September 2006
Grissom and Sara leaned over the perfect half inch scale model of now dead singer, Izzy Delancey.
"I think Malibu Barbie did it." She joked as she leaned in closer.
"Then there's more to Barbie than just a pretty face because this is a perfect half inch scale model. And assuming that the killer is the same person who made the miniature..."
"It would have taken weeks ,maybe even months, to create with this kind of detail. It certainly qualifies as premeditation."
"It's real blood." Grissom looked up at Sara as the swab turned pink.
"That, is a level of obsession that gives even you a run for your money." He pushed down a smile, she knew him so well.
After Brass' incident, Grissom and Sara's relationship reached a new depth. It was more mature, loving, and considerate. The next morning after Brass had woken up from his coma, Grissom had suggested that the two move in together.
"We're usually together anyway." He justified. "It'd be nice to have one place."
Sara had been hesitant at first. Voicing her concern about making sure he had his own space to retreat to, that having the same address would raise a red flag on her paperwork. He combatted both of these by having a spare room in his town house that he would make into a study and to get her a P.O. box. And so, a month later they had moved in together. And things were really very good.
"Dusty fell, Izzy Delencey." Sara read the records lining the walls, "I have never heard of him."
"It's probably before your time." He jabbed playfully. The age difference that was once so troubling to him has become an easy source of fun to poke jokes at one another.
"I'll download it."
"Greg! Great your here." Sara spotted Greg making his way through the scores of crying groupies fighting the yellow tape.
"I can't believe you're leaving Izzy's murder scene!"
"I've got something I've got to take care of. Grissom is in the Kitchen. Thanks for coming in."
Sara peeled off in her car and made her way to a less than nice part of town. She spotted Catherine standing in the parking lot of the Motel, just where she said she'd be.
"Hey! What's going on?" Sara approached Catherine.
"I—May have been rophied and raped... I woke up here."
"What?" The blood from Sara's face drained.
"I improvised a rape kit. Pubic combings, vaginal swabs..."
"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Did you call it in?" Sara's voice was sympathetic and soft.
"I called you."
"Catherine... Doing it yourself is going to make anything you get inadmissible."
"I don't want in investigation. I just want to know what happened. Room 229, print it? And um... keep it between us?"
"Okay." Sara agreed and watched as Catherine jumped into a cab.
Sara so desperately wanted to call Grissom. Tell him what was happening, get his advice on how to handle it. But she couldn't betray Catherine's trust.
She found Grissom in the large layout room. Huddled over panoramic photos of the miniature. He sliced open the Izzy doll as if performing an autopsy.
"The blood matches the victim."
They discussed the case at hand, centering their discussion around motive. Just then Ecklie walked in at full speed.
"Maybe we should release it to the media. Someone may have unwittingly helped create the miniature. Maybe if they come forward that could help us."
"What's the point of gratifying the murderer with publicity?"
"Izzy Delancey is Famous. The press wants answers."
"Don't we all." Grissom smirked back.
Ecklie turned his attention to Sara, hoping she'd give a different answer. "Sara, this is your case too. What do you think?"
"I—Uh... I agree with Grissom." She smiled small and nodded as she looked up at Ecklie.
He rolled his eyes, "Of corse you do." and exited clearly annoyed.
The two were left in the layout room alone once more. Her eyebrows scrunched in confusions as he looked back at her slightly bewildered.
She shook her head, "I don't think... Do you think?"
"No, no. If he knew, he'd be sure to let us know." He seamed to be trying to convince himself of that too./
"Right..."
"Gil." Sara hurried into his office. Her tone was urgent.
He looked up with a start and peered at her over his glasses.
"What's wrong?" If her tone wasn't alarming enough, using his first name like that at work was.
"It's Catherine."
He stood quickly.
"There's been a car crash. And they took Lindsey."
Grissom made his way around his desk to stand in front of her. "What do you mean they took Lindsey? To the hospital?"
"No, no." Sara worked to compose herself. "Something happened last night." She then relayed the days event to him, how she met Catherine at the motel, about the DIY rape kit. "I think someone is after her. This wasn't an accident." She paused briefly. "I should have told you about the rape earlier. I just didn't want to betray her trust."
Grissom put a reassuring hand on her shoulder, "It's okay. Where is she now?"
"She's making her way back to the lab. Warrick has her."
"I should have told you but I didn't want an investigation. I did my own rape kit. It came back negative."
"Thank god. These events have to be connected. We'll check your old cases for possible suspects."
"I appreciate that."
"You've got to stay at arms length, Catherine." She nodded.
Grissom carefully cut the tape off of Lindsey's face and hands. She was safe. He made his way outside.
"Sidle."
"We found her. She's okay. She's okay."
She could hear this exasperation in his voice. relief.
She knocked on the door frame of his office to seem him sitting behind his desk hunched over the miniature once again.
"I hear we're out of suspects."
"That's not true. It could be anyone in town. Or anyone out of town for that matter. There are a lot of suspects."
She smiled softly, "What do you want us to do?"
"I don't know." He sighed and but on his magnification glasses, "I'll deal with it."
She knew that meant he wasn't coming home tonight. The realization made her sad, but she was understanding.
Sara went home that night, to their home. The home they now shared for four months. She walked into his office to find a good book to curl up with. Volumes upon volumes of all the classics lined the walls but she wasn't much in the mood for that. She opened his desk draw to find a bookmark to use once she picked a book from his collection.
She rummaged through until she came across something familiar. Something she hadn't seen in seven years. There, laying under papers and pens and random office supplies was a small warn out photo. She picked it up slowly and smiled. It was her and Grissom standing side by side in front of the Golden Gate Bridge. She flipped it over to find her chicken scratch handwriting on the other side with her old phone number and email address.
A single tear rolled from her eye. They really had come such a long way to get here.
She closed up the drawer and made her way to the kitchen. Finding a magnet, she pined the photo to the refrigerator and smiled widely.