CHAPTER 41
“Wow! If I knew there was going to be a show, I would have run the results over sooner.” Greg’s voice jerked Catherine attention away from Grissom. “Do you want me to put on some music? I have the perfect piece in the lab…”
Crossing her arms and glaring, Catherine didn’t say anything.
Greg’s impish smile faded immediately. “Uh…sorry, Cath. I didn’t mean anything. I mean, you know I’m your biggest fan,” he said earnestly.
Catherine relented. Greg was occasionally irritating, but he never intended anything more than fun. “Just remember to stay a fan, Greg. The last thing I need is another stalker. Eddie’s enough for one lifetime.” With a wink, she let him off the hook and turned back to Grissom. “You have any more questions for me or can I go back to my day off?” And trying to weasel more information out of Sara – if she had managed to shake off the effects of the hangover.
“No. No more questions.” There was a very definite “for now” missing from the end of Grissom’s answer. “Go home, Cath. And get some more sleep.” He looked up at her with a frown.
She’d overplayed her hand, Catherine realized. Grissom might not understand what had motivated her actions, but he hadn’t missed the fact that she’d been out of character. She’d have to watch him to make sure the Great Scientist didn’t continue to dig for an explanation. “Oh, I’m sure I’ll catch up on my sleep,” she said as she backed away from Grissom’s desk. “Nance has Lindsey until tomorrow. Can you imagine?”
Greg stepped into the office, giving Catherine a clear path to the door. “Hey, if you need someone to watch Linds, you know I’m up for it. She’s a cool kid.”
“Don’t say that too often, Greg-o.” Touching his shoulder on the way by, Catherine said, “I might take you up on it. And then you’d realize that ‘cool’ wears off after the first couple of hours.” Pausing slightly right outside the office, Catherine gave an airy wave. “Later, boys. Don’t have too much fun without me.”
Two enthusiastic goodbyes followed her down the hallway.
***
The room wasn’t as bright as Sara remembered it. Maybe her hangover was fading. Turning her head was a risk, and she braced for a return of the pounding behind her eyes as she looked at the clock.
Eight nineteen.
Was that morning or evening? With a grimace, Sara rolled farther and twisted until her feet dangled over the edge of the bed. Blinking her burning eyes, she managed to focus on the clock a second time. The tiny red dot next to the numbers cleared up the confusion over the time of day. Definitely evening. She’s been out for nearly the entire day.
Backing up that thought, her stomach growled. “Guess the liquid breakfast diet isn’t very filling,” Sara mumbled. It didn’t matter, though. There was no way she was making her way to the kitchen for food before hitting the shower. The stench of the smoke from the bar and the alcohol leaching from her body clogged Sara’s throat. “Shower then food.” Actually, she’d forgotten to add standing to the mental to do list. It took two tries to get her legs to work, and Sara staggered stiffly to the closet for clean clothes.
It was quiet in the hallway; although, the soft sound of voices drifted in from the living room. The television, Sara thought, noting the flickering lights and colors that accompanied the noise. Maybe she wasn’t going to miss out on the Movie Night after all.
Despite a sudden increase in her heart rate, that provided enough incentive to get Sara moving faster. She completed the trip to the small guest bathroom and stepped under the warm spray. The water slowly worked on the lingering tension in her shoulders and helped with the ache in her head. Finally clean and at least partially revived, Sara dressed in a pair of faded jeans and t-shirt and braced herself.
Catherine, Lindsey, and movies waited for her. She’d told Catherine she could handle a night with them. Somehow, she’d uphold that vow.
Footsteps firmer and steadier, Sara walked down the hall and peered into the large, open living room. “Hey, Cath…” Where was Lindsey? And the kid-friendly movie? A local newscaster stared earnestly from the television and there was no small body curled up next to Catherine on the couch.
“Lindsey’s at a slumber party. Nancy made the ultimate sacrifice and opened her home to a whole party of little girls.” Not getting up, Catherine simply turned her head and looked at Sara. “I may never be able to pay her back.” A tiny grin crept out. “But it sure was nice to have the extra sleep.”
“Ah…yeah,” Sara muttered. Her mind whirled. Had the sleepover happened because of her? There was only a tiny glimmer of relief mixed with the disappointment. “I’m sorry, Cath.”
Catherine straightened and turned on the couch. “For what?” Her voice was bland; her eyes, though, told a different story. She knew exactly for what Sara had been apologizing.
Cheeks heating, Sara walked closer to the couch. It took all her willpower to keep her face expressionless. Unfortunately, her emotions slipped the leash when she confronted Catherine. “You need a list?” Sara asked, silently cursing the obvious bitterness in the words. That didn’t keep her from continuing. “You’re an investigator. A good one, as you keep pointing out. I bet you have it all figured out, don’t you, Cath? My entire life, all catalogued and explained.” Her hands twitched restlessly before closing into tight fists against her thighs. “I should have gone back to San Francisco.” It had been safe there. No one had ever tried to breach the wall she’d put around her emotions.
“So you’re a coward?” In a sudden surge, Catherine came off the couch and stalked toward Sara. “Why? I told you earlier that I won’t tell the boys. God, Sara, I don’t have all the details, just the little pieces you’ve dropped here and there. I’m your friend, not some coldhearted bitch who’s going to use the information to keep my place as the Lead CSI.”
She was too close. Too forceful. Sara fought the need to step away, to maintain her personal space. Stepping back would only give Catherine more evidence and confirm her suspicions. “I…I wasn’t talking about that,” she muttered sullenly. Well, not entirely, anyway. Catherine might have come off as arrogant and domineering when she’d first arrived in Vegas. Since then, though, she’d been helpful and supportive. Caught between humiliation at having revealed the secrets of her childhood and shame at the way she was acting now, Sara dropped her head. She had to stop this. Now. Before things went too far, and she couldn’t repair the damage. “I know you won’t turn my life story into gossip, Cath. I…”
Before Sara could ramble any further, Catherine gently touched her shoulder. “Sit down,” she ordered softly. “Come on. I know you can’t feel a hundred percent yet. Sit down, and let’s talk. Whatever you want to tell me – or not – is fine, Sara. I’m your friend,” Catherine repeated. “I’m here to listen and help, in any way I can.”
Letting Catherine steer her to the couch, Sara wondered if she was still asleep and dreaming. Listen and help? That’s what the horde of psychologists had said every time she’d given in and gone to one. They hadn’t helped. They’d made her feel like a failure for letting her past continue to affect her life.
“Do you want something to eat or drink?” If Catherine had noticed Sara’s reluctance, she was ignoring it. She pushed Sara onto the cushions and draped an afghan over her legs. “I made some spaghetti for dinner. Garlic bread, salad… The works.”
It sounded good, and Sara’s stomach rumbled. She hadn’t had anything solid since the night before, and the cold French fries were only a distant memory. “Not yet.” Food could wait. If she stopped to eat, her mind would have time to come up with a way to avoid talking to Catherine. She couldn’t let this sit anymore; the anticipation, the knowledge that Catherine would continue to push for answers... Her head pounded. Even worse, Catherine might just go looking for them information on her own.
“OK.” Catherine stared at Sara intently for a second before sitting at the far end of the couch. “Let me know if you change your mind, and I’ll heat something up.”
Sara wanted to thank Catherine for the offer and for caring. She didn’t. If she was going to do this, talk about her past, she had to do it now. Right now. Huddling under the afghan, Sara followed the advice she normally gave to suspects. She started at the beginning. “I grew up in Tamales Bay. It’s a crappy little town outside of ‘Frisco.”
***
The words poured out of Sara in a monotone flood. Catherine started to reach out to her and remind her that this conversation didn’t have to happen. By force of will, though, she kept her hands in her lap. Sara had made the obviously painful decision to share the story. It was time to sit back and listen to what she had to say.
“My parents,” Catherine winced at the loathing Sara put into those two words, “ran a bed and breakfast right on the beach. It wasn’t the most successful place. They weren’t great at management, and the town isn’t a big stop on the tourist train.” She looked up and met Catherine’s eyes, seeming to dare her to comment. “It isn’t a new story. Money was tight. My dad drank to ‘relieve the stress.’ When that didn’t work for him… Well, he had two perfect punching bags waiting at home after a night at the bar.”
Frozen by the challenging gleam in Sara’s eyes and the sheer horror of the story, Catherine braced herself and waited for the rest. There had to be more. A few bumps and bruises didn’t explain everything she’d seen from Sara.
Something far worse lay at the heart of the panic attacks and Sara’s empathetic response to the Collins’ girls.
Something that had Catherine clenching her teeth and praying she was jumping to the wrong conclusion.
Sara paused, too, and continued to watch Catherine closely. When there was no response to her statement, she slowly resumed talking. “Maybe it would be easier for me if things had been different. Not so clichéd, you know?” Her lips twisted. “My father hit us. He’d start with my mother and then, when she was cowering and not enough fun, he came looking for me.”
“Didn’t anyone notice?” Catherine’s voice shook slightly as she asked the question. She could see the image Sara was paining so clearly, and it made her want to pull Sara into a tight hug – right after paying a visit to the Sidles’ seaside inn.
“Of course they noticed, Cath,” Sara snapped. Her expressionless tone disappeared in a wave of anger. “I had bruises all over; although, my father was usually smart enough not to put them on my face. Even the worthless people in town might have done something about those. Just because they saw the evidence doesn’t mean they were willing to step in.”
Catherine flashed back to the bar and Sara’s drunken rambling. “That’s what you meant this morning. No one did anything to help; they only watched and felt sorry for you. They pitied you.” Her voice echoed Sara’s in volume as her anger at the unknown residents of Tomales Bay rose.
“Damn right.” Slumping back against the couch, Sara slumped and seemed to lose her anger. Suddenly dwarfed by the high back of the furniture and hidden under the afghan, she muttered, “No one did anything…Not until my father graduated from simple physical abuse.”
Maybe Sara had had the right idea. Catherine regretted eating dinner before listening to the story. Her stomach roiled at what she suspected was coming. “What did he do, Sara?”
The question was unnecessary. Sara was already continuing her tale. “He came home one night. Drunk, angry, looking for a fight. I was in bed, but I still heard them downstairs.” Sara’s words were clear and distinct, as if each one had been torn from individually her throat. “They were yelling, and he was hitting her. Then it got quiet, and I knew he’d come for me next. I tried to hide, but the only place was the closet. He found me in seconds and dragged me out.”
Catherine wanted to close her eyes. She wanted to beg Sara to stop talking. She didn’t want to hear this. Biting her lip, though, Catherine watched Sara through the tears she refused to shed.
“It was like a nightmare.” Sara’s voice faltered and grew softer. “He looked like something out of a terrible dream, only instead of coming out of the closet, my father came into it. I screamed and fought and begged…”
The first tear leaked out, burning a path down Catherine’s face, as one hand crept up to cover her quivering lips. Dear God.
“It didn’t help. In fact, I think the sound of my voice made him angrier. He picked me up and threw me on the bed. Before I could climb off and run away, he was on top of me,” Sara continued. The words were a nearly indistinct mumble now, and she dropped her head forward, face obscured by her hair. “I could smell the alcohol on his breath. Bourbon. I’ll never forget it. Never. Not that or the way his hands felt as the pushed up my shirt.”
“Sara…” Catherine couldn’t keep from saying. Her chest ached, and her view of Sara flickered. Instead of her living room and Sara’s huddled form, all she could see was a much younger Sara, pinned to a bed by a man. A man who was her father.
As if Sara hadn’t heard Catherine’s horrified protest, she went on. “He laughed when I tried to bite and hit him. He laughed. He knew I couldn’t get away.” The words pulled Catherine back to the here and now. She saw Sara’s arms wrap around her body as she huddled in the chair. “I knew it, too. I stopped fighting. It wasn’t helping; he was going to win anyway.” She fell silent for a second and then her head slowly came up.
The smile on Sara’s face sent a wave of goose bumps over Catherine’s skin.
“I gave up, Cath. And then he stopped. His eyes got wide and his mouth opened and closed a few times.” Sara’s smile went away, giving Catherine a good look at how pale the younger woman was. “I didn’t understand what was happening until he slumped to the side and I saw the knife in his back and Mom standing right behind him.”
***
As if the past had come to life, Sara heard her father’s gasping breaths and her mother’s sobs. She smelled the bourbon and the blood.
“What happened next, Sara?” The question seemed to brush against Sara’s ear and she shivered. “Honey, please…” The voice quietly pleaded. “You need to tell everything.”
“The police came,” Sara answered reluctantly. As bad as the first part of her revelation had been, it had only gotten worse. The police had come, and her world – no matter how terrible - had crumbled. Lights and voices and a sea of pitying faces swam in and out of her vision. “They wanted to know what happened, too. They kept telling me I had to explain what happened.” And they’d grown angry when she wouldn’t tell them. “Over and over, they asked me that. What happened…” Shaking her head, Sara dispelled some of the images flooding her mind. “They knew the answer, Cath. Just like we always do. But they kept asking,” she whispered, finally returning to the present enough to know who it was that sat so close, and who wanted her to finish her story.
Catherine inched even closer, creeping along the sofa cushion. “I’m sure they only wanted to make sure they had the facts right. I mean, your mother was protecting you, Sara. If you could help them prove that…”
Really? Sara didn’t remember it that way. “No, she wasn’t,” she protested bitterly. It was important for Catherine to understand the way things had been in her family. Leaning her elbows onto her knees, Sara finished her explanation with her eyes locked onto the carpet between her feet. “She was mad at my father – but she was even madder at me, Cath. No matter how many times my father hit her, she didn’t want anyone else catching his eye. Including me.”
The dim light in her childhood bedroom had flickered off the knife when her mother had pulled it free of her father’s body and brandished it at Sara.
“I thought she was going to kill me, too.” A harsh laugh tore from Sara’s throat. “She stood there, looking at me, holding the bloody knife.”
Sudden warmth enveloped her hands, and she looked up. Catherine looked back from mere inches away, and her hands gripped Sara’s tightly. A tear slowly streaked Catherine’s face, and Sara saw the evidence of others staining her cheeks. “She didn’t, though, honey. You’re here, and your parents can’t hurt you anymore.”
The psychologists had said the same thing; although, Catherine’s words sounded like a vow, a promise to keep Sara safe. “They can, Cath,” Sara disagreed sadly. “They do. Every time I see Lindsey or another little girl – my parents hurt me. The panic attacks, the migraines, the flashbacks…It’s all because of them!” Sara tried to pull away. Damn it, she was so tired of people implying that she could simply forget her past. It wasn’t that easy.
“You’re right. I’m sorry.” Catherine’s apology froze Sara. “I didn’t mean to make it sound like I thought it was easy to get over or that it was somehow your fault.” She peered intently into Sara’s eyes. “It isn’t easy and it was not your fault.”
“I try to forget,” Sara still insisted. “I’ve done everything the shrinks told me to do. Group therapy.” She shuddered, remembering the eight other women crammed into an old office, each of them taking turns telling their horror stories. “Volunteering in daycares or schools.”
“Dear God! Who did you see? Dr. Mengele?” Catherine’s face twisted in distaste. “Why would anyone think you would be cured by working in a school?”
Since she’d asked herself that same question, Sara shrugged and offered a bitter smile. “I don’t know. Shock therapy? That one was the last in a long line of shrinks. I guess he thought they’d tried everything else.” The smile grew grim. “I didn’t even make it inside the front door before the panic attack hit.” She’d huddled in the front seat of her car, crying hysterically.
“I think you’re doing much better on your own.” With a tight nod, Catherine said, “You survived a picnic and breakfast with Linds. Maybe you should try to get a refund on all that therapy.”
Catherine was so serious. So sympathetic. And yet the words struck Sara as funny. A chuckle – completely devoid of her earlier bitterness – escaped. “That’s a good idea. I could probably retire, even if I only got part of my money back. I could afford to pay you rent, at least.” The tight feeling in her chest eased, and Sara took a deep breath as she watched Catherine for a reaction.
A slow smile answered her teasing. “Good. I’d like to afford a good college for Linds when the time comes. WLVU was fine for me; my daughter, though…” Catherine shook her head. “She deserves more. I don’t put up with Gil and the constant doubles for nothing.”
“Ivy League all the way, Cath. I’ll call some old contacts at Harvard. She’ll be a shoe in.” The knot in Sara’s stomach slowly unraveled. She’d done it. She’d told Catherine about her past – and it hadn’t sent either of them running for the door.
In fact, Catherine traversed the little remaining space between them and wrapped her arms around Sara. “I’m sorry, honey. I can’t imagine how hard it’s been for you.”
Sara stiffened automatically, her new-found relaxation disappearing instantly. Catherine was too close. Her words too reminiscent of those uttered by the police and her neighbors after her father’s death. Her hands reached for Catherine’s shoulders. She had to get free. Now.
Before she could push away, though, Catherine released her and stood. “You never did say if you wanted anything to eat. Is your stomach settled enough for food or do you just want an aspirin cocktail and more sleep?”
***
Stretching in an attempt to appear relaxed and casual, Catherine watched Sara intently. She’d come very close to pushing the other woman away with the hug. Sometimes, reacting like a mother got her into trouble. That hug had been a bad idea. Catherine had known that. Even without a full understanding of Sara’s childhood, it had been clear Sara hadn’t been comfortable with people invading her personal space.
“Uh…” She could almost see Sara’s mind trying to follow the sudden change in mood and topic. “Food sounds good, I guess.” Her huddled posture had returned, and Catherine hated the hunched shoulders and muttered words.
“Great.” Ignoring Sara’s body language, Catherine acted as if nothing was wrong. As if Sara hadn’t just revealed the dark and painful secrets of her past. She wanted to give the other woman room – and a chance to realized that, regardless of what she’d told Catherine, nothing between them had changed. That would come later, when Catherine had a chance to absorb the story and come up with a way to help Sara. “If you’d opted for painkillers, I was going to have to find a bigger container for the leftovers.” Catherine picked up her empty glass from the coffee table and started for the kitchen. “I barely made a dent in the spaghetti,” she casually added. Without waiting to see if Sara was following, she strode out of the living room.
The kitchen was still redolent with garlic and oregano. Catherine inhaled deeply, hoping the familiar scents would help her focus on something other than her desire to throw up. Sara’s story, on top of the memory of Tina’s confession… Catherine looked longingly at the phone on the wall. She needed to hear Lindsey’s voice; she needed to remind Lindsey that she loved her.
“I can get my own dinner, Cath. My head might feel like an overripe melon, but my arms aren’t broken,” Sara said quietly behind her.
Lindsey would be hip deep in giggles and sugar right now. Catherine reluctantly turned her eyes away from the phone and opened a cabinet door. “You don’t get it, do you?” she asked conversationally. “I’m a mother, Sara. We don’t feel complete if we aren’t waiting on someone.” Then it hit her. Sara didn’t know how real mothers acted. She’d only had… Well, she didn’t know. Catherine would have to teach her. Glancing over her shoulder, she winked at Sara. “I haven’t had a cranky little girl driving me up the wall all night. Take advantage of the opportunity. Once Linds goes into her evil child routine, even my maternal instincts won’t be enough, and you’ll have to fend for yourself.”
“Then thanks.” Sara hovered in the doorway, and Catherine could almost hear the questions she didn’t voice. This had to be hard for her. She was probably waiting for Catherine to react badly to the information on her past.
Catherine had no intention of doing that. She’d pushed Sara far enough, and there was no way she wanted to risk pushing Sara away. Sara needed a friend. A family. And a lot of support. “I will allow you to grab your own drink.” Pointing to the refrigerator, she said, “But I don’t recommend the beer. You look like the men with the hammers are still inside your head.”
This was worse than sitting in Grissom’s office, trying to tease information out of him. It was more complicated and potentially more problematic than living with Sara when her past was a secret. Catherine dragged her eyes away from Sara and went back to dishing up the spaghetti. She had to give Sara some space, and staring at her wasn’t going to do the trick.
“No more hammers. Maybe just some of those foam pugil sticks.” Catherine heard the refrigerator door open. “I’ll use the aspiring cocktail as a dessert; that should do the trick.” Bottles rattled for a second, and then the door closed again. “I didn’t hear the phone ring. Did you unplug the phone in the guest room or did Grissom actually not call?”
Grissom. Great. Catherine concentrated on ladling sauce over the spaghetti noodles. “Oh, you don’t have to worry about him. I decided I didn’t want him calling every two seconds.” The plate in her hands was ready. She couldn’t hide anymore. Turning away from the stove, Catherine walked to the table. “I like to keep him off balance. You should have seen his face when I carried our completed reports into his office. It was like he was seeing a ghost.”
Out of the corner of her eye, Catherine saw Sara stiffen. “He read the reports?”
“Yep. The Sheriff was about to go public with the details. Gil may not understand how to play politics, but even he’s not dumb enough to give the Sheriff bad information.” Catherine dropped into a chair and gestured to the food. “Come on. You don’t want it to get cold.”
Sara didn’t move. “Did Grissom have any questions?” Her tone indicated that she knew he had – and that she didn’t expect anything good from them.
“Oh, you mean about our methodology?” Catherine made sure to include both of them in the case work. “Don’t worry about that, Sara. I explained we noticed a few anomalies in the girls’ behavior and the crime scene photos.” Her hand absently rose to check the buttons on her blouse. “He seemed a little preoccupied. Like there were other things on his mind.”
Sara’s eyes narrowed and Catherine fought the urge to wiggle under her gaze. “That’s it? He didn’t ask for details?” It was clear Sara thought that was unusual.
And it was. Gil had a thing for details. “I think he was working on another case.” Catherine threw out a red herring. “And Greg came in as I was talking to Gil. Something about lab results. I guess that case he wanted us to stay for…” Nerves stretched to the breaking point by all the emotional revelations and the need to hide parts of the truth, Catherine dropped her eyes to the table and prayed Sara let the subject go.
“Huh. It must be something big. Gris is usually a pain about the details.” Sara reached for a piece of garlic bread and shrugged. “For once, I’m glad he’s slipping. There is no way I’d trust him with the truth.” Voice growing ragged for a second, she continued. “He’d be poring over the case files and asking a million questions.”
Amen to that. Catherine’s stomach burned at the very thought of turning Grissom lose with the real reason they’d been able to solve the Collin’s case – not to mention the information on Sara’s past. “Well, I won’t say anything. I told you that, honey. And you won’t have to worry that he’ll figure anything out on his own. Gil’s not good at personal stuff. I think it took him almost a year to put all the pieces together after Eddie and I split up.” A smile slowly crossed her face, despite the grim memory. “He found me curled up in the locker room, crying my eyes out, and he still had to pester me with questions to get it.”
Then Catherine relented. Grissom might have missed all the signs of the divorce, but he’d been there to help her after she’d told him the truth. “He’s really good at protecting his family, though, Sara. That searching through the case files?” Looking back up, Catherine met Sara’s eyes. “It would be his way of finding the best way to keep you safe from here on out.”
“Yeah…” Sara wasn’t buying the explanation. “I still don’t want him to know.” Breaking their eye contact, she stared fixedly at the tines of her fork as they restlessly played with the noodles on her plate.
It was time to back off. Completely. “Don’t you like the food?” Catherine indicated Sara’s plate. The spaghetti had been moved (repeatedly) from one side to the other. Only a couple of bites were missing, however. “I can get you something else, if you’d prefer.” Catherine hadn’t been serious when she’d offered aspirin and more sleep. If Sara didn’t want a return of the headache, she needed to eat.
***
“No. No, this is fine, Cath,” Sara protested automatically. She twirled her fork with more purpose and then stuffed a large bite of spaghetti into her mouth.
Catherine laughed. “You look like Linds. She’d eat nails to prove a point.” Standing, she glowered; although, Sara saw the hint of a smile on her face. “Last chance. Is that going to do for you or should I start unloading the cabinets until you see something you really like?”
Chewing was a challenge. Sara struggled to deal with the mound of noodles and sauce without exposing Catherine to the mess in her mouth. To give herself a little more time, she held up a single finger and worked harder.
Lounging against the counter, Catherine crossed her feet at the ankles and raised an eyebrow.
Finally swallowing, Sara dragged a napkin across her lips. “Are you like this with Lindsey? Geez, Cath.” All the emotions from earlier…They faded under a wave of near giddiness, and she grinned. “The poor kid’s going to be a mess of co-dependency. Here, honey, let me get you a cookie. How about a drink? I could run down the McDonald’s and get you pancakes…”
“Bitch.” Then Catherine laughed. “You caught me, Sara. It’s easier to keep Linds home and devoted to me if I do everything for her,” she said. Her pose relaxed and she shoved her hands into the pockets of her jeans. “I certainly don’t want Linds deciding some boy is better than spending time with Mom, do I?”
“Good point.” Sara slowed her eating so she didn’t choke on another huge bite. Filling the hollow spot in her stomach was important, but there was no need to court indigestion. Adding a piece of bread to her plate, she frowned. “Cath…” The laughter was gone. Roller coaster emotions sucked, and Sara gripped an invisible safety bar and braced for the latest plummet. “Where do we go from here?”
Catherine must have been on a different ride. “Well, thanks to Nancy’s offer to take Linds for the day, I never got any movies. That doesn’t mean we don’t have a hundred options sitting in the entertainment center. How do you feel about Disney movies?”
Putting her fork down, Sara rubbed her eyes. They burned – from exhaustion? The tears? The lingering hangover? Maybe all three.
“I’ll take that as a ‘never in a million years’.” Catherine pushed away from the counter. “There are a few adult movies. Somehow, I didn’t picture you as a tearjearker special girl. Pay per view? Or should we just curl up on the couch with one of those tomes you dragged here from San Francisco? Gil will give me a raise and a promotion if you tell him you convinced me to actually read a journal article.”
Sara’s emotional roller coaster hit the bottom and zoomed around an unseen corner. She blinked and shook her head. Was Catherine being deliberately dense? “That wasn’t what I meant,” she mumbled. “What about earlier?”
That earned her a long look, and Catherine crossed her arms over her chest. “Earlier…” Her voice was soft yet firm. “Earlier, I got to know my new coworker and friend a little better, that’s all. The next time we manage to escape Gil and the Great Overtime Conspiracy, I’ll do my turn at spilling my dark and dreadful past.” Her eyes dropped. “It’s a real treat, Sara. Drugs, booze, and stripping. Everything that gives Vegas its reputation.”
The situation was sliding out of control. Sara recognized the signs. If they weren’t careful, they were both going to be sobbing into a drink and wallowing in the past. This time, Sara pretended to be obtuse. “I’m not really up for a drama tonight, Cath. Disney sounds perfect. One of my shrinks had a movie poster for Finding Nemo. You got that one? The little fish looked cute.”
“I have little fish, big fish, talking ants…” Catherine’s arms dropped away from her chest, and she picked up the empty garlic bread basket. “I can even scrounge up popcorn and some M&Ms, too. It will be like going to the movies – without the crying kids, ringing cell phones, and sticky floors.”
“It’s a date.” Sara froze the second the words were out. Shit. That had come out wrong. Not wanting to upset Catherine, she rushed to explain. “Um…” She didn’t get very far.
A tea towel sailed across the room and landed on her head. “It’s a date,” Catherine echoed. “I haven’t been on one of those in years, and, if I remember right, he wasn’t interested in watching the movie at all. You’re a definite improvement, Sidle. Now stop doing your Nemo impression and help with the dishes.”
Plucking the towel off, Sara stood up. “Yes, ma’am.” Instead of snapping a salute, she snapped the towel, catching Catherine on the thigh.
That earned her a raised eyebrow. “Careful…” Lips twitching, Catherine turned away and pulled the dishwasher open. “If you keep that up, Movie Night will be officially cancelled, and I’ll forget that I have a machine to do all the washing. You can spend the evening with your hands in soapy water.”
“You’re a slave driver,” Sara told her. “You didn’t mention that before I moved in.” Sliding her plate into the appliance, she shook her head. “What’s next? Ironing the sheets? Bouncing quarters off the beds?”
“Not tonight. I only do that on Saturday morning.” Catherine’s smile was out in force now, and Sara found herself smiling back. “The rest of the week, I masquerade as a nice, normal mother.”
Sara closed the dishwasher door and picked up the dishcloth draped over the side of the sink. “Maybe that apartment wasn’t so out of my price range.” Ignoring the dramatic pout she received at her comment, Sara wiped off the table. “I’ll just explain the situation to Grissom; I’m sure he’d be willing to renegotiate my salary.” She watched Catherine out of the corner of her eye, waiting to see what the other woman would come up with this time.
It was priceless. “You think Gil is going to bail you out?” Catherine’s head dropped back and she laughed loudly. “Honey, he doesn’t have a clue how to squeeze a dime out of the budget. The week after you got here, we ran out of swabs and gloves for the kits.”
Tilting her head, Sara vaguely recalled that. “So? The kits were filled in a couple of days.” At least, she thought they had.
“Actually, it was more like they were filled in a couple of hours.” Still chuckling, Catherine pulled open a pantry door and grabbed a bag of microwave popcorn and a large bag of M&Ms. “I went to Gil about the problem and he gave me one of his patented ‘What do you want me to do about it?’ looks. I swear, I if I hadn’t been right there in his office, he would have had us using sandwich baggies as gloves. Gil is a genius at cobbling together retro equipment.”
As the popcorn began intermittent popping inside the microwave, Sara searched the cabinets for a bowl big enough for their movie treat. “He’s not that bad,” she quietly defended her mentor. “But you do seem to be his go to person when there’s a problem.” Recalling their previous discussion on promotions, Sara was hesitant to push. “Is there…is there a chance Gris would take a day or swing shift and leave you the night shift?”
“Oh, it might happen.” Catherine didn’t sound convinced of that. “I don’t think it’s likely, though. Day and swing are in the limelight a lot more, and I don’t think Gil or the Sheriff is ready for that. Besides, I’m happy where I am. There’s enough money to pay the bills with a little left over for Linds’ college and I can hide behind Gil when the politics start to fly.”
In the last cabinet, Sara finally located the bowl. She sat it next to the microwave as it dinged. “Happy is good.” She considered that. That was an interesting question. Was she happy?
“It’s the only way to be, believe me. I spent too many years on the opposite end of the emotional spectrum.” Catherine opened the bag, hissing as the steam engulfed her fingers. “Damn. You’d think after all the times I’ve done this, I would remember this is hot.”
Uneasily mulling over her emotional state, Sara had to forcibly refocus on the conversation. This was the wrong time for soul searching. Admitting her past to Catherine – on top of the Collins’ case and her booze binge – would certainly skew any revelations Sara might have. Instead, she plucked the bag from Catherine’s hands and expertly dumped its contents into the bowl. Then brandishing the empty bag, she said, “It says right on the top, ‘Caution: Contents are hot.’”
“Thank you, oh wise one.” With a flounce, Catherine turned toward the doorway. “Just for that, I might not share the M&Ms.”
Oh, that meant war. Sara picked up the bowl of popcorn and clutched it to her chest. “Then I’ll have to eat all the popcorn by myself.” She sailed past a gaping Catherine and hurried into the living room. Settling on the couch, she made a production of piling pillows around her like a mini-barricade and placed the popcorn well inside its protections.
“Fine. You win.” Catherine stuck out her tongue and held out her M&Ms. “Here. Take ‘em. Just make sure I have some of those pillows and some buttery goodness when I come back.”
Sara did a seated victory dance – and then knocked the pillow barricade down as Catherine hunted for the movie in the entertainment center. By the time the copyright warning flickered onto the television screen, she’d made a comfortable nest for both of them with the food in easy reach.
“Nice. You’ll definitely do for date material, Sidle.” Catherine sighed and wiggled against her share of the pillows. “Now, for the main event…” She turned up the volume with the remote. “Let’s find Nemo.”
“That was a riot.” Sara stretched her legs and then her arms, groaning at the series of pops and creaks that followed. “But the writing? Come on. No kid is going to catch all those jokes.”
A popcorn kernel flew out of the semi-darkness and plunked against her shoulder. “Sara, that’s the beauty of Disney. Enough cute animals and singing to have the kiddies giggling. And enough adult funnies to make their parents stay awake while the movie plays. It’s genius.” Catherine raised the remote, and the credits disappeared from the television screen. “You up for more? Or is it time for all overworked investigators to be in bed?”
Sara had slept enough already. Still… She glanced at Catherine and noted the bruising under her eyes. “Bed,” she answered without hesitation. Once Catherine headed upstairs, it would be simple enough to bring some of her journals back into the living room and settle in for a good read.
Unfortunately, Catherine didn’t buy Sara’s response. “It’s early, and you slept all afternoon. I’m supposed to believe you’re ready to hug your pillow again?” Long fingers dug another kernel out of the bowl and brandished it at Sara. “Try again.”
“Cath.” Turning in her seat, Sara met the imminent threat of popcorn calmly. “You look like hell. I may have gotten sleep this afternoon. Did you?”
The kernel dipped – and Catherine’s eyes flickered away.
“I didn’t think so.” Sara leaned forward, plucking the ‘weapon’ from Catherine’s hand. “Earlier, you told me we were friends. You drugged me up and helped with the hangover.” Glossing over the revelation of her past, Sara narrowed her eyes and attempted the look Catherine had given her in the kitchen. “Now I’m returning the favor and taking care of you. Go to bed, Cath.”
“But I don’t wanna,” Catherine whined – and then grinned. “God, I’ve spent far too much time with Lindsey.”
Sara didn’t anything. Instead, she raised her left hand and pointed imperiously at the staircase.
A sandy eyebrow rose in response. “And you called me a slave driver.” However, Catherine did climb off the couch. “Thanks, Sar. I could use the rest, no matter how much I’d enjoy another round of Disney.”
Feeling far more at ease with Catherine, Sara smirked. “I’m not some teenaged boy, Cath. Just because I didn’t get you into my bed tonight doesn’t mean the whole thing’s off. I can wait one more date…”
“Smooth, Sidle. Very smooth. I’m definitely going to have to keep an eye on you.” Catherine squeezed Sara’s shoulder gently as she made her way around the couch. “You’ve probably perfected that accidental arm behind the back maneuver.” Her voice grew softer and more indistinct as she climbed toward the second floor.
Sara laughed. “Night, Cath,” she called out.
Silence descended over the living room immediately. At first, Sara was content to sit and stare at the blank television screen. It felt good to relax. To not think. Unfortunately, Sara wasn’t adept at non-thinking. Alone and emotionally drained, she couldn’t hold the memories away. The past soon invaded the peace and contentment surrounding Sara.
“Did you
hear?” The voice was muffled by the closed door, and Sara burrowed deeper under
the covers, trying to ignore the conversation going on in the hallway. “The
trial starts tomorrow. They said Sara might have to testify.”
The
warmth and comfort of sleep drifted further away. Stiff against the sheets now,
Sara pressed both hands over her ears.
They made
little difference. “I can’t see why. I talked with her case worker a few days
ago. The police have a mountain of evidence. Still… I guess they don’t want to
risk that woman getting off. Can you imagine? Stabbing her
own husband while Sara watched.”
As Catherine’s living room flickered in and out, entwined with the stifling darkness of the long-ago bedroom, Sara’s hands tightened painfully around the popcorn bowl still resting on her lap. Damn it! Not now. Not after this evening and the tenuous happiness she’d felt.
A dull pounding began behind Sara’s eyes.
No!
The scream came from past and present, mingling and growing until it filled Sara’s mind. She wasn’t letting this happen again. The past belonged in the past. Her father’s murder, her mother’s trial…
They were over.
Staring into the popcorn bowl with desperate concentration, Sara struggled to stay in the here and now. She dragged in deep, labored breaths. She counted. First the kernels in the bowl on her hands. Then the spines of the DVDs peeking out of the partially open entertainment center. The magazine titles strewn haphazardly across the coffee table.
With each number, the memories faded a little more and the headache dulled.
Sara didn’t trust her control. Not without help. Springing off the couch, she gathered the remains of the Movie Night feast. Cleaning was supposed to be therapeutic. Unfortunately, two bowls didn’t take long to wash, and the rest of the kitchen already gleamed.
Restless yet determined, Sara prowled the downstairs. She’d stopped the flashback. She needed to keep it away. A couple of forensics journals would keep Sara’s mind too busy for memories. And… returning to the living room, she stuffed another random movie into the DVD.
She dropped onto the couch and opened the journal before the first happy song emanated from the television. Perfect. Disney’s Little Mermaid would erase the suffocating silence
***
Catherine spotted Sara before she was halfway down the stairs. Sprawled on the couch, journal spread across her chest, and sound asleep. “I was joking about the reading,” she muttered and then carefully skirted the living room on her way to the kitchen.
Coffee was a necessity. It was early, by Catherine’s standards. In fact, the clock on the wall read nine fifteen. Even caffeine might not be enough. Not with Lindsey due home in less than six hours. Dumping grounds into the waiting filter paper, Catherine stifled a yawn. It was the same every week. Days off were for sleeping in and recharging – yet it somehow never worked that way.
Ah well. Shrugging philosophically, Catherine shoved the filter holder into place and poured water into the coffee maker. What was one more week with too little sleep and too much stress? As the first drip of coffee plunked into the pot, she idly wondered if her body would simply collapse without its usual stressors. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been fully rested and ready for a new week.
“Is that coffee?” Sara’s sleep roughened voice spun Catherine around in shock.
Stifling a laugh at the wildly tousled hair sticking up in all directions on Sara’s head, Catherine nodded. “Good call. Do you have a super nose or something? I just turned the machine on.”
“Survival skill,” Sara mumbled through a yawn. “It’s how I lived through my first two years in Frisco. Mainlining caffeine wasn’t an option so I learned to sniff out coffee at a hundred paces. I bet I found every coffee shop and java hut in the city by the end of my first month.”
Catherine remembered her own first month. “I was a little better off. I mean, dancing isn’t really something you do as a regular nine to five. The hours didn’t bother me.” Getting off the drugs, though… “I learned fast not to drink the crap in the break room. Grego wasn’t around with his special blends back then. You could burn a hole through your stomach lining in one sip. There used to be a thermos in my ‘go bag’ so I didn’t doze off at a scene.”
“Did that.” Sara shuffled into the room and dropped into a chair. “Once.” A wry smile twisted her lips. “I never made that mistake again. A couple of the guys found me in the van. By the time they were finished…” Her eyes met Catherine’s for a split second. “Let’s just say that girls at a slumber party are nicer.”
“Photos and a mock crime scene?” Catherine could almost see the sleeping Sara surrounded by drug paraphernalia or sado-masochistic equipment while her smirking teammates used up the film.
Sara’s blush was all the answer Catherine needed.
Chuckling, Catherine turned away and grabbed two mugs from the cabinet. “Hazing is universal.” She wondered if any of the evidence was still floating around the San Francisco crime lab. They’d be worth whatever favors she had to promise to get copies. Hoping to hide her evil plot, Catherine asked over her shoulder, “You want something to eat?”
“I don’t know, Cath. Are you as domineering over cereal as you are with spaghetti?” Sara sounded more alert – and more relaxed than Catherine had ever heard her.
Catherine didn’t answer immediately. Instead, she carefully filled both mugs and then walked to the table. “Only with Linds. I swear she’d be happy with a handful of jelly beans or a candy bar in the morning. If I don’t snarl and snap, she’d never eat real food.” The coffee was hot and bitter, and Catherine felt better as soon as she took the first sip. “I was thinking something better than cereal, though. How about the buffet at the Rampart?”
“Sounds good. I’m starved.” Sara gripped her mug and stretched. “But I can live on cereal, you know. You don’t have to treat me to an expensive meal. I’m a cheap date.”
The opening was too easy to resist. “So I don’t have to spend a lot of money to get you to put out?” Catherine wanted to slap a hand over her mouth as soon as she asked the question. She buried her face in her mug, feeling the heavy silence across the table. Maybe she should have taken her coffee upstairs. Catherine wasn’t ready for company until she’d had at least two cups.
“Cath…” Sara’s voice trailed off uncertainly.
“I’m sorry. That was completely out of line. ” Forcing herself to look up, Catherine grimaced. “Can we blame it on lack of caffeine and move on? I promise to be on my best behavior if we go to breakfast. No more caveman come ons. I’m hungry, too, and I have absolutely no desire to cook or eat sugary cereal.”
Sara’s cheeks were still pink, but she grinned and winked. “I’ll hold you to that. I’d like to see what a well behaved Catherine acts like. All I’ve seen is her evil, bitchy twin.” She hopped up from the table. “Give me a few. I never go out on a date without looking my best.”
Catherine watched her go and shook her head. God, she had to get control of herself. All of the teasing might work with Nick or Warrick. They knew her. And they were comfortable with it. Catherine didn’t want to risk saying the wrong thing with Sara. Not now. Not with them on such shaky ground thanks to yesterday’s events.
It was so easy to forget, though. Sara was a lot like Grissom, in many ways. Especially when it came to normal, personal interactions. Catherine enjoyed poking and prodding and watching for Sara’s reactions.
She’d have to bide her time. Ease Sara into it.
Catherine topped off her coffee and strode from the kitchen. Sara wasn’t the only one who needed to freshen up.
***
The parquet flooring gleamed and the air was hushed as Catherine ushered Sara inside the Rampart’s main doors. A line of people snaked through the lobby from the entrance to the buffet. “Looks like I wasn’t the only one wanting to avoid cooking.”
Sara shrugged. “I don’t mind waiting. You can spend the time filling me in on all the casinos and hotels in Vegas. I’ve only been in a couple – and on cases both times.” Taking a spot at the tail end of the line, she scanned the lobby. “This one is a lot smaller than the Bellagio. And where’s the casino? This looks like a hotel. I thought we’d open the door and fall over the slot machines.”
The ever-present Las Vegas reputation. Catherine snorted. “It’s not all about the gambling.” At Sara’s raised eyebrow, she laughed. “OK. It’s mostly about that. But that doesn’t mean it has to look that way.” Pointing to a recessed archway across the lobby, Catherine explained. “Most of the hotel and casino combinations keep the game floors accessible, while disguising their seedy nature. You have to know what to look for to find the tables and slots. The rest of the hotel is just that. A hotel. A place you can take your kids and your spouse for a luxurious weekend away.”
The slight lift to Sara’s eyebrow gave away her disdain.
“Not everyone comes to Vegas to gamble, Sar.” Steering Sara forward in time with the moving line, Catherine waved a hand at the ornate hotel lobby. “Shopping, shows, amusement parks…”
Her list might have continued if a deep voice hadn’t interrupted. “Maybe I should hire you to run our PR department, Catherine.”
It was a voice straight out of Catherine’s childhood. So much for waiting before indoctrinating Sara into the trials and tribulations of her own past. Spinning slowly, Catherine smiled at the dapper, formally dressed man standing a few feet away. “Hello, Sam. I didn’t expect to see you here.” If she had, Catherine would have insisted on eating at the Bellagio.
“Come on, Muggs. You know better than that.” Arms extended, Sam wrapped Catherine in a hug. “It’s been too long. Too long. How’s Lily?”
“She’s fine, Sam.” Still waiting for him to call or come home. Catherine kept that thought to herself. “How about you? Still playing with the high rollers or are you finally slowing down?” Stepping out of Sam’s hug, Catherine closed the gap that had grown between her and the couple in front of her and Sara in line.
Sam avoided the question. His smile never dimming, he turned his attention to Sara. “Sam Braun. In case Muggs hasn’t mentioned me, I’m an old friend of the family.”
Catherine ground her teeth. Old friend. John was more like it… Her inner tirade was interrupted by Sara’s reply.
“Mr. Braun. Catherine did mention you; just not by name.” From Sara’s cool smile, Catherine got the impression her friend had been paying attention when she’d mentioned Sam.
“She did?” Sam seemed pleased and then his gaze sharpened. “I’m afraid I didn’t catch your name, Miss…” He didn’t bother to wait for Sara to fill in the blanks. “I thought I knew everyone in Muggs’ life.”
What? Catherine stiffened. She hadn’t seen Sam in years. How could he claim to know anyone in her life? “Sam…” She bit off the rest of her question. Despite his disappearance from her life, Catherine knew him well enough to realize accusing him of spying on her would be a bad idea. Instead, she took a deep breath and continued quietly. “This is Sara, a friend and co-worker.”
“Sara.” If anything, Sam’s smile grew wider. “Any friend of Muggs is family.” Reaching out, he put a hand on Catherine’s shoulder. “You two shouldn’t be waiting in line. This is my place, and my girls deserve better. Come on.” He gently propelled Catherine away from the restaurant. “We can use my private dining room. A private place for us to catch up.”
Catherine tried to derail her trip across the lobby. Planting both feet on the marble floor, she managed to stop their progress. “Sam, I don’t want to interrupt your day. I know how hard it is to…”
Her argument didn’t work. “Muggs, if the people I hire can’t keep this place running for an hour without me then I’ll have to look for new ones.” Sam’s hand pressed into her lower back again. “Besides, both the boys are here this morning. It’ll be a good time for them to show me what they’ve got.”
Great. Catherine resumed moving but shot an apologetic look at Sara, who trailed along behind them.
***
Sara watched Catherine try to outmaneuver Sam and fail. It looked like she was getting a big dose of Catherine’s mysterious past over breakfast – even if Catherine hadn’t planned on it. They ducked down the recessed hallway hiding the casino, and Sara had to speed up when Sam opened a doorway marked Employees Only.
The new hallway was a far cry from the lobby or the entrance to the casino.
Bright lights and chipped linoleum stretched the length of the hall. Sara counted six doors on either side. “Welcome to the real Rampart, Muggs,” she heard Sam tell Catherine. “This is where the magic behind the mirror happens.” His voice echoed oddly in the hushed atmosphere of the corridor. “Come on. Let’s eat and then I’ll give you the grand tour. As an investigator, you’ll appreciate our setup.”
From her frown, Catherine had her doubts about that. Sara idly wondered why she hadn’t put a stop to Sam’s plans. Catherine had never been shy about letting the people around her know her thoughts and opinions. Of course, if Sam had been more than just a frequent, night-time visitor for Catherine’s mother… Family dynamics were rarely dictated by logic.
Maintaining her silence, Sara continued to follow Sam and Catherine. In the first door on the right, through the cluttered storage room, and into a cramped service elevator where Sam used a keycard to get the elevator moving. No one spoke as the numbers above the door lit, the accompanying dings loud and mechanical.
“Ah, here we are.” Sam’s voice was annoyingly cheerful as the car finally stopped at the top floor and the doors slid open. He stepped out of the elevator – and this time, there was neither linoleum nor marble. Plush carpet stretched as far as Sara could see. The size of the room wasn’t readily apparent, thanks to the mirrors lining the walls. “There are drinks on the side table. Give me a minute, and I’ll have the kitchen set up a buffet.”
He strode away, and Sara raised an eyebrow. “Is he always like that?”
“You mean high-handed and arrogant?” There was wry amusement and an undercurrent of resentment in Catherine’s voice.
Moving farther into the room, Sara shook her head. “Actually, I figured Sam was always like that. I meant the smile. If those teeth are real, he must have someone on staff to polish them every day.” She watched Catherine closely. “The shine nearly blinded me.”
Catherine’s frozen expression thawed. Then she chuckled. “You’re so bad, Sidle.”
“No one’s ever told me that before.” Feeling less tense now that Catherine was back to something approaching normal, Sara walked across the room. The far wall wasn’t a mirror. In fact, the closer Sara got, the more it looked like…curtains. Excellent. Sara searched diligently until she found the switch plate on the wall.
The room flooded with light as soon as the heavy drapes slid aside.
“Nice view, huh?” Catherine had moved up behind Sara.
“Not bad,” Sara answered dryly. “I guess owning a casino pays better than investigating murders.” The lights of the city looked beautiful from her vantage point high above most of the surrounding buildings. “Cath…” It was time for some information sharing. “What are…”
Unfortunately, Sam was back. “You’ve found one of the reasons I use this room so often.” He pointed at the wall of windows. “There’s nothing like it.” One of his hands caressed Catherine’s shoulder. “Come on. I’ve got breakfast on the way. Let’s catch up.”
For her part, Sara wasn’t really ready to join in the conversation. A quick glance at Catherine convinced her that she wasn’t alone. “Thanks,” she said quietly, despite her reluctance. They were here; they’d simply have to make the best of the situation.
“My pleasure.” Gesturing to a long, gleaming table that Sara had somehow missed on her trek to the windows, Sam said, “Have a seat. It shouldn’t be long.” Then his attention focused on Catherine. “Muggs, what have you been up to lately? I lost track of you once you left the stage; although, I run into Eddie occasionally. Some of his acts work in the Rampart or one of my clubs.”
Sara picked a chair strategically wedged between a fake plant and an adjacent wall. Sam wasn’t interested in her story. Catherine’s life held center stage – and something about that made her uncomfortable. She didn’t trust Sam. He smiled too much, reminding her of a used car salesmen.
Or of the perps protesting their innocence in the interview room.
“If you’ve been running into Eddie, Sam, you should know a lot of things. He’s never had a problem sharing our personal lives,” Catherine answered as she sat down across from Sara, leaving Sam the chair at the head of the table.
For the first time, Sam’s smile faltered. He recovered almost instantly, though. “Now, Muggs, don’t be bitter. Marriage…love…they never turn out the way we plan.” Reaching across the table, he patted Catherine’s hand. “Look at me and your mother.”
He might have gone on if Catherine hadn’t interrupted. “I’d rather not.”
Sara covered her grin with her hand. Sam was an idiot. Even if he hadn’t gotten a sense of Catherine’s broken marriage from Eddie, she’d done little to encourage his questions. And he clearly hadn’t caught her transparent disdain for his relationship with Lily.
“Fine. Be that way.” Sam might have been teasing; Sara wasn’t sure. There was an edge under his forced joviality. “How about work? Is that a safe subject?”
“You want to talk about dead bodies over eggs and bacon?” As if summoned by Catherine’s disbelieving question, a crew of uniformed servers exited the elevator behind them, each pushing a covered cart. “It doesn’t fit your image, Sam. Don’t you have people who handle that for you?”
The conversation appeared to be spiraling out of control. Not particularly hungry any longer, Sara stretched her legs out under the table and considered her options. Whatever was going on between Catherine and Sam was none of her business. Except…the thought rang hollow when Sara repeated it to herself. Catherine had changed since Sam arrived. When they’d left the house, she’d been happy, teasing, and relaxed. Now?
Now her expression bore the same chill, mocking smile Sara remembered from her first few days at the lab.
Trying to look nonchalant, Sara reached beneath the lip of the table and tilted her pager enough to see the display. Empty. Damn it, where was Grissom and an urgent case when you needed one? She glared at the tiny screen, willing it to light up and the normally annoying beep to sound.
Instead, it remained stubbornly silent as Sam and Catherine stared at each other. “Catherine,” it was the first time Sam had used that name, “I’m sorry if you’re angry with me. I didn’t mean to cut you out of my life, but…”
One of Catherine’s hands shot up in a clear “stop” gesture. “Please, Sam. We both know I wasn’t in your life to begin with. I was only a part of the pretend life you had; the one you ran to when your wife and your sons and the casinos got to be too much.” The hand dropped, smacking the tabletop. “Unfortunately, my mother didn’t…still doesn’t understand that. Have you told her you’re sorry? Invited her to your private dining room for catching up?”
Sam’s smile wavered and then disappeared. His eyes flickered to the group of hotel employees doing their best to pretend they weren’t hearing the juicy details of his private life. “No, I haven’t. You know I haven’t.” The words were quiet and resigned. “I haven’t spoken to Lily in years.”
Sara watched him rub a hand over the back of his head and realized her own muscles were stiff and strained. Rolling her head in response to the feeling, she risked a glance at Catherine. The mockery was gone, and now Sara saw the shadows in her eyes.
So much for their friendly day out.
“Then why are we here, Sam?” Catherine’s voice was quiet now, too. “I’ve been here dozens of times for meals and to throw away a few dollars at the slots. You’ve never once come down to visit. Why now?” Her implication was clear. Sam hadn’t wanted to catch up. He needed something.
Less than a second later, Sam confirmed the belief. “I’ve got a problem, Muggs, and I need your help.”