Previous part of Poisonous Fear.

***

#7

Jim Brass was pissed off. The hysterical woman that found the car with the body was still crying and yelling about death and how cruel it all was. It was always something that working its way under the detective's skin and made him want to crawl away from it. He wished Sam would move her farther away from him and the car.

The body was sitting upright in the driver's seat of the car, the head tilted to the right slightly. There was no sign of red amongst the yellow paint covering the victim and parts of the car. The paramedics had opened the door to check to make sure the victim was dead. Brass knew as soon as he saw the body that it was. No one would just take a nap covered in that shit.

He stepped closer and took a good look at the body. It was a young man, age undeterminable with the paint. Brass didn't want to touch anything until Grissom showed up so he didn't go hunting for a wallet. Officer Kehls was working on the plates and model of the car to see if they could come up with anything that way.

The sound of a new vehicle on the scene made Jim turn. Catherine climbed out of the passenger side first and already had her camera and kit in hand. The senior CSI was a little slower in his exit from the SUV. But both were by Brass' side soon enough.

"So, anyone hate yellow as much as I do?"

Grissom quirked an eyebrow, "Yellow is said to be a soothing color. Many people associate it with happiness and joy since it is bright and vibrant."

"I would have to say this yellow looks like dog vomit to me, no sunshine here," Catherine stated.

The yellow wasn't one of the more attractive shades possible. It looked almost to have touches of brown and green tones throughout it. And the paint looked thick.

"Anyone disturb anything?"

"Paramedics opened the door and checked the vitals. Otherwise, no one."

The two CSI's moved forward. Catherine began taking her photos as Gil examined the open door of the car. The paint covered the entire inside of it. The body might have rested against it at one point. He pulled on his gloves and swiped a finger into the paint. It was thick. He couldn't decide what official color to even begin to call the mess.

Once Catherine got enough of the body in the car, Gil carefully removed the man and laid him out on the cement right by the door. He moved slightly so that Catherine could continue her snapshots. The man's eyes were closed, but his mouth was open slightly. Grissom worked an index finger in between the teeth and opened the lips wider. Yellow paint coated the tongue and teeth.

"I think we may have suffocation here."

Catherine stopped and looked down at her boss, "What?"

"There's paint in his mouth and nostrils."

"Weird."

The graying haired man nodded his head and continued to look at the body. There really wasn't much to see at that point. All of the paint had to go. Robbins was going to love this one. Grissom grabbed a swab and gathered up a sample of the paint for Hodges to process. He moved away and began to look over the car more closely.

As with the body, yellow covered the entire driver's seat and the bottom of the steering wheel. He would have to have to flatbed come and haul the car into the lab. This paint was going to have to be removed carefully to see if they could get anything about what happened.

David Phillips walked slowly over, pulling his gurney with him. He could see the yellow blob lying on the cement and was completely baffled. There was no way he was going to keep from losing any of it in transfer. He could only hope Gil and Catherine got everything they could for now.

"Hey, I am here for the pick up," he nodded to the two CSI's as he set his bag down. He pulled out his kit and began his initial scene work. The pen flew over the paper as he took his notes on temperatures and other observations.

Once the body was gone, Catherine walked back over to Grissom, "What are we going to do now?"

"There's nothing really here other than the car. I'll have it towed in and we can work on it there. Maybe I can get a hold of one of the guys as well. You get the truck set, I'll talk to Brass."

She watched the man walk away and sighed. Sleep was calling to her, but the day was in its peak now. Graveyard was full on day now.

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

The morgue was once again the hot spot of the lab. Doc Robbins almost thought he should start a party service out of the room. Yellow paint was everywhere and he couldn't really say he was too upset about it. A little sunshine amongst the gray clouds was never a bad thing.

It had been easy on this body. The wallet with full identification and credit cards was found in the back pocket of the once blue jeans. Mr. Brett Mueller was only twenty three years old. He had drowned in yellow paint. The entire track of his respiratory system was coated, as well as his stomach. The man had been alive when he met his bright colored ending.

Grissom and Catherine were standing by the other steel table going through the man's property. The clothes were being searched for hair or fibers that didn't belong. Catherine was going through the papers they found in the main pocket of the wallet along with the cash. They were in their own world, away from Doc and Brett.

The needle entered the arm easily and the blood spilled into the vial. Mia was going to love having to pull more overtime to work on this new victim. A sample of the paint had already been dropped off with Hodges to determine if there was anything special to follow with it. Robbins smiled to himself. As weird as it was this last shift, he was looking forward to this new shift.

"I have the blood sample for you to send up. There really isn't much more for me to do unless you can think of something else. I have found no signs of trauma on the upper body, but there were some ligature marks on the wrists. I would say he was tied to keep from getting away. We know the COD and the time was about six hours ago."

Grissom lifted his head to look at the other man, "Not yet. Just don't release the body quite yet. We may need something else later."

The coroner nodded his head and grabbed his cane. He walked over to the phone and dialed the number for David. As strong as he was, he was not going to get Mr. Mueller into a cabinet without some help. The CSI's were too busy to bother with it.

"Hey Gil, take a look at these. I found them in the vic's wallet," Catherine called out.

The supervisor walked over and took the sheets of folded paper in his gloved hand. They were hand written, possibly by the deceased. One was nothing important that Grissom could see, some random numbers. Some were crossed out, others circled. The other had names and a phone number. It looked promising.

"What do you say about making a call?"

Catherine cocked her head in question, "Mine or yours?"

"My honors."

1!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

Something was ringing. But what would possibly be ringing in the middle of the desert. Green eyes studied the sand trying to find the source. Warrick took a few steps forward and looked down upon a cactus. The green stalks sticking from the dry ground were shaking with each ring that rang through under the bright sun. He reached down and grabbed at one, but pulled his hand back as it bit into the flesh of his hand. The pain wasn't there and his blood shouldn't be pink. Sand swirled up around him and the ringing got louder.

Warrick jumped up and almost fell from the couch. His eyes were sore and had that crap from sleeping making them feel sticky. The ringing was his cell phone sitting on the wooden table. Moving in almost slow motion, he reached over and grabbed it up.

"Warrick," it was thick, like he had been smoking non-stop.

"It is about damn time you pick up! I have been calling you for awhile now. What is going on?"

Catherine's voice was in full mother mode over the phone and it made Warrick's head hurt a little more. His neck was sore enough as it was, he didn't need any more pain at the moment. He took a moment to collect himself before he made to answer the woman on the other end.

"Hey Cath. Sorry, I fell asleep and didn't hear the phone. I'm crashing on Nick's couch."

"How is he?"

"Broken wrist. Has the whole cast and sling thing going on."

"Shit. What did you tell Grissom?"

Warrick winced, "Nothing yet. I totally didn't think about it."

"Well, that one is all yours. We need you to head back in. I finally got a hold of Greg and he is on his way. Don't wake Nick. Keep him home."

"Easier said than done."

"Just do it. See you soon."

The phone went dead from the other end and Warrick flipped it shut. He stretched out his spine and sat fully upright. The townhouse was quiet so Nick still had to be asleep. Carefully, Warrick stood and found the shoes he had kicked off. Once he was put back together, he crept down the hallway to the bedroom. The floor creaked only once.

Nick looked like he had tried to roll over, but the pillows helped to hold him into place. The other man's face only held a little bit of tension. His brow was crinkled up slightly from pain, but he looked to be resting well. Warrick pulled the door shut as he turned to head to the bathroom. He was going to clean up a little before heading in. Nick was never upset when Warrick or Greg took advantage of his stuff before a new shift.

The water he splashed onto his face helped to wake him even more. He reached up into to the mirror and pulled open the door. Inside sat a toothbrush case. It was his. All three men kept toothbrushes at the other places just in case there would be a late game night or a night like this one. None of them were about having grimy teeth for god only knows how many more hours.

He quickly washed out his mouth and grabbed the spray deodorant. It was only a shame that he would have to wear the same clothes for the new shift. Everyone would think he had a hot date or something. At least Greg wouldn't give him shit for it for once.

His keys were where he left them. Everything was where it should be. The door closed quietly behind him and he walked quickly to his truck. He was probably being timed. A lecture was waiting for him. There always was one when you neglected to answer your phone on the first call.

Traffic was thankfully light and the trip was easy. The receptionist nodded a hello to him since she was busy trying to talk someone down over the phone. Day shift was currently running around, but Warrick ignored them all. He was used to coming in early enough to have to put up with them so it wasn't anything new.

Conrad Ecklie simply glanced at him when he passed the other man. Warrick didn't go out of his way to acknowledge him either. His main focus and goal was finding Catherine and Grissom. Loud footsteps behind him did cause his attention to get sidetracked for a minute.

Greg came running down the hallway right behind him. The new CSI stopped about a foot away and bent forward slightly trying to catch the breath he had lost in his dash. Warrick took in the red face and the heaving body.

"Did you run from home or something?"

"No…just from…my car. Didn't want…to be too…late," it was barely clear between gulps of air.

"So I take it you didn't answer your phone quickly either. We will get reamed out together then man. How bad could it be?"

The two began walking again and it was no time at all before they found themselves in the doorway for the large conference room. Warrick felt a slight chill run down his spine when the two leaning over the table turned to face the new arrivals. Their expressions were blank and unclear.

"It is nice of the two of you to finally join us. We have some big news."

Catherine remained quiet as she watched the two younger men squirm under Grissom's gaze. She never enjoyed it, but she knew it was better than just yelling. Grissom had a way of making you punish yourself so he never really had to. Not that he never did, it was just rare.

"Sorry, I crashed at Nick's and didn't hear my phone."

"He okay? What is the official verdict?" Catherine questioned at once, tone full of motherly concern, but so Grissom would hear as well.

Warrick rubbed his left hand down his face, "Broken bones in his left wrist. Cast with a sling. Doctor wants him out for a week. He was out cold when I left."

"Then we are one man short," Grissom took it in stride, "But let's not worry about that right now. We have a case to discuss."

Greg starred at the floor. He didn't know what to say. Guilt about not answering his phone was pulsing through his entire being and he never had the time to learn to block it down. It took a minute for him to realize Grissom was talking about what had happened since he had left to go visit Nick in the hospital.

"…We found him in his car. Doc confirmed that he drowned in the paint. The time of death places him on our timeline with the other victims. And right before you both arrived, I received the call from Mia. Blood was a match with the toxin. But it was what Catherine found in his wallet that was most interesting."

Catherine nodded her head, "I found some pieces of paper, one with a phone number. It appears that Mr. Mueller is part of some religious group called the Church of Gods, according to the message you get when calling the number."

"Brass is checking it out now as we speak. And Sam in looking into Mr. White's office as well. It seemed odd that his boss never called us back after the message we left so Vega decided to take a trip over there. We are simply waiting on calls from both of them."

"Do we know where the paint came from?"

"Hodges is still working on it as we speak. From the consistency, he believes it was mixed at home. But he will let us know as soon as he has something."

The four stood in silence for a minute. Their minds were wheeling about what might be going on. The only connection they had so far between all of their bazaar murders was the frog toxin. Warrick only hoped that something came down from the detective's searches. He jumped when a cell phone went off.

Grissom grabbed his, "Grissom…Jim, what did you get?"

Catherine rubbed her hands together in anticipation as she waited for her boss to fill them in. The few word answers were not enough to give her context to follow the conversation. Greg had taken a seat and was watching as well. Warrick still stood tall.

Once Grissom hung up the phone, he turned to face his team, "Well, Jim thinks we need to go have a look at this church. I'll drive."

No one dared to argue with their supervisor. They left in silence. Only sounds in the hallway were the rhythmic slapping of their shoes on the tiles.

***

#8

Brass sat in one of the so-called pews as he waited for the CSI team to arrive. He had already talked to the leader of the church, but had been yet to be impressed by the elderly man. Something was off in this place, but Jim couldn't put a finger on it. He just knew he didn't want to be here alone much longer.

A tanned, blonde haired man walked out of the office door. This guy had arrived after Jim had gotten there and he had seemed upset that he had to wait for his "minister" to talk with him. But Jacob Tenner had forced him to wait. The glare the man sent towards the detective was impressive, but nothing to make him squirm any.

The door to the building slammed shut behind the man and Brass was left alone again. He could still see into the office since the door was still open. Mr. Tenner sat behind the large wooden desk. The man had graying brown hair and a wrinkled face that would scare off a dog. Brass had no idea how he had a group of people that were willing to follow his teachings.

"Captain Brass, you can come back in if you would like," it was a soft voice, but with a hard undertone to it.

With a heavy sigh, Brass pushed himself up off the bench. His back protested, but he pushed the annoyance into the folds of his mind. The office was nothing special. There were a few paintings on the walls, but Brass had no idea what they were supposed to be. He wasn't well versed in the world of the arts. If it didn't have gun powder, he didn't really care.

"So when are your friends arriving? I have some work to get done before I leave for the day."

"They should be here shortly. It won't take too much time as long you give them what they need. I would hate to have to get a warrant involved."

"Yes, as would I. Our little church as been under enough stress over the past year to have this added on top of it. It just shocks me that Brett is dead. He was a new member of the group and had many good insights for others. There was promise with that one."

Brass shifted, "Exactly what religion is your church here, Mr. Tenner?"

"We do not claim one exactly. All are welcome under this roof. After all, the universe is willing to accept many gods and goddesses under its expansive roof so why can't the same thing happen under some wood?"

"So anyone is allowed in? What kind of services do you offer then to something like that?"

Tenner rubbed his throat gently before he continued, "Here we do not offer what others call a mass service. You are allowed to come in at any time of the week and worship at your will. And if there are some who wish to pray with others, we have groups that meet at certain times. So far there are only four main ones, but I expect it to grow over the years. I am in charge of only one, so you will forgive me for not having much to give you."

Brass was not comfortable. This man was nothing like any priest, minister, or rabbi he had ever come into contact with. He couldn't imagine anyone wanting to sit with this man and discuss deep issues in life. Glancing down, he caught the face of his watch. The CSI's were moving slowly today it seemed.

"Are you a religious man, Captain Brass?"

"Used to be until I saw what life can do to you. Religion just wasn't enough to cover the lies and uglies of people anymore."

"That is a shame. Maybe you just need a different outlook in life. You are free to come back when you are off and I can help you with this," Tenner moved himself forward in his seat as he spoke.

"Jim would need something else to do that and I think the two words that would work best would be Jack and Daniels."

Both men in the office turned to the doorway and took in the sight of Warrick Brown standing tall. Brass never had been so glad to see him. This Tenner guy was just creepy.

"About time you guys get here. This is Mr. Jacob Tenner, the owner of this establishment. We have just been having a nice little chat and he let me know the place is open for you guys."

The elderly man pushed himself to his feet, "Yes, I am here to help in anyway that I can. And you would be?"

"Oh, sorry. I'm CSI Brown," Warrick held out his hand for the other man to take. Mr. Tenner seemed hesitant at first, but then shyly took hold of it for a quick shake. Warrick didn't think any thing of it. Most people were that way with cops or investigators. "I'm going to head out into the main room and get started."

"I'll join you. Mr. Tenner."

Brass almost walked on Warrick's heels out of the room. He wanted to be as far from that man as possible. Once in the larger room, he could see Grissom and Catherine were standing up by the alter at the front of the room. Well, maybe one couldn't call it an alter. All the was present was a large podium and a black cross.

Greg was standing in the back of the church looking around the entrance to the building. The newer CSI didn't know what he should be looking for here. Grissom hadn't talked to him or Warrick at all in the car ride over. He just knew he didn't want to get in the way of anything and make his bosses madder at him at this point.

Catherine looked back to where she could see Greg standing. There was one open door to her right, where Warrick and Brass had exited. To her left, there were two closed doors. It wasn't a large building so these had to be other offices. She walked over to the first door, a large red oak door. The knob turned easily and the door swung open. Nothing, but a janitor's closet. She looked around, but didn't see anything special about the room.

She left the door open as she moved over to the other one. The knob on this one was no in the nice condition of the other one. It took a little more muscle to twist it open and the door creaked loudly as it opened slowly. Catherine coughed at the musty odor that escaped. Cement stairs greeted her this time.

"Hey Jim, would you come over here."

The captain walked over and looked around her shoulder, "Well, that is interesting. I suspect you want me to go first?"

"You would be correct. After you."

Their footsteps echoed through the small, winding chamber. The air was chilly and damp. Catherine could feel the goose bumps rising on her arms and fought the reaction to rub her hands on them. It had to be a good story down before they came to another doorway. Jim reached for another knob, but found nothing. The door simply pushed open.

It was a simply room, nothing in it, but a few steel folding chairs. The walls were painted black and a light bulb hung from the ceiling in the middle of the white ceiling. Catherine swept her flashlight beam around the room, but there was nothing. It looked like a very disturbing meeting room.

"Well, Catherine. I don't know about you, but I am ready to head back up."

She hung back a little as he moved a few more steps back up, "Yeah…nothing here."

Warrick was waiting for them at the top when they emerged again. Catherine simply shook her head and the man turned back to face the head of the room where Grissom was looking over some sort of book. Mr. Tenner had come out of his office and was sitting on one of the wooden benches in the room. He was watching Grissom as well.

"See anything in there that you like?"

"It is interesting I must say. What myths are these?"

The wrinkles in the face tightened as he pulled his mouth up into a smile, "You may call them myths, but they are truths of an older time. One more innocent than ours. People took those beliefs and used them to shape their lives. Many answers came from them. But if you must insist on making them stories of so called mythology, they are a collection of ancient Greek, Roman, and Celtic."

"Do you only have books on multiple gods or do you have something based on the newer single god religions?"

"We carry the Bible and the Koran as well. You can find every edition possible on the shelves to your left. As I told the Captain, we are open to everyone and carry everything necessary to do so."

Grissom nodded and studied the aging priest, "We are going to need a roster of all your members."

"That will not be an issue. I have a fairly recent one on my desk. If you excuse me for a moment."

Everyone in the room watched him shuffle away. Grissom took a breath and walked away from the book towards his team. They were waiting for his word on what to do. Nothing in this place connected with any of their murders. He could only hope something on the member list would pop out at them. Mr. Tenner came back with a few sheets of paper in his hands. He handed them over to the lead CSI and they took their leave.

Once the group was surrounding Brass' car and the SUV, Grissom turned to them, "Alright, lets get back to the lab and take a look at these names. Nothing at this building pointed to any of our murders, but let us hope we get a few name matches."

Brass nodded his good bye and left the scene. The CSI's didn't talk on the way back to the lab. Each had different thoughts running through their brains on what that place was.

!#$&()!#$&&()!#$&()+

Detective Sam Vega walked through the large office building following behind a tiny, black haired woman. He always hated these places. It was something he never understood. People working behind little walls that were removable. Forcing their worlds into an area no larger than forty square feet by hanging pictures on every available surface possible.

The room was dressed up in black and grays. It was nothing, but depressing to the officer. The woman, Emily, finally stopped at a row of glass stabs and doors. More money meant having more room and a view in this accountant firm.

"This is Mr. White's office. It hasn't been opened since he left on his last shift. But you wanted to see his boss didn't you? Right this way."

Vega took a quick look into the darken space. Nothing was too visible other than a large desk and a few chairs. He quickened his footsteps to catch up and followed Emily through a slim hallway to another row of large offices. The last door was their destination.

"He is waiting for you. Go right in. Have a good day."

Emily left him alone facing the large object in front of him. He knocked and was called in by a deep bass voice. Mr. Roger Ratcliff was a tall man with dark hair with few gray streaks running through it. The man wore an impressive blue suit with a silk tie. He didn't move when Vega walked in and shut the door behind him.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Ratcliff. I am Detective Sam Vega with the Las Vegas Police Department. I am here to ask you a few questions about an employee of yours."

The man coughed and straightened his shoulders, "Yes, I figured someone would be stopping by."

"And why would you think something like that?"

"Well, I arrived late today and by the time I got my messages, I knew someone would be interested in my lack of response. My uncle was on the police force in New York City. I know of the lack of trust from cops."

"So you know I am here about Ralph White. Can you tell me about him?"

"Good man, works hard. He is going to go far in this company. I was shocked to see he hadn't arrived yet this morning, but I didn't ask questions. A man is allowed to be ill," Mr. Ratcliff coughed again, "He is ill, right?"

"No, he was found dead in a hot tub this morning. He is currently in the coroner's office at the CSI lab. I am here to see if you had noticed anything going on with him."

"Nothing. He always arrived on time, left on time. His work was always done perfectly. His clients loved to deal with him. The women thought he was a real charmer. And from what I could tell from talking with him, he loved his wife. They were looking to have a baby soon."

"Are there any other employees that would be jealous? Have something against the man?"

Mr. Ratcliff starred straight at Vega, "Not that I know of. He worked well with everyone. No one complained about him and he earned his promotion on his own. He never worked on any projects with anyone else. And he never fought with anyone on these grounds."

Vega nodded his head. There really wasn't much else he could do here without a warrant or a CSI present. The man in front of him seemed genuine enough. He stood from his chair and straightened out his jacket.

"I thank you for your time. Here is a card with a number where you can reach me at," Vega handed a small white card to the outreached hand, "I will be in touch if there are any more questions about this. We might need access to Mr. White's office at some point."

"I will keep it closed until you get back in touch with me. I hope you have a safe drive back to the station Mr. Vega."

The detective nodded and left the office at a brisk pace. He knew his way out and was eager to get out. The sunshine was nice on his face once he left the oppression of deadlines and numbers behind him. He needed to get a hold of Brass.

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

Pain and stiffness were the first things that registered in Nick's mind when he woke up. It took a moment for him to remember why he felt these things. He gently moved his body to the side and pushed the pillows that encased him out of the way. It took some effort, but he got upright and groaned. His left arm twanged with pain and his vision went white for a minute.

Once the room was back in focus and in the correct colors, Nick pushed himself to his feet. Nature was screaming and he had no desire to peel off wet clothes. The walk to the bathroom wasn't bad at all. Getting his pants down was a task, but he managed. Feeling kind of gross, he by passed the hand wash.

His townhouse was empty other than a note from Warrick. The other man had to head back into work. Nick felt frustration and anger course through his veins. He knew what the doctor had said to him, but he didn't care. Warrick had no right to leave him behind when this case was his as well. He refused to be left out of this.

Nick grabbed at the bottles on his counter top. He read the labels and found the one that would take away the pain. With a glass of water in his hand, he took one. Driving was going to be hard enough, he didn't want to be drugged into a stupor as well. The bottle fit well into the pocket of his jacket. He looked down at himself and decided he didn't care what he looked like. But he was going to stop off back in the bathroom again. Had to brush his teeth.

***

#9

Sheets of paper were spread out all over the top of the table. The names and numbers were nothing special. The White's were no where on any of these lists. Neither had ever gone to the Church of Gods. Warrick held his head in his hands as he rested his eyes. Greg had retired to the couch and currently was hiding his head behind a pillow. They had gotten the list job when they arrived back at the lab while the senior CSI's went off with Brass.

Warrick groaned as he rubbed his hands across his face harder than probably necessary. Nothing was making sense in any of this and he thought he was going to scream. They were heading into another early afternoon for the graveyard crew. It had been awhile since Warrick had pulled a triple. Well, it wouldn't be a full triple, but enough to be annoying.

Opening his eyes wide, he looked down at the papers again. These people had to be crazy. Next to their names it listed their religions. He couldn't figure out why these people would choose to go listen to that elderly man talk about something he probably didn't know much about instead of going to a correct institution that would teach correctly.

His grandmother had forced him to go to church when he was younger and he never really minded it. He just didn't have the time or the energy to take it back up again. Plus, churches all seemed to be about politics and money now anyways. Maybe some day he would think about it once again.

Warrick was about to grab a new sheet when footsteps in the hallway attracted his attention away. He turned in his chair to face a confused looking Vega, "Hey Sam, what's up?"

"Hey Warrick. I was just looking for Grissom or Brass. I just got back from going to see Mr. White's boss. Nothing from him."

"Hmm, too bad. We aren't getting anything off these lists we got from the church either. This is going no where fast."

Vega looked over at Greg before he walked into the room and took a seat. His head was beginning to pound. He needed to go home and get some sleep, but not until after he gave his report to Jim. If the two CSI's could hang out in this break room, then he could take a breather in there as well.

"I have heard of that place before," Vega grabbed a sheet off the pile, "Nothing good from it though. Heard rumors of drug deals, prostitution, and cults coming from there. But only one victim is connected with it right?"

"Yeah, the last one. Mr. Mueller had the phone number in his wallet and the names are matches to other members."

Warrick watched the smaller man run his eyes over the names, but they didn't seem to get any reaction out of him. More footsteps sounded out in the hallway, but this time Warrick didn't take the time or energy to turn to look at the new arrival. But from the reaction on Vega's face, he really should have.

"Nick!"

"Hey Sam," Nick walked slowly into the room, avoiding making eye contact with either Warrick or Greg who had sat up on the couch.

"What the fuck are you doing here? You are supposed to be at home, you moron!"

Nick eased himself into the chair next to Warrick, but still didn't look him in the eyes, "I decided to come to work. Better than sitting at home bored out of my mind."

Warrick's mouth gaped open and closed for almost a full minute, "You are supposed to be bored out of you mind at home! You broke two bones in you wrist! You need to rest, at home!"

"I'm not going to do anything Warrick. I just figured I could come in and push some paper around. No field work. I am not that stupid."

"Nick, are you sure this is a good idea?" Greg pondered from his seat.

"I'll be fine Greg. I promise I'll leave if I start to feel under the weather."

"Grissom is not going to be too happy about this."

Nick didn't say another word to anyone else in the room. He didn't care what they had to say right now. The papers in front of him on the table beckoned him to them and he picked one up. It was a list of names and religions, from where, he didn't know. But something from about the third of the way up the list caught his attention.

"Hey Sam, did you take a look at this list here?"

The detective finally moved since the arrival of the Texan, "No, why?"

"Tell me if this name looks familiar?"

Vega reached over and took the offered paper. His eyes scanned the area to where Nick had pointed and felt them get wider. That name was one he had the opportunity to learn during the past few hours.

"I say, this one does. It is interesting, is it not?"

Warrick exchanged a look of confusion with Greg, "What are you two talking about?"

"The name, Charlie Johnson. He is the father of one of the boys that found the mauled body at the skateboard park. His boy, Miguel Johnson, was the quiet one. The guy was intense."

Vega nodded as he listened to Nick, "Interesting find. I think we may need to swing by his place and have a talk."

"So, we have one dead body and one father of a witness on a roster for a church that has weird thing happening in it. I don't think this is as odd as it should be," Warrick thought out loud.

"What isn't that odd?" Brass asked as he let himself in the break room. He had been walking past when he noticed everyone seemed to be in there. They all looked like they were getting into something pretty intense.

"Oh, Nick found a connection on this list. When we talked with those kids from the mauling case, one of the kids had a father named Charles Johnson. Well, his name is right on this list here. He is under the Roman Catholic religion, but he still goes to this church."

Brass nodded his head, "Visit?"

"Visit. Who wants to go with?"

Vega was looking straight at Nick, but knew that probably wasn't going to happen. The boys had been open and talkative with the CSI, but if Grissom found out that he took an injured man to a possible suspect's house, he would never hear the end of it. Maybe Greg would be up to it. He wasn't too old and kids seemed to like him well enough. But Brass talked before he had the chance to.

"Well, I know this isn't going to be my best idea and Grissom will probably have my head, but I say we take Nick with us. You said the kids were comfortable with him and I think we should keep that up…"

Warrick jumped out of his chair, "No way! That is not a good idea at all."

"…and I think Warrick should come along for the ride," he finished as if Warrick had never said a word in protest."

The tall CSI clamped his mouth shut. He knew Nick would be best not to keep talking with that family since he really should be at home resting. But there was one part of his brain that thought this wasn't ridiculous. It was just a couple bones in his wrist. He wasn't going to be going to a boxing match or something. Talking to a family would do nothing to stress his arm. It was still in the sling anyways.

"Alright, but I'm not talking to Grissom about this one!"

Brass actually smiled, "I'll do it. Meet you guys outside."

Nick smiled as well and stood to his feet carefully. This was a stupid idea, but if it was going to help end these murders, then he was willing to do anything. His smile grew when he finally looked over at Warrick. The other man was fuming, but holding it in well. This was going to be interesting. It was a good thing he had actually gotten some sleep.

Both Vega and Greg knew something was about to go down between the other two so they made their exit without words. Vega felt like running out and Greg was off to find Catherine to go over some stuff. They didn't want to be within ear shot either.

Warrick shut the door behind them, "What are you trying to do here Nick?"

"Nothing, just going with to have a talk with a man connected to a crazy church. I am not going to do anything that will force me to use my arm. I promise."

"Why do you always do this? You should be at home resting! Why do you never listen to anyone else when they tell you something that will help you out in the long run?"

"I don't need to stay home for this. That doctor can tell me to rest all she wants, but I don't have to follow her instructions!"

"Well, what if I asked you to stay home and rest?" Warrick questioned softly.

Nick took a deep breath and closed his eyes, "I don't need to be told what to do. I can take care of myself."

"I know that man, but some of us would like to help you out. You know, being strong is not only about being on your own and taking care of your own shit. Being strong means you have the ability to get help when you need it. I don't care what you say, but I did this to you and I am going to help you through it. It may just be a broken wrist, but I don't care!"

This was a fight Nick knew he wasn't going to win. Warrick was once again in his full brother mode and there was little to do about it. He just hoped he would be able to handle this little trip without wanting to kill the other man too much.

"Fine, I'm sorry. I promise to take it easy and won't do anything stupid. I trust you to have my back and keep me in line," he grinned a little.

"Yeah, I'll kick your ass into line, you can count on it. Now let's get outside before they leave without us. I don't know how to get to that park."

They walked out of the break room in silence, but they both knew this wasn't over. It would be something they would deal with later. Vega was standing beside his car when the approached. He wore a big grin.

"Brass is getting his ears chomped off by your boss. He should be here any second now."

Sure enough, the door swung open and Brass marched out. He had pulled on his sunglasses and kept his face downward. Nick felt guilty for making the other man face Grissom over this. The CSI should have been the one to go in and talk with his boss, not the detective.

"Look Brass, I can go in and talk to Grissom if…"

"Hey Nicky, just get in the car, will ya. Nothing I love more than watching that man get mad. Makes him more human if you ask me," Brass smirked as he walked to the driver's door.

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

Catherine Willows didn't have a smile for Greg when he joined her. The younger man sat down in the open chair without any questions. The file folders were already open. Greg grabbed a hold of one. The blonde woman smiled at him then, when he wasn't looking.

"You and I get to go over everything and try to fill in any and all holes that might be possible. Mostly those tire tracks at the White's house, the dogs from the mauling, and the Furber hot tub."

"Well, the tires were unidentifiable by brand, but the size proved to be a large pick-up or a conversion van. The tread wasn't very clear, shows signs of extensive use. And it has nothing to do with Mr. Mueller since he was found in his own car. It is a dead end at this point.

"Okay, so that is nothing we are going to be able to run with right now," Catherine grabbed another sheet of paper, "Lets think about the dogs. We didn't get anything from the search that Vega did and none of the dogs he looked at had any signs of attacking a person. He took the city veterinarian along with him to do the checks. And the few houses that owned more than one Pincher or Shepard kept them either in the house or in locked kennels outside."

"What signs were they looking for?" Greg looked confused. He hadn't heard anything from the mauling case and what was going on with the searches.

"Robbins found a tooth in the leg bone so they were looking for a dog missing some teeth and possible blood in the fur where the owner missed it. Nothing with any of them. All pampered pooches,"

"And still no name on the boy?"

"No, it is as if he simply appeared from no where. Nothing is coming up on any of the missing reports. I have no idea what to say about him."

Greg nodded. It was odd that there was no one looking out for the boy. He was someone's son, possibly a brother. No one ever had no one. There was always someone looking out for another person, even if it is just a friend.

"Did you hear anything back from Hodges about what you found in the tub, Greg?"

"Yeah, but nothing that will help. All the hair was either from Mr. White or two other unknown donors, but with the amount of each sample, the owners would be most likely. The only things we have from the tub that are unusual are the mud samples found at the bottom and the watch Nick sat on. The mud was a match to the samples we collected from the yard of the White's house. But no hits on the watch."

"Great, so these holes we had to fill are still wide open. And I am not even going to touch the frogs at this point."

The younger CSI watched his superior lean forward to rest her head in her hands. This was a tough one and Greg knew Catherine was going a hard third shift with no rest what so ever. She was getting to the end of her rope.

"So, did you hear about how bad Grissom took it with Nick?"

"Of course Greg. I was in the room when you guys filled us in, remember?" Catherine glanced up through half closed eyes.

"What? Oh no, when he came in and left with Brass."

Catherine stood up fast enough to push her chair a few feet back behind here, "He was back in? When?"

But Greg didn't have a chance to say a word as she already took off through the door. He jumped up as quickly as he could and caught sight of a flash of blonde hair whipping around the corner up the hallway to his left. Catherine was on her way into Grissom's office. Greg didn't want to be anywhere near for that conversation. The CSI turned and headed in the other direction, towards trace. Hodges always needed to be bothered. Greg smiled at the prospect.

***

#10

The Johnson house was simply painted, nothing standing out. Nick couldn't help, but think he had seen thousands of similar houses back in Dallas. It was a home of the lower middle class. A few of his childhood friends had houses that looked like these. He was never allowed to visit with them for too long according to his parents.

Vega led the way up the small path through the wild grass and weeds sprouting from the brown soil. It had been decided on the way out here that Vega and Nick would be first to the door. And then once they were in, Nick would talk with Miguel on his own. Brass wanted to be present to talk with the parents and needed Warrick there to observe.

The smaller detective rapped his knuckles on the green wood of the door and the four men stood under the sun waiting for a response. It only took a few moments for a small, petite woman to answer the door. Her hair was black, her eyes large and brown. Her greeting was heavy with a Mexican accent. Nick had seen her at the station before, but it still shocked him that a man like Charlie Johnson would choose a woman of a different race. The man just didn't seem like the type.

Vega smiled sweetly to her, "Hello again, Mrs. Johnson. We met at the station earlier about your son."

Veronica Johnson smiled back, "Oh yes, Detective Vega. Do you have more questions for Miguel?"

"We do. I brought Nick Stokes with me, he helped me in the interview with your son. And Captain Brass and Warrick Brown are here to help me ask some questions with you and your husband."

"Of course, come in. Please come in," Mrs. Johnson waved them in.

Warrick walked in close behind Nick and took a good look at the home. It was well decorated and there was plenty of modern art up on the walls. The inside was defiantly a contrast to the outside. It seemed a little odd to the CSI. This was one odd little family.

Charlie Johnson was sitting on at the dinner table in the kitchen when his wife herded everyone into the room. Their son was pointing at something in a large book, a large frown on his little face. Both immediately looked up to see the new arrivals. Brass couldn't help, but smile when he recognized this as the man from that church. Someone somewhere really liked him.

"Well good day, Mr. Johnson. It is good to see you again," Vega forced a smile onto his face with the pleasantries, "And hello Miguel."

"What the fuck are you doing at my house?"

The blonde haired man stood tall in front of the other men. His wife shrunk herself into the corner and was waving for her son to come by her. Brass shuffled closer to his colleague and pushed Nick by Warrick. The taller CSI placed one hand on Nick's shoulder to keep him close.

"We are here to ask you a couple of questions. There is no need to get out of hand, especially with your son present," Brass huffed out at the man, "Now, if you and your wife stay here in the kitchen, Nick is going to watch Miguel for us while we do this. No need for him to be here."

Nick felt a little uncomfortable when Mr. Johnson's glare focused on his face. He stood his own ground, but didn't return the glare with one of his own. Suddenly, the other man's eyes dropped down, to look at his arm. Nick could have sworn something flashed through those eyes, but it was gone before he could even register it.

The Texan smiled at the young boy and held out his good hand for him to take. Miguel hesitated only for a moment and with a final glance at his parents, he took Nick's hand. No one tried to stop the CSI from leading the boy out through the back door out into the backyard. Charlie Johnson only returned himself heavily to his chair.

Now that the boy was gone, Warrick moved to lean against the wall next to the refrigerator to watch the proceedings. Veronica moved to stand behind her husband and rested her hands on top of his shoulders. They were trying to pull of the perfect family unit. Warrick smiled inside at the thought of Brass ripping it down, brick by brick.

But it was Vega that started things off, "We have questions for the two of you about a religious group that you are part of. We have records of your attendance to the Church of Gods over on Owen Avenue. Could you explain your part in the church to us?"

"We go there, so what! There is nothing wrong with it."

"There is no need to get defensive Mr. Johnson. We are just a little curious on why a Roman Catholic such as yourself would choose this as his church of choice."

Johnson coughed and rubbed a hand across his throat, "It is a second church for us. We still go and worship every Sunday at our normal church. I got involved through a friend."

"What about you Mrs. Johnson? Same friend?"

"I…my father worked for Mr. Tenner. He helped me through some rough times. He introduced me to Charles," her eyes were locked on the table top in front of her husband as she spoke softly.

Warrick watched them both closely. The husband was clenching his hands into fists and then releasing them as he talked. He maintained eye contact with Vega the entire time, but he wasn't facing the officer fully. The wife was trembling slightly and seemed to be asking for approval through her tone, making sure she was in the right. Something was not right with this couple.

"What's your profession, Mr. Johnson?"

"Why do you need to know that Detective?"

"Just curious," Vega smiled.

"I manage a launder mat."

"Do either of you know one Brett Mueller? He was a member of your little church," Brass decided he wanted a piece of this as well.

The couple stiffened slightly up at the mention of the name. Warrick could almost feel his ears perk up to attention at the subtle movement. Mr. Johnson once again coughed, "Never liked that little punk. He was always such an asshole. Did he finally get caught for the drugs?"

"No, sorry, but he was found dead in his car earlier today. Tell me Mr. Johnson, do you own any yellow paint?"

This ruffled the man's feathers too much, "There is no reason for you to be asking me these questions and I don't have to answer any more of your questions. You are going to have to go get a warrant to search my house. I want you all to leave. Now!"

Vega nodded his head and faced Brass. There was no way they were going to force this guy in to doing anything and they couldn't search the property for yellow paint. It was going to be a royal pain in the ass with this jerk. They just needed to get Nicky and the cops were out of there.

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

Miguel pulled Nick by his hand out into the warm sunshine. The Texan closed his eyes and raised his face upward at the sensation. His arm had begun to throb again and was accepting to any distractions possible. The young boy in front of him was mumbling something, but Nick couldn't quite figure out what it was.

There were several plastic toys scattered across the dusty landscape. A once upon a time sand box was overgrown with weeds, the wooden walls cracked and shattered. It was nothing, but a poor boy's playground and it made Nick feel a little guilty. He may have been the youngest in his family, but he always had nice things surrounding him for entertainment.

The brown haired boy began almost skipping next to Nick's side. He was excited about something. It made Nick smile. He turned to look downward at the sudden bundle of energy.

"What's up Miguel? Feet on fire?"

"No, just…wanna see something?"

Nick laughed, "Sure kid."

Miguel's face lit up almost to the point of blinding. His sudden burst of speed caused Nick to have to jog to follow the boy towards the back of the garage. The Texan kept the laughter to himself at the situation. Grissom would kill him if he found out that Nick, while injured, went off running after a little boy in a possible suspect's backyard. But he was told to keep an eye on the child.

"Come! Come! It is here!"

The boy was now hopping in place by the corner of the garage, pointing down at the ground. Nick put on his most interested face with the wide, curious eyes and small grin. This seemed to make Miguel even more excited.

It was a small, metal bowl filled with mucky, thick water. Nick puckered out his lips and pulled his brow together as he looked down at it. Glancing over at Miguel and his glistening eyes, Nick lowered himself down onto one knee so he could look closer. Being only about two feet away now, he could sudden see movement within the brown water. His head cocked to the side as he followed the little paths being paved in the liquid.

"What is it?"

"I caught them in the creek! Tadpoles!"

Nick reached a hand into the water and scooped up one of the little creatures. They were tadpoles from the Western Toad. Nothing special about them. You could find them all over the Western part of the United States.

"Hey Miguel, how do you know how to take care of these so well? Does a friend have any toads or frogs that you have seen?"

Miguel scratched the top of his head as he pondered the answer, "No, I just gathered up some water from the creek and brought them back with me yesterday. My momma doesn't know I did it yet. I don't think she will let me keep them."

"I once brought home a cat I found on the way home from school. I tried to hide it in my room from the rest of my family, but my mom was smart. She found it right away. I got to keep him."

"You think I can keep these?" Miguel looked up at the CSI with hope in his eyes.

"You will have to ask. It is always better not to hide things from your parents."

They both watched the small amphibian fall back into the bowl from Nick's hand. He wiped the grime of on his pant leg. The pain in his arm didn't bother him too much anymore. Kneeling in the dirt with Miguel was not something he would have pictured for his day, but he had to admit, it had appeal. But he was ripped from the moment by the sudden clanging of fence wire and vicious dog barks.

Nick looked up to his right, behind the garage. There was a crude kennel constructed there. Inside, two very dirty, very pissed off Shepards. "Hey Miguel, are those your dogs?"

"No, they belong to my uncle. He brought them over two days ago. They scare me though," Miguel moved closer to Nick as he looked up at the dogs.

"Yeah, I can see how that could happen. Do you know if they have left at any time since they have been here?"

The boy simply shrugged. Nick felt the urge to jump away, but forced himself to stay low and study the dogs. Neither had been bathed in what had to be years, their hair was ratted together all over their bodies. He couldn't see if any teeth were missing since they were slamming their mouths open and shut too quickly to follow. But, the opening to the kennel showed signs of recent disturbance.

"Okay Miguel, we should head back up towards the house now."

Nick took the small boy's hand in his this time and led the way back towards the back door. He was unprepared for Mr. Johnson to come barreling out of it at him first.

"What the fuck are you doing with my son!" the man's face was red.

The Texan rose his cast a little, completely confused, "Excuse me?"

But the man didn't bother to explain. He simply threw himself forward and collided with Nick. The impact caused Nick to slam back onto the ground, his entire body jarring. Johnson pulled back and punched the CSI hard in the jaw. The hit caused both men in pain, but Nick was seeing stars.

Warrick didn't let another moment pass by. He jumped around the two detectives in his way and plowed into Mr. Johnson. The blonde haired man didn't have a chance in hell with the tall, dark CSI grabbing him. Warrick used his weight to throw the man a few feet away from his friend. He glared down at him for a minute before he turned back to Nick.

Miguel had beaten him to Nick's side, "Are you okay?"

Hearing the panic in the small voice and seeing the small hand tap Nick on the cheek made Warrick literally slide to his knees by the down man, "Nicky? Hey man."

Nick could hear the voices above him, but paid them no mind right now. He was busy lifting his hand to his jaw and testing out the tender area. Nothing major, but it was going to leave one hell of a bruise. Pushing himself up, with a hand from Warrick, Nick managed to sit upright.

Brass and Vega were standing over the other fallen man. Nick reached out and placed his hand on Miguel's shoulder, "I'm okay kid."

The boy nodded, but his lips kept quivering. Nick observed him and could see the fear in those eyes. Something made the boy afraid of his father. He didn't have chance to say more to Miguel. Warrick had pushed him towards his mother so he could help his friend to his feet. Once he was standing he could hear that Brass was threatening to arrest the man for attacking a law officer.

"Nick, you gonna be okay, bro?"

That sad, pitiful look was back on Warrick's face. Nick groaned and moved away from him. He wanted away from those looks. But the barking brought him up short once again. His heels threw up dirt as he spun on them to face the taller man.

"Dogs! There are dogs!"

"Um, you sure you're okay man? There're no dogs here."

"Yeah man. There are two dogs behind the garage! I couldn't tell if they were the ones that mauled that boy, but man, they could be!"

It didn't take much more for Brass to start walking and go check this out. He left Johnson behind with Vega watching over him. The captain was itching to take this guy down and book him. If there were dogs, that would be enough, no warrant needed. The detective walked around the corner of the garage with steady footsteps. Sure enough, there were too very mangy dogs going nuts trying to at him.

Nick remained up on his feet with some help from Warrick. His arm was back on the verge of exploding from his body. And now he had a throbbing jaw to go along with everything. But knowing that they had found a pair of dogs that could possibly be the murder weapon they were looking for made it all worth it. He looked over at Brass as the man returned to them.

"Well, I have to say. Those are so really angry dogs. I'm going to call Animal Services and have them come down. Have to have their dental x-rays taken."

Mrs. Johnson ushered her small Miguel back into the house once Vega pulled out the hand cuffs. It was not an easy task to pull the blonde man's hands behind his back, but the detective finally managed it. Charlie Johnson huffed his frustration as Vega began the "Rights" ritual.

"Come on Nick, let's head back to the car," Warrick nudged at Nick before he turned and walked away, knowing his friend would follow.

Nick took one last look at the backdoor of the house. Inside was a scared pair of people and the cause was standing right in front of him. He suddenly felt very old, tired. Aches broke out in areas he didn't even know had muscles to ache. It was harder to follow Warrick back to the car than he thought.

***

#11

The scene could have been out of one of those Western movies his father made him watch as a kid. All that was missing from this death march was the tolling bells in the background and the teary eyed women with their handkerchiefs. It was the longest steps Nick had ever taken on his way back through the glass doors of the crime lab.

The two polices officers did nothing more than kick the two criminalists out of the car and sped off. And Warrick didn't seem to be in the mood to take a hit anymore. His step was loaded, but not as bad as Nick's. Grissom was going to know there had been trouble on this house run. Even without the blossoming bruise on Nick's face, the looks each man wore would be enough.

Even though his head was lowered forward and his eyes locked on the floor passing under his feet, Nick could feel the stares and glances of the other people in the lab. He wanted the tiles to open up underneath his feet and swallow him whole. This was not going to be pretty.

Warrick took the lead once he noticed Nick's steps getting slower and slower. They could see the opening to the room that held their boss. Deep down he didn't want to go in there either, but he wasn't going to leave Nick alone in the lion's den. He wasn't that heartless when it came to friends. But he didn't look back or hesitate when he walked through the doorway.

Their boss didn't bother looking up at either man, "Sit."

Nick stood in the hallway just outside the office looking very much like a rabbit catching the scent of a predator. Hell would be a more pleasant place than this one. But, he took a deep breath to pass over the panic and walked in. Warrick was already seated when he took the other chair.

It was silent in the room. Grissom was still looking over the paper in his hands. The two younger men sat as still as they could waiting for some sort of direction. Nick resisted the urge to rub at the white cast on his arm. He didn't want to make any sudden movements.

"Nick, you're suspended for one week. Warrick, you're out of the field and in the lab for ten days."

Neither man was ready for that. It was clipped, simple. It was Grissom all the way down. He still hadn't looked up to gauge either reaction. That didn't matter to him. They were not going to get away with this type of behavior.

"But Gil! Nothing happened. In fact, we might have the dogs used in the mauling case," Nick couldn't sit still any longer.

That was enough for Grissom to look up at his two CSI's. His eyes narrowed when he finally took in their appearances. They both looked exhausted and beaten down. In fact, Nick looked like had had taken a real one. Grissom swore there had been no bruise on the man's face when they headed to the hospital earlier.

"Nothing happened," it was monotone, but sarcastic, "Since when do bruises form from out of nothing?"

Nick couldn't stop his hand from rising to his jaw, "Nothing major happened then."

Grissom put the paper down and grabbed the bridge of his nose. These two men were going to be the death of him. Not the job, the stress, or even Ecklie. But these two men, cowering in their chairs in front of him.

"I want a full report on what happened. Then I want you out of here Nick. You are not allowed back in these doors for a full seven days. Once you do come back, you are lab only until I say. Warrick, you are to report to Mia."

It was final. Warrick nodded slowly and stood. He waited as Nick struggled to get his frame up as well before he walked out of the office. Without asking Nick, he headed to the break room so they could start that report. As much as he hated doing lab work, Warrick didn't want to anger his boss anymore than he already had.

"So, what do we want to say?"

"What can we really? I mean hell, nothing really happened and we got the damn dogs! I swear, nothing is ever good enough for that man."

Nick kicked the cabinet door that was closest to him. He always hated being talked to like he was a child and was really sick of having it always come from Gil Grissom. No matter what he did or what leads he may have gotten, he always did something wrong in the eyes of that man. It was getting old, quick. Anger made him feel even worst and more tired, but he wouldn't let it stop him from expressing it.

"Fuck this shit. I am not going to fill out a damn thing! He can hunt me down if he wants, but since I've been suspended, I don't have to do anything work related. Sorry bro, but I'm gone."

Nick held his broken arm close to his body as he stormed from the room. He left a bewildered Warrick, but he found he really didn't care. Things had finally caught up to him from the beginning of this case and it was squeezing the shit out of him. Nick needed to get out of here. He needed to get away.

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

Catherine Willows stood with her back tight against the wall. The dogs may have been sedated, but she wasn't about to take any chances. Neither was cute and cuddly. They were a step away from being full blow Cujo. She wasn't in the mood to deal with this. This was supposed to be her time to fume at Grissom. He sent her away just when she was getting to the good vocabulary.

The city veterinarian was working quickly, but Catherine could still feel her impatience taking over. Both dogs were strapped to tables with their tongues pulled out to the side, a tube in their throat. The tiny man was currently taking records down of both canines' teeth. He had already pumped their stomachs and placed the contents in glass jars on the table. Catherine could feel her fingers tighten when he made that damn clicking noise.

Dr. Steven Wellsbry walked slowly between the two animals. He had nothing to rush off to. This was an important case and he wasn't about to be the one to blame when the murderer walked because of his examination of the dogs. The blonde woman behind him was easy to ignore, but he could feel her tension.

"I am almost done here, Mrs. Willows."

"Ms. Willows, please."

"Sorry. I only have to take a few more notes on the teeth and do a comb over. Should only be about ten more minutes. Why don't you go and get some coffee?"

She could feel the blow off, "Sure. I'll be back."

Catherine kept her back to the wall as she left. The animal clinic was white and clean, but didn't give off the vibes that most human hospitals did. It didn't mean she wanted to be on one of their tables any faster than the other. The break room for the help was on her left, two doors up. Only three other people were present in the building today, but the room was clear.

Taking a large cup of the brown brew, Catherine sat down in the purple plastic chair and rested her eyes for a moment. Once she was done here, she was going to have to go to the police station and meet up with Brass. Charlie Johnson was going to have some questions to answer. Grissom thought she should do it since the guys were out. Those thoughts made her mad again.

This was a big case and with Sara still gone, they needed everyone else. Even with his broken arm, Nick could help out. Catherine had heard what the doctor had said, but didn't really think it was necessary. She had broken her arm when she was younger and was ready to get back to things less than forty eight hours later. Nick didn't need a week. He probably couldn't handle a week.

And losing Warrick to the lab was not fair. He was good at the work that it took to be a technician, but he was much better as a CSI. This was going to hurt the case more than Grissom had to realize. It was just down to him, her, and Greg. She loved that kid, but he wasn't the former Vegas Gambler or the Texan Stud.

The coffee gave new fuel to her views. Catherine hadn't realized how much time had passed until she heard the door open. Dr. Wellsbry walked in and sat in the other chair. He wore a small smile. It was encouraging.

"Well, according to what your coroner found and what is present with these dogs, I would have to say they are the ones. You will want to check the stomach contents to be sure, but I would guarantee that it will contain cholesterol. I will hold the two until I receive word from you. Then I will follow procedures for cases like these."

Catherine cleared out her throat, "Thanks Doctor. That is good news indeed. I will just grab those jars. I have to meet with Captain Brass down at the station and attempt to learn more about those two beasts."

"Sounds good to me. I will let you know if anything else comes up with either animal. Good luck with this Ms. Willows."

The man left and Catherine downed the rest of her coffee. She stood and brushed her hands down the front of her shirt. Her hair moved from the breath she released. Catherine didn't want to waste any more time. This man had some things to answer for.

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

The man behind the one way mirror was too damn relaxed. It was pissing Jim off more than it should. He wanted nothing more than to run in there and throttle the smooth smile off his face. News traveled fast and he heard what their trip had cost Warrick and Nick. He didn't feel bad about it, just pissed off. They were doing their jobs and got kicked in the ass for it.

He was waiting to for Catherine to arrive with information about those two demons they dragged from behind that garage. Vega was looking into the so called owner of them. Brass had a feeling nothing was going to turn up on that one. The kid had said they were his uncle's dogs. That was interesting to the captain.

All he wanted at this point was for Mr. Johnson to spill the beans on the dogs and how he got them to do that to that poor kid. He had a dog when he was a kid and all he could remember of it was that it was lazy and scared shitless about everything. It took a certain type of person to train a killer dog. Brass only hoped that person was the one currently examining his nails. He wanted to hit him.

These thoughts were halted by the new arrival, "I sure hope you have something good to tell me Catherine. I need some good news."

"Well, how about the knowledge we have the weapon for the mauling," Catherine smiled.

"Good. Lets go in and kick his ass then."

The burly cop lead the way back out into the hallway to the other door. He unceremoniously threw it open and barreled his way inside. Catherine walked a little calmer, but not by much. They both took seats in the other two chairs. Johnson didn't even bother to look up at either of them.

"So, Mr. Johnson. Where did you get those dogs?"

"Watching them for my wife's brother. Not mine."

Brass nodded, "But why would you bother to watch them when you obviously are not prepared to take care of them. That kennel left a lot to be desired."

The blonde man shrugged, "Not important. Just stupid dogs."

"Well, if they are so stupid Mr. Johnson, how could they be trained to be killing machines?" Catherine asked softly.

She watched as the other man tensed for a second. If she hadn't been watching for a reaction, she probably would have missed it. This was going to take careful words, set plans.

"I have no clue what you are talking about. Those dogs have only been behind my garage for three days and never have left that cage. They are too insane to be left anywhere else."

"So you admit there is something wrong with them?"

"Yeah, they snap and bark at anything that moves. I wouldn't let my son near them."

Brass looked down at his hands, "You sure he never went by them?"

"Never. He knew better. He knows when to listen."

"The dogs are dangerous and could possible harm your son," Brass kept his tone steady, "But why would you allow them to go after another boy?"

Mr. Johnson slammed his fists down onto the table in front of him, "I already said they never were out of that cage. They were supposed to be leaving tomorrow! I didn't even want them on my property!"

His face was red and a few veins were present in his neck. Catherine watched his hands as he flexed them. There was something more here. They needed to get him hooked up to a polygraph to make sure. He wasn't going to give them anything now.

"Mr. Johnson, I have one more question for you. It pertains to the reason you will be spending the night behind bars. Why did you attack the CSI at your house?"

His eyes bore into hers, "He was touching my son. No one does that. He needed to know that."

"Well, you are going to spend the night here with a few guys I think you might like. Get up. We are going to sign you on in," Brass stood and motioned to the other man.

Catherine ran a hand through her hair once she was alone. Her gut was protesting about everything. This case was just not working. She needed to get some rest. There was no way she was going to be able to see things clearly at this rate. She reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone. It was time to call it a shift and go home, Grissom be damned.

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

The phone rang. It was persistent, but he could ignore it. Nick rested his head on the back of his couch and starred up at the ceiling. His head hurt, his arm hurt, his pride hurt. Things were just not working for him anymore right now. It was getting ridiculous.

He had been home for only a short while, yet it felt like an eternity. The pill bottle was sitting on the table in front of him, but he wasn't ready to be numbed. Nick had thoughts running wild through his head and wanted to be able to think about them. The drugs would take that away from him. Control was his for as long as he could stand the throbbing.

That afternoon was on repeat in his brain and each time he picked something new out. Miguel had not been afraid of the garage until the dogs began barking. He had been afraid of his father. The wife did nothing to stop her husband. He fought too much for things to be nothing. Something was up.

Nick lifted his good hand and began to claw at the cast without even realizing it. The flesh underneath the protective barrier was beginning to itch and there was nothing he really could do about it. His attempt with a clothes hanger earlier had not been pretty. Experiments of that sort were being held off. He would itch.

The phone rang again. This time he picked it up and looked at the display. It was only Catherine's third call. She had a ways to go to catch up to Warrick. The other man had called him a grand total of eight times. Nick had to say though he enjoyed the threats left over his voice mail. Gave him something to laugh about. But he had enough. The phone was silenced.

His body was tired and it was winning the battle. Nick hefted himself off the plush furniture and grabbed the little orange bottle on his way. The walk down the hallway was short enough and he sank down onto his bed. He had placed a glass of water on the night table when he had changed earlier so all he had to do was get the damn cap off the bottle.

"Cheers," he lifted his glass to the no ones in his room and he threw back two pills.

Nick climbed under the covers and shut off the light on the table. His head rejoiced at the reunion with the pillow and he allowed himself to relax. Thoughts wandered here and there in his head now. The pills were beginning to dissolve and take affect. Nick took a deep breath and was ready to sleep.

A sudden image threw itself in the front. It demanded attention. Nick tried to grab a hold of it, but the drug in his blood wouldn't allow it. He struggled away from sleep, but couldn't manage it. Sleep took over as the image of Miguel in the interrogation room flashed by. The boy had had cuts on his legs.

***

#12

Veronica Johnson held her son close. The curtains were drawn and all the windows locked behind them. Her body was trembling, but there was nothing she could do to make it stop. She was only glad that her son had his face pressed into the print of her dress so he couldn't see the tears running down her face.

They would come soon. Charles had been told that if something would happen, they would be there. But Veronica didn't know if it would be for the best or if they would make everything worst. No matter what was going to happen with her husband behind bars, no one was going to touch her son again. She had protested the exam in the first place. They had the guilty boy. No need to touch her dear Miguel.

A few sniffles could be heard from the boy, but nothing else. He was always afraid these days. If she didn't honor her wedding vows as much as she did, she would have taken her boy and run back to her family down in Mexico. No child should have to live in fear of his father. Miguel rubbed his face against the fabric and clutched at her harder than before.

The door shook at a fist rammed against it. Veronica gasped and clung to her boy even more. They were already here. She didn't know what they would ask. Always they wanted names and any other information one knew about their enemies. She didn't know anything about those men. They were only last names to her.

It wasn't long before the door began to bend as they attacked it. She couldn't force herself to get up and unlock it for them. That would leave Miguel in the middle of the room alone and that was not an option. Once they were in, she would give them what they wanted and then lock them back out. Veronica listened to the wood crack as the door was freed from the handle that locked it into place. It swung open and a group of cloaked figures poured in.

They quickly swarmed around the woman and her boy. Whispers washed over her face as they got closer and closer. One stopped right in front of her and kneeled down close. The black fabric rustled, but Veronica couldn't see the face hidden within. But when the voice spoke at full tone, she knew who it was. It wasn't all that surprising.

"Where is your husband?"

It took a moment for her to find her voice, though it was still weak, "He was…arrested."

"By whom?"

"I only know two names, Stokes and Vega. The other two were different, but I don't remember what they called themselves," she shook as the words tumbled out.

"Was there a man named Brown with them?"

"Maybe," Veronica was trembling, "There was a tall, black man with them that wasn't a cop. Might have been him. I don't remember if a name was said."

A hand reached up and touched her on her cheek. The skin was odd. It reminded her of something, something that only age could bring. But the owner of the hand pulled back before she had more time to analyze it. The mask got even closer. She could feel the softness on her skin now.

"We did your family a justice. Doing two more will cost you."

"I have nothing more to give"

The figure sat back on its heels "I think you do. Don't worry, it won't hurt…much."

Veronica could feel the sobs rising in her throat as she hugged Miguel close. His face was still against her body. He shouldn't be here for this. Her eyes couldn't keep up with the other cloaks as they danced around the room. One went to the lamp at the side of the couch. The room went dark. She could only feel now.

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

Warrick starred at the beaker sitting in front of him. This new gig was really beginning to suck. He could defiantly understand Greg's need to get out of this place. It was just too boring for his tastes. But Mia had told him to wait in this lab. Warrick wanted to pull out his hair. And he had only been here for ten minutes.

Most of the day staff was gone, the grave yard crew trickling in slowly. Even Grissom had thrown in the towel and headed home. None of his fellow CSI's were here and he really didn't feel like talking with anyone else at that moment,

He had run into Brass on his way in and the detective have filled him on what happened when Mr. Johnson was questioned. The man had something to do with everything, but they just didn't have enough on him. The DNA sample they had taken from him didn't match anything they had. All they had was the dogs in his backyard, but that wouldn't hold up in court. The defense would shred that.

Doctor Albert Roberts was currently looking back over the boy's body and making a solid connection to the dogs. They still didn't have a name, but they were hoping to get something out of Mr. Johnson, some time soon. But Warrick wasn't allowed to think like this right now. He was banned.

"Hey, don't be such a downer," Mia smiled from her place in the doorway.

She had come in when the man in front of her erupted into one very large sigh. Mia knew he was not happy about this arrangement, but he would get over it. The DNA lab was busy with cases from day so she would need all the help she could get. Maybe if Warrick was good, she would let him work on the good stuff.

"Hey girl. So what are you going to put me through tonight?"

"Nothing major. We have some clean up work from a couple cases the day shift has been working. And then just some paper filing. Trace is where the action is at right now, but Hodges has made it clear to me he doesn't want you in there."

Warrick smirked, "I wouldn't want to work with him anyways."

Mia laughed as she walked over to get her counters ready. She had loosened up a little since she started working for this lab. It wasn't that she still didn't like order; she had just learned to make it a little more chaotic. The CSI's just didn't give her the option to have the perfect lab anymore.

The tall CSI forced his body to his feet and walked over to help her get things ready. The folders and samples were waiting after all. Warrick was sure they would be getting a whole lot of shit from the day guys if their stuff wasn't ready to go when they got back. They weren't as nice with things like that as his team.

Both were busy in their tasks that they missed the new arrival. Catherine walked into the room, a sad smile on her face. She hated seeing any of her guys in that white lab coat. It looked weird on the tall frame of the dark skinned man. He was meant to be in fine clothes only, not that cheap cotton.

"So how are things going in here?"

Warrick turned to face the blonde and grinned, "Just getting started. Are you nosey or something, Cath?"

"Nah, just wondering how you are doing?"

"Okay considering. Going to be a long couple days, no offense Mia."

The other woman scoffed, "None taken."

Catherine studied Warrick's face for a moment, "How's Nicky?"

"Don't know. Man won't answer his phone. I woke up later than I thought I would so I didn't have time to run over quick."

Warrick was worried about the Texan. He knew how personal Nick took Grissom and his words. There was no reason to think anything bad would come from it, but he was worried just the same. No matter what happened during this shift, he was going to stop over there when it was done. Nick was going to talk about this.

"Well, I'll be leaving you two alone now. Don't make me have to come in and clean anything up, ya hear!"

Catherine walked away from the two laughing behind her. She still needed to head to the locker room and get ready for the new shift. Only one other person was in there and she laughed at the sight. There was always free entertainment with one Greg Sanders.

The former lab technician had his headphones on and was currently jamming on an invisible guitar as he hopped in place. His back was to Catherine so she was able to get in a good show. She sat on the bench and was wishing she had a tub of popcorn and a camera. She had seen some odd things when Greg still worked in the lab, but nothing this free and wild.

The song was reaching its climax and Greg could feel his blood pumping to the beat. He jumped up onto the bench and closed his eyes. His voice joined in even though he couldn't hear it over the pounding in his ears. Greg began shaking his head, sending his hair flying. As far as he still knew, he was alone and had a few more minutes.

The door open one more time and Catherine turned to watch her boss walk in, a complete look of confusion on his face. Grissom never understood Greg's addiction to looking like an idiot when listening to music. Catherine was sure that the older man had never done anything remotely close to dancing and singing when listening to any music.

"What is going on in here?"

Catherine shushed him with a wave of her hand. She wanted to see the grand finally. And Greg wasn't one to disappoint. As the song came to its closing, he jumped off the bench, propelling himself as high as he could in the air. He landed with his feet apart, throwing his arms high into the arm and jamming with his head. Greg took a deep breath and opened his eyes when the song stopped completely. He fell backwards over the bench as he took in the other two.

"Oh shit!"

Both Catherine and Grissom were at his side as he tried to figure out what happened from the floor, "You okay?"

"Damn, warn a guy next time," Greg groaned as he pushed himself up and away from Catherine's hands. It wasn't a big deal that he had been caught, but it just had to be Catherine and Grissom. That other man always seemed to catch him when he was dancing to some type of music.

"You should be getting ready for work," Grissom lectured, "But instead you are in here acting like a fool. I already have had to hand down punishment on two others. Don't make me have to do the same to you Greg."

With that statement, the gray haired man left the room. Catherine placed her hands on her hips and glared at that door. That man always knew how to slam someone down into the ground. He really needed to learn how to live and let others do the same.

"Come on Greg. Get ready and I'll meet you in the conference room," she said as she followed through the doorway.

Grissom wasn't very far down the hallways and it didn't take much for her to catch up to him. She grabbed a hold of his lower arm and pulled him down and into his office. He didn't put up much resistance and didn't say a thing. Catherine closed the door with a slam and turned on the other.

'What is wrong with you? Greg was doing nothing wrong!"

"He was distracted, not on the case,"

Catherine could feel her jaw drop, "It is a new shift, a new look as you always say. The boy just walked in the door! He shouldn't have to be thinking on the case already. He isn't you!"

"No he isn't, but he should take his job more seriously. He could get himself hurt and there would be nothing any of could do. I will not let that happen. He needs to think before he acts."

"Why do I get the feeling this isn't about Greg at all, is it?" her voice dropped as she looked into the raged face of Grissom. Rarely had she seen this side of him.

Grissom felt as if he had been hit. The air left his lungs and his legs felt weak. He reached around and found the back of his chair before he lowered himself into it. This had been building up since last shift. It shouldn't have come out like this, not against Greg. He should have straightened it out earlier.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said those things."

"No, but you needed to. Who's this really about?"

He looked up into Catherine's eyes, "I'm worried about Nicky."

Not even thinking about the action, Catherine walked up to Grissom and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. She held him tight as he took a couple of deep breaths and closed his eyes. Catherine knew how much every member of this team meant to Grissom even if he never told any of them.

"He will be fine."

"For now, but who knows what is going to happen next. If I could, I would put him in a jar."

Catherine couldn't help it. She laughed, "Yeah, that would go over real well. He is just at home and not answering his phone. I talked with Warrick."

A knock at the door stopped any response. Greg opened it and stuck his head in. He wasn't in the mood to be killed, but wanted to know what he should be doing. The sight of Catherine standing behind Grissom wasn't as shocking as it probably should have been. Catherine always was a hugger when things started to get rough.

"Am I interrupting anything?"

"No Greg, please come in," Grissom waved him over, "I am sorry for what happened in the locker room. I was out of line and shouldn't have taken that tone. Don't let it affect your performance tonight."

"Heh, no sweat. Nick and Warrick have yelled at me worse. I'll live."

Catherine watched the interaction, "So what are the plans for tonight, oh fearless leader?"

"I want up to find any connection we can for the White's with that church. Something is going on in that place and I believe it may hold our answers. Let's find the reports on them and see what comes up. I'll call Vega and have him fax over the report he took from his visit with Mr. White's boss."

Grissom watched Catherine walk over to stand next to Greg. This was all he had for the night. He had been stupid in making Warrick go into the lab. Maybe he could get him to come back and work with him again. And he was going to have to make a call to Nick. He was worried about the Texan.

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

It was warm in the room. The covers were too much. Nick kicked them off the bed as he struggled to wake up. His body was still caught up in the rest, but his brain wanted nothing more to do with it. He opened his eyes and turned his head enough so he could look at the digital clock that sat on his night stand. Nick had been asleep for only six hours.

Groaning, he lifted a heavy hand to his face to wipe away all the remnants of sleep. He needed to get up and moving. Nick crawled out of bed and made his way slowly to the bathroom. His arm was throbbing as the blood flow returned to it at full force. The Texan was going to need another pain pill if it didn't cease.

The sight in the mirror was somehow confusing. Nick's eyes crinkled as he took in the large bruise covering a good portion of his lower, right face. It took a few seconds for him to remember the attack from Mr. Johnson at the man's house. That was the reason he was not allowed to work for a week. Nick scowled at his image.

"Stupid asshole!"

He picked up the bar of soap on the sink and chucked it into the shower. It reshaped with the impact and part of it remained on the tiling. Nick took a deep breath to calm himself. The sudden movement had sent sharp pains through the cast. He kept forgetting he needed to be more careful with himself at that moment. And he needed to get that plastic bag to cover the thing so he could shower.

Shuffling back into the hallway, he headed to the kitchen and his bag of goodies from the hospital. He remembered how Dr. Mercer explained to put it on the best way and managed to get it right after three tries. If he had the energy and the beer, he might have thrown himself a party.

But something was bothering him. Nick could feel that he was missing something again. Sleep had taken it away from him. The CSI stood in the middle of the kitchen, plastic bag in place, trying to think of whatever it was. This was going to bother him. He headed to the bathroom. A shower was needed.

***

#13

Detective Vega got out his squad car slowly. His body was sore, but he had gotten some sleep. Now if he could just get some of his worries off his chest, he would be fresher than a rose. There was something he wanted to check over before he went to check with Grissom on what needed to be done yet. Nothing had panned out with the brother-in-law and the dogs. There was no brother-in-law.

He walked down the hallway of the CSI lab, nodding at the people he passed. There were no qualms here for him. Vega respected these people and their hard work. If not for them, his job would be completely pointless. He could arrest all he wanted, but he needed someone to make it stick.

The two CSI's were already in the room, but he highly doubted they were at all waiting for him. Hell, he hadn't said he was going to stop by. As far as any of them knew, he was sitting at his desk in the department. But they had the sheets he needed.

"Hey guys."

Catherine and Greg looked up at the cop as he entered the room. Neither was surprised by the visit, "Hey, what do you need Sam?"

"I just wanted to look over some stuff and knew you guys would have it."

"Sure, take a look at whatever," Catherine waved her hand absently over the files spread out over the large table.

Sam didn't need a bigger invitation to sit. His eyes darted around over the titles on the files and found the two he wanted. Neither CSI glanced to see what he grabbed and he didn't say a word about them. These were the lists. He just hoped something came from looking over all these damn names. It was really something he should have done earlier, when Nick showed him Johnson's name.

He wanted to know about the other two families of those kids. Something made him want to check for their names. As he scanned the list of members for that church, neither of the other parents made the list. So much for that train of thought. But he caught another list.

With a frown on his face, Vega pulled the other list from the other folder. This was the one he had given to the CSI's. It was the list from Mr. White's office. Without thinking too much about it, Vega allowed his eyes to roam the white paper. But it was about half way down that they stopped completely.

"What!"

Catherine looked up at the cop as he began to ruffle through the two name lists that they had. He seemed excited about something. This might be a good thing. She lifted herself out of her chair a little more to see if she could make out what he was trying to do.

The detective didn't notice the movement of the woman sitting across from him as he matched the names, "Well, well. Something finally works."

"What did you find?"

"I found a match from both of the lists. I think I might have something for the White's"

This announcement made Greg dismiss what he was looking at and study the man in front of him, "You found our suspect?"

"Not for sure, but this man's name is on both lists. I agree with Jim on this one that it all is somehow connected to that place. And since this guy works with our late Mr. White, it is the best lead I can think of."

"So what's the name," Catherine stood, "We'll need an address."

"We?"

"Of course. Greg and I are going to accompany you to the man's house and take a look around. Can't leave you to break our case now can we?"

Vega laughed and shook his head. He didn't have anything to respond with and simply followed Catherine from the room. There was the sound of a chair scrapping along the floor and knew that Greg was coming. It was just too bad they didn't have a warrant for this.

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

The house of Brian Dubois wasn't too shabby. It was a little gaudy for Catherine's tastes, but it was an impressive size. She stood behind Vega as the other man rang the doorbell. Greg was holding his kit in his right hand, gently bumping it on his leg as they waited. The younger man was happy to be out of the lab. Catherine could tell.

It took almost a full minute before the lock was clicked out of place and the knob began to turn. The door swung open to reveal an extremely tall, pale man with dark brown hair, gray streaks running through it. Mr. DuBois looked like he hadn't slept in awhile or was up all last night drinking.

"Brain DuBois? I am Sam Vega with the LVPD and these are CSI Willows and Sanders with the crime lab. We are here to ask you a few questions. Is it alright if we come in?"

The man looked completely confused, "Ask me about what? I paid that parking ticket I got last month. No warrant for arrest needed. I was trying to sleep."

"This will only take a few minutes. And no, this is not about a traffic violation. We are here to see if you know anything about what might have happened to your coworker Mr. Ralph White or his wife."

Catherine watched as the man thought it over before he finally waved them inside. He kept looking behind them as if waiting for someone to jump out of the bushes. She followed and was led into a large living room with very plush furniture. It seemed that being an accountant paid very well.

"So what happened to White? Did he do something stupid?"

"No, he is dead. Along with his wife. You wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would you?" Vega sat down on the edge of the large couch next to the CSI's.

DuBois' mouth dropped and his eyes got large, "Dead! Wow, I just saw the guy at work the other day. But no, I didn't even know he was dead. It is a shame. He was a hard worker."

"You were not friends?" Greg couldn't believe the detachment of the other man.

"No, just worked together. He got the promotion instead of me. Guy was a counting machine. No one could keep up with him. I just saw him by the coffee pot."

"So you would say you were jealous of him?"

The tall, skinny man turned to face Vega at the question, "Everyone was. He was the boss' favorite employee. Someday he was going to make partner."

"Do you attend a religious group called the Church of Gods?" Catherine asked suddenly.

"Yes…what does that have to do with anything?"

"A member of the church is also dead," Vega rubbed his hands together, "But that doesn't apply to what we need from you today."

"You think I murdered them? That is insane!"

Mr. Dubois jumped to his feet and began to pace his living room. His face was contorted up in anger and something else that Catherine couldn't figure out. Something was not being said here. This guy was up to no good, that was for sure.

Greg began to feel uncomfortable with the man walking in front of him like a caged tiger and got to his feet. He walked over the large glass door in the far wall. The backyard to the property was impressive underneath the patio lights, lots of green grass and a few trees. And there was pretty decent sized pool sitting in a cement patio. Greg admired it all when something caught his eye.

"Mr. Dubois, when was the last time you cleaned your pool?"

Everyone turned to face the youngest man in the room. Greg could feel a blush rising on his cheeks, but knew he couldn't let it show. He needed to be strong and confident to get respect from this man.

"I had the guys here yesterday, why?"

"Have they started with a new cleaner? I have never seen one that leaves yellow stains on the cement."

Catherine rushed over to look at the pool as soon as Greg finished speaking. Without thinking about it, she pulled the corner of her shirt out and used it to cover her hand as she opened the door. Once she was to the edge of the pool, she could make out yellow stains over the entire inside of the pool and all around on the cement.

"Sam, I think we are going to need to ask Mr. Dubois a few more questions."

Mr. Dubois began to sweat and fidget at the announcement. He knew what this meant and he knew what a bad liar he was. This was not going to go well. He should have said no. There was no resistance when he felt the cop take his arms and pull them behind him. The cuffs were cold on his flesh.

"You are going to come down to the station with us. Do you have a lawyer?"

"No, but I know one. He's a friend."

Sam nodded his head and turned to remove the man from his own house. He needed to call for backup and have this place sealed off. The two CSI's were going to have some work to do. Yellow spots in a pool were enough to question him, but not hold him. They needed proof.

Catherine walked back in and grabbed the kit bag from where Greg sat it next to the couch. She handed Greg a couple swabs as she got ready to take a few pictures of the area. This was a potential crime scene and they needed to get it documented. If this was their guy, he wasn't going to get away with it.

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

Brass walked through the police department hallways at a pace that kept everyone back. No one had the nerve to approach him while he was in that state. He really couldn't remember a time he had been so angry. This was getting ridiculous and quickly. And that damn CSI was not answering his phone. What kind of supervisor didn't answer his phone!

Andrew Kehls sat in a chair down a ways in order to stay out of the path of fire, but was not going to leave his Captain out of his sights. He had been assigned to work with the older man for the night. And he knew that if he were to look away for a moment, Brass would be gone. That would not look good for the young cop trying to make something out of himself.

The older cop walked towards Kehls and abruptly stopped. Brass turned and pressed his back onto the wall, "I swear, that Grissom is going to drive me into early retirement."

"Why don't we just go to the house and wait for him there?"

Brass lifted an eyebrow at the suggestion. It wasn't odd for him to be at the scene first, then have the CSI's arrive after. And it would piss the other man off. Brass couldn't stop the grin from rising on his face. He looked at the man sitting by him. The kid was going to have talent.

"You're right. Get you stuff. We are driving over there. Grissom can just get off his ass and meet us."

Without waiting to see if Kehls got up to follow him or not, Brass pushed off the wall and made to head to the exit. The two men maybe got twenty feet before they were stopped by an interesting sight. It seemed the Vega had finally arrested a man too tall for him. The brown haired man towered over the cop, but it was good to see that he wasn't putting up any resistance. In fact, the man looked defeated.

Catherine and Greg stood off to the side as Mr. Dubois was booked and being made ready to have his prints and photo taken before questioning. The two CSI's noticed Brass and Kehls staring at them and waved the two over. The blonde haired woman couldn't help, but notice the odd look the younger man was giving their suspect.

"Jim, Andrew. How's it going?"

Brass coughed, "Not too terrible except for the fact that your boss seems to be okay with not answering his phone."

"Yeah, he does that sometimes," Catherine smiled.

Officer Kehls was still starring at the tall man as if he was trying to remember why this man was triggering his interest. The young man knew he had seen, even talked to this guy before. It just wasn't coming to the front of his mind. He could hear the others talking, but he was locked up in his own head, sorting through his memories.

"What did you need to talk with Grissom about?"

"We got a new 419 call. It seems that arresting Mr. Johnson might not have been a very good idea."

Catherine crinkled her face in confusion. "What?"

"It seems that someone broke into the Johnson home," Brass sighed, "Veronica Johnson's body was found in the kitchen. A neighbor went over to ask for something, looked in a window and saw her on the floor, lots of blood. This was around nine this evening, supposedly, but the call didn't come in 'til thirty minutes ago. I have to two cops there now."

"We were going to join them," Kehls finally pulled his attention for Dubois as the other man was lead away into the back rooms.

"Paramedics?"

"Already left. Called in for Phillips and left the place to the cops. And Catherine, the kid is missing."

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

It was so quiet in the lab. He finally understood the need that Greg had to play music, loudly, in his DNA lab. Warrick wished he had that ability. But he knew Mia would probably kill him over the choice of tunes. He liked life way too much to even tempt it.

The doors to the lab rooms were all open to help with the heat that kept coming from somewhere. He could hear Hodges mumbling something to himself across the hall. It was annoying to say the least. Someone had to take that guy out back and beat him for a few minutes. That might help a lot.

Warrick rubbed at his eyes with his forearm. Looking in a microscope this long was making him go cross eyed. His respect for Mia was going up notch by notch, but he would never let the woman know. It would work against him in the end. He was about to say something to her when a shout of triumph came from across the hall.

"Well, it seems that Hodges has come up with something," Mia smiled.

"Yeah, about time to."

The two crossed the expanse of the hallway and entered the trace lab. The man inside was not surprised to see them, "Things a little dull over there in DNA?"

"We were wondering what in the world could cause you to show some sign of human life," Warrick said simply.

"It just so happens that I made the match between the paint the victim was drowned in and what Catherine sent in from that pool. Exact same make up. It is what one could call chrome yellow if they understood it. But most people call it sunshine yellow though I did find a hint of a green shade as well. Lead chromate in this sample was diluted by numerous lead salts to achieve this color. It is common in most hardware stores so there is no way to really get an exact location on where it was bought from."

Warrick nodded, "So this guy was at the murder. He might be able to give us the information that Mr. Johnson won't."

"Hold back their big boy," Mia smirked, "But you are still stuck with me. No CSI work for you. All you get to add to this case is DNA papers."

"Don't remind me…" was all he got out before Mia dragged him away from Hodges and his information on the yellow paint.

***

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