Part 7/?
<><><><><>
Sara was relieved when there was no sudden impact of a bullet
hitting her body or grazing her skin. A rain of warmth fell on
her arms, hands and head, followed by a heavy thud. The
smell of death permeated Sara's senses. She opened her
eyes, blinking slowly. Peering between crooked arms still
protecting her head, she noted the scene in front of her. A
combination of grey brain matter and blood covered the area,
substances that both had not been there before. Hesitantly
Sara released the tight grip of her hands on her head.
Looking at the raw material coating her arms and hands, a
small shudder of revulsion ran through her.
"Sara?" Grissom called out. "Sara?"
Sara unfolded herself from her cramped, protective huddle.
Pushing herself up into a sitting position, her left leg crossed
beneath her for balance while she rested her right elbow on the
other bent knee. All her energy seemed to disappear as she
absorbed the scene around her. Sighing, she brought her
hand up to her temple, massaging the area, attempting to ease
the pulsating pressure pounding a monotonous tune.
"Sara? Are you all right?" Catherine asked.
Surprised at hearing Catherine's voice, she frowned, lines
furrowing her brow. The voices sounded so distant, far away
from where she was surrounded by death. Stopping the
massage on her temple, she swivelled her head to see a trio of
concerned faces. Grissom, Catherine and Brass filled the
doorway.
"Ah...yeah... I think so," Sara responded, her voice unsteady,
the magnitude of the situation still keeping her off balance. She
found it hard to fathom that the gun, which had been aimed at
her when she dived to the ground, had failed to deliver the
bullet in her direction. Sara felt numb, unsure how she should
feel. Grateful that the woman had chosen to blow off her own
head? A shiver shook her thin frame and she wrapped her
arms tightly around herself, warding off the chill that was
permeating her clothing. Her own voice sounded muffled,
caught in a maelstrom of silence.
"Sara, we need to get you checked out. Make sure you're
okay." Grissom was concerned at how slowly she was
reacting, her movements stilted. He moved out through the
door towards his dark-haired CSI.
Sara shook her head, wincing as the action increased the
pounding in her head. "No. I'm fine. Just in need of a
shower."
"Don't be disturbed if we don't agree with you," Brass
commented, following closely behind Grissom. It was hard to
discern if she did or didn't have an injury. Blood splatter
coated the back of her overalls in viscous streaks. He
watched her reaction to the scene, or lack of reaction. Shock
was obviously beginning to set in. There was a slight tremor in
the hands resting on her knee. Following her gaze, looking
over the changed crime scene, old evidence mixing with new,
he asked, "what happened?"
"The mother came back," Sara said simply.
"She's the mother?" Catherine asked, surprised.
"Yeah," Sara answered softly, her gaze falling on the still body.
The force from the bullet had blown away half of the woman's
skull. Technically, she noted that the bullet from the .44
Magnum had performed exactly as expected. The skull had
exploded in both directions, the force of the bullet causing the
brain tissues to expand and collapse upon themselves,
expelling the brain matter through both the entrance and exit
wounds.
"Did you use your gun?" Brass brought Sara's focus back on
his line of questioning. He recognized the distant look in her
eyes. He wanted to get the basic police procedural
requirements covered so that she could be removed from the
scene as quickly as possible.
Sara shook her head.
"I'll need it anyway... procedure."
Sara nodded, unfazed by the request. She hadn't drawn the
weapon at all during the exchange with the woman. Pulling her
gun from its sheath at her hip, she handed the gun over to
Brass. "You'll need my clothes as well."
"Yes. We will. Later. Right now, I want you to see a
doctor," Grissom told her shortly.
"I told you, I'm fine."
Grissom held out a hand to help Sara up. She grasped his
hand, frowning at the grisly residue on the back of her gloved
hand. She let out a yelp of pain at pressure placed on her
wrist as she rose to her feet.
"That doesn't sound like 'fine' to me," Grissom remarked as
he captured the injured arm to look at it more closely. He
pulled off the latex gloves covering her hands, dropping them
to the ground.
"It'll only be a sprain. Look - each finger bends." Sara
demonstrated, her fingers performing a miniature Mexican
wave. Sara looked directly at Grissom, her brown eyes
meeting his as she tried to convince him that she was all right.
"I can even twist it this way and... that." The look backfired as
she winced at the pain that shot up her arm as she manipulated
her wrist, her voice catching in her throat.
"Sara, it's the 'that' that I'm concerned about," Grissom said
softly, touching her shoulder lightly. "Humour me, will you?"
She nodded, too tired to argue, knowing that Grissom would
not be satisfied until she had been given the all clear by medical
personnel.
"Cath?" Grissom asked with a single word.
Catherine interpreted his unspoken question. "Come on, Sara.
Let's get you down to Southside." Walking towards the
doorway, Catherine left it to Sara to make the decision to
leave. She knew her teammate well enough to know that it
would need to be her decision to go, rather than being pushed.
Sara gave the crime scene one last look, cold reality seeping
through the protective layer of shock. A small tremor shook
her light frame and she quickly followed Catherine back into
the house.
"Wonder why the woman lost her head - literally?" Brass
asked as he slipped the gun Sara had handed him into an
evidence bag.
"Half her head." Grissom collected the camera Sara had left
beside her kit, intending to photograph the changed scene. He
noticed the evidence bags and the completed evidence list and
nodded, approving. Sara was nothing, if not thorough. There
would be no compromise of the chain of evidence in this case,
despite the almost disastrous result.
"Right," Brass said shortly.
The sound of footfalls in the kitchen behind them had both men
reacting, Brass reaching for his gun. It was only Sara, her
brown eyes squinting at them. She was still clad in her overalls,
the dark stains marring the surface a lurid reminder of the
danger she had endured.
"You were going to the hospital," Grissom pointed out, his
tone harsher than he intended.
"Yeah. In a moment," Sara brushed his concern aside. "I'd
better give you a quick rundown on the scene before she
turned up. Grissom, that boy wasn't shot from behind."
Grissom raised his eyebrows, waiting patiently for her to
continue.
"I found the shell casings in the grass over here and three
bullets were in the timber frame of the window." Sara pointed
to the various sites where she had discovered the evidence.
Finally, she threw in the main reason she had returned to the
porch. "The mother also made reference to having been here
before."
"What did she say exactly, Sara?"
"He wasn't dead when I left him," Sara rushed the words,
quoting the mother's chilling phrase. The pounding in her head
was increasing, the bright lighting on the porch aiding the
marching band that was currently practising its maneuvers
within her head.
"That could mean anything," Grissom pointed out.
"True. But she wasn't shocked to find him lying shot on the
ground." Sara looked over at the woman, the sight instantly
replaying the scene in her mind; the gun levelled in her direction
and the shot which muted the sound of everything else.
"I'll need a full statement from you," Brass pointed out.
"After she's been to the hospital," Grissom interjected, placing
the camera back beside Sara's field kit. "Brass, stay with the
evidence."
Brass looked back at Grissom, a mixture of displeasure and
understanding filling his face. He didn't appreciate being
commanded by him, especially considering that Grissom had
once been his responsibility; the one who answered to his
commands. Yet, at the same time, he knew why the
instruction was given.
Grissom lead Sara out of the house towards Catherine's SUV.
The gunshot had brought the inquisitive neighbours out into the
street again. Together with a circus of media. Grissom
frowned as they walked down the path; Sara's head was
downcast and her pace distinctively subdued, ignoring the
cameras that were capturing their every move.
Catherine was at the rear of the vehicle, a large evidence bag
in her hand. Sara undid the buttons with her right hand, the
nerves of her injured arm still twinging sympathetically in
response to the earlier inspection.
"Do you want some help?" Catherine offered, seeing her
struggle with a button.
"No." Sara shook her head. She needed to do this on her
own. She hadn't been shot as luck would have it and she
wasn't going to break down in front of everyone because
she'd been scared. Her pride wouldn't allow her to do that,
but she was struggling all the same. It would be so easy to curl
up in a corner and cry.
The overalls and booties were dumped into the bag and tied
securely. Grissom picked up the bag and watched Sara hop
into the SUV.
"She'll be okay, Gil. She's strong."
"I know. It's just... it shouldn't have happened." He shook
his head. It was so soon after the Holly Gribbs murder with
similar circumstances. This time a CSI had not been fatally
injured, but it did not make him feel any better.
"No murder should happen, but we both know that they do.
There was nothing you could have done to prevent this. You
were all following procedure."
"Cath, make sure she gets properly checked out. Her hearing
as well." Grissom had noticed the way Sara had reacted when
they were speaking, squinting her eyes and focussed
concentration on their words. It could be a simple headache,
but he wanted to be sure.
"Sure."
End Part 7/?