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CHAPTER 3

"It is wise to disclose what cannot be concealed."

Friedrich Schiller

CATHERINE POV

The nightclub is dark, dingy.

The patronage is scant at this early morning hour. But, this is also Vegas, and a small gathering of men are clustered around the stage where a young girl is dancing.

I walk through, feeling Sara following behind me as we make our way towards the stage.

"I don't believe you two ladies paid our cover charge," a large man steps out in front of me, blocking my path.

"I don't believe we did," I confirm, pulling out my FBI badge. "But I think this should cover it."

The man stiffens, arms crossing over his chest defensively.

"What do you want? All our codes are up to date, everyone working here is over 18."

"That's lovely," I tell him. "We're here about a couple of girls who used to work here."

By now, Sara has moved to my side, eyes narrowed slightly at the owner.

"Names?"

"Misty Godden and Teresa Alder."

He shrugs.

"Don't ring any bells."

"No?" I question darkly. "Perhaps this will jog your memory."

I show him pictures of the two victims.

Taking them, he runs his fingers over the images before shaking his head and handing them back.

"Nope," he says. "And I would've remembered those faces, if you know what I mean."

"I'm sure I don't," I tell him. "Can we speak to some of the other girls? Maybe one of them…remember their faces."

I get the feeling this man would deny ever having seen us if someone were to ask while we were standing right in front of him.

"No."

Sara snorts beside me, turning to look around.

"Look, we can get a warrant," I put the pictures away. "But I would imagine getting shut down while we serve the warrant would be bad for business."

"Nice try," he smiles, revealing teeth better left concealed. "But you don't show pictures of girls like that unless they're dead. And, as you just showed me pictures of them in the morgue, I know you ain't looking for their bodies."

He smiles at me.

"So why don't you go fetch that little warrant of yours and come back later."

Come back when he's had time to clean up whatever illegal activities are likely taking place in the back rooms of this club, in other words.

I pinch the bridge of my nose, knowing getting a warrant is going to take time, time we don't have.

This is the first lead we've had in two days, and we need to keep this moving if we have any hope of catching this guy before another girl dies.

"Nice meeting you ladies," the owner smiles dismissively. "Oh, and you can also come back if you ever want a job. May be a bit old for the stage, but I'm sure I could find a place for you foxes somewhere…more intimate."

Sara tries to hold back a laugh, coughing as she turns away to hide her expression.

"Thanks," I smile sarcastically.

Groaning, I watch him saunter off.

"Well that was productive," I offer sardonically.

Sara has regained her composure enough to take in a couple deep breaths.

"I think maybe it was," she says, getting serious as she clears her throat.

"What?"

Sara gestures to a back door that looks like a broken fire exit.

"If you were a dancer on break, wanting to grab a drink or a smoke, where would you go?"

I catch on to her thought, smiling. "The back alley."

Sara nods, glancing around to be sure the coast is clear.

"You coming, foxy?" she asks, smiling over her shoulder as she steps around me.

The back alley looks deserted, a couple of dumpsters against the wall and a whole hell of a lot of trash scattered about, but not much in the way of people.

Suspecting this is a lost cause as well, we're about to turn around when a girl comes crashing out the door.

"Woah," she calls in surprise at seeing us, hands immediately going behind her back to hide what she was carrying.

"Hey," I hold my own hands up in a non-threatening position. "We don't care about anything going on here. We just want to know if you recognize a couple girls who we think may have worked at this club."

The girl watches us closely before shrugging.

Showing her the pictures, she looks up in surprise.

"They dead?" she asks, eyes wide.

"So you know them?" I press.

"Yeah," she nods. "The one's Misty…the other…Tracy? Tammy?"

"They both worked here?"

"Yeah," she nods again. "But the one…Tammy or whatever…she left about a week after I started here. Misty left about a month ago."

She shakes her head.

"I thought they just found a better paying gig somewhere else or ran off with their boyfriends or something."

She looks up at me.

"What really happened to them?" she questions quietly.

"That's what we're trying to find out." I put the pictures away. "They have any enemies you knew of? Anyone threatening them, showing up at work acting weird?"

She shakes her head, "No, they-"

Her words are interrupted when another body comes pushing through the door.

This one much larger and angrier than hers.

"Rose, get the hell back inside," the owner growls, grabbing her by the arm and dragging her back towards the door.

Sara stiffens at his rough handling, taking a deliberate step forward.

Reaching out, I grab her by the back of her CSI vest before she can advance further.

Pushing the girl inside, the owner turns back to us.

"I want you off my property," he threatens lowly. "Now."

"Sure," I shrug. "Got the answers we needed."

He stiffens, moving towards me.

Sara matches his move, pulling out of my grip to place herself in front of me.

"Right," the club owner laughs. "Wouldn't want to start a fight with string bean over here…"

Sara tightens her jaw, eyes narrowing.

"String bean has a gun," I offer. "And so do I."

He pauses for a moment. Then, taking a step back, he opens the club door.

"You can exit out the alley," he says with a smirk. "Enjoy your night, ladies."

Moving back inside, he closes the club door behind him.

We both hear the distinctive sound of a lock sliding into place.

"Perfect," I mutter, shaking my head.

"Come on," I call to Sara who's still staring down the back door with narrowed eyes.

Finally turning away, she takes a calming breath. Glancing up and down the alley, she sees our dilemma.

"So," she breathes out. "You want to go with the wall or the fence?"

I groan.

"Neither," I tell her. "Teleportation?"

Sara laughs slightly before moving to inspect the options further.

"It's your call," she says over her shoulder.

"Why is it my call?" I scoff, looking over our options.

"You're the FBI, you outrank me," she shrugs. "Which makes you my boss. And this your decision."

"Great," I mutter.

Seeing what we have to work with, I take a deep breath.

"I say the fence," I decide. "The wall looks too smooth to get a decent grip on to climb over."

Sara shrugs, moving back towards me to head to the fence.

Testing its strength, she places her foot in the openings in the links and her hands along the top bar. Climbing up, she situates herself along the top, straddling the bar.

"Grab onto my wrists," she says, leaning down. "Don't touch the bar."

"Why?" I question.

"Just trust me."

I shrug, knowing I trust Sara Sidle more than most people in my life. Not that I would necessarily be eager to admit that to her.

Taking her wrists, I place my feet in the links, letting her guide me upwards.

When I reach the top, she pulls me over, helping me transition to the other side.

Getting my feet situated, she lowers me gently towards the pavement below.

Letting go, I drop the last foot to the ground.

Seeing I'm safely landed, Sara swings her leg over, placing her feet in the links before dropping herself down alongside me.

When we reach my car, I draw up short at the sound of a vibrating phone.

Reaching for my pocket, I stop midway when Sara pulls hers out, clearly the culprit.

Glancing at the screen, she sends the call to voicemail.

Putting her phone away, she silently opens the passenger door.

Furrowing my brows, I flash back to the other day she did the same thing outside the lab.

Getting in the driver seat, I waste little time pulling out onto the road.

We travel about three minutes before more vibrations cut through the car interior.

This time I don't even bother checking mine.

Sending the call to voicemail, Sara tightens her jaw, keeping her attention focused outside.

"Screening your calls?"

The brunette's expression darkens slightly, clearly hating that I was here to witness her continued avoidance of whoever's on the other line.

"I'll call them back later."

"Okay," I state neutrally, trying to keep my tone light and non-confrontational.

"I put it on silent."

"It's fine."

We don't speak any more, both lost in our heads.

I want to ask Sara what's going on, who the phone calls are from that she's avoiding. But, I don't want to drive a wedge between us. Sara values her privacy, and I think for now I need to respect that.

But, I also want her to address whatever it is she's avoiding. Though she hides it well, I can tell whatever it is is bothering her.

Before I can come to a solution, we reach our destination, tires rolling over gravel as we pull off the road and into the lot.

Pulling into a spot, Sara is unbuckled and out of the car before I have a chance to turn off the engine.

Sighing, I watch her head towards the lab.

Entering the locker room, I smile as I pass the bench, opening my locker and setting my stuff inside.

Sara and I worked separately for the rest of the shift, trying to find any more connections between our victims or anyone working at that club.

Now, barely able to keep my eyes open, I'm more than ready to head home.

"Sara," I call over my shoulder, grabbing my coat and placing it over the locker door.

Grabbing my keys and tucking them into my pocket, I try again.

"Sara."

Still nothing.

Turning, Sara's still sprawled out on the bench, head buried in her arm.

Getting closer, I smile as I place my hand gently on her back.

"Sara…"

Hearing her mutter something, I get closer.

"Sara, sweetheart…"

"Kill you…"

I pause.

Did she just say what I think she said?

"Sar?"

I rub her shoulder, trying to fully wake her.

"Fucking kill you…"

Removing my hand in shock, I look down at the brunette.

Her tone wasn't joking around, and it's not really Sara's type of humor either. Looking at her tense frame, I'm certain she's still asleep.

"Sara," I try, this time not worrying about being gentle as I squeeze her shoulder tightly. "Wake up."

Taking her arm that's covering her head, I move it away, exposing her face.

Seeing her eyes clenched tightly in what almost appears to be pain, I pause.

Sara's a person who, if you catch her at the right moment, appears haunted. Her gaze, which is normally guarded, stoic, but pleasant, will occasionally shift and if you catch it right in the perfect moment, you can see a deep sadness underneath.

Now, seeing her uninhibited in sleep, she looks tortured.

"Sara," I whisper this time, touching the side of her face gently. "Wake up, honey."

Sara seems almost confused at first by the contact, and then she jerks violently away from me.

Which, seeing as how she was balanced on a tiny bench, sends her sprawling off onto the concrete floor.

Before I can reach over and help her, I jump back in shock as I find her gun pointed directly in my face and her hand gripping dangerously near my throat.

Her breathing is labored, her eyes narrowed and squinting, like she's trying to figure out her surroundings.

"Sara…" I call out, hands up. "Put it down."

Dragging in shaking breaths, her eyebrows furrow at my words.

Eyes narrowing further, he gaze shifts downward, taking in her shaking hand gripping my shirt. The other shaking hand gripping her gun. Her gun that's pointed at my head.

"Fuck," she curses, pulling her arms back like she was slapped, stepping quickly away from me until her back hits the lockers.

Her gaze lifts to mine.

"Catherine…"

Shaking my head, I look her over, eyes unintentionally pausing at the gun in her still trembling hand.

"You sleep with your gun now?"

She turns her head away, no longer meeting my gaze.

Jarred from her sleep, her first instinct was to grab her gun, and grab it from its spot tucked in the back of jeans, not at her hip like it is for work.

"Sara," I start, concerned about what I just saw, witnessed.

Sara has always been strong, but gentle. She's always been tough as nails, but with a deep kindness inside her.

Hearing her growl the words 'fucking kill you' and draw her weapon, pointing it in my face…

It doesn't fit with the kind and gentle woman I know her to be.

"I'm, uh, going to go get some air," she states, clearing her throat. Bringing her eyes back up to mine, she forces herself to meet my gaze.

"I'm sorry," she offers quietly.

I watch her leave, too off kilter from what just happened to form a response.

For the first time since we started this case, I'm nervous. I think it's clear I've underestimated the issues going on with Sara right now. I don't know what exactly it is that the brunette is hiding, what she's going through.

All I do know is that her behavior, her secrets, have me worried.

And, I'm extra worried because she isn't the only one keeping things from her teammate.

Between the both of us, there's a lot that's not being said.

And, knowing what my own secrets are, I worry about us facing this killer.

Facing this killer while we're both unquestionably struggling with facing our own demons.

AN: Thanks for reading.