"Ok," she settled into the chair as much as she could, "well you probably need a bit of context I suppose. I'm guessing you read all of the police files, so stop me if I'm telling you something you know. My parents ran a b+b until I was 7 and the business went under. It wasn't a predictable household."

"Unstable?" the Detective probed.

"Yes, unstable is a fairly accurate description," she nodded but didn't change her facial expression, "my father was volatile, you couldn't stop him once he was gone. My mother was unpredictable, one day she would take the hits and let him do almost anything to her, the next she would be screaming back at him. When she was like that they were fairly evenly matched. My brother Alex was 7 years older than me, and most of the time wasn't at home. He would sneak in and out through my bedroom window."

All of her description were factual, as if she were reading them from her memory, not recalling them.

"Why yours?" Sara already decided that she didn't like this detective now.

"It had a drain pipe outside," she sternly replied, "anyway, he spent more and more time away from home, sometimes he wouldn't come back for days. He smoked too much weed, that's all I really knew. So, this one night, I was eating dinner with my mum, I was 9, and Alex 16; he'd been out of the house for 2 days now. It was about 7 at night when my dad came through the front door. Usually my mum would try to get me up in my room before he got home but tonight he was early. He'd been looking for work. And on the days when he had a bad interview nothing could stop him. He sat down at the table and my mum gave him a plate of food. He took one bite and then threw it against the wall. He started shouting saying I don't ask hardly anything of you, you do nothing all day. What do I ask of you? And other things like that. Then he asked why I wasn't upstairs. I went to leave but he grabbed my arm and twisted it. If I cried he would hurt me more so I let him do it. He smiled kissed me on the forehead and let go of my arm. I ran upstairs to my room. I heard the usual shouting and plate smashing.

The local department store didn't know what to think about the amounts of plates and mugs we bought. We probably kept them in business.

So they kept fighting and fighting. Every so often I would hear the front door open and close. Then a few minutes later it would do the same. I couldn't tell who was going and coming. I didn't even notice Alex had slipped through the window behind my bed until he stood right in front of me. I asked where he'd been and he said that he was making arrangements. He told me that he couldn't take it anymore and he was leaving. He said he was going to pack a bag and then he'd be gone. But as he said that I remember hearing another voice in the house. I didn't know who it was at the time. Alex looked up briefly and then looked back at me. He told me that he was going in 10 minutes. Then we heard the front door opening and my mother screaming, she was begging someone to come back, I thought it was my dad," Sara paused for a second, it'd been a long time since she's spoken about this to anyone, "but I could still hear a man's voice. Alex went to his room and 10 minutes later came back. He kissed me on the forehead and left. I thought he'd gone, but then I heard screaming, and shouting, I went to the top of the stairs. My mother was sitting in an armchair with a knife in her hand. My dad….well… a body was on the floor. His head and shoulders hidden by the armchair. Alex ran up to me and put his hands on my shoulders. He told me that the problems would go away and that it would get better. Then he left. He just ran out of the door and left me standing at the top of the stairs with transferred blood on my arms. I just sat there waiting for something to happen. I didn't cry, I didn't go to find a neighbour. My mother was still sitting there with that knife in her hand. She was talking to herself and I didn't want to go near her. So I just sat there."

Sara stopped talking.

"Do you want a few minutes?" Nick said concerned.

"What?" she refocused, "no. I'm fine. So eventually someone must have called the police because there were paramedics and police officers and a social worker. They took me to my room and told me to put some clothes into a bag and then took me away. I could see his body on the way out. My mother screaming again as the forced her into handcuffs. There's nothing else I can tell you really."

Detective Mason went to speak but Nick cut in, he knew Sara probably disliked him, "Ok, you didn't see the bodies face?"

"No, I didn't, who identified it?"

"It says that a James Sidle did."

"Do you have a photograph of James or my father from then? They'd have identified him when he confirmed who the body was?" Sara asked sitting up.

"They didn't, no,"

"Oh,"

"And do you remember your uncle being around much before this?"

"I know that my father owed him a lot of money, and we saw him about 3 times a year, he'd bring me presents and then make us watch while he hit my dad."

"And did you resent your dad?" the Detective asked. Nick spun his head around, not liking the question or the direction the conversation could be heading.

"Why is that relevant?" Sara almost spat.

"It's just a question, I'm trying to paint a picture of your reaction," he sat back with a smirk on his face, "you know, I looked at the crime scene photos, and to me it seems like you could have seen who was on the floor from the top of the stairs where you say you were?"

Sara opened her mouth to speak but Nick jumped in, "she's not a suspect, Detective."

"Well, it seems like there are some convenient details left out, and I just want to find out what happened, bodies don't get switched, some people knew what was going on," the Detective's face had shifted as he sat forward again.

"Where did your brother go?" Nick changed the subject.

"I was taken into care, to a foster home, and he was 16, back then that meant you were free to do what you want, and he hadn't been registered at a school for 2 years by then, so he had no one to chase him down," she sighed.

"Have you been in contact at all? He was downstairs when the stabbing occurred," the Detective probed once again.

"He came to see me twice when I was in care, once when I was 10, then when I was 13," she seemed to talk about this less easily than her parents, "And once in college I got a letter from him. It didn't say much, just that he was ok, living with a girl and he hoped I was doing alright. He didn't know I was in Harvard so sent the letter to my last set of foster parents. They forwarded it. The reply address was a post office box in L.A."

"Did you reply?"

"Yes, and every time I've moved house I've sent a letter to PO box saying where I was living, I never got a reply, I still send them," she looked up at the clock.

"Ok, well, I can assure you Mrs Grissom that I will be wanting to talk to you some more," the Detective said and Sara just walked out.

Nick ran after her but arrived outside the room just as Grissom wrapped his arms around her and she said calmly into his chest, "take me home please,"

He nodded and breathed in her scent.