AN: Hey guys – happy holidays! I'm not completely sure when I'll be able to post over the next week or so, since I'll be going here and there to celebrate with family, but I promise I will when I have a chance. Until then, please enjoy chapter 5!
Thanks to WalkerTRngr for the beta help!
Warning! Again, this chapter deals with rape/sexual assault. It's not graphic, but it is implied
Chapter 5
The room is bathed in sunlight when Sara wakes up. Lurie brought her more food – a nuked breakfast burrito, thankfully vegetarian, and another glass of orange juice – and let her use the bathroom early in the morning, around dawn, telling her he was leaving for work. This time, he must have put something in the food, because she started getting woozy half an hour after the door closed behind him. She's not sure how long she's been out, but her head feels like it's full of cotton.
She rolls onto her back, stretching out her limbs carefully, wincing at the various sore spots. Gingerly touching her cheek, she finds swelling, which is probably accompanied by a nice bruise by now.
She stays in the same position until her head feels a little clearer, then gingerly sits up on the edge of the bed. Her ripped clothes are gone, and even though there's no possibility Lurie's hidden any cameras in the room, since there's nowhere to hide them, she still gets the comforter wrapped around herself before standing.
She has to try to get the handcuffs off.
By the time she gives up several hours later, the skin on her wrist is red and raw, throbbing painfully, but she's nowhere nearer getting free than she was when she started.
Letting out a frustrated groan, she slumps back onto the bed, blinking back tears. Crying isn't going to accomplish anything.
She gives herself a few minutes to wallow in her misery, then takes a determined breath and gets up to try a different approach.
The bed is bolted to the MDF wall, and trying to move the headboard didn't produce any results yesterday, so instead, she stretches the chain as far as it will go towards the foot of the bed, and then grabs onto the bed frame itself, trying to lift it. It doesn't move much, but at least a little, which means she might be able to wiggle the bolts loose.
An hour or so later, she's exhausted, and there are no visible signs of progress with the bolts. Still, she keeps trying on and off during the rest of the day, mostly because she doesn't have anything else to do and she needs to feel like she's at least trying to get out of here and not just giving up.
By the time dusk starts falling outside the dusty window, she still can't tell if the bolts have loosened any, and with a despondent sigh, she wraps the comforter tighter around herself and leans against the headboard.
She doesn't want to fall asleep and be unprepared when Lurie returns.
-CSI-
A slamming door jerks Grissom from sleep, and he sits bolt upright on the couch in his office. For a moment, he's completely disoriented, but then the events of the last day return, and he slumps forward, arms resting on his knees as he hangs his head.
At least his migraine is gone. Something to be grateful for.
He assumes someone would have woken him up if there had been any development, but he still checks his cell phone. No missed calls or new messages, but the battery's on fourteen percent, so he plugs it in to charge before going in search of something to eat and someone to give him an update.
The vending machine in the lobby provides nothing even remotely appetizing, but he pushes the button for a sugary drink, at least, to get his energy levels up a little. Turning a corner, he spots Ecklie.
"Conrad!" he calls, hurrying to catch up with the man. "Any news?"
Ecklie shakes his head. "Nothing. The uniform sitting on Lurie was relieved half an hour ago, but that's all I've heard."
Grissom sighs. "Do you know where everyone is?"
"I sent Catherine home around noon; she was practically falling asleep at her desk. Sanders showed up a while ago, said he was going to go through some of the surveillance footage again, so he's probably in AV. I haven't seen Nick or Warrick, though, so I assume they haven't come in yet."
"Thanks."
He turns back the way he came and soon reaches the AV lab, where Greg is, indeed, squinting at a screen.
"Find anything?"
The younger man jumps a little and turns. "I didn't hear you come in."
"Sorry. So?"
He shakes his head. "Nothing. I've gone over the footage from Sara's building fifty times, but there's no way to make out any details. And the traffic cam footage is no better."
Grissom claims a chair. "Well, Lurie's already admitted to being there, so we don't really need to place him in the car."
"I know, I've been studying the footage from after he must have snagged Sara, trying to see if there's someone in the passenger seat or back," Greg explains. "But the back windows are tinted, and the camera's to the left of the car, focused on the driver's side."
Grissom's impressed with his ingenuity. "Good thinking, Greg."
"Doesn't matter when it doesn't go anywhere!" the lab tech exclaims, slamming his hand on the desk before slumping in defeat. "Sorry."
Grissom puts a hand on his shoulder. "Don't apologize, we're all on edge right now."
Greg snorts. "Right. This is you 'on edge'? You're cool as a cucumber."
"Trust me, I'm just as close to snapping as you are right now," Grissom assures him. "I've just had more time to learn how to hide it."
"I just… I hate that there's nothing we can do. She's out there somewhere, waiting for us to find her, and we're just sitting here…"
Grissom has to squeeze his eyes closed for a moment at the images Greg's words evoke, because he's been thinking the same thing. Sara's out there somewhere, in the hands of that murderer, depending on them, on him, and he can't find her.
He's always prided himself on his ability to do his job, but when it matters the most, he's failing.
Taking a deep breath, he tries to focus.
"I know, it's frustrating. But we have a car on Lurie, hopefully he'll slip up and we'll be able to place him in the area around Coyote Springs. Maybe even pin down an address."
"Yeah…"
Greg pulls up another traffic cam, and Grissom frowns at the date on the screen. "Why are you looking at old footage from the camera on the I-15 in the Apex area?"
"I was hoping to put Lurie's car there at some point before all of this…"
"That won't be enough for a warrant, Greg," he points out reluctantly. "There are plenty of legitimate reasons for being there."
The tech sighs. "I know, I just need to do something."
Grissom understands the feeling only too well.
"Hey, anybody hungry?" They both turn at Nick's voice, finding him in the doorway with several bags from Frank's. He shrugs. "Couldn't go back to sleep so I figured I'd pick stuff up for everyone."
"I'm not really hungry, I'll just keep checking the traffic cams," Greg says, turning back to the screen.
Grissom was about to say something to a similar effect, but he knows that they all need to eat, and it's up to him to lead by example. "Come on, Greg, you can take a break."
"I'm fine, really."
"I know, but none of us will be of any use to Sara if we don't keep our strength up," he points out. "Come on."
He waits until Greg gets up, letting out a deep sigh, and then follows the two younger men to the break room.
Warrick turns up fifteen minutes later, and soon after, Catherine joins them as well. Luckily, Nick picked up enough food to feed a small army.
"Did you get anything from the gym Lurie claimed he was at?" Grissom asks when the food is gone and they're all nursing cups of coffee.
"Yeah, they were surprisingly accommodating," Catherine replies. "Well, after I insinuated that we could shut them down while we waited for a warrant…"
"Which we can absolutely not do," Nick pipes in amusedly.
"They don't know that. No video surveillance, unfortunately, but they sent over their entry logs – Lurie checked in at ten thirty-two, which works with the time frame. The problem is that you only need to check in, there's no system to indicate when someone leaves."
"So, he could have just swiped his card and then left again right away," Warrick concludes, bunching up the wrapper to his cheeseburger and loping it into the trash can in the corner. "Doesn't really help us."
"No."
Grissom closes his eyes and lets out a sigh.
"Getting another migraine?" Catherine asks.
"No, just… frustrated," he replies, meeting her concerned gaze with one he hopes is reassuring. "OK, does someone have any idea of what we can do without warrants?"
They all look at each other for a moment, then Nick clears his throat. "I was thinking about something. I don't know if it'll hold up in court, though; it's pretty new."
"Just spit it out, Nicky," Catherine says impatiently.
"I read about it in a journal, can't remember which one, but it was used in a murder case somewhere on the east coast. The idea is that, instead of checking which towers a cell phone pings, you check which numbers have pinged a specific tower during a certain window of time."
Grissom considers the suggestion for a moment. "That could be thousands of numbers. More in downtown Las Vegas."
"But how many in Coyote Springs?" Nick retorts.
"Good point," Grissom agrees. "OK, check which cell phone company is in charge of that tower and see what they have to say. If they agree to give you the logs for the tower, ask for the time frame between the first ping from Sara's phone in the area and the last. Call Jim if you need a warrant."
Nick nods and tosses his trash before leaving the room.
"I'll get back to the traffic cams," Greg announces. "Maybe if we can place Lurie's phone out there, and his car on the way there, it'll be enough."
Grissom's pretty sure any footage from traffic cams he might find won't help their case, but he understands Greg's need to stay active, and there's nothing more productive he could be doing, so he sees no reason to object.
"What traffic cams is he going through?" Warrick asks once the younger man is gone.
"Along the I-15 up to Great Basin Highway," Grissom explains. "He's hoping to catch Lurie's car from before it was stolen."
"You know that's not going to get us a warrant," Catherine points out unnecessarily.
"I know. He just needs to stay busy." He sighs. "Any other ideas?"
Warrick leans forward. "Well, we can't get into Lurie's house, but anything on the curb is fair game, right? Public property."
"What are you getting at?"
"Well, I just so happened to notice that Lurie's trash bin was out by the curb when I, uh… passed by his place on my way in to work earlier," he explains.
Catherine snorts. "On your regular commute between home and here, right?"
"I was in the mood for a little sightseeing, nothing wrong with that. I also happened to run into a very nice woman living a few houses down who was only too happy to tell me that trash day is tomorrow, but that Lurie always puts his bin out too early, and sometimes doesn't even bother to move it back up the drive between trash days. So, if we were to go out there, say, tonight… we might hit pay dirt."
"Yeah, let's do that," Grissom agrees. "But let's wait and see what the officer tailing Lurie comes up with first. And like you said, tonight, after dark. We don't want him to know how much we know if we can avoid it."
"You got it, boss."
-CSI-
Sara jumps at the sound of a door slamming closed somewhere above her. She could hear Lurie moving around in the main area of the house this morning, but nothing this loud. A moment later, there are thundering steps on the stairs down to the basement, and then the door to her prison cell slams open so hard it bounces against the wall.
Lurie's eyes are flashing as he stalks closer, and she glances at the by now familiar handcuffs and rope in his hands.
"Do you know what I spotted when I was leaving the hospital earlier?" he asks as he grabs her hand and cuffs it to the bed, tight enough the metal digs into her skin painfully.
Again, she tries to pull her legs away from him, and even though she can see that he's seriously pissed off, she's not expecting the backhand to her already sore cheek. This time, he breaks her lip, judging by the coppery taste of blood in her mouth, and her head spins with the force.
By the time she's gotten her bearings again, her legs are tied to the footboard and he's pulling the comforter away from her body.
"Guess!" he snaps.
"I don't know," she replies, because she doesn't even remember the question.
"A block-headed cop in an unmarked car. Are they even allowed to do that?"
His words make hope flare in her chest. At least they've figured out who's responsible for her disappearance, even if they don't have enough to get a warrant or bring him in. And if they have someone tailing him, it's only a matter of time before they find her. It has to be.
"You don't need a warrant to follow someone in a public place," she spits at him.
"Yeah, well, there's no way your little friends are going to get the upper hand on me," he assures her. "So, I wouldn't get my hopes up if I were you. They're never going to find you."
She wants to retort, tell him that they will, that he's not nearly as smart as he thinks he is, but she knows it'll only anger him further, so she bites back on her instincts, and doesn't fight, hoping it'll be over quicker.
-CSI-
With no more avenues to investigate at the moment, Grissom forces himself to sit down with paperwork, so he'll be able to focus on Sara's case once they – hopefully – have something to work with. He can't focus for long, though, leaving his office to check in with Greg or Nick every half hour or so, always with the same results – nothing.
He's just poured himself a cup of coffee and is about to sit down for a few minutes with Catherine and Nick when Jim comes barging into the break room.
"Son of a bitch, I swear I will have his badge for this," he's half-yelling, eyes flashing dangerously.
"What's got your panties in a bunch?" Catherine asks, getting a withering look.
"The officer I put on Lurie lost him," the detective replies. "He went into some parking garage, and the idiot didn't know there was another exit. An hour and a half later, he went in, car was long gone. Either he got made, or Lurie was extremely lucky. Either way, we have no idea where he is right now."
"Who was doing the tailing?" Warrick asks darkly as Grissom gets to his feet, because he cannot be here right now.
"It was supposed to be Metcalf," Jim explains as he leaves the room. "But he had a family emergency and had to switch with some rookie that's barely dry behind the ears. I've already…"
Jim's voice trails off as Grissom blindly makes his way back towards his office, slamming the door closed behind him, ignoring the rattling of the window in it. His desk is still covered in paperwork he hasn't gotten through yet, but he barely sees it. Crossing the room, he slumps down on the couch, trying to slow his breathing, his heart beating like a sledgehammer in his chest.
Placing a finger on his pulse point, he counts. 102.
The action brings him back to another situation where his heart rate got the better of him.
"Chalk… from plaster."
He can almost feel her fingers against his cheek and has to squeeze his eyes closed against the desperation that threatens to tear his chest apart. It's not like anything he's ever experienced before, and he prays to a God he doesn't believe in anymore that he never will again.
"You OK?"
At Catherine's tentative voice, he opens his eyes, finding her lingering hesitantly in the doorway.
"No," he answers truthfully.
"Look, I know this is a setback, but we'll get him," she says gently, crossing the room and sitting down next to him. "Jim's taking over surveillance tomorrow, you know he won't let him get away."
It's a small comfort, but the dread in his stomach won't let up, insisting to be let out. "If Lurie spotted the cop today, it could make him snap… he could…"
"Stop it!" she interrupts him. "Don't think like that. He didn't take her just to… to kill her."
Grissom knows that she's trying to make him feel better, but all she does is cause flashes of what other horrors the killer might be putting Sara through to run through his mind. Debbie Marlin's lifeless body, posed like a doll on her own bathroom floor, morphs into Sara in the same position, dark blood from her slit throat pooling on the floor beneath her, her eyes empty and accusing.
When the silence has stretched between them for a few minutes, he feels Catherine's hand slide along his shoulders in a half-hug.
For some reason, the simple gesture breaks down the last of his barriers. "We have to find her. I can't… I can't lose her before I even…"
"I know. I know," she assures him, pulling him closer, and exhaustedly, he leans his head against her shoulder. The position's not particularly comfortable, but it is comforting.
"Sorry," he apologizes when he straightens up some time later.
Catherine just smiles. "Don't mention it." Then she squares him with a look. "Here's what's going to happen, OK? We are going to find Sara, and when we do, you are not going to shove your head back up your ass, got it?"
He has to smile a little at her bluntness. "No, I can assure you that my head has been permanently withdrawn."
"Good." She squeezes his hand. "Are you ready to head back out there? Jim's worried you're blaming him for the whole tailing fiasco."
Grissom frowns. "It's not his fault some rookie messed up."
"I know that. You mind telling him?"
He pushes himself up off the couch and holds out a hand to Catherine, pulling her up when she accepts. Now is not the time to break down. Sara needs them. "Come on."
Greg and Warrick have joined Nick and Jim in the break room by the time they make it back, and all four look up as they enter. Jim doesn't say anything, just raises an eyebrow, and Grissom inclines his head slightly in response.
It's the only communication they need.
"Do we have any updates?" he asks, leaning against the table.
Nick and Greg shake their heads in unison. "I've gone through days of traffic cam footage – nothing," Greg reports.
"I finally managed to get through to the cell phone provider that's in charge of the cell tower in Coyote Springs," Nick follows up. "They're not cooperating without a warrant."
"I'm already on it," Jim promises. "If I have to get every judge in Vegas on the line, I'll get that warrant."
"OK, good." Grissom glances at his watch – almost nine. "Greg, check with the cop who 'lost' Lurie and find out where that happened, then see if you can pick up the Lexus on any cameras in the area. Catherine, Warrick, head out to Lurie's place. Check if he's home first, and if not, see if any of the neighbors have seen him today. Then bring back his trash here to go through."
"Got it, boss."
The coffee he poured earlier is cold by now, so he dumps it in the sink and pours a new cup before sitting down opposite Nick at the table.
"We'll find her," the younger man says without any hesitation. Grissom wishes he could feel that kind of certainty, but the more time passes, the more the doubt in his chest grows.
"I hope so."
AN: The whole reverse cell tower look-up thing is not something I made up, I actually saw it on some Investigation Discovery show! No idea if it was available at the time of this story, but, well, artistic freedom and all that