Killing Sara Sidle - Chapters 4 & 5
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Chapter 4
Grissom enters the house and Dog greets him excitedly at the door. He sighs (Grissom, not Dog). He opens the back door so Dog can run around the backyard and fills his bowls with food and water. He really should take him for a walk in the park or at least install the doggie-door Sara bought before she left. Somehow he just doesn’t have the energy. He pours a drink and slumps down on the couch with another heavy sigh. On the coffee table is the forensic journal Sara was reading the evening before she left. Still with a Post-it marking her place. He picks it up and flips through the pages. He really should start packing her things.
He wonders what Sara has been doing for the last three months. He’s had no enquiries from prospective employers about her. As her supervisor for seven years it is unlikely that anybody would hire her as a CSI or in a related field without contacting him first. He doesn’t really think that Sara wants to work as a CSI anymore. But where is she? He knows that she had some money saved, but that cannot last for ever. At some stage she will have to find a job again. He gets up to pour himself another drink. As he returns to the couch he sees the light on his answering machine flashing. When Sara first left, his heart skipped a beat every time he saw that flashing light. But as every message turned out to not be her, he stopped paying much attention to his messages. He absentmindedly presses the button and returns to the couch nursing his drink.
“Hey.” He lifts his head and stares at the machine. [pause] “It’s me. Sara. Uhm… I guess you’re not home. OK. Uhm… [long pause] OK. Bye.”
He jumps up and replays the message several times. What? That’s it? No number where he can contact her? No address? No, “How are you? Sorry I disappeared for three months.” Nothing! That’s it? He slams down his palm on the table, grabs the machine and throws it across the room. It hits the kitchen counter in spectacular fashion. Grissom sinks to the ground and drops his head into his hands. He doesn’t know how much longer he can go on like this. He hasn’t had a proper meal or a good night’s sleep in weeks. No, months. He is rapidly working his way through his entire collection of single malt. He sighs. He suspects it won’t be long before it starts affecting his work. He stares at the remains of his answering machine, scattered across the floor and wonders whether he will be able to salvage the tape.
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Chapter 5
Two days later he receives a call from the Missing Persons Division of the FBI in New York. Sara applied for a job. Apparently her experience as a CSI combined with her encounter with the miniature killer means that she is uniquely qualified for the position. It occurs to him that this was probably the reason she eventually decided to contact him. He gives her a glowing recommendation. It is nothing more than she deserves. As he puts down the phone he realizes that this is IT. IT really happened. She left him and she is not coming back. He removes his glasses, rubs his eyes and leans back in his chair. IT was over. Finally and indisputably.
The next day he is out at a crime scene when his phone rings. He hasn’t slept for 36 hours. The display shows a New York number. Probably more questions about Sara’s work record. “Grissom.”
“Hey.”
“Sara?”
“Yes.”
Silence. “Uhm,… I’m calling to ask whether it would be OK if I came by the house tomorrow to pick up my stuff?”
“You’re in Vegas?”
“Flying in tonight.” [pause]
“How long are you staying?”
“Just a couple of days to pack my stuff and get it shipped. I can get the movers to pick up the boxes day-after tomorrow…. So is that OK?”
“Yes. Fine. You still have your key?”
“Yes.”
“OK. Just leave it on the kitchen counter when you’re done.”
[long pause] “OK. Uhm…Bye.”
“Goodbye Sara.”
TBC
Chapter 4
Grissom enters the house and Dog greets him excitedly at the door. He sighs (Grissom, not Dog). He opens the back door so Dog can run around the backyard and fills his bowls with food and water. He really should take him for a walk in the park or at least install the doggie-door Sara bought before she left. Somehow he just doesn’t have the energy. He pours a drink and slumps down on the couch with another heavy sigh. On the coffee table is the forensic journal Sara was reading the evening before she left. Still with a Post-it marking her place. He picks it up and flips through the pages. He really should start packing her things.
He wonders what Sara has been doing for the last three months. He’s had no enquiries from prospective employers about her. As her supervisor for seven years it is unlikely that anybody would hire her as a CSI or in a related field without contacting him first. He doesn’t really think that Sara wants to work as a CSI anymore. But where is she? He knows that she had some money saved, but that cannot last for ever. At some stage she will have to find a job again. He gets up to pour himself another drink. As he returns to the couch he sees the light on his answering machine flashing. When Sara first left, his heart skipped a beat every time he saw that flashing light. But as every message turned out to not be her, he stopped paying much attention to his messages. He absentmindedly presses the button and returns to the couch nursing his drink.
“Hey.” He lifts his head and stares at the machine. [pause] “It’s me. Sara. Uhm… I guess you’re not home. OK. Uhm… [long pause] OK. Bye.”
He jumps up and replays the message several times. What? That’s it? No number where he can contact her? No address? No, “How are you? Sorry I disappeared for three months.” Nothing! That’s it? He slams down his palm on the table, grabs the machine and throws it across the room. It hits the kitchen counter in spectacular fashion. Grissom sinks to the ground and drops his head into his hands. He doesn’t know how much longer he can go on like this. He hasn’t had a proper meal or a good night’s sleep in weeks. No, months. He is rapidly working his way through his entire collection of single malt. He sighs. He suspects it won’t be long before it starts affecting his work. He stares at the remains of his answering machine, scattered across the floor and wonders whether he will be able to salvage the tape.
**************
Chapter 5
Two days later he receives a call from the Missing Persons Division of the FBI in New York. Sara applied for a job. Apparently her experience as a CSI combined with her encounter with the miniature killer means that she is uniquely qualified for the position. It occurs to him that this was probably the reason she eventually decided to contact him. He gives her a glowing recommendation. It is nothing more than she deserves. As he puts down the phone he realizes that this is IT. IT really happened. She left him and she is not coming back. He removes his glasses, rubs his eyes and leans back in his chair. IT was over. Finally and indisputably.
The next day he is out at a crime scene when his phone rings. He hasn’t slept for 36 hours. The display shows a New York number. Probably more questions about Sara’s work record. “Grissom.”
“Hey.”
“Sara?”
“Yes.”
Silence. “Uhm,… I’m calling to ask whether it would be OK if I came by the house tomorrow to pick up my stuff?”
“You’re in Vegas?”
“Flying in tonight.” [pause]
“How long are you staying?”
“Just a couple of days to pack my stuff and get it shipped. I can get the movers to pick up the boxes day-after tomorrow…. So is that OK?”
“Yes. Fine. You still have your key?”
“Yes.”
“OK. Just leave it on the kitchen counter when you’re done.”
[long pause] “OK. Uhm…Bye.”
“Goodbye Sara.”
TBC