Sources
Chapter 24
When Sara awoke, the bed was cold. Grissom was gone.
She sighed, wondering if their night of easy comfort had forced him to take two steps back. Glancing over to what she now deemed "his" side of the bed, she noticed that he'd taken his cell phone with him. She wrestled with the decision for a moment, then bit the bullet, picking up her phone and dialing.
"Finally!" he greeted her, his voice sounding cheerful and tinny through the earpiece.
"Griss? Where are you?"
"Downstairs eating breakfast. You see, Sara, it's a bed and breakfast. They serve you breakfast, it's a package deal! Isn't that cool?"
Her eyes narrowed. "Why are you so happy?"
"Why can't I be happy? They've got eggs, and bagels, and sausages, and mimosas."
"You're drinking mimosas?"
"Sara," he said teasingly. "I'll save you one. Come down! I want to see you!"
The prospect of a tipsy Grissom at 10 AM was too tempting. Sara threw on a pair of jeans and an old Berkeley sweatshirt, heading down the stairs to join him.
It felt like every morning she could remember of her childhood - the rush down the creaky stairs, following the smell of coffee and the conversation of strangers.
"Sara!"
She tried to hide her grin at the sight of a very rosy-cheeked Gil Grissom. "Hey there."
"Everyone, this is Sara!" Grissom was seated at a long table heaped high with food. The table's other occupants waved to her.
"That's Mr. and Mrs. Kesley," he said, pointing to the older couple she had seen when checking in. "They're both retired. She used to teach high school biology, and I've been trying to stump her with trivia." He shook his head. "It hasn't worked."
He pointed to a bookish-looking woman in her early twenties. "That's Leslie, she's on a cross-country trip, studying the culture of hospitality in America. She's going to write a book!"
Sara smiled broadly as Grissom continued with enthusiasm, turning to the man across from him. He looked vaguely familiar, like someone she'd seen on television. "This is Officer Leming, but call him Gary. He and his wife Trudy own this place. Trudy cooked this feast for us! Isn't she great?"
The slender middle-aged woman at the stove turned and waved with a grin. "You're a vegetarian, right, sweetie?"
She nodded, sitting down beside Grissom on the bench.
"I've got some facon on the griddle, it'll be ready in a sec."
"Facon?" Grissom looked puzzled.
"Veggie bacon," Sara answered, pulling his mimosa away from him and taking a sip. "How many of these has he had?" she whispered to Gary. Her only response was a deep chuckle from the police officer.
"Here you go, dear," Trudy said, serving her a pile of facon. "Can I get you anything else?"
Sara had already loaded her plate with eggs, fruit, and toast. "No, this is plenty," she said with a real smile.
Trudy nodded in satisfaction and sat down next to her husband, ruffling his hair affectionately. "Leslie, dear, why don't you tell us about some of your adventures. A cross-country trip sounds so exciting!"
As Leslie recounted her travels, Sara stole a look around the kitchen. It was painted dark red, with country-style antiques covering the walls.
Grissom leaned forward and murmured, "Does it look different?"
She nodded. "I'm glad," she admitted.
After they'd all finished eating, Mr. Kesley spoke up. "When Holly and I were in town shopping yesterday, we told one of the clerks where we were staying. She told us that a long time ago, there was a murder here!"
Sara and Grissom both froze.
"It's true," Trudy said sadly. "About twenty years ago. It was a terrible case. Gary had just joined the force at that point, and it took a real toll on him."
Sara recognized him now, a flush creeping up her neck. He'd been young, and she remembered how pale he looked upon entering her room and seeing the carnage.
"It was." Gary trailed off, looking troubled. "It was terrible. At that point Moody Blues was run by Michael and Laura Sidle, a couple of hippies with two straight-laced children. A college kid named Sander, and a 13-year-old named Sara."
She swallowed and averted her eyes, hoping he wouldn't remember her face.
"Laura Sidle started an affair with a neighbor, Bobby Russo. She didn't realize that he had a prior for assault, or she might have suspected that he was raping her daughter on a regular basis."
Mrs. Kesley gasped, and Trudy swallowed, rubbing Gary's shoulder as he continued.
"Then, one night in August, Michael Sidle came home and found Bobby Russo on top of his daughter. He pulled him off and started beating him. Laura heard the commotion and ran in with a knife, killing Michael. She'd thought that he was the one assaulting Sara, and that Bobby had tried to stop him."
"That's awful," whispered Leslie. "What happened?"
"Case went to trial, and everything hinged on the daughter, Sara. She was the only eyewitness." Gary's eyes grew dark. "She sat up there on the stand and recounted everything that had happened that night, in perfect detail. This tiny little girl with so much pain, living through it all over again to make sure justice was served." He shook his head. "It was the bravest thing I've ever seen. I found out later that the day she gave her testimony was her fourteenth birthday."
Grissom reached under the table and squeezed Sara's hand. Her eyes were bright with pain.
"Anyway, Moody Blues went up for sale after the trial ended. Nobody seemed interested in it even though it was going cheap, but something about the place drew me to it. So Trudy and I used our savings and bought it up. Been running it ever since."
There was a long silence as the guests processed the information. Finally, Trudy spoke up. "Well, that was a conversation-stopper. Let's talk about something more cheerful. Sara, where are you from, dear?"
"She's a Harvard woman," Grissom said quickly.
Trudy's face lit up. "Harvard! My goodness!"
Grissom nodded, smiling at Sara with pride. "Graduated with honors, then went to Berkeley for grad school in physics. Now she's one of the top investigators at the Las Vegas Crime Lab. She'll be my boss one day."
Sara gave him a small smile, comforted by his praise. "Stop that."
He grinned back, and for a moment, it felt like they were alone together. "We should get ready," he said, rising from the bench. "Trudy, thank you for breakfast. Truly one of the best meals I've ever had."
Trudy blushed with pleasure.
Half an hour later, Sara emerged from her room, showered and dressed. She peeked into Grissom's room through his open doorway. "Are we really going somewhere?"
He nodded. "Thought maybe you could show me the local beaches."
"Beaches?" She was surprised.
"Yes, it's a great place to look for interesting specimens of aquatic life," he said earnestly.
Sara nodded, her eyes shining at him. "Bring a jacket, it'll be chilly."
"I'll be right down, I've got to check in with Cath and see how the insect timeline is going."
She made her way downstairs and out the front door. Gary was leaning against the porch railing, watching some kids playing hopscotch in the street.
"So, Sara... it sounds like you've made a great life for yourself," he said quietly, turning to look at her.
Not knowing how to respond, she finally nodded.
He looked back at the kids. "I always wondered what happened to you. That night." His voice broke slightly, and Sara felt her eyes fill with tears. "I remember thinking how fragile you looked, like you would break if anyone touched you. Then you took the stand at the trial, and you were so strong."
"I didn't feel strong," Sara admitted.
Gary smiled. "Never feels that way, does it." He pulled his eyes away from the hopscotch game and met her eyes. "Stay as long as you'd like. You and Mr. Grissom both. No charge."
She opened her mouth to object.
"I insist," he said firmly. "Our home is your home. Besides. seeing you has put a lot of demons to rest. I'll sleep easier. I owe you."
He clasped her shoulder gently, then walked past her into the house.
"It's just a maggot case," Grissom announced, bounding out the door with relief. "We're not missing anything. Let's go!"
She smiled at him, taking his offered hand and walking away from Moody Blues.