Catherine and Sofia returned to the crime lab to find Warrick pacing up and down, phone on his ear, looking torn between being worried and furious. He hung up the moment he spotted the two CSIs. “She’s gone,” he told them simply.
“She could have gone back to her hotel?” Catherine suggested. “And why are you bothered? Maybe we can get some real wo-”
“Trust me, that is exactly what I want, but she’s gone off to find Tristan and she’s taken Nick, Greg and Brass with her. None of their phones or radios are responding and if they’ve gone out into the desert, there’s a huge sandstorm.”
“What about the GPS on their truck?” Catherine suggested.
“We could try, but it’s going to take some time to activate,” said Sofia. “I’ll get on that now.” She pulled out her phone and hurried out of the room.
“I have the answer,” said Hodges, as he rounded the corridor, accompanied by Grissom. “After extensive research, your trusty trace analyst has once again come to you with the case breaker. Nick and the journalist are in the desert.”
“Hodges, we knew that anyway,” Catherine told him irritated.
“But not only are they there, so is the child.”
“Again, Warrick called me telling us that about half an hour ago,” she said, growing more annoyed.
“Yes, but I know where,” Hodges continued.
“Actually,” said Grissom. “I know where they are.”
“Nick found a husk on the truck,” Hodges continued, unperturbed. “And sent it to yours truly who discovered-”
“No doubt after showing it to Grissom,” Catherine muttered under her breath.
“Who discovered that the husk belongs to a beetle which only lives in an area of the desert twenty miles north of here,” Hodges continued, either ignoring or not hearing Catherine.
“Unfortunately, that area covers a chunk of the desert in a ten mile radius,” added Grissom.
“Well, I think I can narrow that down,” said Sara, as she entered the break room carrying a map which she laid out on the table. “This is the area they could be in,” she said, drawing a large circle on the map. “And after spending several hours reading through Castenelli’s biography on the internet, it turns out he owns three properties in this area. Admittedly, they’re all ruins of houses, but he’s been buying up property with the intent of creating an oasis-style resort,” she explained as she drew crosses on the map.
“So what? Are we going to try all of them?” Sofia asked.
“I have an idea,” said Catherine. Instead of explaining the idea, she grabbed the map and headed out of the room. She made a detour into a lab to pick up a finger printing kit, and continued into the reception, followed by the rest of the CSIs and detective. She stopped at the State of Nevada mosaic in the middle of the floor, and proceeded to dust it. “If she really thinks she can see ghosts, then surely she will have headed to the spot the ‘ghost’ pointed to. She pointed to it, too,” she explained as she dusted. A red fingerprint appeared. “Then we should be able to tell where they went,” she explained as she compared the spot of the print to the crosses on the map. “It looks like that one.”
“What I don’t understand,” said Warrick. “Is why she was accompanied into the desert?”
“I let them go,” Grissom explained.
“She could have gone back to her hotel?” Catherine suggested. “And why are you bothered? Maybe we can get some real wo-”
“Trust me, that is exactly what I want, but she’s gone off to find Tristan and she’s taken Nick, Greg and Brass with her. None of their phones or radios are responding and if they’ve gone out into the desert, there’s a huge sandstorm.”
“What about the GPS on their truck?” Catherine suggested.
“We could try, but it’s going to take some time to activate,” said Sofia. “I’ll get on that now.” She pulled out her phone and hurried out of the room.
“I have the answer,” said Hodges, as he rounded the corridor, accompanied by Grissom. “After extensive research, your trusty trace analyst has once again come to you with the case breaker. Nick and the journalist are in the desert.”
“Hodges, we knew that anyway,” Catherine told him irritated.
“But not only are they there, so is the child.”
“Again, Warrick called me telling us that about half an hour ago,” she said, growing more annoyed.
“Yes, but I know where,” Hodges continued.
“Actually,” said Grissom. “I know where they are.”
“Nick found a husk on the truck,” Hodges continued, unperturbed. “And sent it to yours truly who discovered-”
“No doubt after showing it to Grissom,” Catherine muttered under her breath.
“Who discovered that the husk belongs to a beetle which only lives in an area of the desert twenty miles north of here,” Hodges continued, either ignoring or not hearing Catherine.
“Unfortunately, that area covers a chunk of the desert in a ten mile radius,” added Grissom.
“Well, I think I can narrow that down,” said Sara, as she entered the break room carrying a map which she laid out on the table. “This is the area they could be in,” she said, drawing a large circle on the map. “And after spending several hours reading through Castenelli’s biography on the internet, it turns out he owns three properties in this area. Admittedly, they’re all ruins of houses, but he’s been buying up property with the intent of creating an oasis-style resort,” she explained as she drew crosses on the map.
“So what? Are we going to try all of them?” Sofia asked.
“I have an idea,” said Catherine. Instead of explaining the idea, she grabbed the map and headed out of the room. She made a detour into a lab to pick up a finger printing kit, and continued into the reception, followed by the rest of the CSIs and detective. She stopped at the State of Nevada mosaic in the middle of the floor, and proceeded to dust it. “If she really thinks she can see ghosts, then surely she will have headed to the spot the ‘ghost’ pointed to. She pointed to it, too,” she explained as she dusted. A red fingerprint appeared. “Then we should be able to tell where they went,” she explained as she compared the spot of the print to the crosses on the map. “It looks like that one.”
“What I don’t understand,” said Warrick. “Is why she was accompanied into the desert?”
“I let them go,” Grissom explained.
* * *
There was another bang and a shout of pain as one of the officers fell to the ground, clutching his neck. Taylor froze, staring in horror at the blood which was beginning to seep through the man’s fingers. She turned to Greg, who was clutching tightly to Tristan looking just as scared as she felt. She realized that as Nick, Jim, Flack, and the other officer were busy trying to find where the gunfire was originating from, unless she did something, he was going to die.
Taking a huge breath, Taylor crawled out to him, trying desperately to push the knowledge that if he had been hit from that position, she was in just as a precarious place. She grabbed his jacket and she pulled him back to the safety of the truck where she clamped her hand firmly over the wound.
Taylor turned to Greg, about to ask him how Tristan was, when she realized that he was staring at her, mouth open. “He could die if we’d have left him there,” she told him.
Greg just continued to flap his mouth open at her.
After what felt like an eternity, but was probably only a few minutes, she heard Brass shout over the wind that he had got him. Instead of turning their attention to their fallen comrade, the four armed men headed out from behind the car to check that the threat had been stopped. This left Taylor with the officer, desperately hoping that he believed her when she told him everything was going to be alright.
Minutes later, the men were back at the car, telling them it was alright. Upon seeing the officer in Taylor’s hands, Nick dashed into the truck and pulled out a first aid kit, clamping some gauze over the wound.
“He needs a hospital,” Taylor whispered, her voice lost in the sand and wind, as Flack pulled her to her feet and away from the injured officer.
“We need to get out of this storm,” Jim bellowed.
“The cars aren’t going to get us anywhere,” Greg shouted, pointing to the gas which was leaking out of one. Taylor glanced over at the other. It was down two tires and looked like it was in just as sorry a state.
“He’s not doing too good either,” Taylor muttered, looking at Tristan. “You think they’ll notice that we’re not there in time?”
“Noticing we’re not there is not the problem; it’s finding us out here that is.” Nick told her, rubbing his forehead.
“Could we walk back?”
“Even if we could see through the sand, survive the elements, actually go in the right direction, and not get lost, Tristan wouldn’t make it. We’re better off in here. The others will find us.”
“Did you tell them where we were going?” Taylor asked him.
“No, but they’ve found me before,” Nick told her.
Taylor frowned. “You have a habit of getting lost?”
“Not quite,” Nick replied after a pause. He licked his lips. “Let’s just say I was in a worse situation and they got me out of it.”
Taylor nodded, “I have a habit of getting in somewhat precarious situations.”
“Do I want to ask?”
“It’s probably best if you don’t,” Taylor told him.
“How’s he doing?” Nick asked, gesturing to the shivering child.
“He’s, um,” Greg bit his lip. “I don’t think he’s doing too well. I can’t get him warm.”
Nick frowned then climbed into the back. After a few moments clattering around, he climbed back over carrying two crime lab jackets and a blanket. “Wrap him up in these,” he told him as he handed them to him.
“Is this going to work?”
“Honestly, I don’t know,” Nick replied, “I think it’s just going to buy us some time.”
“Nick, even if they do work out where we are, how are they going to get here in this weather?” Taylor asked.
“They’ll manage it, don’t worry.”
Taking a huge breath, Taylor crawled out to him, trying desperately to push the knowledge that if he had been hit from that position, she was in just as a precarious place. She grabbed his jacket and she pulled him back to the safety of the truck where she clamped her hand firmly over the wound.
Taylor turned to Greg, about to ask him how Tristan was, when she realized that he was staring at her, mouth open. “He could die if we’d have left him there,” she told him.
Greg just continued to flap his mouth open at her.
After what felt like an eternity, but was probably only a few minutes, she heard Brass shout over the wind that he had got him. Instead of turning their attention to their fallen comrade, the four armed men headed out from behind the car to check that the threat had been stopped. This left Taylor with the officer, desperately hoping that he believed her when she told him everything was going to be alright.
Minutes later, the men were back at the car, telling them it was alright. Upon seeing the officer in Taylor’s hands, Nick dashed into the truck and pulled out a first aid kit, clamping some gauze over the wound.
“He needs a hospital,” Taylor whispered, her voice lost in the sand and wind, as Flack pulled her to her feet and away from the injured officer.
“We need to get out of this storm,” Jim bellowed.
“The cars aren’t going to get us anywhere,” Greg shouted, pointing to the gas which was leaking out of one. Taylor glanced over at the other. It was down two tires and looked like it was in just as sorry a state.
“He’s not doing too good either,” Taylor muttered, looking at Tristan. “You think they’ll notice that we’re not there in time?”
“Noticing we’re not there is not the problem; it’s finding us out here that is.” Nick told her, rubbing his forehead.
“Could we walk back?”
“Even if we could see through the sand, survive the elements, actually go in the right direction, and not get lost, Tristan wouldn’t make it. We’re better off in here. The others will find us.”
“Did you tell them where we were going?” Taylor asked him.
“No, but they’ve found me before,” Nick told her.
Taylor frowned. “You have a habit of getting lost?”
“Not quite,” Nick replied after a pause. He licked his lips. “Let’s just say I was in a worse situation and they got me out of it.”
Taylor nodded, “I have a habit of getting in somewhat precarious situations.”
“Do I want to ask?”
“It’s probably best if you don’t,” Taylor told him.
“How’s he doing?” Nick asked, gesturing to the shivering child.
“He’s, um,” Greg bit his lip. “I don’t think he’s doing too well. I can’t get him warm.”
Nick frowned then climbed into the back. After a few moments clattering around, he climbed back over carrying two crime lab jackets and a blanket. “Wrap him up in these,” he told him as he handed them to him.
“Is this going to work?”
“Honestly, I don’t know,” Nick replied, “I think it’s just going to buy us some time.”
“Nick, even if they do work out where we are, how are they going to get here in this weather?” Taylor asked.
“They’ll manage it, don’t worry.”
* * *
“I’m beginning to think this was a stupid idea,” Catherine muttered from the front of the truck.
“GPS has them at the location we’re headed,” Sophia’s voice came crackling through the radio. “We should be there soon.”
Warrick glanced into the rear view mirror at Sophia’s patrol truck which was racing behind them, just in front of the ambulance. “You were saying?”
Catherine rolled her eyes at him and grabbed the radio. “Copy that.”
Sure enough, after a few more minutes of bumping over the rough sand and stones with the dirt making it hard to see, the dim outline of a house and a couple of trucks started to come into view.
“Something’s wrong,” said Warrick as they drew closer.
“GPS has them at the location we’re headed,” Sophia’s voice came crackling through the radio. “We should be there soon.”
Warrick glanced into the rear view mirror at Sophia’s patrol truck which was racing behind them, just in front of the ambulance. “You were saying?”
Catherine rolled her eyes at him and grabbed the radio. “Copy that.”
Sure enough, after a few more minutes of bumping over the rough sand and stones with the dirt making it hard to see, the dim outline of a house and a couple of trucks started to come into view.
“Something’s wrong,” said Warrick as they drew closer.
* * *
Brass had ordered everyone back into the house and into the hallway which was the most stable of the rooms, whilst ensuring that everyone remained out of harm’s way. The other officer was outside in one of the trucks trying desperately to get something over the police scanner, while Taylor had her hand clamped firmly over the injured officer’s wound. Flack was pacing up and down, whilst Nick and Brass were talking, huddled in a corner. Greg, on the other hand, was still clutching tightly to Tristan, whilst staring at Taylor like he had just seen her walk through a wall.
“How you doing, Ethan?” Taylor asked the officer, ignoring the stare which she was finding quite disconcerting.
“How’s he doing?” Brass asked.
Taylor shook her head. “He needs a doctor.”
“What about Tristan?”
Greg managed to tear his gaze away from Taylor long enough to say, “He’s doing better, but he needs a doctor, too.”
Taylor frowned. “Can anyone hear that?”
The various occupants of the room which were still conscious shook their heads. “Not only is she seeing things, she’s hearing things,” Brass muttered.
“Now just hold up there,” Taylor growled. “We found Tristan, didn’t we? So don’t go telling me that I’m seeing things.”
“Hey,” Flack said, gently, as he hurried over to Taylor, well aware of the route the conversation was about to go.
“Flack, you are supposed to be on my side,” Taylor snapped at him.
Flack, who had narrowed his eyes at the use of his surname, glared at her. “I am on your side, Taylor. Perhaps it’s my fault for letting you get too involved in this case.”
“You let me get too involved in this case?” Taylor cried incredulously as the pitch of her voice got higher. “You didn’t let me get too involved in anything. I got too involved myself, thank you very much. And yes, I am involved. I have my hand clamped down over an officer’s bullet wound and there’s a scared child who is only just alright over there. And the only reason we’re in this situation, Flack, is because I dragged us here,” she told him, trying desperately to hold back the tears she could feel burning the corners of her eyes.
“I can hear a siren!” Greg cried excitedly, breaking the tension in the room.
“How you doing, Ethan?” Taylor asked the officer, ignoring the stare which she was finding quite disconcerting.
“How’s he doing?” Brass asked.
Taylor shook her head. “He needs a doctor.”
“What about Tristan?”
Greg managed to tear his gaze away from Taylor long enough to say, “He’s doing better, but he needs a doctor, too.”
Taylor frowned. “Can anyone hear that?”
The various occupants of the room which were still conscious shook their heads. “Not only is she seeing things, she’s hearing things,” Brass muttered.
“Now just hold up there,” Taylor growled. “We found Tristan, didn’t we? So don’t go telling me that I’m seeing things.”
“Hey,” Flack said, gently, as he hurried over to Taylor, well aware of the route the conversation was about to go.
“Flack, you are supposed to be on my side,” Taylor snapped at him.
Flack, who had narrowed his eyes at the use of his surname, glared at her. “I am on your side, Taylor. Perhaps it’s my fault for letting you get too involved in this case.”
“You let me get too involved in this case?” Taylor cried incredulously as the pitch of her voice got higher. “You didn’t let me get too involved in anything. I got too involved myself, thank you very much. And yes, I am involved. I have my hand clamped down over an officer’s bullet wound and there’s a scared child who is only just alright over there. And the only reason we’re in this situation, Flack, is because I dragged us here,” she told him, trying desperately to hold back the tears she could feel burning the corners of her eyes.
“I can hear a siren!” Greg cried excitedly, breaking the tension in the room.
* * *
Taylor threw the clothes she had been wearing into the trash can. There was no way the blood was going to come out of them.
“You alright?” Flack asked her wearily.
“I will be after a shower and a sleep. They’re charging us for this room. We may as well use it,” Taylor yawned.
Flack nodded. “I know the feeling. But that’s not what I meant.”
“Don, Tristan is safe. Officer Clark is in ICU, but he’s going to be fine, too. And frankly, I don’t care if the Vegas CSIs ban me from Las Vegas.”
“I’m sorry,” Flack told her.
Taylor looked up at him in confusion. “For what?”
“Giving you such a hard time.”
“Hey, you know me. I can be stubborn and awkward when there’s a ghost involved. I’m sorry for snapping at you. And for dragging you into this.”
“I was actually referring to all the grief I gave you before I started believing in ghosts. Back in New York, I certainly didn’t give you an easy time by any account.”
“I can see ghosts. I’d give myself a hard time.” Taylor stifled a yawn. “I don’t know about you, but I’m starving… and craving a burger. Let’s get cleaned up and go for something to eat.”
“A burger? It’s five in the morning.”
“I saw a 24 hour diner on our way back here,” Taylor shrugged. “And we’ve been up all night. We may as well get something to eat. You can have a coffee if you want?”
“You alright?” Flack asked her wearily.
“I will be after a shower and a sleep. They’re charging us for this room. We may as well use it,” Taylor yawned.
Flack nodded. “I know the feeling. But that’s not what I meant.”
“Don, Tristan is safe. Officer Clark is in ICU, but he’s going to be fine, too. And frankly, I don’t care if the Vegas CSIs ban me from Las Vegas.”
“I’m sorry,” Flack told her.
Taylor looked up at him in confusion. “For what?”
“Giving you such a hard time.”
“Hey, you know me. I can be stubborn and awkward when there’s a ghost involved. I’m sorry for snapping at you. And for dragging you into this.”
“I was actually referring to all the grief I gave you before I started believing in ghosts. Back in New York, I certainly didn’t give you an easy time by any account.”
“I can see ghosts. I’d give myself a hard time.” Taylor stifled a yawn. “I don’t know about you, but I’m starving… and craving a burger. Let’s get cleaned up and go for something to eat.”
“A burger? It’s five in the morning.”
“I saw a 24 hour diner on our way back here,” Taylor shrugged. “And we’ve been up all night. We may as well get something to eat. You can have a coffee if you want?”
* * *
A couple of hours later, Taylor was wiping up the last drops of mayonnaise with her remaining fries in the diner as Flack was finishing off his coffee. “That was needed,” she told him as she sat back and groaned in content.
“Glad to see that you appetite hasn’t disappeared,” came Nick’s voice.
Taylor whipped her head around and found him standing behind her with Greg and… Catherine. “How’s Tristan?”
“He’s with Social Services. His grandmother is flying in from Flagstaff to collect him,” Catherine told her. “Thanks to you.”
Taylor blinked. “Come again?”
“Look, I’m not saying I believe in ghosts,” Catherine told her. “I’ll leave that to Greg. But I know you did help today, despite the resistance from me. So, thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” Taylor said, quickly regaining her composure.
“However, I don’t want to see this becoming a regular thing.”
“Trust me, we’re leaving this afternoon,” Taylor grinned. “I never thought I’d say this, but I miss Mac.”
“I have to go,” Catherine told her. “But the LVPD is going to pick this tab up. Don’t you worry about it.”
Taylor smiled before glancing up at Greg, wishing she hadn’t. He still had that strange look plastered across his face. “I’m probably going to regret asking this, but what’s the matter, Greg?”
Greg looked around at the others before deciding to pull Taylor outside and away from them.
“Are you going to tell me what the matter is because despite what you think, I am not a psychic and I can’t read minds?” Instead of answering Greg dug his hand into his pocket and pulled something out in his fist. “Greg?” Slowly, Greg opened his fingers to reveal a spent bullet on the palm of his hand. “I don’t understand,” Taylor muttered.
“This was heading straight for the back of your head. But instead of hitting you, it just stopped,” Greg explained. “It looked like it hit an invisible wall.”
Taylor picked up the bullet and cocked her head. “Isn’t this evidence?”
Greg frowned at her. “Is this all you’re worried about? Taylor, this should have killed you.”
“But it didn’t,” Taylor told him. “And won’t you get into trouble for compromising a crime scene?”
“Taylor,” Greg repeated. “It mushroomed like a bullet does on impact. Only it didn’t impact anything. It stopped about a foot behind your head. If I submit this, we’re going to spend hours trying to prove what it hit. It could end up compromising the whole case anyway. No one knows about it.”
Taylor handed the bullet back to him. “But what if they can’t account for it?”
“We were in the middle of a desert and a sandstorm – there’s no way we collected all of the evidence anyway.”
“Greg, I appreciate what you’re doing, but–”
“If I hand that over now, all I will get is sent to the department shrink and then probably put on probation for taking evidence. And that’s the best case scenario.”
“Still, I think you should say something to Mr Grissom. He seems like a decent boss,” she continued, ignoring sniggering at putting a Mr before Grissom. “If nothing else, he seems more likely to believe you about ghost-”
“Ah ha!” Greg yelped excitedly. “So you’re admitting that it was a ghost!”
“Um, Greg, I’ve spent the past twelve hours trying to convince everyone else that there was a ghost,” Taylor told him patiently.
Greg stopped jumping around and became serious. “Good point. But it was a ghost?”
Taylor smiled. “More like a guardian angel.”
“Glad to see that you appetite hasn’t disappeared,” came Nick’s voice.
Taylor whipped her head around and found him standing behind her with Greg and… Catherine. “How’s Tristan?”
“He’s with Social Services. His grandmother is flying in from Flagstaff to collect him,” Catherine told her. “Thanks to you.”
Taylor blinked. “Come again?”
“Look, I’m not saying I believe in ghosts,” Catherine told her. “I’ll leave that to Greg. But I know you did help today, despite the resistance from me. So, thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” Taylor said, quickly regaining her composure.
“However, I don’t want to see this becoming a regular thing.”
“Trust me, we’re leaving this afternoon,” Taylor grinned. “I never thought I’d say this, but I miss Mac.”
“I have to go,” Catherine told her. “But the LVPD is going to pick this tab up. Don’t you worry about it.”
Taylor smiled before glancing up at Greg, wishing she hadn’t. He still had that strange look plastered across his face. “I’m probably going to regret asking this, but what’s the matter, Greg?”
Greg looked around at the others before deciding to pull Taylor outside and away from them.
“Are you going to tell me what the matter is because despite what you think, I am not a psychic and I can’t read minds?” Instead of answering Greg dug his hand into his pocket and pulled something out in his fist. “Greg?” Slowly, Greg opened his fingers to reveal a spent bullet on the palm of his hand. “I don’t understand,” Taylor muttered.
“This was heading straight for the back of your head. But instead of hitting you, it just stopped,” Greg explained. “It looked like it hit an invisible wall.”
Taylor picked up the bullet and cocked her head. “Isn’t this evidence?”
Greg frowned at her. “Is this all you’re worried about? Taylor, this should have killed you.”
“But it didn’t,” Taylor told him. “And won’t you get into trouble for compromising a crime scene?”
“Taylor,” Greg repeated. “It mushroomed like a bullet does on impact. Only it didn’t impact anything. It stopped about a foot behind your head. If I submit this, we’re going to spend hours trying to prove what it hit. It could end up compromising the whole case anyway. No one knows about it.”
Taylor handed the bullet back to him. “But what if they can’t account for it?”
“We were in the middle of a desert and a sandstorm – there’s no way we collected all of the evidence anyway.”
“Greg, I appreciate what you’re doing, but–”
“If I hand that over now, all I will get is sent to the department shrink and then probably put on probation for taking evidence. And that’s the best case scenario.”
“Still, I think you should say something to Mr Grissom. He seems like a decent boss,” she continued, ignoring sniggering at putting a Mr before Grissom. “If nothing else, he seems more likely to believe you about ghost-”
“Ah ha!” Greg yelped excitedly. “So you’re admitting that it was a ghost!”
“Um, Greg, I’ve spent the past twelve hours trying to convince everyone else that there was a ghost,” Taylor told him patiently.
Greg stopped jumping around and became serious. “Good point. But it was a ghost?”
Taylor smiled. “More like a guardian angel.”
* * *
There was one last… person… Taylor was expecting to see before she left, and she wasn’t disappointed. Holly appeared with Geoff in the hotel lobby as Flack was checking out.
“Thank you,” Geoff told her.
“You’re welcome.”
“Tristan will be fine now. My mother’s going to take him out of Vegas. Something I should have done a long time ago.” With a smile, Geoff disappeared.
“That was brief,” Taylor told Holly.
Holly shrugged, “He got the message across.” She paused and eyed Taylor up and down. “You don’t have the same methods as Sally.”
“You don’t think that could be because Sally is a CSI and I’m not?”
“Good point,” Holly nodded.
“When is she due back?”
“Not for another few months.”
“Oh,” Taylor sighed. She had been wondering if it would be possible to meet the CSI.
“Maybe next time,” Holly told her, seemingly reading her mind.
Taylor looked at her sharply. “Maybe what next time?”
“Maybe you can meet her next time.”
“There isn’t going to be a next time,” she frowned. “I’m not going through that again.”
“You’re part way there in having them all believe you,” Holly pointed out.
“I don’t care,” Taylor told her.
“You don’t care about what?” Flack asked as he came back over to her.
“Ghost,” Taylor shrugged as Holly disappeared with a smile and a wave.
“You think we can manage to visit my sister without a guest visit?”
“I certainly hope so,” Taylor sighed. “I certainly hope so.”
“Thank you,” Geoff told her.
“You’re welcome.”
“Tristan will be fine now. My mother’s going to take him out of Vegas. Something I should have done a long time ago.” With a smile, Geoff disappeared.
“That was brief,” Taylor told Holly.
Holly shrugged, “He got the message across.” She paused and eyed Taylor up and down. “You don’t have the same methods as Sally.”
“You don’t think that could be because Sally is a CSI and I’m not?”
“Good point,” Holly nodded.
“When is she due back?”
“Not for another few months.”
“Oh,” Taylor sighed. She had been wondering if it would be possible to meet the CSI.
“Maybe next time,” Holly told her, seemingly reading her mind.
Taylor looked at her sharply. “Maybe what next time?”
“Maybe you can meet her next time.”
“There isn’t going to be a next time,” she frowned. “I’m not going through that again.”
“You’re part way there in having them all believe you,” Holly pointed out.
“I don’t care,” Taylor told her.
“You don’t care about what?” Flack asked as he came back over to her.
“Ghost,” Taylor shrugged as Holly disappeared with a smile and a wave.
“You think we can manage to visit my sister without a guest visit?”
“I certainly hope so,” Taylor sighed. “I certainly hope so.”
Originally posted 05/05/2007