Sources

Chapter 7

Sara started on her fourth slice of pizza, smiling at the fact that only a late-night gossip session with Mandy could make her eat like this. Even with her facial bruising, Mandy was matching her piece for piece, and they'd fallen into a mock competition to see who could eat more.

"So that case where the girl looked like you, was that the one that got to you the most?" asked Mandy, cramming another slice in her mouth. "That must have been freaky, seeing yourself on the slab."

Sara stopped chewing, her eyes growing haunted. "No. There was something worse than seeing myself dead."

"What could be worse?"

The question was meant to be rhetorical, but when Sara was silent for a long moment, Mandy looked up to see a face filled with immense sadness. "Seeing you."

"Me?"

Sara stood up and crossed her arms across her chest, a self-protective motion that Mandy was all too familiar with. "We got this huge case a couple of months after I came to Vegas. A family was slaughtered in their house, all except for the two daughters. I wanted to work the scene, but Grissom put me in charge of the younger daughter." Her eyes met Mandy's. "She was you, Man."

Mandy shook her head with uncertainty. "Sara-"

"She was you. This little blonde-haired six-year-old. Giant blue eyes that had seen far too much horror in her lifetime." Sara gave a short laugh. "And an instant attachment to me as a protector."

"You must have tried to take yourself off baby-sitting duty."

"Oh yeah, I did at first. But the more time I spent with her, the more I realized why I saw you when I looked at her."

Mandy sighed. "Abusive father?"

"Abusive father."

The women stared at each other, each hoping the other would speak first. Finally Sara broke. "You said he was paroled. Where is he now?"

Mandy's jaw tightened. "He's here."

"Where?"

"He's in Vegas."

Back at the lab, Grissom listened to Sara's message, his heart sinking when he heard the detachment in her voice. He paged the team members, asking them to meet him in the prep room. They were unnaturally quiet when he walked in.

Grissom cleared his throat. "Nick and Greg, great job on the jewelry store case. I called you all in here to let you know that Sara's taking a few days off. I hope you'll all respect her privacy," he said, looking pointedly at Greg. "In the meantime, Nick, Greg, we could use your help on the Bellagio DB's."

Nick nodded. "What did Trace pick up?"

"Nothing indicating anyone else in the room at the time of the shootings," said Warrick. "No outside prints on their belongings or doorknobs, no unusual blood spatter, no foreign fibers or hairs."

"Any leads on motive?" asked Greg.

Catherine shook her head. "Hotel staff says they were a happy, affectionate couple. Waitress at the hotel restaurant confirms. She remembers them, says they were heavy tippers."

Grissom cocked his head. "Nobody tips heavily when they're upset. Any surveillance cameras catch them on tape?"

"Two," answered Catherine. "One in the lobby and one in the elevator."

"Did you take a look at the footage?"

She nodded, bewildered. "Witness reports check out. They were all over each other. Even in the elevator, where they thought no one could see them."

Nick waved his hands. "Wait wait wait, this doesn't mesh. If they were such a happy couple, why would Rebecca Palmer have brought a gun with her?"

Grissom agreed. "We need to talk to their friends and family. But most of all, we need to talk to their coworkers."

Greg frowned. "Why their coworkers?"

"Thomas Brody and Rebecca Palmer worked for a pediatric group," said Catherine. "Anytime there's an office romance, you can count on coworkers to make it their business." She looked innocently at Grissom. "Don't you agree?"

Coughing pointedly, Grissom told everyone to get to work. As the team filed out the door, he called out Catherine's name, asking her to stay a moment.

"What was that?" he demanded angrily.

Catherine remained cool. "I'm not sure what you mean."

"You know exactly what I mean. That was a low blow."

She looked him straight in the eye. "Yeah, okay, I was referencing you and Maria. What's wrong with that?"

His eyes flashed fire. "You really want to get into this?"

She sighed, exasperated. "Grissom, that was what, eight years ago? And you're still this sensitive about it?"

"When it's thrown in my face in front of my staff, then yes, I'm sensitive."

"You're overreacting."

"Am I?" They circled each other warily.

"Gil, what's the weapon of choice for female killers?"

He stopped, confused. "Poison. What are you getting at?"

"Knowing answers is what our job's all about. How do certain people choose to kill? What are motivators implied in certain types of weapons? We know the answers because of experience."

Grissom relaxed slightly. "You're saying I should use my experience with Maria to my advantage in this case."

"That's what I'm saying."

He mulled over her point, then nodded, conceding. He started to walk out the door when Catherine called to him.

"Gil?"

He turned around wordlessly.

"Gil, she's not Maria."

"Who, the Bellagio vic?"

"Sara, Gil. Sara's not Maria."

To Catherine's surprise, there was no anger in Grissom's response. Just a weary sadness that made her heart ache with sympathy.

"I know she's not. I just realized it about four months too late."