Kinky

Chapter Three

Sara carried Anne Grissom’s cases into the living area of Grissom’s townhouse. Once there she hesitated, not knowing where to leave the bags and unfamiliar with the layout of the house. She looked back at Mrs Grissom, unsure how to communicate her question. She raised her hands as if to sign, but finally pointed at the bags and then held her palms face up in silent question. Anne easily intuited Sara’s dilemma after a lifetime of reading people’s smallest gestures.

“The guest room is upstairs, dear, first door on the right.” Sara was impressed once more by the clarity of her speech. Only slightly muted consonants told of her handicap. After stumbling through a few polite questions in the car, they had lapsed into an awkward silence. Now Sara was more stuck than ever for what to say, so she dutifully carried the bags up to Grissom’s guest bedroom. It was the first and perhaps only time she would get to see the upstairs of his house and it took all of her self control not to give in to the curiosity to explore. The thin strip of light that filtered tantalisingly from the only other open door seemed to draw her in, but Sara ignored it. She left the bags in the guest room, mildly impressed by the simple taste that it was decorated with. Slowly she walked downstairs, unsure of herself now that her duty had been fulfilled. The clinking of cups led her to the kitchen where Anne was preparing hot chocolate on the stove. Sara cleared her throat awkwardly, but Anne didn’t turn round. Realising her mistake, Sara moved into her line of sight.

“You will stay for a drink, won’t you, dear?” She smiled and Sara acquiesced with a small nod. Anne’s smile was reminiscent of Grissom’s, but gentler and calmer somehow. Her eyes were the same blue too, the same intelligence shining there, and Sara found it strangely comforting. She wanted to tell her that, or say something to her, anything. Her hands rose up as if she was going to start signing, but she let them fall again with a frustrated sigh. Sara felt something she hadn’t felt in a long time; stupid.

“I’m sorry, Mrs Grissom, I’m not very good at communicating with the deaf...” She started loudly, gesturing wildly.

“Don’t be silly, dear. As long as I can read your lips, I can understand.” Sara nodded, mutely, trying to find a suitable conversation topic in her head. “And you don’t have to shout.” The two women slipped back into silence, Sara watching as Anne stirred the creamy brown chocolate.

“So how long have you known Gilbert?” Sara recognised a loaded question when she saw one. She proceeded cautiously; this was Grissom’s mom after all.

“About seven years. We met at a forensics conference in San Francisco. He gave the most amazing series of lectures…” Sara’s face lit up as the memory took her. “He spoke with such passion. I don’t think there was a single person there who did not leave with a renewed love of science.” Her smile faltered into an embarrassed flush. She had said too much.

“How long have you been in love with my son for?” Anne Grissom had the same understated manner as her son. It was a gentle yet precise missile that had pulled apart the most complex of criminal minds. Sara suddenly felt entirely unprepared. Her eyes widened in absolute terror as she fished around for an answer to her worst nightmare come true. Ten minutes. It had taken Anne Grissom ten minutes to suss her out. Finally she blindly latched onto one of her PEAP counsellor’s favourite phrases as a life raft in the treacherous waters of truth. Hell, it had worked on Grissom.

“I tend to have inappropriate feelings for men in authority.” Anne scrutinised the woman for a long moment, confused and a little disappointed. Perhaps Sara wasn’t what she had thought.

“So you’ve had feelings for other supervisors before?” She asked carefully.

“Well no, just Grissom…” Sara felt like when Grissom led her through the evidence until she happened upon the answer he had known all along.

“So at college or school? One of your professors maybe?” She knew she was prying, but Anne had to settle her nagging doubt. Back at the diner she had been so sure of what she had seen, and the look in the girl’s eyes when she spoke of meeting Gilbert for the first time spoke volumes.

“No, just Griss.” Sara was beet red at the spontaneous interrogation. Surely this was rock bottom.

“So my son is special?” Sara suddenly found herself backed effectively into a neat, logical corner. She nodded then shook her head, all the time her lips opening and closing as if they knew the answer, but no sound coming out. Finally she accepted her fate. She couldn’t hide the truth from Grissom’s mom.

“Please don’t say anything to him. He’s made it clear that nothing will ever happen between us. I’d hate for him to think I’d been harassing his mother.” Anne chuckled at this. To Sara’s surprise and considerable relief she dropped the subject, albeit with a knowing smile.

“Now how about some of this cocoa? It’s Gilbert’s favourite.”

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Grissom threw his keys on the side and followed the delicious smells that assailed his senses to his kitchen. A smile split his face. It was good to have his mom home. As he entered the kitchen the sight that greeted him made his breath catch in his throat. Sara and his mom were laughing together as they prepared a meal. Grissom shook his head and checked his watch in disbelief. Sara had brought his mom back hours ago. Had they really been talking all this time? It was in that moment that he realised what shaky ground he standing. He had felt an increasing lack of control over himself and his personal life ever since the Lurie case, but this felt like he was having the rug swept out from under him.

Suddenly Sara noticed his presence, whirling around like a guilty child caught in the act. A metaphor only enhanced by the smears of food on her white apron and the tendrils that had fallen from the loose pony tail her hair had been scooped back into. God, she was adorable. A few short strides and she could be his. Just the sight of her here in the flesh, in his private space, made the possibility seem all too real. He was on very dangerous ground.

“Sara…” He finally found his tongue if not his brain.

“Griss…I’m sorry, I didn’t realise it was so late. I should get going.” Sara cursed inwardly. How had she let herself get so carried away that she had forgotten the time? It had just been so long since she’d had someone take her under their wing and Anne Grissom seemed to exude the very essence of home. Not any home Sara had ever known either, but the magical kind that other kids had talked of, filled with days out to the park and home-baked cookies.

“Gilbert, you would not believe what this girl calls food! I just had to show her how to make something more substantial than noodles.” Anne smoothly ignored the tension in the room. “You will stay for dinner, won’t you, Sara?” She asked matter-of-factly, continuing to potter around the kitchen. Sara was left gaping, unable to form an answer and unwilling to upset either Grissom or his mother.

“Gilbert, why don’t you show her where the good silverware is? You can help her set the table.” Anne Grissom held her breath, silently praying that the would-be couple would take the bait, or just be brow beaten into doing as they were told. After a long moment scrutinising her face, her son finally acceded, willing to play along for now.

“This way, Sara.” Grissom led her out of the kitchen and into a lavish dining room. Yet again Sara was impressed by the elegant taste of Grissom’s home. She wanted to tell him, but when she opened her mouth she found herself speechless once more. In a silent truce they laid the table, Grissom handing her the silverware to position at the place settings.

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Sara sighed. Sometimes no matter how good your mood, the universe still conspired to piss all over it. After what could only be described as an odd yet enjoyable time with Grissom and his mom, she had practically floated into work on a cloud of good feeling. It did not matter what the shift threw at her, or even Grissom himself, she would hold that perfect dinner close, knowing that nobody could take the memory away from her. She would retain the feeling, the one she couldn’t quite put her finger on, that she’d had when Anne had started telling stories of Grissom’s childhood. Each tale would quickly be shouted down and retold by Grissom to sound infinitely more logical and less geeky. The gentle intimacy of the evening was something she would hold dear whenever Grissom decided to be, well, himself. At least that had been the theory. Right up until Thayer had informed her that Greg had maxed out on overtime and they had been assigned together. Then he laughed in her face when she said she was driving.

She desperately tried to cling onto her new found happy place on the drive to the scene, zoning out as Thayer happily upheld both sides of the conversation on his own... Grissom in an apron making dessert to show you ladies how it’s done. Grissom winking as he told a cheeky anecdote. Grissom giving her a goodbye kiss on the cheek, the gentle brush of his beard against her skin. Grissom pinning her against the wall as he…

“We’re here.” Sara snapped out of her daydream. Thankfully Thayer did not seem to have noticed her lack of attention. She carefully filed away all Grissom thoughts that so much as veered from being completely professional for later use and grabbed her kit from the trunk.

The victims were believed to be three French tourists who had been reported missing ten days prior.

“Looks like your theory checked out.” Thayer commented as they began to process the scene, as if being proved right was all that mattered.

The bodies were all similarly dressed to Laura Partridge when she’d been discovered. The girls were all very young, maybe fifteen, sixteen. She snapped some pictures of the bruises on them, avoiding for now the violent knife wounds on each girl. She shuddered. There was no doubt in her mind that the girls had been raped, so she took swabs and nail scrapings to get the necessary DNA to pin the guy. The girls had been on a school trip when they were taken. Sara tried to block out memories of bad foster homes. She had never been raped, but once it had been a close call. She knew all too well the devastating moment of panic when you realised you were completely helpless. Thayer’s murmurs interrupted her train of thought.

“What did you say?”

“Jessica is the same age.” He repeated no louder than before.

“You have a daughter?” Sara couldn’t have hidden the surprise in her voice if she had tried.

“I don’t get to see her much these days.” Thayer admitted. Sara found herself suddenly reassessing her first impressions of Mark Thayer. Maybe she had judged him too harshly. Surely even he deserved a second chance. She watched him covertly as they continued to work the scene, trying to put this new puzzle piece in place.

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Greg smiled to himself as he heard Sara’s laughter drift down the corridor and into the lay-out room where he was working. He hadn’t heard that sound for many months and it did him good. It had been long ago that he had realised that his unrelenting worship of Sara Sidle was never going to be returned. The salvation of his sanity had been the realisation that she had wholeheartedly granted him her friendship to a level he had never expected. He remembered the first time he’d seen her. Smart, professional, totally hot and a scientist. He was sunk from that first grin. Apparently he hadn’t been the only one either. It hadn’t taken long for him to translate Grissom’s subtle glances and not so subtle comments towards Sara. As much as he admired the man, Greg couldn’t understand how he managed to keep all his feelings on lock down, or more importantly, why. He was hurting them both for no real reason, as far as Greg could see. He didn’t understand why Sara put up with it either. She could have her pick of men, yet continued to follow the one guy that would be sure to bring her heartache.

Quickly Greg sealed up and signed the evidence he had been working on and then followed the sound of Sara’s laughter. He stopped as he saw Sara and Thayer sat close in the break room. His throat tightened at the sight of the two of them laughing together. Didn’t Sara know her laughter set butterflies swarming in a guy’s stomach? Didn’t she realise her beautiful eyes promised more than she gave? Didn’t she get that every grin, every touch and every word would slowly send a man crazy? Thayer would get completely the wrong idea.

Greg cleared his throat loudly as he stepped into the break room, deliberately destroying the moment.

“Have you heard the latest? The blood from the writing at the first crime scene matches one of the cirque performers from the second crime scene.” Greg knew he had done well. Work easily trumped every other priority in Sara’s life. Thayer could have stripped to his skivvies, covered himself in print dust and run round the break room singing country, and Sara’s concentration would not waver from the case for longer than the time it took to tell him ‘country really wasn’t his style’. Thayer realised this quickly too, and deliberately turned his own attention to the case, but not before a meaningful glance at Greg. Lines had been drawn, and, to Greg’s surprise, he was on Grissom’s side.

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He loved watching Sara like this, when she couldn’t see him, couldn’t play to his presence. She would get this look, a look of pure concentration, and he would know that the world had melted away, leaving just the case. There would be a slight alteration in her face, a small furrowing of the brow, a pursing of the lips that would go unnoticed by everybody else. Often she would tap her fingertips, a habit he knew she fought to control when she was wearing gloves. It was at times like this he wished he could read her mind, watch as she processed the evidence, made links and drew conclusions. Then there was that telling smile, when she realised that it had all come together for her.

Suddenly the scene changed. He was at Sara’s apartment. He had only been there a handful of times since her DUI, but this time was different. She still couldn’t see him. She was moving about, completely at ease, not like when he called round. She didn’t know he was there. He took the opportunity to watch her, padding around, lighting candles. He didn’t question why she couldn’t see him; he just continued to watch silently. He followed her into her bathroom, except it wasn’t the tiny bathroom he knew from his visits. It was large, spacious. He caught his reflection in the mirror behind her at the same time she did. He saw the pleasure she couldn’t quite hide, along with her surprise, and he knew that he would always be dangling on this string of hers unless he could find a way to cut it. He caught her neck in a tight grip before she could turn to face him. His lingering thought as he slit her throat was that ultimately she belonged to him now.

Grissom woke in a cold sweat, for a few terrifying seconds unable to distinguish the dream from reality. The last, sickening moments of the dream stayed with him, even as he reassured himself that he had not killed the love of his life. Deep down, though, the horrible knowledge that he could do it, he probably even would do it if he ever let Sara in fully only to be betrayed by her, began to bubble up to the surface.