Chapter Five

"If it isn't the exact person that I'm looking for," Catherine said, rubbing her hands together before pulling out a chair and sitting down. "I don't know if you've heard the gossip yet, so I'll fill you in anyway. Apparently, when Grissom came in tonight, he wasn't too happy. He handed an open envelope over to Warrick to be tested for prints, and there was a newspaper clipping inside. An obituary for a Tara Davidson Grissom, actually." Smiling, she crossed her arms on the table and leaned forward. "Spill."

Sara coughed lightly and looked around. "Sorry, can't do it. Like I said the other night, I've already said too much. Go get your information from a first-hand source. I'm just like a...secretary in this situation."

Shaking her head, she sighed. "The secretary always knows more than anyone else, and they always contribute to the gossip. Come on, Sara. Grissom isn't saying a word, and I would love to call his place and see who answers, but he'd kill me if he found out. I'm not exactly crazy about that scenario."

"I'm sorry, but I have to think of Ana, too. She doesn't know half of what I know," she explained. "And I know more about Ana than Grissom knows. I baby-sat the kid. If I won't tell her, why would I tell you?"

Her brow furrowed. "I don't like how you worded that, but whatever." Pausing, her head cocked to the side. "Wait, did you just say that you know more about Grissom's daughter than he does?"

Nodding her head, she sighed. "They aren't exactly on the best of terms, but they're not on the worst, either. They just...don't know each other." Seeing her confused look, she continued. "Ana's been living in schools across the country. He keeps taking her out of one and sending her to another one. They see each other once, maybe twice a year, but no more than that. Not since..."

"Not since the mysterious Tara Davidson Grissom died. Okay, I understand that, but can you at least tell me why the obit says that it was a 'sudden and tragic death'? That is what I don't understand."

Taking a deep breath, she looked around again before lowering her voice. "I can tell you that much. Ana was really young and I had only been baby-sitting her for a year, a year and a half tops. It was one of my days off, actually. I wish it hadn't been." Falling silent, she looked away for a moment. "Tara decided to take Ana shopping with her, rather than call me and have me come over to watch her for an hour or so. When they were at a local mall, Ana ran off and just when Tara noticed...someone shot her. Three bullets to the back. She died before she hit the ground. Ana saw it all, but I don't think she remembers much. At least, she never told me that she does. Some woman grabbed her and pulled her behind a display in the middle of the mall, but the kid saw enough of what happened. She just didn't understand why it happened for years."

Catherine's mouth dropped open for a moment. "Are you saying that it happened for a reason?"

"It was back when Grissom was doing double duty. He was teaching a course at a local college, night classes, and working with the police at the same time. It was all over a strange case, and the husband was looked at as the first suspect. Apparently, there was a lot of evidence on him, but this guy found out about it somehow. They were going to arrest him that afternoon, and he decided to get even. He followed them around, and then finally made his move. I wasn't there, I don't know all the details. Only what Grissom told me, what was in the newspapers, and a few things that Ana told me about two years ago, and she's not clear on everything."

"Damn," she said quietly, shaking her head. "I take it the guy was caught. He had to have been caught."

Sara nodded, pushing her coffee cup away. "Yeah, he went to jail, but he served his time and now he's out. Ana was in Florida for the past year in a boarding school, and Grissom pulled her out it because he's worried, and with good reason. The guy made a threat, outside the courtroom, and he's afraid that he's going to make good on it. I know that Ana thinks that this guy doesn't even remember if he has a daughter or not, but when he made the threat, he made it towards Ana, even though she wasn't there. I don't think he's told her, and I haven't. I'm not saying anything more to her until he starts to."

She was quiet again for a moment. "She must know now," Catherine said quietly. "I saw the envelope. It was addressed to the two of them, and her name was first. And Warrick told me that Grissom said that she was the one that opened it. God, that's got to be rough. But that doesn't explain why he never mentioned her," she added softly.

"Tara's death devastated him. I thought that I had seen a lot back then, but that...that was something new." Leaning over, she pulled her wallet out of her purse and flipped through it for a moment before pulling out a picture and pushing it across the table to her. "That's Ana. She's her mother's daughter, without a doubt. Only Grissom had her name changed when he sent her away, just in case. When she was in school, she went by her middle name and her mother's maiden name. Tara Davidson. But they are somewhat common names, so no one would really associate them. With her looking so much like her mom, and having the same name, I guess it made him think of the past or something. He just started sending her away and kept doing it over and over. It's sad, but that's the way it's been for the two of them, for ten years or so. The only reason that I know this is because I used to baby-sit her, but if I hadn't, I wouldn't have been told about any of this. It's just the way he is now."

With a nod, she continued to examine the picture of the smiling teenager before passing it back. "The way he is now, huh?"

A grin covered her face as she thought back. "Oh, yeah. He was completely different back when Tara was around. She was good for him, and so was Ana. They were happy," she said simply, shrugging her shoulders. "I guess that makes all the difference."

Leaning back in her chair, she looked up at the ceiling and shook her head. "I can't believe this. In the span of one week, my daughter breaks her wrist falling off of a trampoline, and then I find out that I'm not the only single parent here. God, this is been a strange couple of days. Don't tell me that this guy is coming after the two of them. This sounds like a bad novel."

"She broke her wrist? Ouch." She winced sympathetically. "I'm not sure if he is or not, but it seems like someone is. I didn't know about the obit, but Ana did tell me that there's been a few phone calls. She's played them off as wrong numbers, but what else can you do? Grissom tried to make her come here with him, but she says that she's staying at home. All she has to do is choose between sleeping with a baseball bat, a butcher's knife, or a cast iron frying pan."

She laughed as her head came forward again. "That doesn't sound anything like what you would expect from his daughter. What...what are they like around each other?" she asked, changing the subject one more time.

Sara took her time to answer. "Now, they're uncomfortable. That would probably be the best way to put it. But when I used to look after her...that was different. She used to make me tell her when it would be ten minutes until he came home, and as soon as she heard the car pull into the driveway, she would run to whatever hiding spot she had found and wait for him to come and find her. Once, she hid herself so well that no one could find her. Turned out that she fell asleep in the linen closet, behind a stack of blankets. And there was another time that she almost tripped me, when she was hiding under the couch. That was always a favorite of hers. Well, that and the shower, for some reason."

"That sounds like my kid when she was that age. Kids are always great around that age. Now, I have to deal with Britney Spears and her wanting to wear make-up to school."

A smile graced her face quickly. "Grissom only has to worry about her crush on Tim McGraw and any guy that she goes out with. Well, maybe you do have it a little easier. But Ana's pretty responsible, even if she is only sixteen. She's basically lived on her own for years. All of her schools were really big on all the students being self-sufficient."

"I just can't imagine-" She broke off when the door opened, and the father in question walked in, looking curiously at the two women. "Actually, I was looking for you, too," Catherine said with a smile. "I have a quick question for you."

He held up his hand briefly. "Not tonight, please."

"It's nothing personal. I can only get shot down once a week. All I want to know is if you're daughter has baby-sat before."

A confused look covered his face. "I know that every older student looked after a younger student, but other than that, she really hasn't." He started to walk away before stopping. "No, she baby-sat when she was in Oahu last time. Anastasia and a friend looked after the family's other daughter, a few hours every morning, I believe."

"Great," Catherine said with a grin. "My sister is going to be out of town, and so is...well, we're not going to go there without a few curse words, so I'll leave it at that. Anyway, I need someone to look after Lindsay in two days. Do you think she would mind?"

Shaking his head, he crossed his arms. "I can't say. You'd have to ask her. She's up by seven in the morning, if you want to call."

"Sure, thanks. I'll call her in the morning." Standing up, she sent a look towards Sara before walking towards the door. "I better get back to work. My break was over five minutes ago, anyway."

He smiled as he reached for the crocheted blanket at the end of the couch, running his hand across the stitched. Tara had made it, years ago, just before she had found out that she was pregnant with Anastasia. The skill had been passed down in the family, his wife learning it from her Russian grandmother, the woman his daughter had been named after. He had spent so many nights watching her hands work blindly to make the one he was holding, and so many before and after it.

Shaking his head, he pulled it back over his sleeping daughter before moving the telephone away from her hand, putting it back on the table. "Dad?" her sleepy voice asked just as the phone was put down.

"I thought you were asleep," he said, turning back to see her struggling to open her eyes as she yawned.

"I was? The last thing I remember was turning the coffee maker on, and talking to...uh...Catherine Willows? Anyway, did you just get in. You're an hour late."

He nodded as she yawned again and sat up, letting him take the seat beside her. "She said that she was going to call in the morning and see if you wanted to baby-sit. Are you?" Anastasia nodded. "That's fine. Her daughter is an angel, anyway."

"As opposed to me," she said lightly, pulling the blanket closer around her bare legs. "I didn't notice this last time I was out. I didn't think that you had any of Mom's blankets left."

"No, there's one in my room, and one in the hall closet that's supposed to be in your room. I just didn't have enough time to put it in there." Smiling, he looked down at it again. "I remember when Tara made that one, you know. She finished it the day that she found out she was pregnant with you. She used to say that things came in threes, bad or good. I ended up getting a raise the next day."

Her eyes widened when she realized what her father had said, before she looked down at the blanket as well, deciding not to comment on the fact that he had used her first name. "According to Sara, she was almost always right about things like that. She...uh...said that she was pregnant once before she had me, too. Is that true?"

Grissom nodded slightly before sighing. "It was a surprise when we found out that she was pregnant, but it didn't last very long. The doctor stuck by his diagnosis, saying that something had to have been wrong with it. She ended up getting a new doctor." Anastasia chuckled softly. "She wouldn't believe him, but she was extra careful when she found out that you were coming. We both were. The nurses called you a little angel, because all the doctors thought that it was a miracle that she carried you all the way through. For awhile, it looked like you were going to be premature, but you were born right on the due date."

"I was a fighter," she teased. "Always have been, always will be."

"That's for sure," he said dryly, looking down in surprise when she leaned against him, closing her eyes. "After carrying you for nine months, your mom was happy enough when I took her in. She wasn't quite as happy when she was in labour for ten hours, though. You were incredibly stubborn. But eventually, you were born. You cost me two broken fingers. Tara had that strong of a hold on me."

Anastasia laughed harder. "I noticed that in my baby pictures, your hand was bandaged. Just never thought to ask why, I guess. But you can't hold that against me. I've seen all the pictures, and I was a little cutie."

He nodded, looking down at the birthstone ring on her finger. "You were beautiful then...and I guess you still are now."

Her head snapped up as her mouth dropped open. "Okay, who are you and what have you done with me dad. You just made a joke. A mean one, but a joke no less. You must have a fever or something. This has never happened before...or at least as far back as I can remember. God, I really need a cup of coffee."

Laughing to himself, he watched as she jumped off the couch and all but ran for the coffee machine, reaching for the cupboard above her head for a mug. "How was everything here last night?" he asked, his eyes following her movements.

She shrugged and took a sip before hissing at the temperature under her breath. "Very uneventful. I didn't need to use the baseball bat, which is a big disappointment. And I think I just burnt my tongue. What about for you? Anything with the envelope?"

"You were right about how the envelope was closed. It wasn't licked shut." She took a small bow and went back to the couch, sitting down and curling up her legs again. "Besides your fingerprints, there was nothing."

Shaking her head, the teenager took a more cautious sip of her coffee. "Wait...how did you know that my fingerprints would come back? I've never been arrested or printed before. I think I would remember that."

"When you went to the second or third school, they asked if you had it done before. They wanted it for their files, just in case. I think it was Connecticut, but I'm not sure. You've been to so many schools, I can't keep track of them anymore," he said, before looking over at her. "I told you last night not to worry about this. Nothing has really happened yet, and it's too early to say if something is going to happen. But, if something does happen, I'm going to take care of it."

"I know, I know. It has nothing to do with me," she said, before shrugging. "Besides, I'm only sixteen and I don't exactly plan on becoming a real-life Nancy Drew. I swear, she doesn't just have the horseshoe up the a-"

Holding up a hand, he broke her off. "I get it, Anastasia. You really have to work on that cursing thing."

Her eyes rolled as she stood up. "I'll use my excuse that applies for everything else. I'm a teenager. Deal with it. Anyway, I'm going to go get dressed. Get some sleep, Dad. You look exhausted, and I know that you didn't get much sleep yesterday. I'll be fine by myself. Besides, it's daylight. And I have my best friend with me."

"Your best friend?" he questioned.

"The baseball bat, of course."

Chapter Five- Part Two:
Followed

Catherine smiled as she watched the teenager pull on her shoes. "Thanks again, Stacey. I thought that I was going to have to take the night off for awhile there."

Smiling, Anastasia stood up and brushed her hair over her shoulder. "Hey, all I had to do was sleep and make breakfast. Dad was right when he said that she was a little angel. I shouldn't even get paid for this, but if you insist..." She trailed off with a bright grin. "Like I said, if you ever need anyone at the last minute, just give me a call. I don't know how long I'm out here, but it would be no problem at all, looking after her again."

"Stay. Stay for years. I would love to have a back-up baby-sitter like you." With a laugh, she watched as the teenager opened up the door. "Are you sure that you don't want a ride back to your place? I have to take Lindsay in a half hour, so it wouldn't be that far out of the way."

"Thanks, but I'll walk. You don't live that far away, and it's daylight. Uh, you said that my dad was still at work?" Catherine nodded. "Good thing he gave me a key, then. Thanks again, Catherine, for over paying me. I really appreciate it," she added with a bright grin before calling out a goodbye to the woman's daughter and starting down the front stairs with a wave.

She fumbled in her purse for her sunglasses, slipping them over her eyes as she walked briskly down the sidewalk, occasionally looking from side to side at all the different houses and properties. It looked to be a friendly neighborhood, and she liked it a lot better than the complex that her father was living at, but she knew that her chances of getting him to move anywhere else in the city were slim to none, no matter how much she would have loved to live in an actual house again.

A bright flash caught her eye, and she winced when she looked towards the source, the early morning sun bouncing off of a moving car's windshield. Anastasia shook her head and sighed as she turned the corner, the sound of the engine still behind her. "Someone takes the speed limit too seriously," she muttered to herself, sticking her hands in the pockets of her jacket as she kicked a rock that was in front of her, watching as it bounced into the street.

Almost immediately, the car drove beside it, continuing the same speed. A confused look went over her face as she looked towards it, trying to see the driver. Unfortunately, the sun was bouncing off of that window, as well, and she couldn't see a thing. She turned her head away and started to whistle an old John Michael Montgomery song under her breath before picking up the pace, walking a little faster. Just like she was afraid of, the driver sped up a little to remain at her side.

"Okay, this is freaky," she said aloud, wondering what she should do. Half of her wanted to stop and walk over to the car, to ask the driver what the hell his or her problem was. But she had a tendency to do something without thinking it through and this was one of those times, she figured, as she walked just a little faster, not bothering to look over at the car. All she wanted was to make it look like she was in a hurry to get somewhere, which was true.

"And I'm sold to the lady in the second row. She's an eight, she's a nine, she's a ten, I know. She's got ruby red lips, blonde hair, blue eyes, and I'm about to bid my heart goodbye." Her whistling turned into singing, still under her breath as she looked up at the street corner sign and turned again, making sure that she was going the right away. The soft whisper of the car's engine continued to follow her, and the teenager was starting to wish that she had taken Catherine's offer of a ride home. It would have saved her a lot of trouble, she thought as she suddenly turned her head and looked towards the car.

It was still following her, staying at her side, as she suddenly stopped and tried to stare into the window again. She could feel her heart beat a little faster as she took off, running towards a house on the corner, her bag swinging behind her. The car started to move again, matching her frantic pace as she took a deep breath and tried to make her feet work faster. "Sir. Excuse me, sir," she called out to a man that was just walking out of his front door. She waved to get his attention before quickly turning up his driveway and running towards the stairs. The car stopped on the curb, the driver obviously waiting to see what she was going to do.

Anastasia bent over, trying to catch her breath as the man in the suit watched her curiously. "I'm very sorry to bother you, but that car over there has been following me since I left the house I was baby-sitting at. I was wondering if I could use your phone to call for a taxi to come get me."

"Sorry, kid. I'm almost late to work as it is."

She almost broke into tears when she heard that. "Please, sir. I've got to get to my dad, and that car will follow me all the way there. It's just a quick phone call, please."

The man looked between her and the car on the curb for a few moments before sighing and looking back at the girl. "Where do you live? If it's not out of the way, I'll take you there."

Her eyes brightened as she shook her head. "I'd rather go to the police station, if it's not too far out for you. I don't want to lead this guy all the way to my house, because he'll probably follow your car, too. I'm really sorry to bother you, it's just that I don't want to walk all the way with the car at my side. It's just a little too scary."

With a relenting nod, the man gestured to his car. "Come on, I'll take you," he said, pressing the button to unlock the car doors. Anastasia gratefully walked over to the passenger side and opened the door, sliding in as she looked back at the car on the curb with a smirk. "Who is that, a jealous ex-boyfriend or something?"

"Or something," she said, trying to get her breath back as she pulled the seatbelt over her and clicked it in place. "I don't know if it's who I think it is or not, but either way, I don't want to be anywhere near him." She laughed lightly as he started the engine and started to pull out of his driveway. The other car still hadn't moved. "I almost started looking for those old red and white Block Parent signs. You know, when you were a kid and someone was trying to hurt you, you ran for whatever house had them, and they would call your parents for you?" When the man gave her a funny look, she laughed again. "I guess you don't. Do you know how long it'll take us to get to the police station?"

He looked towards the digital clock beside the stereo and shrugged. "If traffic isn't bad, which it shouldn't be this early, we can be there in five minutes." He looked in his rearview mirror to see that the car was still behind them. "This guy obviously doesn't like you."

Her eyes rolled. "He doesn't really know me. He just doesn't like the fact that I'm alive," she muttered, looking back as well. "Damn, I can't even read the license plate. I don't suppose you know what kind of car that is, do you?" she asked when she saw that the license plate had been splattered with mud to cover the numbers and letters. Whoever this guy was, and she had a pretty good idea, he was smart. It was an old trick, but it worked.

She dug into her purse as he started to talk, and she pulled out a pen, taking the cap off with her teeth as she started to scribble on her hand. "Ford Taurus, probably a 2000 or 2001. It looks like a rental, too."

"How do you know that?" she asked around the cap as she continued to write down what color it was.

He nodded towards his mirror. "The license plate holder. It's got a dealership's name on it, but I can't read it. Either a rental or just bought."

Turning around in her seat, her eyes squinted behind her sunglasses as she tried to read the writing before writing more down on her hand. "Thank you, that'll be a big help. Or so my dad is going to think," she said, putting the cap back on the pen and dropping it in her purse, before leaning back with a deep breath. "I knew I should have stayed in Orlando."

"You're on vacation?"

"Sort of. I'm originally from California, but my dad moved out here a couple years back. I go to school in Florida. Kind of screwed up, I know." She smiled when he pulled into the visitor's parking lot at the police station. "Thank you, so much, sir. I'm so sorry to inconvenience you like that, but I really appreciate the fact that you drove me down here." Unsnapping her belt, she reached for the door handle. "Have a good day."

The man grinned as she stepped out. Just before she closed the door, he spoke. "You, too, Anastasia, and say hi to Gil for me." The door slipped out of her hand and slammed shut as he pulled off, her mouth dropping open.

"Oh, shit," she said to herself, before taking off across the parking lot and running along the sidewalk that led her to the side that her dad was on. Her chest heaved with her deep and frantic breaths as she let herself in, jogging over to the front desk. Luckily, it was the woman that had let her in the first time she was there, and she simply tossed her a visitor's badge and pushed the clipboard across to her. Anastasia's hands were shaking as she signed her name and jotted down the time before clipping on the piece of plastic, immediately turning on her heel to head towards her dad's office.

She pushed the sunglasses up onto her head as walked up to the door, walking in before saying anything. Her mouth dropped open and she groaned when she saw that he wasn't in there. "Damn it, damn it, damn it," she moaned under her breath, resisting the urge to stomp her foot on the ground with frustration. "I don't need this today," she complained, pulling her foot back to kick at a chair near the wall.

"Can I help you?" someone asked behind her, making her turn quickly and almost lose her balance with her foot in the air. Once she was stable again, the man gave her a funny look. "Are you looking for someone?" he continued, spotting the visitor's badge on the collar of her jacket.

Nodding, she crossed her arms. "Yes, I am. Do you know if Gil Grissom is still here? I need to see him, right away." When she saw his look, she rolled her eyes again. "I'm his daughter, Anastasia, and this is basically an emergency. A big one."

He nodded suddenly, looking her over. "So you're Anastasia. I'm-"

"Nick Stokes, yes, I know. I actually do listen to my dad occasionally, despite what he may think. Look, I'm really sorry if I sound rude, but do you think you could go get my dad? I just...really need to tell him something. And could you please tell him that it has something to do with the reason that I'm out here, please? I'd love you forever if you would."

She smiled sarcastically the moment that Grissom walked into his office, looking at her. "Morning, Dad. How has your day been?" Holding up a hand, the smirk remained on her face. "Wait, don't answer that. You should hear what my morning was like."

He gave her an amused look. "Go ahead, I'm listening."

"You won't think it's so funny once I'm finished talking. I'll just pick it up when I was leaving Catherine's. See, I decided not to get a ride home with her, because it was such a nice day and the weather is perfect for walking. Unfortunately, there was someone who didn't think the same way. I say this only because he was in a car when he was following me."

"Following you?" he asked seriously as he watched his daughter swing from side to side in his desk chair.

She nodded. "Oh, yeah. He chased me over to where some guy dressed in a suit was getting ready to go to work. He was too busy to let me use his phone to call a taxi, but he offered me a ride to the police station instead. He was really nice, you know. Helped me figure out what kind of car was following me, even what dealership it's from." She held up her hand, showing him the ink markings before passing a piece of paper over to him. "I took the time to write it down. But guess what, Dad? Turns out that this nice guy in the suit that was on his way to work wasn't so nice after all."

He frowned, putting the paper down on the desk. "What happened? Are you okay?" he asked, coming around the desk to examine her and make sure that she wasn't bruised or bleeding.

"I'm fine, which is surprising when you find out that the bastard that killed Mom was the one that drove me here, not the guy in the other car." Her annoyed look was immediately replaced with tears shining in her eyes as she brought a hand up to cover her mouth. "I was sitting right beside him, and talking to him. I told him where I went to school, and where I was from, and why I was here. He killed my mom and I didn't even know that it was him," she whispered, shaking her head before she bowed her head and started to cry. "I looked him in the eyes, and I didn't know who he was."

Grissom crouched down beside her, as she reached out blindly and wrapped her arms around his neck, crying harder. He could remember the last time that he had held her when she was crying, the exact day. Only two days before Tara was killed, when she scraped her knee on the sidewalk outside their house. So many years, and it only reminded him of how many moments and events he had missed in her life. "Anastasia, maybe you're just-"

"Jumping to conclusions?" she snapped, pulling back and wiping the tears away from her face. "He knew my name, Dad, and I never told him what it was. He told me to say hello to you. You still think I'm jumping to conclusions here? I know that it was him."

He moved back, sliding open one of his desk drawers before pulling out a newspaper clipping, passing it to her. "Is that what he looked like?"

She took it and looked carefully. "Older and with less hair, but that's him. God, that even looks like the same tie he was wearing." Throwing the paper onto his desk, she pulled her feet up on the chair and wrapped her arms around her legs. "I didn't even notice what car he was driving, or anything. I don't even remember the color of it. I was so concerned with the other car, and the fact that I couldn't see the license plate, that the car I was in could have been black, or for all I know, neon pink. I have that same article, and I didn't even recognize him. God, I'm such an idiot," she said, brushing her hair back from her wet face.

"No, you're not, Anastasia. You didn't know what was going to happen." He stood up and winced when his back protested. "He did it all on purpose. He knew that you would be so concerned with the other car, because of me. I was the one that taught you to pay attention to details like that, and he knew that you wouldn't be concerned with who he was. He chased you to him for a reason."

Her arms went back around her legs with a sigh. "What, he wants me to know that he's around or something? I don't get it. Why do I seem to be the main focus of his little obsession? I didn't do shit all to him."

Grissom let the curse slide, knowing that she was upset. Instead, he looked down at the article that she had put back on the desk. "No, he wanted me to know that he knows who you are." Turning back to face her, a concerned and protective look went over his face. "He didn't touch you, did he?"

Her head shook. "Not at all. He just sat beside me and drove. He barely looked at me, but he sure as hell didn't touch me. I just...I want it all to end."

"So do I," he said softly.

The song that Anastasia was singing in the beginning of the chapter was "Sold (The Grundy County Auction)" by John Michael Montgomery.

Chapter Six
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