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Author Topic: Wherever We Are, Whatever We Do  (Read 17693 times)

GSRLOVER34

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Re: Wherever We Are, Whatever We Do
« Reply #15 on: May 19, 2009, 09:39:10 PM »
Great chapter!

Billyjorja

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Re: Wherever We Are, Whatever We Do
« Reply #16 on: May 20, 2009, 06:13:19 AM »
Together at last.

Offline sarapals

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Re: Wherever We Are, Whatever We Do
« Reply #17 on: May 20, 2009, 10:10:46 AM »
Greg?s trip to the town bank was more exciting, especially for the bank?s employees and a few customers. With his vest, they seemed to know why he was in town. Three employees had worked in the bank for longer than thirty years. The women had individual reasons for remembering the day Evan Atwater disappeared. They also supplied a list of places?businesses, most closed and forgotten, and churches?who would have had a bank bag similar to the one he held.

?Check at the church?with the steeple. Nelda Owen has worked there for forty years,? one woman suggested. She had the brightest red hair he had ever seen on a woman her age. ?If I remember correctly, something happened to their deposit about the time of Evan?s disappearance.?

Before Greg left the bank, each one expressed a long-forgotten memory.

?I never thought he ran away.?

?Evan was a good kid; we all knew him.?

?His father never got over it.?

With that statement, Greg asked about the father.

The red-haired employee explained, ?Mr. Atwater looked for that child for years. Lost his job with the lumber yard because he spent so much time out in the hills and mines around here.? She looked at the other women. ?I think he died five years later?broken heart, I?d say.? The other women nodded.

Greg knew they wanted an explanation of the bank bag and how it connected to the missing boy. He left without providing reasons for his inquiry knowing the entire population would know about his visit by noon.

Grissom found nothing in the dusty files; every crime for five years fit into a cardboard file box with room to spare. When the mother and daughter left, he joined Sara in the cavernous space behind the deputy?s office.

?Hey,? he said; his voice deep and hushed. Sara had heard him, his footsteps echoing as he approached. She had not looked up from repacking.

?Hi,? she responded, keeping her head down. This was the first time they had been alone since he kissed her and she kissed him. His fingers came to rest on the edge of the table.

?Sara,? her name left his lips on a breath of air?differently, she thought, and she looked up.

It was not his mouth she noticed first, but his eyes; the color had darkened yet reflected light from the high windows. Blue, she thought, the color of the morning sky.

He stood over her, trying to form thoughts into words. Seconds before she could say anything, he said, ?Wherever we are, whatever we do, no questions, no doubts, just us.? His lips edged upward into a grin. ?We can?t talk about this at work. Not yet.?

She nodded. He had said ?just us? making it sound as if they were already lovers?at least a couple, no longer supervisor and love-sick employee. She smiled and ducked her head. She was embarrassed to feel so giddy, so euphoric by his words.

Just as quickly, he turned to work asking what she had learned from the mother.

?Evan was running errands?he left his mom right after lunch. All this,? she indicated the bottles and other items in the box, ?seems to be random clutter.? She picked up one of the small jars sealed in a clear evidence bag. ?This is a cold cream container?very popular at one time.? She lifted an eyebrow. ?My theory is these containers belong to the same person who left the boxes?or perhaps a daughter or son of who filled these jars with buttons and threads. The shirt was a rag?no value, but gathered up with junk and thrown in a box. Susan thinks the bank bag?where is Greg? She thinks the bank bag was wrapped with the shirt, but can?t be sure.?

Grissom had moved a chair to sit across the table from her. He let her talk.

?But the shirt?why keep the shirt? I can understand one person keeping a box of junk for years, but I can?t understand why someone who harmed a kid, or let?s say killed him, would keep the shirt.?

Grissom raked a hand through his hair. ?Interrupted, maybe? The shirt is not grimy with dirt, but there are some stains?we can figure all that out back at the lab.? He grinned again. ?Sara.? She looked at him. ?Are you okay? With everything?between us??

?I?m fine, Grissom.? She gave him a broad, quick smile.

Noise signaled Greg?s arrival with the bank bag and the deputy as Greg related his news from the three women with his usual animation and excitement. Sara watched, knowing that Grissom?s patience with Greg could run thin. Today, Grissom almost smiled as the young man circled their chairs as he shared his news.

?The church?Ed, do we need to call Nelda Owen?? Grissom asked.

Ed?s hesitation was normal, setting his thoughts into words before speaking. ?No, Nelda?s been at that church all my life?she?s there.?

If the three CSIs had been asked to describe a small church secretary, Nelda Owen would have provided the original model. Slightly built, wearing a dress and sweater in a style from a couple of decades past, her hazel eyes sparkled and her mouth had an instant smile when Ed opened the door.

Quick introductions and explanations were provided to explain the strangers visit.

?Evan Atwater,? she sighed as she said the name. ?We don?t hear his name anymore, but most of us left here remember the day he disappeared like it was yesterday. Back then, kids did not go missing?no Amber alerts, no internet, no television reports?I guess kids did disappear but you just didn?t hear about it.?

Greg handed her the bank deposit bag without saying anything.

?My goodness.? Nelda Owen turned the bag over in her hands. ?I?d bet my life this is the church?s bag. The last time I saw it, I handed it to Evan. He was a sweet kid, always coming around offering to do errands. He had taken the Sunday collection to the bank dozens of times.?

They stood around her as she recounted a long-ago story. ?I tried to tell the sheriff about the deposit?mostly checks back then?but his idea was Evan had lost the bag and ran away. Back then, I was already an old maid, female, no one of importance, but I never thought Evan ran away?even if he lost the bag, he would not have run away.? She passed the bag back to Greg.

?You need evidence and I might have something that will help.? She rummaged around in a drawer for a ring of keys. ?Come with me.?

"Long long afterward, in an oak I found the arrow, still unbroke..." (Longfellow & Sara Sidle, Ending Happy, 2007)

GSRLOVER34

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Re: Wherever We Are, Whatever We Do
« Reply #18 on: May 20, 2009, 10:27:24 AM »
Great chapter!

Butterfly114

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Re: Wherever We Are, Whatever We Do
« Reply #19 on: May 20, 2009, 02:08:17 PM »
Great update look forward to the next one.

Offline sarapals

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Re: Wherever We Are, Whatever We Do
« Reply #20 on: May 20, 2009, 05:44:42 PM »
The four followed her as she went downstairs, opened two locked doors and entered a basement room filled will boxes. ?Church files. I?ve put them down here for years?mostly deaths, baptisms, budgets. I started working here before I graduated from high school?took bookkeeping and shorthand in high school?that?s my qualifications for the job.?

Nelda opened a box. File folders almost filled the box, each file labeled with its own subject. Organization taken to an entire new level, Sara thought.

?This is last year. Let?s find thirty years ago.? She walked along the narrow aisle. Grissom nodded for Sara to follow.

The two women stopped in front of a box. ?Back then, it took two or three boxes for a year. We used little envelopes for everyone?s contribution and I bundled each week?s stack together. I also made a list of all the checks given.? She searched one box, then opened a second one. ?Here they are. The week the deposit went missing, I had to ask everyone who had written a check to write another one.?

Sara was amazed. Thirty years of paperwork, filed away and never looked at again. The small woman before her seemed to read her thoughts. ?This is what I?ve done my entire career, Miss Sidle. It?s not important for the rest of the world, but I?ve always tried to do the right thing. If any of this will help Evan?s mother find out about her little boy, then all of it has been worth every minute.?

All Sara could do was nod before asking, ?Can we take these boxes with us? We?ll get it back to you.?

Her laugh was one expected of a woman who had worked in a church all her adult life, soft and quiet. ?Sure. No one has looked at this stuff since I put it down here.?

Greg and Ed took the church?s boxes back to the vehicle and spent the next ten minutes transferring the other boxes from the back room, nearly filling the back of the SUV. In their absence, lunch had appeared in carry-out boxes.

Ed explained the lunches. ?I asked the caf? to send lunch?you wouldn?t get to eat much over there?everyone knows you are here. Everyone would have an idea or want to gossip.?

Grissom thanked him for his consideration as they opened clam-shell Styrofoam to find thick roast beef sandwiches and chips and pickles. An apple pie was wrapped separately. Without saying a word, Grissom passed his chips to Sara, giving her a slight shrug. She handed her sandwich to Greg.

Ed was a small town deputy and he was observant. From a cabinet, he brought a jar of peanut butter and half a loaf of bread and placed both in front of Sara. She made her own sandwich as the men ate and talked, not about the case, but about small towns and big cities, dying communities and boom-town growth.

Grissom drove as they left the small town. They had found more than they thought they would but the pieces of the puzzle had not fallen together.

?What do you think?? Greg asked Grissom as they traveled the lonely highway.

Grissom had claimed the straw hat as his and had worn it all day with the exception of their visit to the church. Now, he lifted it from his head and put it in Sara?s lap, combing his hand through his hair.

?Nelda Owen is probably right. Evan Atwater went missing because of that deposit?someone thought it had cash in it?probably someone the boy knew. I?m with Sara, I don?t understand the shirt; why keep the shirt? Then, why keep the bank bag? Someone grabbed the bag, hurt or killed the boy, and someone else found the shirt and bag, threw it in a box without knowing what it meant.

?Thirty years ago, no body, nothing but a shirt. We?ll work with what we?ve got, give it all to the sheriff, but don?t expect to close this one?too much time has passed, to little evidence. You were there?everyone in town knows why we were there?this is one case that will remain a mystery.?

He turned the music up, glanced at Sara. ?We have tonight off?we can drop these boxes at the lab and have a good sleep before we get back to work.?

But city crime never sleeps; a case involving insects kept Grissom at the lab. Sara and Greg hauled boxes into the lab and left, both getting a ride as day shift was leaving.

?Another case, and another night?s work multiplied into more days and nights of overtime and doubles.

 The shirt, the bank bag, the few fingerprints were passed through the lab with the results going to Grissom who spent a long day explaining what was found to the sheriff. Sara worked through the church records finding one name who had not written a second check to the church the week Evan disappeared. The tiny fingernail sized paper found in the bank deposit bag came from a check, a common, impossible to trace scrap that became a dead end. Grissom passed the information to the sheriff along with Sara?s notes. Sheriff Atwater knew the three CSIs had been thorough as well as silent about this case; he never heard a whisper about this unsolved cold case.

"Long long afterward, in an oak I found the arrow, still unbroke..." (Longfellow & Sara Sidle, Ending Happy, 2007)

GSRLOVER34

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Re: Wherever We Are, Whatever We Do
« Reply #21 on: May 20, 2009, 06:44:42 PM »
Great chapter!

Offline sarapals

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Re: Wherever We Are, Whatever We Do
« Reply #22 on: May 20, 2009, 07:16:35 PM »
?Grissom had not forgotten sharing Sara?s bed; she remembered and replayed the incident over and over, especially when she was alone, trying to sleep after a long shift. A case that put Sara?s life in immediate danger finally pushed him into action.

?I?ll take you home,? he said from the locker room door.

She smiled. ?I?m fine, really.?

He came in and sat down beside her, his fingertips met in a nervous gesture. ?I?I mean, let?s go to dinner?just us.?

Sara pressed her lips together in a suppressed smile. She remembered asking him to dinner once. She also remembered his words of ?just us? from the morning after they slept together.

What she wanted to do was put her head on his shoulder and rest, let his arms go around her and feel his warm breath against her skin. She quickly decided to advance this opportunity.

?Grissom, would you come to my place? To eat?? She did not want to give him the chance to say no. ?I?I can cook something easy. I don?t mind cooking?after this case, I?d like a little quiet.? Realizing what she had said, she added, ?with you.?

He grinned. ?That would be nice. Is an hour enough time??

An hour, sixty minutes?Sara could pull off eggs and juice and toast and a shower?if she hurried.

Grissom arrived in less than an hour to find a clean smelling Sara opening her door to him. The hair on the back of his head was still damp from his shower. Her hair was still wet and pulled back; he knew her hair curled when wet and had never figured out the process of how she got it straight.

?It?s the ponytail, isn?t it??

Sara was confused. ?My ponytail?? She asked.

?To straighten your hair?is that how you get it straight??

She laughed, that deep chuckle that became an aphrodisiac to his ears?arousing a sexual desire that he found difficult to suppress as he stood in her doorway.

He had not arrived empty-handed, bringing some kind of gourmet juice he had picked up at the nearest market. Their hands touched as she reached for the juice and, in the pale amber light from outside, the simple exchanged moved them together.

When they kissed it was as if they were together the first time, as if they had never been apart, and the passing years became seconds.
---
?Do you remember the room?? He asked when they parted, referring to a hotel room in San Francisco when they had known each other less than three days. They had spent one warm, sunny afternoon being tourists before working up courage to open a door that had eventually led to Las Vegas. Sara knew then she would never love another man. 

Her breath came out as a sigh as they separated. She had not realized how tightly she had been holding herself until now, when every muscle in her body loosened as she put her head on his shoulder. 

They stood in each other?s arms, their bodies curving together, softness and hardness fitting together. His hands moved over her body, shaping, molding it into his brain. She slipped hands between their bodies and slid her fingers and palm along his chest, listening to the soft breaths from his body, loving the feeling of knowing he had finally come to her.

Somehow, as lovers find, food was forgotten and clothes were removed and they found themselves on her bed. He said her name ?Sara? and the passionate sound of her name on his lips shut everything out. His fingers touched her inner thigh; fingertips that handled fragile evidence, that held delicate butterflies, played along her skin.

?I?ve dreamed of you, of us?? one said.

They found each other, as starving people for food; they could not eat or drink enough.

?So much better than a dream,? she said, her voice as soft as an afternoon breeze. They were so closely entwined they made one shadow on the wall beside the bed.

At some point, he managed to find a small square packet in his jeans. Sara giggled. ?Only one?? She asked.

He growled?actually made the sound of an angry tiger?and she laughed again as she opened a drawer beside her bed and pulled out a box of a dozen condoms.

?I was afraid a box along with the juice might be too pretentious,? he mumbled as he attempted to open the packet. She took the colorful square and placed it between her teeth to tear it open. She rolled above him taking him in her hands and caressing him with her fingers as she slipped the condom over him. He groaned and she smiled.

His hand roamed restlessly from her bent knee to her thigh; his thumb found her intimate folds and she opened to him.

As she stretched along his body, he moved, keeping her within an embrace of legs and arms and said her name. ?Sara.?

The way he said it was a caress, spoken as no one else ever said her name. She closed her eyes.

?Open your eyes,? he said. ?I want to see you.? He entered her easily each knowing the other had been put on earth, this time and place, for no other purpose. The powerful wave of passion hit Sara first and her eyes closed. She was vaguely conscious of some sound coming from him seconds before he covered her with his body, and seconds later felt his lips along her neck moving from collarbone to her ear.

Sara stroked his hair, lifting a curl so it wrapped around her finger. She wanted him to speak, say something that would not break the spell. He kissed her again.

?You are beautiful, Sara.?

She smiled.

One more chapter. To read a slightly racy version, check out fanfiction.net!
"Long long afterward, in an oak I found the arrow, still unbroke..." (Longfellow & Sara Sidle, Ending Happy, 2007)

Butterfly114

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Re: Wherever We Are, Whatever We Do
« Reply #23 on: May 20, 2009, 07:59:07 PM »
Your descriptions are always so beautiful.

Billyjorja

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Re: Wherever We Are, Whatever We Do
« Reply #24 on: May 21, 2009, 06:28:15 AM »
Great update. 

GSRLOVER34

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Re: Wherever We Are, Whatever We Do
« Reply #25 on: May 21, 2009, 08:57:12 AM »
Great chapter!

Offline sarapals

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Re: Wherever We Are, Whatever We Do
« Reply #26 on: May 21, 2009, 10:45:49 AM »
Last chapter of this one! Thanks for reading...

When she woke, the sun filtered around the dark blinds. She opened her eyes and found him watching her. She smiled, ?I dreamed of this, of waking and finding you here.?

He slipped an arm around her and cradled her to his chest. She kissed his chest, the hollow of his throat, his chin. Making love to him was right, and strong, and complete.

He raised himself on an elbow, leaned over and kissed her eyes, her lips, moving to her breasts, slowly, teasing, while his hand moved lightly along her abdomen, her belly, her hip. She lay still, letting waves of sensation build within her as she floated in another dream.

They made love slowly the second time, tasting each other, learning the sounds and movements that only a lover knows and remembers. Laughter came as they talked through the long afternoon; the sounds from outside drifted over the bed as if from some distant place.

Sara stretched, remembering the weight of his body on hers, the surprise in his eyes each time they became as one, the deep laughter in his voice; she loved him with a passion that astonished her with its intensity.

He, in turn, kissed her; holding her face with both hands and kissing her lips, her nose, gentle brushes against her skin. He kissed her deeply, his tongue exploring her mouth as she did his. He kissed her breast circling her nipple and causing a sweet wave of pleasure and a gasp of delight to come from Sara. She knew he smiled as he heard her and his hand moved between her legs.

Much later, after they both slept, they drank warm juice and shared an omelet. They sat at the small table, eating slowly, talking of their lives in another world and how they had found each other. He soothed her doubts, erased any element of embarrassment, assured her work would not interfere with their new relationship. 

They would work together, always professional, almost always cautious and careful, attempting to keep their personal lives separate from the lab. Together they learned the language of lovers, not always words, but with their eyes, with a touch, a gesture that had meaning only to them. When Nick was almost lost, both realized the fragile existence of life and rarely spent another night alone. It took Grissom much longer to convince Sara to combine their possessions into one home?until he promised her a dog.

Evan Atwater, whose disappearance had brought them together, remained a mystery, an unsolved cold case. Many months later, when Grissom and Sara needed a well connected political friend, Roy Atwater, no longer sheriff but still with influence, remembered their work and insisted both keep their jobs without censure or demotion.

Nearly a year later, before Grissom left the lab for the last time, he received a short email from Ed, the deputy. The man who had never written a second check to the church had been found?Alzheimer?s disease had taken his mind. The man?s wife remembered the day she found the shirt and the bank bag stuffed in a car trunk. For thirty years she had carried a terrible secret with her. Her husband had written a check to the church for more than they had in their account; he wanted to retrieve his check before it was deposited, the boy refused to give him the bag, and in the scuffle little Evan Atwater had hit his head on a concrete curb. The child never woke up and she had never asked her husband what he had done with the body or why he kept the shirt or bank bag. Ed?s last sentence was, ?Nelda Owen knew your lady friend would figure it out.? 

It would be these early days, a simple pillow thrown in a roadside motel, of a road trip, of a frightening attack by a crazed patient that brought Grissom to her door, of days and nights spent in bed, eating and reading and loving each other without intrusion from others, that eventually made each realize how strong their love had become.

An intimate gesture by Grissom led to an event of far-reaching consequences?Sara knew she had to leave Las Vegas, not Grissom, never the one person she loved more than life, but the darkness, the sadness, the desperation at the end of life. The death of co-worker and prot?g?, Warrick Brown, would send Grissom on a similar path, before he decided he, too, must leave to find sunshine, to find peace, to find Sara. In the end, wherever they were, whatever they did, no questions, no doubts, together is where they belonged.

We have another one in the works, trying to get it finished for June. Thanks for reading!
"Long long afterward, in an oak I found the arrow, still unbroke..." (Longfellow & Sara Sidle, Ending Happy, 2007)

GSRLOVER34

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Re: Wherever We Are, Whatever We Do
« Reply #27 on: May 21, 2009, 10:34:01 AM »
GREAT ENDING GIRLS!

LOOKING FORWARD TO READING THE NEXT ONE.

sixtyplus

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Re: Wherever We Are, Whatever We Do
« Reply #28 on: May 21, 2009, 01:17:33 PM »
Hi girls I have only just read your story and as usual its a great read, I loved it as usual and will be looking forward to your next one :)

Billyjorja

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Re: Wherever We Are, Whatever We Do
« Reply #29 on: May 22, 2009, 05:17:21 AM »
Loved this story, can't wait for the next.