AN: Again, sorry about the cliffhanger in the last chapter – I hope the resolution in this chapter makes up for it!

Also, I just wanted to mention that I have made a small update to chapter 20 after a comment about terminology relating to the deaf community – thank you csiaddictfan82 for making me aware of this, and I apologize if anyone was offended by the terminology used, it was not my intention!

Disclaimer: I don't own anything relating to CSI

Chapter 26

Grissom doesn't have time to react before Sara's disappeared through the living room and out the sliding doors to the patio. They don't lend themselves to slamming, but the sound when they close still feels… final.

A moment later, Catherine appears in the door to the hallway. "What did you do?" she asks accusatorily, looking between him and the patio doors.

"Why would you assume I did something?" Grissom shoots back, annoyed.

She just raises her eyebrows at him as she sits down on the other side of the table, and he hands over the check with a sigh.

"I'm going to need a little more context here, I can't quite get from this to yelling and storming off," she says, turning it over in her hands.

"I told you. She's looking for a place for her and Shelby, we were talking about it the other day, she can't decide between renting and buying. Plus, the night nanny. She says it's cheap, but it's still a lot of money." He shrugs. "I just figured it would help."

"And is that what you told her?" she asks gently.

"Um, no."

Catherine sighs. "What exactly did you say?"

"I haven't paid any child support for three years, it's money she has a right to!" he exclaims.

"Wow." She meets his frustration with annoying calm. "I didn't think even you could be that stupid."

Instead of her words fueling his irritation, they make him deflate. "Stupid?" She's right, of course. Didn't he tell himself that Sara would never ask for money? Why did he think she'd just accept any without questioning it?

"Come on, you know Sara," Catherine reasons. "She's never going to accept anything she considers… charity."

"It's not charity," he objects weakly. "But I guess I can see how it could be perceived that way."

She reaches over the table to pat him on the arm. "Look, just talk to her. I'm sure if you explain better, she'll forgive you."

"But she won't take the money."

"Probably not." She shrugs. "But hey, college is expensive; you can always start a fund for Shelby."

He nods to himself thoughtfully. "That's actually not a bad idea."

Catherine gets up again. "What are you waiting for?"

Courage, he almost says. She leaves the room again, and he sits in silence for a long moment, eyes on the closed patio doors.

Then he stuffs the check back in his pocket and gets up.

Sara's in one of the lounge chairs, arms crossed over her chest, one leg over the other, foot swinging back and forth.

He doesn't need Catherine to tell him that she's mad.

"I'm sorry," he says, claiming the chair next to her.

She sighs and relaxes slightly. "I may have overreacted." She glances over at him. "A little."

"I could have phrased that better," he admits. "I'm not trying to… I know you don't need my help. I know you two get on fine without me, but I don't want you to have to do that anymore. I'm here, please just… let me be."

"You are," she says, turning to face him fully, a frown on her face. "You're with her every day, you… you turned your office into a room from some kind of fairytale, you're so patient with all her questions… you've made this move so much easier than I could have even hoped for."

"Really?"

"Yes," she intones. "And I do… I can see your point. It's just, money… it's a bit of a sore subject for me, I guess. I've been taking care of myself since I was twelve. Longer, even. I've worked hard to get where I am, to be able to give Shelby a good life, a better life than I had. And I know you didn't mean to… to downplay that. That's my hang-up, and I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize," he tells her. "I could have put that in a lot of ways that didn't make it sound like I thought you couldn't take care of yourself and Shelby. I just… I know you haven't made up your mind about buying or renting yet, and I don't want you to rule out buying if the only reason is money. But you know me, I'm not great at expressing myself when it comes to personal matters."

She shakes her head but there's a smile playing on her lips. "I do know that."

"Catherine suggested using the money to start a college fund for Shelby," he says. "Which sounded like a good idea, since I know you won't accept them."

She studies him for a moment, head tilted to one side, and he feels almost transparent. "How about this? If I do end up buying a place and the bank for some reason puts up a fight, I will accept a loan, and you can… cosign, is that what they call it?"

"I think so, yes." He doesn't see any reason a bank would turn down her mortgage application, but you never know for sure.

"And if I rent or get a mortgage without any problem, you can put the money into Shelby's college fund, which already exists. I put in some money every month."

"That sounds like a good deal to me," he agrees. "One thing, though – we're splitting the cost of the nanny. I know you can afford it, but you shouldn't have to."

She looks like she's going to object, but then sighs. "OK, yeah, that's reasonable."

"Good. Besides, depending on where Shelby wants to go to college, it could get expensive. I assume you've already looked up what tuition is at Harvard these days," he teases, going back to the earlier topic, and she laughs.

"Unfortunately, yes."

"That bad?"

She shakes her head, an incredulous look on her face. "It's almost tripled since I was there, it's insane. Plus, it'll be another fifteen years before Shelby goes off to college, I wouldn't be surprised if it doubles or even triples again in that time."

"Better keep our fingers crossed she gets a scholarship," he half-jokes.

"Or doesn't care as much about going to an Ivy League school as I did. Which, I think a lot of that, at least for me, was about proving I could, you know?"

It's easy to imagine a teenage Sara working tirelessly to get a full ride to Harvard – and away from yet another foster home. He'd be lying if he said his mind hasn't strayed to her childhood and adolescence in the last few years, after she told him about her parents. Whenever they had a case involving domestic violence, child abuse, foster kids…

"I can see that," he says. "So, let's hope she'll be happy with a more… run of the mill college. Like UCLA."

Sara quirks an eyebrow. "Is that where you went?"

"Yeah. I got accepted to other schools, UCLA was the safety option, really, but in the end… Mom told me to go, but I felt guilty." He shrugs. "This way, I could stay at home for another four years, make sure she was doing OK."

She's smiling by the time he finishes, the soft smile that's one of his favorites.

"You two have always been close?" There's a hint of sadness, he thinks, in her voice. And maybe a little longing.

"We've had our ups and downs," he replies. "But I suppose growing up, I always felt like I had more responsibility than most children probably do, with her being deaf and my dad being gone. I remember my uncle telling me at Dad's funeral that I was the man of the house now… And I know she's perfectly capable of taking care of herself, I just…"

"You worry," she completes the sentence when he trails off. "One of your more defining characteristics, probably. Though it took me a while to realize. You're also very good at hiding it."

"I think I've always been prone to worry," he muses. "And these days… well, I know what people are capable of, which doesn't help."

"I know what you mean," she agrees, then grimaces. "OK, that got dark. Change of subject?"

"Yes, please." It's always been a part of the job, the awareness others can ignore of what happens in dark corners, down dimly lit alleys, behind closed doors. The presence of Shelby in his life has, however, given that awareness a more personal aspect that he never had to worry about before, and doesn't like lingering on for too long. Like his mother likes to say – there's no use borrowing trouble.

"Have you had a chance to read the article on bitemark analysis in the latest JFS issue?"

It's not so much a change of subject as a lateral move, but then again, most of their lives revolve around crime.

They talk about the article, about advancements in DNA technology, which somehow turns into a conversation about philosophy. It's not until the glass door slides open and Catherine pops her head out that he realizes it's getting late.

"Hey, if you need to go home to grab your kit or anything, you might want to get going," she says before disappearing again, and when he glances at his watch, he finds that it's already past ten.

Sara's smiling when he looks up at her again. "I guess we lost track of time. You need to go?"

He shakes his head. "My kit's in the car, I can head straight to the lab, so no rush."

She just smiles and picks up the thread of conversation interrupted by Catherine.

The last shift of the week isn't as hectic as Sara was fearing. While they do get an ID on their Jane Doe – Jamie Voight – and notify the girl's mother, none of the evidence Nick and Greg gathered at the scene is any more probative than the evidence already logged from the first case. They do confirm that the DNA from the semen retrieved from the two victims match, though, so at least they know they're looking for a single perpetrator.

"Anything?" Grissom asks, coming into the AV lab.

Sara just shakes her head. "Nothing obvious on the tapes from the gas station in Mesquite," she reports. "I've got the first vic, Hailey, on tape coming in at five twenty-six, she buys a soda and some gum, and is gone again in a few minutes. No other customers in the store at the same time, and, of course, there's no surveillance outside."

"Of course." He sighs and pulls up a chair next to her. "Nick went through the interview with the clerk, but it doesn't look like Days missed anything, unfortunately. She remembers seeing Hailey, but has no idea if anyone approached her outside. She got off work at eight, and didn't notice anything out of place when she left, but the body was found around back, she wouldn't have any reason to go back there."

Sara hums as she stops the surveillance video and ejects the disk from the system. "I've made screenshots of everyone coming and going in the two hours surrounding Hailey's visit, not sure if it'll do any good, but maybe we can match timestamps to credit card payments? Do we have any surveillance from the gas station in Glendale yet?"

"No, the clerk insisted it had to go through the main office, hopefully it'll get here at some point during the weekend. But we do have Jamie's carpool buddy in interrogation, want to tag along?"

"Sure, let me just return this to the evidence locker."

"I need to grab some things in my office anyway, meet you at reception?"

"Perfect."

She puts the surveillance disk back in the evidence bag and reseals it, putting her initials and the date and time on the new seal, before heading down the corridor to drop it off. When she makes it to the reception, Grissom is already waiting for her, and they walk the short distance to PD, tossing theories about the case back and forth.

Leanne Harris looks much younger than her twenty-one years behind the metal table in Interrogation 3, hunched over in a too-large sweatshirt, picking at a loose thread.

Sara and Grissom exchange a look, and without needing to discuss it, she takes the lead. "Hi, Leanne." She waits until the girl looks up, revealing red-rimmed eyes, before she continues. "My name is Sara Sidle, this is Gil Grissom, we're from the crime lab. And you already met Captain Brass."

"Hi." The voice is steady, but she can tell it takes some effort.

Sara and Grissom sit down on the other side of the table from Leanne while Jim opts to remain standing, leaning against the wall by the door.

"So, we're trying to figure out what happened to Jamie," Grissom says. "I understand you two worked together and carpooled?"

Leanne nods. "Yeah, Jamie got me the job at the casino in Mesquite. I drive, since she doesn't have a driver's license, but we split gas." Her eyes widen. "I mean we… we used to."

"And on Thursday, you dropped her off at the usual spot which is…" Sara checks her notes, "near the gas station by exit 91. How come you didn't drive her all the way home?"

The girl looks away, eyes darting around the room for a moment. "Jamie likes to walk. And it's… it's a ten-minute detour. My boyfriend doesn't like it when I get home late."

She tucks some hair behind her ear but quickly shakes it loose again. Not before Sara spots a yellowing bruise on the side of her neck, though. Grissom must see it too, because he takes her hand under the table, squeezing lightly.

"And you didn't see anything out of the ordinary yesterday?" he asks gently, making Leanne shake her head.

"No, nothing. It was just like always."

"Nobody that shouldn't be there hanging around for no reason?"

"No. Well…" She hesitates, and he nods at her to continue. "Crazy-Tom was there, but he's always there with his stupid sign."

"Crazy-Tom, who's that?" Sara asks. "Do you know his full name?"

Another shake of the head. "No, everyone just calls him Crazy-Tom. But if you get off at that exit, you can't miss him, he's always there. He has a big sign with some weird bible verse on it. Something about… coals and sulfur?"

"'He will rain down blazing coals and burning sulfur on the wicked, punishing them with scorching winds'," Grissom recites, earning a look from the others in the room. "Psalm 11:6."

"Yeah, that's it," Leanne confirms with a nod. "Look, I really don't know anything. Can I go?"

Sara glances at Grissom, who nods slightly.

"Yeah, you can go. But call if you think of anything, and we might need to talk to you again if something new comes up, OK?"

Leanne nods. "OK, that's fine, yeah."

"Thanks for coming in."

They escort Leanne back to the reception area, where a burly man is pacing impatiently. "What took so long?" he exclaims when he spots them, grabbing Leanne by the arm when she's close enough.

"Leanne's just helping us get to the bottom of what happened to Jamie," Sara tells him, struggling to not raise her voice. She knows it won't do Leanne any favors if she gets her boyfriend all riled up. She turns her focus to the girl, pressing her card into her hand. "Call if you think of something, OK? Anything," she says, trying to tell her with just a look that she understands and can help. But it has to be Leanne's decision. She nods once, then her boyfriend's dragging her out of the building.

Sara closes her eyes for a moment, trying to center herself.

"You OK?" Grissom's voice is quiet, and when she opens her eyes, he's right in front of her, a worried look on his face.

"Yeah," she assures him, nodding. "I just…"

"I know."

Jim's at the front desk, talking to the officer there, but soon rejoins them.

"Quite the prince Charming, huh?" he notes with a shake of the head. "I'm running a check on him, see if there's anything we might be able to get him on. Might give her a chance to get away."

Sara hopes he's right.

She gives herself a mental shake, trying to refocus on the case at hand. "Blazing coals and burning sulfur?" she muses out loud. "Sounds kind of serial killer-y."

Grissom nods. "I was thinking the same thing."