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CHAPTER 14

CATHERINE POV

Looking up at the ceiling, I hug my little angel closer to me, smiling as she squeezes me tightly in her sleep.

After my altercation with Eddie last night, I wanted nothing more than to see my baby and make sure that she was safe. Bending the rules for once, I let her sleep in my bed with me, knowing my only chance of drifting off at all would be if I knew she was literally safe in my arms.

Eddie's reappearance frightens me, if I'm willing to be completely honest with myself. I'm a grown woman who has matured and changed so much since the times when I was in Vegas. But, Eddie is unpredictable. Add in his violent temper and it's a daunting and nerve wracking combination. No one likes a wildcard when it comes to the safety of their children.

I absolutely refuse to let Eddie anywhere near Lindsey.

And, I know Eddie well enough to know he sure as hell isn't going to simply walk away.

Sighing, I look at the clock. Deciding to enjoy the last hours I have together with my daughter, I push all thoughts of my abusive ex from my mind. I refuse to let him take this moment from me in addition to all the other things he already has.

"And the unknown bloodstains on the bedsheets?"

"Turn out to match to our vics from the shed."

"That's two, I thought you said there were three unidentified samples."

"Now there's one."

Rubbing my temples, I nod, jotting down a few notes to update my information on this case. The DNA samples previously assumed to be potential leads have all slowly fizzled out one by one. Two having matched back to our vics from the shed, the others remaining unknown.

"What about the prints from the shed?"

"All the husband."

"All?"

"Plus some voids…suggesting…"

"Gloves or wipe downs," I finish for Gil.

"The clothes?"

"Samples too denatured to get reads," Sara answers, pushing her coffee slightly away from her. "No other helpful markings or stains to assist with suspect identification."

"Doc should have the autopsy reports finished within the hour," Gil states. "I suggest we all hope that he has something probative for us."

In the semi dejected silence that follows, we all gather our papers and pens. For a case that seemed to have so many promising leads, it's starting to feel like we're now being presented with one wall after another.

Deciding to look through more of the crime scene photos before Doc pages us, I reorganize my paperwork. Gil has promised me an office, but needs some time preparing the added space. For now, I suppose the breakroom is as good a place as any to settle in.

And, as a bonus, there's a coffee pot within arm's reach.

"You okay?"

The voice startles me somewhat, having assumed Gil and Sara had both left. But, looking up, apparently just Gil had left.

I pick up the first stack of photos.

"I'm fine."

Sara's expression darkens slightly at my clear dismissal.

"You sure?" she questions one last time, her voice genuine, making it hard for me to keep up my stoic front. It's hard to look sincere concern in the face without opening up. But, that's a luxury I just unfortunately don't have right now.

"I'm sure."

Sara's eyes leave mine, her own personal walls seeming to raise back up. I know her even asking me if I was alright was a large step out of the brunette's comfort zone, the younger woman traditionally only choosing to communicate with me when it's both absolutely necessary and strictly work related.

I wish I could give her a more honest answer to her question. But, right now I need my personal and professional lives to remain separate. Especially when my personal life contains more drama than a trashy soap opera. It would take more than a quick breakroom conversation to express to Sara how it feels to have my abusive ex husband back in the picture.

Not to mention it's not something I'm proud to admit to or discuss, let alone on my third day at work. I worked hard to escape the shadow of Eddie and all that my life with him involved. The drugs, the promiscuity, the lifestyle. Working as an exotic dancer while he was essentially my boss, drug dealer, and pimp.

I've been through a lot to get to where I am, and I'm damn proud of my life and what I've persevered through to make it to this point. But, my past is not something that I want people's first impressions of me to involve. I want my new team here in Vegas to get to know me as the Catherine Willows I am today, before they learn about Catherine Willows, the former drug addict, exotic dancer, abuse victim. I want an untainted, fair chance to build my new life here, without the past bleeding in to color it, and me, in a different light.

"Right," Sara mutters, bringing my eyes back up to her dark gaze. "I'll see you at Doc's post."

Leaving the room, I watch her go. The tall woman's shoulders raised and tense as she disappears down the hall.

Taking in a deep breath, I return my focus to the task at hand.

"I'm afraid our second girl's fate was much the same."

Not needing to repeat the prior atrocities he just described to us in excruciating detail moments before, we have more than a clear picture of what this other young woman went through at the hands of her killer. The same ones her female companion went through.

"And same COD?" I confirm just to be thorough.

"Same," Doc Robbins states. "Suffocation."

"Seems odd," I think aloud. "The violent torture these women clearly suffered suggests rage, anger, hatred. Suffocation is usually an intimate method of killing someone. The same people who bludgeon someone with blunt objects for their pleasure don't typically end their lives in such a personal way."

"That's assuming the torturer and the killer are the same person."

Looking over at Sara's tight tone, she isn't looking at me, her eyes still fixed on the body of the dead woman laid before us. Her expression is dark, angry. Haunted, even.

"You think we're dealing with more than one suspect?"

Sara nods, "I do."

She doesn't expand on her theories any more than that, her body rigid as she looks like she's doing everything she can to appear less affected by Doc's post than she clearly is.

"Anything else for us, Doc?" I question, wanting to get out of this cold, stark room - both for her sake as well as my own.

"That's it for now," he answers. "Post on the couple from the house should be finished shortly. I'll let you know when I'm done with my reports."

Expressing our thanks, Sara and I leave the morgue.

Neither one of us appears to be in much of a mood for small talk. Not that Sidle has ever really seemed like much of a small talk person, honestly.

"I'll fill Gil in," I state, knowing he had some other casework to finish up on, thus his absence from this post.

"Sure."

Sara's tone is distracted, the brunette not even looking up as she continues down the hall away from me.

"Right," I mutter to the now empty space. "See you later."

"Anything?"

Sara glances up, dark expression holding my answer before she even speaks.

"No," she states quietly. "But I haven't finished processing all the tools from the shed."

Seeing the number of tools she already has processed, I note that the brunette must be exhausted. There have to be over a dozen saws, hammers, wrenches, mallets, and other insidious devices lined up against the wall with evidence tags marking their cold surfaces.

"You want help?"

"Not really."

Sara doesn't meet my eyes, the brunette focusing intently on the notes she is scrawling into her copy of the case file. I'm not sure if it's some version of shorthand she's using, or if her handwriting is just really that indecipherable.

"Did you need something?" Sara eventually breaks the tense silence. "Not that having you creepily stare at me isn't fun…."

"Sorry," I mutter, snapping out of my haze. I gesture to my watch. "It's nearly an hour past the end of shift."

Sara doesn't respond.

Then, when the silence continues to stretch on, she finally glances up from her notes, pencil pausing its rapid motions.

"Are you looking for an affirmation of your ability to tell time?" she questions. "Or is there some point to this visit that I'm missing?"

"I'm heading out soon," I get to why I'm here. "We had a deal."

She looks confused, dark brows knitting together as she straightens up to her full height.

"Lift your shirt."

Now, my meaning becomes very clear.

"I didn't do anything all day but walk around the lab, going to Doc's posts and working the evidence."

"Which included clearing God knows how many of these tools on your own," I break in to her defensive attempts at getting out of this. "And regardless, a deal is a deal no matter if you spend the day chasing suspects or baking fucking cakes. So, please, lift your fucking shirt up before I do it for you."

Jaw tightening at my tone, Sara looks away.

"Sorry," I offer, forcing myself to calm down and take a few deep breaths. "I'm just not in a great mood today."

Sara nods, "I noticed."

Part of me wants to be pissed at her bluntness, but the bigger part of me respects her honesty.

Deciding, despite my unpleasant approach that this is ultimately a battle she isn't going to win, Sara tosses down her pencil in frustration.

Taking hold of the hem of her maroon t-shirt, she raises it to the bottom of her bra line. Moving closer to her, I inspect the wound in her side before assessing the bruising along her ribs.

Pressing lightly near the darkest sections that wind around towards her back, Sara takes in a breath, body involuntarily flinching under my touch.

"Sorry," I offer quietly.

Taking a mental note of the status of the discoloration, I sigh. The bruising still looks awful, not to mention painful. But, I can't say it's any worse than it was yesterday.

Moving back around to her front, I gesture towards her shirt.

"We're done."

Lowering it back in place, Sara puts more distance between us, stepping around to the other side of the workbench.

"How are yours?" Sara questions as I turn to leave.

"Excuse me?"

She gestures towards my neck, the skin hidden behind the high collar of my sweater.

I narrow my eyes. "That particular topic is off the table. In case I wasn't clear last night."

"That's bullshit, not to mention hypocritical," Sara mutters under her breath, eyes flashing up towards mine.

"Excuse me, Sidle?"

Looks like I'm not the only one a little bit pissed off today. While Sara normally bites back her feelings around me until given permission to share them, right now she's letting her anger glare clearly through.

The brunette takes a deep breath in, body hitching slightly as her hand moves towards her ginger ribs – her pain likely only adding to her frustrations and current lack of censorship.

"You get to waltz around here, invading my privacy whenever you want, but heaven forbid someone do the same to you." Her eyes burn into mine. "It's hypocritical."

"You're out of line, Sidle," I warn her, advancing on her to close the physical distance she's always seeming to put between us.

"Anytime you want to cancel our deal," I meet her statement head on when I'm close enough to be mere inches from her, feeling the tension radiating from her body. "Let me know. I'll be sure to make Gil aware of our detour to the hospital and just what you're hiding under that shirt of yours."

"Don't threaten me," Sara gets out, eyes dark. "And don't act like I'm doing this just to annoy you. I'm not trying to be an asshole."

"Do you realize how many times you've said that to me in the short time I've known you?" I question. "Perhaps you should do some self-reflection to assess whether you maybe really just are an asshole."

As soon as I've said it, I regret it.

Yes, I'm exhausted, yes I'm pissed about things going on in my personal life. But, I've basically just called a CSI under my supervision a derogatory term that has no place in a professional environment.

Sara's eyes are still on mine, and though they appear stoic as ever, she can't quite fully mask the wave of hurt that passes through them.

"Look," she gets out before I can say anything. "What I walked in on…"

Sara shakes her head.

"I know trouble when I see it, Miss Willows. And that situation isn't a good one. I just…" She looks away. "I just wanted to be sure that you're alright and that man isn't…in the picture…anymore."

Letting out a breath, I run my fingers through my hair, some of the fight leaving me. After all, though she makes a damn convenient target, it's not really Sara that I'm mad at anyway. Well, at least not completely.

"He hasn't been in the picture for a very long time," I answer her. "But he apparently wants to change that."

"Are you and your daughter safe?" she asks, not wasting words.

"Yes," I tell her. "He would never lay a hand on Lindsey."

"And you?"

I sigh, "Now I'm a grown woman who has a gun."

I can tell this doesn't exactly reassure her, Sara's expression looking less than pleased.

"I…" Sara lets out a breath, likely searching for the right words. "I'm sorry he was ever in your life. And I'm sorry he's now apparently back in your life."

Hitting her knuckles anxiously into the table beside us, she finally looks back up at me. "I'm really not trying to pry, Miss Willows. I respect your privacy and I respect that you're my superior. But, if you need me or my help, I'm here."

Taking in her unexpected kindness, I feel my underlying exhaustion pulling even heavier on me. Anger has a way of keeping you moving – when that drains out of you, so does most of your energy.

"I appreciate that, Sara," I tell her sincerely. "I really do."

For all these angry exchanges between the brunette and I, this one seems to be at the heart of it Sidle being concerned for the wellbeing of myself and my daughter after what she witnessed with Eddie. While I have no intentions of making that particular part of my past public, it does feel good to know that someone cares enough to have my back. Especially since I'm still the new kid in town.

And, the fact that it's Sara Sidle offering to have my back somehow feels extra special. Particularly because of the complicated relationship we've had ever since I came to Vegas.

Sara nods, shifting a couple steps away to get back to work, likely feeling that this conversation is quickly becoming much too personal for her liking.

As she reaches down for another tool, I place my hand on her arm.

Jerking away, she looks up. While her reaction was less than ideal, I at least have her attention.

"Before I leave, I just wanted to say thank you," I say quietly. "For last night. What you did. I should have said it sooner."

I make sure I have her full attention.

"Not many people would have the courage to walk up to a man like Eddie and do what you did to protect me. While it was reckless and dangerous," I pointedly state, "I appreciate it beyond words. I don't know what he would have done if you…"

Swallowing down the thought, I take in a steadying breath.

"Thank you, Sara."

Sara watches me before she nods quickly, her eyes studying mine a moment more before she lowers her gaze back to the table. It's clear that she's more uncomfortable by my gratitude than she was by my heated anger moments before.

Deciding to respect her avoidance of this particular sentiment, I smile slightly at the private and stubborn brunette before I head to the door.

"Goodnight, Sara."

AN: Thanks for reading.