wanting to break the contact with her.

"I struck out a lot of good players," she beamed.

"I bet that sort of dampened your social life," he quipped.

"I didn't care…as long as the coach like the way…I played."

"Did you try out any other positions?" he asked.

She cleared her throat. "On the team or with the coach?"

He rose slightly from the couch. "How old was this coach?"

"He coached while attending the University."

"Too old for a young…girl on a ball team," he declared.

She grinned. "I learned a lot that summer."

He swallowed. "I'm not sure I want to know."

"I learned that some guys are just really good guys. He protected me from the harassment of the other team mates who didn't like a girl on their team. He walked me home, gave me pointers….and then he broke my heart when he told me how much I reminded him of his kid sister."

Grissom smiled. "Did you continue to play?"

"Of course. I set out to prove that I was more than that."

Grissom's smile faded. "You said he was a good guy."

"I did, didn't I," she teased.

"I think you're teasing me."

"I think you should go to sleep now."

"Hey Sara, are you going to show me your fast ball some day?"

"If you're lucky, I'll show you a few other moves."

Note from author:

Thanks so much for my regulars who have returned to read. The story starts out...well kind of nice but then...so stay on your toes and read every line...that's the only clue I'm giving. LOL. P.S. No, you can not recommend psychiatric help for me ...I'm chuckling...because you guys are reading it...LOL...which makes us such geek obsessors for GSR.

Take care!

Penny