TITLE: Chronicles Series - Sealed N Delivered

AUTHOR: Melissa Rivers

EMAIL: missy@lexicon.net

WEBSITE: http://www.oocities.org/missyliannem

CATEGORY: Tag to Crate N Burial episodes

RATING: PG13

SUMMARY: Just some journal writings of one particular CSI.

STATUS: WIP

ARCHIVING: Grissom and Sara archive; otherwise not without permission.

DISCLAIMER:

CSI:Crime Scene Investigation and its characters are the property of Anthony Zuiker, Alliance Atlantis & CBS Production Company. I have written this story for entertainment purposes only and no money whatsoever has exchanged hands. No copyright infringement is intended.

AUTHOR NOTES:

This may be a series that I will write over time. I would like to do one for each eppy but with time constraints, I know that probably will never happen. However, I will endeavour to complete quite a few.

I also must thank Scribe for allowing me to copy the format of this story from her Daniel's Diaries series for Stargate SG1... go have a look and you'll be entertained for weeks. The URL is http://www.btinternet.com/~clark/

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

EXTRACT FROM THE DIARY OF SARA SIDLE

It was amazing! He had managed to get me to do it again. But had there ever been a doubt? Somehow, somewhere in between what I said and what I did, something got lost and my actions contradicted my words.

Flying in a helicopter, thousands of meters above the desert in the pitch blackness of night, had sent my heart galloping frantically. My fear of heights was absolute and Grissom knew it. Yet, he challenged me to face my fear. I remembered how my hands gripped the edge of the seat tightly. The cold night air permeated the helicopter and I shivered. A warm hand covered mine. I looked across at Grissom, surprised. He gave me a reassuring smile before pointing to the scene below. I tried to concentrate on the projected crime scene, the luminous green and red shadows indicative of life.

It is only now as I reflect back on the day that I remember his words to me at the first crime scene. "This isn't a seminar, Sara. This is real."

Well, I sure hope so...

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The room was shrouded in darkness, apart from the flickering light from the television screen. Heavy drapes were pulled over the large windows, ensuring no light from outside could break through. The only sound in the room came from the television, set at a level which would comfort rather than entertain.

The shrill ring of the telephone rang out in the stillness, disturbing Sara as she sleept soundly on the sofa. She groaned and turned over, the handwoven aztec throw rug covering her long legs falling to the floor. A hand snaked out to try to locate the source of the ringing, but only managed to knock the thick, forensics book she'd been studying to the floor. The heavy thump broke through her drowsiness and Sara remembered that she was in her new apartment and the phone was over on the kitchen bench.

Sara groggily rose to her feet, pushing her dark, curly hair away from her face and rubbed at her eyes as she stumbled towards the persistent ringing. She let out a muffled cry of pain as her toes crunched painfully against a box of various forensic texts and books still waiting to find a home on her bookshelf. Hobbling her way to the phone, she picked it up in frustration.

"What?"

"Ah, did I wake you up?" Grissom inquired, tentatively.

"Yeah."

"Maybe I should ring someone else..."

"They're probably asleep as well," she told him, matter-of-factly.

"True."

Grissom didn't continue and silence reigned between them, until curiosity finally broke through.

"You've woken me up now. What is it?"

"A body's been found in Red Rock Canyon. I'll pick you up."

"Give me ten minutes."

Sara flicked the lights on and dashed into the bathroom for a quick shower. She made sure that it was hot enough to sweep away any of the lingering tiredness. The short time she had been in Vegas had reminded her that whenever she worked with Grissom, she needed her full wits about her.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"Hey," Sara greeted Grissom as she slid into the passenger seat of the navy blue Tahoe.

"Are you sure you are up to this?" Grissom asked, concerned that he hadn't given her the opportunity to say no to her part in this investigation. Although, subconsciously, he knew that she never gave up the chance to be in on a case... he should be more concerned when she wanted to stay away.

"I'm fine," Sara repeated, shooting him an irritated smile and shaking her head slightly at being asked yet again.

Grissom shot her a quick second glance, his eyes narrowing as he assessed the reality of her words. True to what she said, she did look fine... better than fine in his estimation.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"The body looks like it's been here for a few days. Ripe for your picking, Grissom," Brass greeted them as their vehicle pulled up behind several police cars and a park ranger vehicle.

"Who found the body?" Grissom asked as they moved from the Tahoe towards the area sealed with crime scene tape.

"Two kids over there." Brass indicated with a nod of his head towards a young couple huddled beside a patrol car, the man's arm draped protectively over the woman's shoulder. "Came out here to do some hiking and they found him."

Before they came to a stop near the cordoned-off area on the hillside, the stench of the decomposing body assailed them. There was only a small amount of shrubs hiding the body, the sturdy bushes surviving against all odds in the harsh, arid climate. The afternoon sun was still very high in the sky and would easily provide light by which they would be able to gather evidence.

Grissom lifted the crime scene tape up and allowed Sara to pass under it, before following. The dirt was covered with loose rocks and the incline caused her foot slip on the loose surface, her foot twisting slightly beneath her. Grissom quickly caught her by the elbow and stopped her fall.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah. Watch yourself, the surface is really slippery."

Before the words were out of her mouth, Grissom's feet shot out from beneath him. His grip on Sara's arm pulled her down with him. Grissom dropped his silver kit from his hand and his arm reached around Sara to pull her close to him and protect her from any possible injury in their fall. They hit the ground heavily together, leaving them breathless from the impact. Grissom found himself staring directly into Sara's dark eyes, both of them caught off guard by what had happened.

"Ah, yeah, I meant to warn you both about that," Brass said remorsefully, a hint of a smile touching the edges of his mouth at the sight of the two CSIs on the ground in front of him. The fall had obviously not caused any damage to either of them, but put them in a rather compromising position.

Their eyes broke the intense contact, nervously avoiding meeting each other again.

"Gil, I never knew you liked to sweep a girl off her feet - literally," Brass couldn't help but add to make his old subordinate uncomfortable.

"Give us a hand up, will you?" Grissom grumbled as he struggled to try to get up. Brass leaned over to give them both assistance to their feet. Grissom picked up his silver kit and Sara checked the camera to ensure that there was no damage.

They followed Brass to the edge of the bushes. The sound of insects buzzing around the corpse could be clearly heard. Sara wrinkled her nose in disgust and mentally prepared herself for what she was going to witness. A body that had been sitting in the temperatures that Vegas produced at this time of year was not going to be pretty.

Her first week in Vegas had been difficult, adjusting to the high humidity and dressing appropriately to protect yourself at a crime scene yet also be comfortable. It was much easier said than done. She made a mental note to purchase a set of hiking boots and leave them in her locker for cases such as this.

Grissom quickly regained his composure and assessed the body, before immersing himself into what he loved. Bugs... and lots of them. Sara took shots of the location and body. It was a grisly find. The body had obviously been out in the sun for several days and the facial features were severely bloated which would make it difficult to identify. The clothing was distinctly male. Having taken all the photographs, Sara observed the scene critically.

Sara grinned at the way Grissom assessed and carefully packaged each bug specimen with a special caress. He was like a kid in a candy store. She knew that each could reveal the location of the crime scene and pinpoint the time the man had died. When the body had been dumped, it had been encased in two thick, plastic garbage bags. Scavengers had torn away at it, revealling its contents. Sara shook her head. She really wondered how a person could do this to another person. But this was her place now... her responsibility to ensure that this victim got his chance to speak.

Part 2/?

EXTRACT FROM THE DIARY OF SARA SIDLE

You don't realise how precious something is until you've lost it. Or at least that's how the saying goes. In my case, it was more the fact that I didn't realise how much I'd missed it, until it showed up again - vibrant, flirtatious and awe-inspiring.

In the past, I'd accepted that we'd had to part our ways, accepting the loss, but not realising the full impact of what I'd lost until now. Given the chance to keep it, I held onto each word and sought to impress through my actions. Grissom reprimanded me gently, reminding me that I was no longer at a seminar. I was no longer reaching out to be a star, but now reaching for the stars....

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Sara stood outside the autopsy bay for a moment. She had witnessed many cadavers in various states of decomposition over her years as a CSI, but she always needed a moment in which to direct her thoughts towards the case and away from the smells that were about to assail her.

"Are you ready?" Grissom asked as he strode down the hall.

"Yeah." Sara let her breath out slowly. "Let's get on with it."

They moved in tandem through the silver doors. Their victim lay exposed on the cold autopsy table. Sara observed the olive skin, bloated and mottled under the effects of the Nevada heat. If you added to that the injuries sustained in whatever attack had caused his death and the ravages of Grissom's new entomological treasures, you had a real challenge to the rhinal senses.

"Hi Al. What've we got?"

"Male of middle-eastern origins, aged fifty to sixty years; sealed and delivered."

"Pardon?"

"Excuse me?"

The two of them spoke simultaneously, exchanging a quick glance before turning their questioning gaze upon Doc. Robbins.

"You two need to practice that more." Doc Robbins looked across at the two of them over the top of his half-moon shaped glasses, which were perched precariously on the end of his nose.

Grissom gave him an icy glare. Doc Robbins ignored him, proceeding as if nothing had taken place, only the hint of a smile giving away his awareness of Grissom's reaction to his words.

"Your victim was washed clean and wrapped prior to being dumped. He had been cleaned thoroughly before being wrapped in three pieces of cotton cloth, tied at the head and feet." Doc Robbins pointed to the paper bag sitting on the chair in the corner.

"You've got photographs?"

"David took them. They're being processed now. We left the knots intact as per protocol, cutting the rope with a knife. The knots were tied differently. Remind you of anything?"

Sara looked between the two of them, watching years of expertise breaking through what seemed to her to be unusual evidence. She couldn't determine what they were both homing in on. Eventually, the lack of exposition took its toll. "What does it mean?"

"Religious significance. The man was a Muslim. And he was cleaned by a male Muslim prior to his wrapping. It's part of the ritual preparation of the body for burial," Grissom replied as he leaned over the body, his keen eyes inspecting every facet of the man's injuries.

"I doubt it would normally include plastic bags and a desert environment."

"No, you're right, Sara," Doc Robbins agreed. "Someone was obviously trying to cover up a serious crime. The comminuted fracture sustained to the tib-fib of the left leg is a classic vehicular injury. The bumper bar impacts the victim below the knees. He has bruising to the upper torso and arms indicating that he was thrown onto the hood of the vehicle. Gravel rash.....

Hearing Doc Robbins' discourse of the injuries sustained by the man, Sara could visualise the man crossing the road, unaware of the fate about to befall him. The car colliding with the victim, bones in his left leg crushed upon impact before the body was thrown in the air to crash violently against the windscreen and hood. Tyres screeching as they forcibly came to a halt, the sudden stop tossing the man like a rag doll against the hot black bitumen, the gravel eating away at the skin of his face, arms and hands.

Sara was brought back to the present when Grissom tossed a question into the air. "Al, you've said there's bruising. If there's bruising, his injuries weren't immediately fatal."

"That's right."

"So the driver of the vehicle deliberately killed this victim?" Sara asked, squinting her eyes.

"We can't say until all the evidence is in," Grissom reminded her.

"Here's another piece of evidence for you. There's a partial plate impression on his leg from the impact."

"I'll run with it," Sara offered. "Doc Robbins, you also have fingerprints for me?"

"Card is on top of the file over there." Doc Robbins nodded towards the cabinet beside the door.

"Keep me updated, Sara.," Grissom intoned, looking at her over top of the body he was examining closely.

"When don't I?" Sara flashed Grissom a smile as she left the morgue to investigate the evidence in her hands.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Sara lounged against the doorpost, enjoying the opportunity to watch Grissom carefully measure the size of the fly. She smiled as his tongue jutted slightly out the corner of his mouth, his intense concentration upon fixing the fly to the board. His fascination with the bug world made her desire to understand how they held him captive. She purposely remained silent, savouring the opportunity to observe without interruption or the necessity for discretion. It wasn't long before his eyes slowly trailed from the board to the doorway.

"How long have you been standing there?"

"Not long." She gave him a quick smile.

"Did you have any success?" Grissom asked as he fixed the fly firmly onto the board.

"I'm still waiting for a result on the number plate, but I did manage to find out who our victim is. His prints were on file. One Mohammed Sayed. Lives in Vegas Heights with his wife and six children."

"No missing person report?" Grissom leaned back in his chair, contemplating the possible implications.

Sara shook her head slowly. "He's been dead for days and they're not concerned.... they know something."

"Why don't we go find out what they do know? Call Brass and let him know what you've found," Grissom instructed as he packed away his equipment.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

A small, dark hand pushed aside the curtains covering the long, thin window beside the door. Dark, inquisitive eyes looked up at the three of them, before the sound of approaching footsteps falling heavily on a tiled floor attracted his attention. A string of words had the young boy moving quickly away from the window.

The door opened. A taller version of the young boy stood looking at them, his charcoal eyes tumid. Sara wondered what had brought such a harshness into them at such a young age.

"Who are you?" His words were innocent, but defensive. His body language indicated that he knew exactly who they were.

"Detective Brass, Las Vegas Police." Brass indicated to Grissom and Sara behind him with a nod. "This is Gil Grissom and Sara Side, Criminalists."

"Police? Criminalists? What's this all about?"

Sara watched the young man's eyes carefully. She listened to his words, but everything else was telling another story. He wasn't well practised in lying and his eyes gave him away as they darted nervously over the group.

"Your father, Mohammed Sayed," Brass told him.

"Father was to be away on business." Sara didn't miss the use of the past tense that the son used. She saw Grissom move his head slightly to the left. It was a minute move, but a sure sign that he hadn't missed it either. It was a common mistake made by people who knew that a person is dead.

"I'm afraid he's not," Grissom interrupted. "Is your mother home?"

"She doesn't speak English."

"That's fine. I'm sure you can translate for us. May we come in?" Brass took a step forward, making the most of his height to impose his presence upon the boy.

The young man automatically took a step backward, reluctantly opening the door to admit them all.

"Please remove your shoes. Mother hates the floor having muddy shoe prints."

Sara bent down to undo the laces on her boots, cursing herself for not wearing slip-ons like the men who were already padding down the tiled hallway after their reluctant host. Her eyes wandered as her fingers worked on the laces, automatically cataloguing everything that came under her gaze. She frowned and tilted her head as something caught her attention. Her fingers stopped their work as she inspected the object of her attention more closely, her hair almost touching the ground.

The sole of a single sneaker had piqued her interest. Sara felt in her jeans pockets, hoping that she had a single latex glove shoved in one. It was a habit that she had acquired over the years, but it would be just her luck that she'd used it at another scene. Two pockets came up empty before she finally found one. Slipping the glove easily over her long fingers, Sara picked up the offending item, squinting her eyes as she assessed it closely.

Ignoring the directive to take off her shoes, she followed the direction Grissom and Brass had taken. The sound of voices rising and falling led her to the exact room where they were interviewing mother and son. A string of foreign words greeted her, possibly Arabic or Aramaic in origin. Sara took the time to evaluate the mother, who was dressed in voluminous black material. Her olive-skinned face and hands were the only parts of her body visible. Short stubby fingers pulled at the wad of tissues grasped tightly in her hand. Her eyes were red-rimmed and shimmered with unshed tears at the news of her husband's death. From the answer the son was giving now, Sara could easily guess what the original question was.

"Mother doesn't know. Father was to be away on business for a week. It's not unusual for him to be delayed."

Grissom's eyes trailed from mother and son to Sara standing in the doorway, drifting down to the sneaker in her gloved hand. He raised his eyebrows in a silent question and gave a slight nod of approval.

"Where was he going, Ahmed?" Brass continued to ask.

"Saudi Arabia."

"And you haven't heard from him in all that time?" Grissom asked, pursing his lips as he waited for an answer.

Again a quick string of words between mother and son. "No. But that's not unusual. He was a very busy man."

"Are you sure it's not because you knew that he was not in Saudi Arabia?" Sara interjected.

"What?"

Sara held the sneaker up in the air. "Whose shoe is this?"

"Mine. Why?" Ahmed answered, his heavy, dark brows furrowing in confusion.

"You might like to explain the presence of the blood in the tread." Sara raised her eyebrows at the young man.

He paled under the intense gaze of Grissom, Brass and Sara, floundering to find an explanation.

End Part 2/3