Title : System Failure
Author : Melanie
Summary : Story number five in the series. When a new case threatens to push Catherine over the edge, it’s Sara’s turn to keep her on her feet.
Pairing: Sara/Catherine
Spoilers : Basically through 'Felonius Monk', touches on the reopened murder case of Catherine's former best friend.
Disclaimer : I’m just borrowing. All characters and everything else CSI belongs to Zuiker, Bruckheimer and CBS.
Rating : R, NC17 to be safe.
Feedback : Always welcome. Fivebyfive13@prodigy.net
Archive : Ask me and it’s yours :)
Author’s Note : Thanks again for all the great, constructive feedback! You guys are the best. This one’s a little longer than I expected, but I hope you like it just the same. Feel free toIt was early.  Sara opened her eyes slowly.  Waking up wasn’t something that was
on the top of her list of favorite things to do.  The world was fuzzy around the
edges, the hazy transfer of reality.  The line between the unconscious and the
solid shifting until it became clear.   Her eyes fell on the opposite wall.   A
framed picture that she didn’t recognize as her own.   She wasn’t at her
apartment.  But as her eyes shifted lower, Sara realized that she was in fact
home.

She stared at her heavy black boots, scuffed at the toe and discolor bleeding
around the sides, resting gently on the surface of a tattered and splintered
coffee table; a copy of the latest Newsweek caught under one heel.   Curled up
next to her own set of feet was one small Paisley cotton covered foot.   There
was the pressure of another leg thrown over her own, bent at the knee and
twitching every so often.

The breath in the crook of her neck was relentless and slightly uneven.  An
innocent moisture working its way from neck to collarbone and possibly lower. 
Sara attempted to shift a little, but the arm curled around her torso had a
different idea.   Chuckling softly to herself and realizing complete and utter
defeat, Sara slid her right arm up and over a cloth covered, quiet, and soundly
sleeping form.  Her hand slid itself in and out of soft blonde hair.  Sara
turned her head slowly, breathing deeply before placing a kiss on slightly damp
and warm forehead.

Finally, Sara shifted her face down lower and a little to the left.  She
breathed lightly, close to Catherine’s ear and temporarily resisted the urge to
grab the small gold hoop earring between her teeth and pull.

“Catherine,” she whispered, waited, and then again, “Catherine.”

Catherine’s response was a groggy moan and the tiniest movement of weary limbs. 
Instead of giving herself up to the waking world, she burrowed further into
Sara’s side tightening her grip on the younger woman’s waist and shook her head
ever so slightly.  Sara smiled and momentarily thought of just shaking
Catherine, but devised a more sinister plan.  She leaned in further, trailing
the tip of her tongue slowly up and around the outside of Catherine’s earlobe.  
Sara felt Catherine smile against her neck and knew the job had been performed
well.

Catherine moved quickly, even in the slowly deteriorating haze of sleep, and it
always surprised Sara just how smooth, fluid, and deliberate Catherine’s
movements always seemed to be no matter what situation they were in.  This was
no exception.   Before she knew it, Catherine was sitting on her lap…straddling
her waist to be more exact, kissing her long and hard, her tongue brushing
lightly over soft lips and hard teeth before sliding in and out of Sara’s mouth
in the same movement.

“It can’t be time to get up yet,” Catherine said, shifting to bury her forehead
on Sara’s shoulder.  “The sun isn’t even up yet.”

“Actually it’s not,” Sara replied, snaking her arms around Catherine’s waist and
holding her tightly.   She felt Catherine’s eyes flutter open against the
material of her shirt.

“Interested in a little early morning hanky panky?” Catherine raised an eyebrow
as she sat back, smiling at the way Sara’s arms were cradled behind her.

“Considering the current circumstances, I’d love to lie to you and say that’s
exactly what I had in mind when I roused you,” Sara answered with a seductive
smile of her own.   “But in all honesty, Catherine, you were drooling all over
me and I just had this shirt dry cleaned,” she added, smile turning to sardonic
smirk.

“I don’t drool,” Catherine glared.

“The puddle at the base of my neck would disagree with you,” Sara shot back at
her playfully.  “I think I might have a swab in my bag.  We could do a DNA test,
but whatever shall you do when confronted with the evidence?” she smiled
brightly.

“You mean right here?” Catherine asked, leaning forward to extend her tongue in
a long, languid stroke from the top of Sara’s collarbone to the crook of her
neck, nipping playfully at the skin there while Sara tried to speak but found
her throat was growing dry.

“Uh, yeah,” Sara managed to breathe out, her hands trailing up underneath the
back of Catherine’s shirt and gently massaging warm skin.   “That’s about
right.”

There were no more words, only the inhale and exhale of ragged breath.  The
electricity of heightened senses, hyperaware of every touch of skin against
skin. The fire emitting from fingertips wherever they touched, wherever they
trailed.

With her thumbs hooked in rear belt loops, Sara pulled Catherine back, heat
still lingering between them and looked into heavy blue eyes drowning in their
own desire before shifting forward with rough precision.   Catherine fell back
into her as their lips tangled in a heated exchange, Catherine commanding and
flexing strong leg muscles to keep Sara underneath her.   In her mind, Sara was
still fighting for control, but her body gave itself over to Catherine
willingly.

“Relax,” Catherine whispered against the hollow of Sara’s throat, her hands
trailing over the soft collar of Sara’s shirt, nails catching on every button on
the way down.

When she felt Sara’s arms loosen, tension slowly leaking out of her body,
Catherine kissed a soft trail back up the long throat, teeth dragging over a
prominent chin, lips finally coming to rest on top of Sara’s.   Catherine’s
kisses were slow, sure and deliberate.   They kept a steady rhythm of comfort
and ease.   Catherine waited for assurance from Sara to go any further, proving
trust, proving patience and want and a familiar tingle in the pit of her
stomach.

Sara’s hands slid down her back, long fingers dipping in to the waistband of her
pants, their progress hindered by a tightly drawn belt.  Small noises rose from
Sara’s throat and transferred themselves into Catherine’s mouth.   They had a
lot of practice being quiet.

Catherine took her cue to continue further, feeling Sara’s need clawing into the
skin of her lower back, the squirming of hips beneath her.  Brushing her
knuckles against the front tails of Sara’s shirt and gliding them above a cool
steel belt buckle, Catherine slid her nails over the soft skin of Sara’s abdomen
around to her hips and back again.  There was a quiet almost whimper like sound,
the sharp sensation of Sara’s teeth seizing Catherine’s lower lip and tugging
gently.

Their lips never broke contact as Catherine used both hands to unfasten Sara’s
belt, letting it hang loosely on either side.   She was quickly past the button
and zipper, sliding deep inside Sara in a slow, even rhythm acutely aware of
Sara’s sudden intake of breath, her body accustomed to adjusting comfortably
around Catherine’s skilled and considerate fingers.

When she couldn’t take it anymore, Sara broke her mouth away from Catherine’s,
her ragged breath muffled as she pulled Catherine to her tightly and rested her
forehead on the soft material of the inside of Catherine’s shoulder.  Sara’s
hands trailed down over the rough material of Catherine’s jeans coming to rest
on firm buttocks, guiding the blonde woman into her slowly at first, then
harder, faster as the blurry edge started becoming clearer.

Sara shut her eyes tightly, teeth almost gritted as she pulled Catherine into
her one last time and held her in close, using both strong arms to brace
Catherine against her firmly.   Catherine had one arm tightly curled around
Sara’s shoulders, the other still resting gently, motionless in the warm cocoon
between Sara’s legs.   When she felt Sara release steady breaths, Catherine
removed her hand slowly and buried it into the thick dark hair falling across
her shoulder.   Sara pulled back enough to kiss Catherine softly.

“Good morning,” Catherine mumbled against her lips and smiled, feeling the small
spray of light begin warming up the room.

“I’ll say,” Sara replied with a grin of her own before grabbing Catherine by the
hips and depositing her on the length of the couch, crawling on top of her with
a playful tangling of legs.

“My turn.”

Light crawled in through the crack of an open window, flooding over them like a
warm, velvet blanket.   Catherine closed her eyes, feeling the weight of Sara
pressing down on her, a steady mix of pleasure and pain that would last the next
few hours.

********************

“So how exactly is it that Greg Sanders asked you out and you didn’t even tell
me?” Catherine asked Sara as they strolled down the hallway at CSI heading
straight for the DNA lab.  

They were walking close enough to each other that their arms brushed past each
other in a steady rhythm as they kept in step with each other, but they weren’t
physically touching in any other more suggestive way.  After a long talk with
Grissom, Sara and Catherine thought it better, more practical, that they keep
their growing personal relationship out of the workplace at least for the time
being.   To their surprise, Greg hadn’t said anything to anyone in almost a
month.   Sara was convinced Grissom had taken the opportunity to have a little
chat with their favorite apparely challenged lab rat.   And if Grissom had been
any more supportive of their relationship, Sara felt she might barf.

“I was still weighing my options, Catherine,” Sara replied, turning to look at
her with a shining grin.   “I mean, come on, who wouldn’t want to jump his cute
little bones?   With the bad hair, Black Flag, and that sexy sterile lab smell. 
In fact,” she added with mischief in her eyes, “I’m sorry, Catherine, but I
must have him right now,” she finished and barreled into the DNA lab, leaving
Catherine to follow a few steps behind.

“You must have who right now?” Greg inquired from behind a swab sample, raising
an eyebrow and smiling.

“Grissom,” Sara deadpanned.   “Have you seen him?” she asked, narrowing her
eyes.  

Catherine rubbed at her temples with her fingertips.   That was the last time
she gave Sara ‘good morning’ sex.  

“He’s picking up assignments,” Greg answered.   “Shouldn’t be long.”

“What are you working on?” Catherine asked, noticing the absence of protocol
sample bags and work orders.

“Buddy of mine is convinced his girlfriend is slightly less than Catholic school
girl innocent.”

“Isn’t that an oxymoron?” Catherine quipped, folding her arms over her chest.

“Anyway,” Greg continued, ignoring her.   “I’m testing his sheets.  Seems I’ve
already isolated some foreign DNA.”

“You’re using tax payer’s money, not to mention valuable CSI time to test
non-case related DNA?” Catherine said, slightly dumbfounded at his disregard for
rules and regulations.

“Wanna know the best part?” Greg smiled back at her.   “It’s female DNA. 
Apparently Mary Magdalene is playing for both teams.”

Seeing Catherine’s jaw set in frustration, Sara stepped closer and squeezed her
shoulder firmly and fought like Hell to suppress the laughter that was trying so
hard to escape.  

“First of all, Bad Greg,” Sara said sternly, waving a finger at him.  “And
secondly, Mary Magdalene was a prostitute, dumbass.  She was about as innocent
as Robert Blake.”

“Exactly my point,” Greg retorted.   “We’ve all got our secrets, don’t we
ladies?  I believe I’ve been very trustworthy in keeping yours and I hope you’ll
do the same for me.   Otherwise…”

“Otherwise what, Pointdexter?” Catherine shot at him, taking a step closer, Sara
following her lead.

“I’d think very carefully about what I say next, Greg-O.   She’s extra grumpy
tonight.  Something about the moon or the women’s life cycle or something,” Sara
said, noticing Catherine almost bite her lip at the last statement and feeling a
hard pinch at the base of her spine.

“Otherwise, my discretion concerning certain matters may slip below the level of
normal courtesy,” Greg stated, keeping his cool and smiling.  The game was fun,
and he always enjoyed the visuals he got when the two of them were standing in
front of him.

“You wouldn’t,” Sara stated.

“No, he wouldn’t,” Grissom called from the doorway, face blank of expression as
usual.  “You two, assignments are up,” he directed at the two women and then at
Greg, “you stop using the lab as infidelity central or you’ll be cleaning
toilets for the rest of your life.”

“Yes, sir,” Greg eked out through dry lips as the three CSIs disappeared into
the hallway and out of sight.



Grissom, Catherine, and Sara began their journey down the hallway towards the
stairs that led to the locker room picking up Nick and Warrick on their way. 
They stopped a few feet from the door, Grissom leafing through the two folders
in his hand.

“Catherine, single homicide,” he stated, handing her the top folder.  “Take Sara
and Nicky with you.  Warrick, you and I are headed to Greenview Heights .”

“Not another drive by,” Warrick said, shifting his weight from one foot to the
other.

“I’m afraid so,” Grissom affirmed.   “Shall we?”

“Sure thing, Bossman,” he answered, following Grissom towards the exit.

Sara turned to Catherine, who had been awfully quiet looking through the details
of their case file.   Nick ran downstairs to grab their kits, leaving the two
women alone.    Sara placed a hand on Catherine’s shoulder gently, still causing
the shorter woman to jump slightly at the touch.

“What is it, Catherine?” Sara asked , concern etched across her face.

“Stripper, stabbed,” Catherine said, shaking her head slightly.  “Club called
Hot Legs.”

“You know it?”

“Uh, yeah.   It’s a sleazy joint, off the strip,” Catherine explained.   “It’s a
stripper’s last stop before falling off the radar…or turning tricks.”

********************

O’Riley met them outside of Hot Legs in a full suit and tie, wiping the sweat
from his brow with an already soaked handkerchief.  He explained that Captain
Brass was working across town with Grissom at the site of the drive by shooting.

“Sergeant O’Riley, you been working out?  Losing a little weight?” Nick teased,
patting the large man on the stomach with the back of his hand as he walked past
him towards the entrance.

“Not unless you call raising the donut to my mouth exercise,” O’Riley answered,
running his hand over his graying flattop and opening the door to allow them
entrance.

Sara saw Catherine take a deep breath, hand clutching at the handle of her case
so hard her knuckles were white, before taking slow steps toward the open door. 
The marquee above the entrance was dimly lit, buzzing on and off in an uneven
flashing motion.  They were in the less than respectable part of town, the bar
stuck in between a XXX-rated movie house and a store with a mannequin decked out
in a leather vest and zippered mask standing crooked in the window.   Sara
walked in slowly behind Catherine, feeling the tension suspended around the
blonde woman in the air, but somehow knowing that Catherine had to work out
whatever it was that was going on with her on her own.   She felt O’Riley’s
large mass shuffle in behind her, a strong reassurance at her back.

The bar was lightly populated mostly with scruffy looking men that smelled of
too much booze and three day old sweat.   There was a couple in the corner all
but having sex in a dimly lit booth and a half naked woman doing a rather sloppy
pole dance on a slightly elevated stage trimmed with small blinking Christmas
lights.   When she smiled, there were a few dark gaps where she was missing
teeth.  But something in the way her body moved, the way her face was void of
any other signs of aging that suggested she couldn’t have be more than
twenty-five years old.   It sent a shudder down Catherine’s spine.

They were quickly approached by a bouncer, a big beefy guy wearing a tight
t-shirt that said Hot Legs in small letters across his bulging left pectoral
muscle.  Apparently murder was bad for business, but by the looks of the place
no one was letting that get in the way of their good time.

“Can I help you?” he asked, crossing large arms over his chest and almost having
trouble.

“O’Riley, Vegas PD,” the older man said, flashing a badge, and then motioning to
the three CSIs next to him.  “They’re with the crime lab.   We’re going to need
you to take us to the body.”

“This way,” Beefy said after a long moment of skeptically looking the three
non-cops up and down, lingering on Catherine a little too long for her or anyone
else’s liking.  

He waved the four law enforcement agents to follow him and walked past the bar,
past the stage, and through the door leading to the dressing area.  Walking into
the room, barren of humanity and lit with bright fluorescent lights, Catherine
almost had to turn away from the sight she was met with.   Sara noticed her
flinch.  Sara noticed everything about Catherine.  She wanted so badly to find
out what was going on, to help, to at least steady Catherine with her own strong
arms.   But she couldn’t.  Not yet.

There was a young woman, half-dressed, slumped over a crude vanity.  Broken
glass from the shattered mirror in front of her hung limply off the sides of the
frame where it was still attached, the rest in bits in her hair and on the table
under her upper body.  She had long, wavy blonde hair…the kind not out of a
bottle.   Long arms hanging lifeless at her sides, a pool of blood already
formed around her high heel covered feet.  O’Riley wiped at his mouth with the
handkerchief as Nick set his case down near the side of the table extracting
gloves and snapping them on.

“Catherine,” he said, waiting for her to step forward.   She was primary.  It
was her job to hit the body.

“You want me to do it?” Sara whispered in her ear from behind, under the
confused and skeptical eyes of their male associates.

Catherine just shook her head and moved forward slowly.   Nick began poking
around the shattered glass with the end of a pen, then kneeling down to examine
the blood droplets that had stopped falling and the pool they had formed
earlier.  Catherine snapped on her own gloves, motioned behind her for Sara to
come closer and start taking pictures.  As soon as the bulb had flashed a few
times, Catherine gently cradled the girl’s head in shaky hands and raised it up
slowly.   She rested the girl back against the folding chair she was sitting on
and made sure the body was steady before letting go.   Sara snapped a few more
pictures, gritting her teeth and swallowing hard at the new sight.

Catherine came around, standing in front of Sara, and all but freezing as she
took in the degree of violation to the dead girl’s face.  She had once been
beautiful, anyone could see that even through the new scars and jagged glass
jutting out from every few centimeters of facial skin.  

“Whoever killed her slammed her face into the mirror first,” Catherine stated,
stepping forward and placing a gloved hand on the girl’s face and pulling open
an eyelid, gasping and almost having to step back.  “Her eyes were open, maybe
staring down her attacker through his reflection.   She definitely knew him. 
Body’s still warm,” she added, glancing back at Sara, holding sympathetic and
concerned eyes for a split second before retreating back into herself and
turning back to the body.

The girl’s head lolled backwards when Catherine let go, revealing a long deep
gash across her neck.   Catherine flipped the girl’s hair back on either side of
her throat, gauging the length of the cut.

“Cut her from ear to ear,” she said.   “And deep too.   Definitely not a
stranger.   There’s no way she’d sit here staring at whoever was behind her
while they threw her around and pulled a knife on her unless she was used to
it.”

“I’ve got something under the fingernails,” Nick said, turning the girl’s hand
in his own and reaching into his case for scraping tools.

“We have an ID?” Sara asked.

“Ashley Bowman, age twenty-one.   Started a little over a month ago.   Was
supposed to go on an hour ago.   That’s when somebody found her,” O’Riley
recited from his black notepad.

“Who found her?” Catherine asked, turning from the body.

“Another dancer, calls herself Vixen,” O’Riley answered.

“Anybody see anything?”

“If they did, they’re not talking.”

“You two finish up here,” Catherine sighed, turning back to Nick and Sara. 
“First I want to talk to the owner.  Then I want to talk to this dancer,” she
added, turning to O’Riley and following him into the hallway.

“She okay?” Nick asked Sara after the others were out of earshot.

“I don’t know,” Sara admitted, scaring herself more than her co-worker.  “I’ve
got something,” she announced, pulling a short brown hair from the area near the
neck wound.   She placed it in a bag and handed it to Nick.

“Our girl’s a blonde,” he said with a smile and packed the plastic bag in his
kit as evidence.



O’Riley led Catherine towards the bar where a man in his early thirties was
leaning with his back to them, talking to the bartender.  Even from behind,
Catherine could tell that he was your run of the mill sleazebag.   He had dark,
greasy slicked back hair and was wearing a purple crushed velvet leisure suit
and snakeskin shoes.   Catherine pinched herself lightly just to make sure she
was really awake.

“Mr. James,” O’Riley called at the man, causing him to turn on his heels and
face them bringing a small glass with ice cubes clinking to his mouth.

The bartender stepped a few feet away, using an already dirty towel to clean a
few glasses.  The bar owner, Mr. James, watched as Catherine approached with
catlike eyes almost as if he were sizing her up or wanting to commit every
detail to memory.   It was just this side of creepy.   He placed his glass back
on the bar top, adjusted his yellow silk shirt collar making sure it was open
too far displaying a healthy chunk of chest hair and enough gold jewelry to make
Mr. T jealous.

“Ronnie.  Please,” he said, extending a hand to Catherine and grinning in a way
that made her body shiver.

“Catherine Willows, Vegas Crime Lab,” she took his hand briefly and continued
wanting to emphasize she was all business, “we need to ask you some questions.”

“Anything I can do to help,” he replied, smoothing his hair back with one hand
and motioning for another drink with the other.   “Can I get you something?”

“Yeah, you can tell me what happened here tonight,” Catherine said sharply.

“You cut right to the chase I see, Ms. Willows,” James said, emphasizing the Ms.
“Fine, we’ll do it your way.   Ashley was scheduled to go on at ten.   When she
didn’t make her cue, I sent someone back to check on her.   Imagine my surprise
when I walked back there and found her like that.”

“And no one saw or heard anything?” Catherine asked, already knowing her answer.

“Take a look at this place,” James said, motioning to the dank, dark club. 
“This isn’t the kind of place where anybody notices anything unless it involves
a bare pair of tits or a free drink.  These people come here to be anonymous and
that’s the way they like to stay.”

“How about you, Mr. James,” Catherine countered, “ did you see anything?”

“I was in my office until Rex here told me Ashley was a no show,” he replied,
pointing to the bartender.

“And can anyone verify that you were in your office the whole time?”

“Of course not,” James answered with a smirk.   “I was alone.”

A tall brunette approached the bar.   James turned to talk to her in hushed
tones, seizing her thin pale arm in his tight fist, making her cringe in pain.  
He whispered something in her ear and pushed her roughly back onto the floor
area of the bar and turned back to Catherine and O’Riley with a tight smile.

“If you’ll excuse me, I have some business to attend to,” he said and turned to
go.

“Don’t make yourself scarce, Mr. James,” Catherine called after him.  “I have a
feeling we’ll be back.”

“I look forward to it, Ms. Willows,” James winked and bowed slightly before
working his way into the scattered crowd.

“Sure I can’t get you a drink?” the tall bartender named Rex asked, leaning an
arm on the bar in front of Catherine.   “Ronnie’s a hard pill to swallow, but
I’m pretty sure he’s harmless.   Runs from his own shadow, if you know what I
mean.”

Catherine smiled at him, at least a little grateful that not everybody in that
bar was a slimy asshole.   O’Riley flipped his notepad open again as Catherine
asked a few questions.

“Can you tell me anything about Ashley Bowman?”

“She liked her diet coke with a generous splash of rum,” Rex replied and began
cleaning another filthy glass, shifting the glass from left hand to right.  “I
see a lot of women come through here, Miss Willows.  Mostly drug addicts looking
for ten bucks for their next fix, some working girls that can’t handle the
streets anymore.   But Ashley wasn’t like that.  She was smalltown girl that
just didn’t know any better.   If she’d been a little smarter, she’d have been
up the strip at one of those classy joints.  Instead she’s down here with the
rest of us bottom feeders.”

“Believe me, Rex, up the strip isn’t so far a cry from what you have going on
here,” Catherine found herself saying, a jagged pain thumping at her insides
thinking of Ashley Bowman’s unfortunate loss of innocence.

“You sound like you know a thing or two yourself about the business, Miss
Willows,” Rex said, gripping his dishrag firmly in his left hand.

“She have any family here that you know of?” Catherine asked, changing the
subject.   “Boyfriend?”

“Yeah, I think she lived with a guy.   Boyfriends aren’t allowed in the bar.  
It’s bad for business.”

“Can you get me an address?” O’Riley asked.

“Yeah, sure.   Just be a minute,” Rex nodded and took off towards the manager’s
office.

“I’ll go find Vixen,” Catherine said with a roll of her eyes, touching O’Riley’s
arm for a second before taking a few steps away from the bar.

She looked around at the dim red lighting, the girl on stage thrusting her
pelvis in a strange man’s face just hoping for five bucks or any sort of
compensation.  Her eyes scanned the desolate crowd, a man passed out on his
tabletop.   A young girl giving a grubby older man a lap dance, his hands
touching every part of her body that Catherine knew from experience to be off
limits.  This used to be her world, a little darker but still a close
resemblance.   She saw the bartender slipping O’Riley a piece of paper and was
turning to look back towards the dressing room door when a tall woman with short
blonde hair stepped into her path.

“Well, well.  Catherine Willows.  You sure do clean up nice, don’t you?” the
woman spoke in a sharp tone, green eyes piercing into Catherine’s own with a
hazy familiarity.

“I’m sorry, do I know you?” Catherine asked, searching the woman’s face for any
sort of triggered memory.

“Let’s just say it’s amazing what a little bleach, a pair of scissors, and a
good plastic surgeon can do for a woman.”

Catherine’s mind was flooded with the vision of a tall, gawky and flat chested
girl with long, dark hair.   But if this was the same woman, she was about as
different from her old self as night was from day.

“Jenny Daniels?” Catherine said, eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

“I go by Vixen now,” Jenny answered pointedly.   “And what brings you to our
fine establishment?”

“I work for the Las Vegas Crime Lab,” Catherine replied quietly.  “You’re
actually just the person I was looking for.”  There’s nothing quite like the
past coming full force to kick you in the shins to bring you to your knees
again.

“Yeah, damn shame what happened to Angela or whatever her name was.”

“Ashley,” Catherine corrected her.  

“Whatever,” Jenny said, snapping her gum.   “We weren’t close.”

“You found the body?”

“Yeah, Ronnie told me to go check on her.   I told that fucker I wasn’t going on
again if she wasn’t ready.   I just finished with a client.”

“A client?” Catherine asked with raised eyebrows.

“Yeah, Cath, a client,” Jenny answered with an evil smile.   “You remember.”

“No, I don’t,” Catherine said firmly.

“Oh, my mistake.   It was your husband that would know all about clientele,”
Jenny stated, enjoying every moment of the conversation.   “He was one of my
regulars.  But then again I’m sure you knew that.”

“Did you see anything, Jenny?” Catherine asked through gritted teeth.

“Just that poor girl’s face shoved into some broken glass,” Jenny shot back,
absentmindedly scratching at her right bicep area.   “There was an awful lot of
blood.   You think it took a long time for her to die?  Anyway, I came back out
here and told Rex.   He took care of it from there.”

“Did you know Ashley’s boyfriend?   What he might have been like?”

“Like I said, Cath, we weren’t very close.”

Catherine saw Sara approaching out of the corner of her eye and thought it best
to wrap things up before they got any uglier.

“Well, if you remember anything else call this number,” Catherine said, handing
her a card and looking at her with a mixture of pity and slight disgust.  “I’m
sure we’ll be seeing each other again, in any case.”

“Next time you come in here, leave your condescending attitude and looks at the
door Catherine,” Jenny shot at her with acute anger.   “You were two steps away
from where I am right now and we both know it.  At least I got here on my own
terms.”

Catherine swallowed hard, uncomfortable fear draining the perimeter of her face,
and quickly turned and walked towards the exit.   Her legs just wouldn’t take
her there fast enough.   O’Riley and Nick were in conversation as they followed
her.  Sara watched the exchange between the two women.  She watched as Catherine
stared at the woman with a resemblance of horror and almost jogged to the exit.

“What the fuck did you say to her?” Sara demanded, taking the tall blonde’s arm
in a tight fist causing the woman to wince.

“Who the fuck are you?” Jenny asked, pulling her arm back.

“I’m a friend of Catherine’s.”

“I’m sure you are,” Jenny said with a smile.   “So was I, in another life.”

“What did you say to her?” Sara demanded.

“Nothing much.   You know what they say, though.  The truth does, in fact,
hurt,” Jenny said, her smile growing wider.   Sara stepped close enough to the
woman that their breath was quickly becoming one entity.

“Listen to me very carefully,” Sara commanded in a dangerous tone.  “Don’t go
near her again.   If you do, I’ll make sure you spend a very long time making
license plates.  We all know what’s going on in here.”

“And what would that be?”

“World’s oldest profession, as they say,” Sara breathed, close to blonde’s face.

“I wouldn’t know anything about that,” Jenny breathed back, stepping even closer
to Sara.  “But I’m sure Catherine wouldn’t mind giving you the lowdown on such a
longstanding practice.”

“As much as you’d love for her to be, she’s not like you,” Sara said in a low
voice.  “If you have any other information about this case, you come to me,” she
added, sliding a card to Jenny with her number on it.

“Stay away from her,” Sara said definitively, stepping back and walking towards
the exit.

“Is this your home number?” Jenny called after her with a grin.  “I wouldn’t be
so sure of Catherine if I were you.  Once a whore, always a whore, Miss Sidle,”
she added, glancing down at the card and then back at Sara’s retreating form,
taking into account the split second she paused in midstep.

********************

Catherine dreaded going into the coroner’s office and having to look at Ashley
Bowman’s body even one more time.   She had her demons just like everyone else. 
Catherine’s were in the form of old occupations and a friend she was unable to
save.  Somehow she felt too involved and detached from this case at the same
time.   She tried to ignore the pounding in her head and the aching in her heart
as she pushed past the swinging door and was once again face to face with at
least some part of her past.

“Catherine, you don’t look so good,” was the greeting she got from Doc Robbins
upon her entering.

“I’m fine, David.  Let’s just do this,” Catherine replied, running a hand
through her hair and approaching the autopsy table.

“Whatever you like, Catherine,” he said sympathetically, jumping right into the
diagnosis.  “The glass went in first, then the throat wound.   She bled out for
approximately three or four minutes before she died.   The blade was sharp and
the cut’s from right to left.”

“So, the killer is left handed,” Catherine surmised.   “Anything else?”

“Mouth swab tested positive for semen.   I sent it up to DNA.”

“Vaginal swab?”

“Negative,” Robbins answered.   “Fingernails have already been scraped by one of
your guys.”

“Tox screen?” Catherine asked, almost banking on it showing positive for one or
more drugs.

“Nothing,” Robbins replied.   “Her insides were clean other than trace amounts
of alcohol.”

“Okay,” Catherine sighed.   “Thanks, Doc.”

“Anytime,” he said, placing the sheet back over Andrea Bowman’s face and
watching Catherine walk out of the morgue quickly.

********************

Sara nearly bumped into Warrick head-on on her way to the DNA lab.  She was
checking her pager with her head down when strong massive hands grabbed her
shoulders and steered her out of the way.

“Hey,” Warrick smiled, steadying Sara before releasing her.

“Hey, sorry,” she answered.   “How’s the drive by case going?”

“Should be done by tomorrow,” he replied.   “Matched the bullets to a gun used
in another shooting a few weeks ago.  Going to pick up the kid now.  How bout
yours?”

“Dead stripper,” Sara explained.   “Too many suspects, just as much motive is
how it’s going right now.”

“How’s Catherine doing?” he asked having noticed her distraction earlier.

“She’s Catherine, you know?” Sara answered with sad eyes.

“Yeah I know,” Warrick nodded.   “You need me for anything, you just say the
word.   Grissom can handle this on his own if need be.”

“Thanks,” Sara said, touching his arm for a split second.

“K, later,” he said, continuing on his way.   He turned around for a second. 
“Give my love to your woman,” he added and disappeared around the corner.

It took her a few seconds to register that last comment.   Give my love to your
woman?!?   Did someone let it slip or were they just massively obvious?   At
this point, Sara had more important things to worry about…like getting Catherine
through this case in one piece.

She headed back down the hallway, ducking into the DNA lab and noticing the room
was empty.  Sara was about to leave when she heard a squeaking noise and Greg’s
unkempt head shot up from behind his desk.

“Dropped my magazine,” he explained, holding up the latest copy of Spin. 
“There’s a pretty big article on the latest Britney/Justin breakup rumor.”

“That’s great, Greg.  Catherine paged.  Got a semen sample for me?” Sara asked
leaning both hands on her hips.

“Not yet, but if you give me a minute and wait outside…”

“Semen sample, Greg.  The Ashley Bowman case.”

“Geez, lighten up.  All you women around here need some vitamin B-12 or
something,” he replied, almost shrinking at the looks she was giving him.  
“Your dead stripper?   I got the sample about an hour ago, but as you can see
there’s a major backup in here,” he said motioning to all the work orders strewn
across his desk.

“How about my hair sample?   Root cells?” she badgered him.

“Don’t.Know.Yet,” he stated flatly.   “You want me to say it in another
language?   Two, maybe three hour backup.”

“Run my fucking samples, Sanders, or you’re gonna have a backup in the form of
my foot up your ass,” Sara said in a low voice.   “Get me?”  she added, and
walked back out into the hallway.

“Don’t think your threats frighten me,” Greg called after her.  “You’ll get your
results when I’m damn well ready to process them,” he added as he fished through
the pile and picked up the samples marked ‘Bowman’ and turned to get them
prepped for testing.


Not five feet into the hallway, Sara met up with Catherine.   She took in the
woman’s ragged appearance and knew the case was starting to really get to
Catherine.  Sara was at war with herself in what to do.   Was it more help to
pry or to leave it alone?

“DNA results?” Catherine asked, not meeting Sara’s eyes.

“Not until Edward Scissorhands gets his shit together,” Sara replied, not
getting the chuckle she expected from Catherine.    She was distracted and that
wasn’t good.

“How about Nick?”

“He’s still working on the scrapings.   At this rate, he’ll most likely be done
before Greg,” Sara answered.

“Okay, I’m meeting O’Riley at the boyfriend’s place,” Catherine said and started
to leave.

“You want me to go with you?” Sara asked, taking long strides to catch up to
Catherine.

“No, go give Nicky a hand and wait on my call.   There should be some
comparative DNA coming back here as soon as I get the boyfriend to consent.”

“Catherine,” Sara said quietly, but with emphasis, grabbing the blonde’s wrist
loosely and forcing her to stop.

“Please,” Catherine pleaded with tired eyes.   “Just stay here.”

Sara nodded and backed off, raising her hands in front of her in the ‘I mean no
harm’ gesture.  Catherine reached out a hand, but pulled it back quickly and
disappeared towards the exit.  Sara shoved her hands into her pockets and
sighed.

********************

When Catherine pulled the Tahoe in front of Ryan Charles apartment, O’Riley was
already their pacing back and forth and loosening his tie.  She exited the
vehicle quickly, wanting little more than to get the night over with and go
home.

“Been up yet?” she asked, shifting her jacket.

“Waiting for you,” he replied, wiping his brow and opening a scuffed and more
than squeaky door.  It definitely wasn’t the Ritz.

“Let’s do this,” Catherine said stiffly, entering the building and climbing a
set of stairs quickly, being met head on by the door to apartment 2A.   “Ryan
Charles,” she called through the door after an abbreviated knock.  “Vegas Crime
Lab.  Open up.”

There was a soft shuffling of feet and the quiet sliding of metal against metal.
It was followed by the crashing of the chain lock against a green steel door as
it opened, revealing a young man with a shock of messy brown hair still wiping
sleep from his eyes.  He stood back squinting into the dim light of the hallway
and flashed his eyes from Catherine to O’Riley and back again.

“Are you Ryan Charles?”   Catherine asked, flashing her ID badge and watching as
O’Riley did the same.

“Uh, yeah.   That’s me,” he answered.  “What’s going on?  Is it Ashley?”

“I’m afraid so, Mr. Charles,” Catherine said.   “Can we come in?”

“Yeah, sure,” he said, stepping aside.   “Please call me Ryan.”

Once inside Catherine took a look around the place.   It was definitely in the
low rent, low security part of town.   There were no curtains, barely a carpet
on the floor and one couch stuck in the middle of the room.  Ryan Charles closed
the door behind them and sat down, leaning forward his hands clasped tightly in
front of his lap.

“What’s going on?” Ryan asked; worry only emphasizing his boyish features.

“Ashley was found in the dressing room of Hot Legs earlier tonight,” Catherine
explained softly.  “She’s been murdered, Ryan.”

“What?  No, there has to be some mistake,” he replied, hiding his face in his
hands for a moment, and then raising his eyes back to Catherine’s.   “Tell me
there’s some mistake,” he pleaded.

This was the hard part.   Trying to explain to someone that their whole world
just fell away and that the person responsible was still out there walking
around, able to breathe and talk and live.

“Do you have any idea who would have done this to her?” Catherine asked.

“That bastard Ronnie James,” Ryan spat, through tears.   “God I should have just
offed that sleaze myself.”

“Tell me what you mean, Ryan.”

“Ashley wanted to be a dancer,” Ryan explained.   “You know a real dancer, like
in one of the casino shows.  Somehow we ended up here.  No money, you know?  
Her second night at that hellhole, James had her turning tricks for him.  Said
all the girls did it.   If she didn’t, he’d make sure she never worked in Vegas
again.”

“He’s pimping out all the girls?” Catherine asked.

“Far as I know.   Fuck, I should have just made her quit,” he yelled at himself,
pulling at his hair with rough hands.  “We could have gone back to Nebraska and
lived with my folks.”

“It’s not your fault, Ryan,” Catherine said, taking his hands in her own and
holding them firmly.   “We found trace samples of semen in Ashley’s mouth so
we’re going to need a blood sample just to rule you out.   And you’re going to
want to contact her family if you can.   ”

“Uh yeah sure, whatever,” he replied, applying pressure back to Catherine’s
hands and then letting them go.

“Where were you earlier tonight, Ryan?”

“Uh, the usual.   I drop her off at the bar.  They won’t let me come in so I
walk up and down the strip for a couple hours,” he replied.  “I was going to
stop into work to see if they needed any help, but I changed my mind at the last
minute.”

“Work would be where?” O’Riley asked.

“Uh…I’m a second shift chef at Circus Circus.”

Ryan Charles definitely had motive…and ready access to a whole lot of knives.

********************

“You’re awfully quiet,” Sara commented, looking over at Catherine as they drove
back to her house.   Keeping one hand on the wheel, Sara slid the other onto
Catherine’s leg feeling her tense up immediately.

“Just got a lot on my mind,” Catherine replied, giving Sara a small, apologetic
smile.

“Wanna talk about it?” Sara asked gently, not wanting to prod.

“Maybe later.”

“Any leads on the boyfriend?”

“Flimsy alibi.   He’s a chef, so knives galore.  And there’s motive,” Catherine
said.   “But he seemed to really love her.   My gut’s telling me no way.”

“Your gut is seldom wrong, Catherine,” Sara said with a smile then turned more
serious.  “What did that woman say to you earlier?  The tall blonde at the bar?”

“Nothing,” Catherine replied, sucking in a heavy breath and feeling her hands
run cold.  “She found the body.”

“She seemed to really upset you,” Sara took it one step further, both hands
gripping the wheel now in frustration.

“Please just drop it for now, Sara,” Catherine almost snapped at her.  “Jesus,
I’m sorry,” she apologized, placing a hand on Sara’s arm, “this case just has me
a little on edge.”

“It’s okay.  I understand,” Sara reassured her, squeezing her hand for emphasis.
  “Greg said he’d have all our samples tested by the time we get in tomorrow so
that’s good.”

“Yeah,” Catherine said in a detached tone and turned back to look out the
window. 

Moments later, Sara pulled up in front of Catherine’s house and put the car in
park.  She didn’t cut the engine.  Instead, she merely waited to the blonde to
begin exiting the car.

“You coming in?” Catherine asked, one hand on the door handle.

“Not tonight,” Sara said.   “I’m pretty wiped.”

“Sure, okay,” Catherine replied, hurt bleeding across her face and throughout
her body. 

Sara leaned over and kissed her for a long moment before pulling back.

“You call me if you need anything,” she said, holding startled blue eyes.  “Even
if it’s just to talk.  You know I’m two seconds away, Catherine.   Always.”

“Yeah,” the blonde replied, popping the door open and putting one foot on the
pavement.  “I’ll see ya,” was all she said before getting out.

“I love you,” Sara called after her, but was only answered by the slamming of a
car door in her face.



Inside, Catherine peeled off her jacket with weary limbs and headed directly for
the phone.  She pressed number three on the speed dial and poured herself a
generous glass of straight up whiskey.

“Hey, it’s me,” she said into the phone after the second ring.  “You think you
can keep Lindsey for the next few days.  I’m on a case right now that’s kind of
making my head spin.   Thanks, sis, I owe you one.  Yeah I’ll call you
tomorrow.”

She hung up the phone with a loud click, downed her drink and poured herself
another one.  More than anything she wished that Sara had been there beside her
at that moment to catch her when she fell…because Catherine knew she was about
ready to.   But she couldn’t blame her really.   All night her behavior was
erratic to say the least, but she couldn’t get Ashley Bowman’s image out of her
mind.

Sitting down on the couch that still smelled like the remnants of Sara’s skin
and the light breeze of perfume that she wore, Catherine raised the glass to her
lips one more time and tried to close her eyes.   But every time that she did
there was another image that crept into her thoughts.  The dead body of her best
friend from over a decade ago…and a case that was still unfinished and lingered
to haunt her relentlessly.

********************

There was the distant call of faint ringing.   Catherine’s head was more than a
little cloudy and the pounding began just seconds after she had opened her eyes.
  She looked around to scrutinize her surroundings…she was still on the couch,
fully dressed, and in a sitting position.   The room was almost pitch black, the
ringing sound growing louder and more urgent with every passing second.   It
took a few moments for Catherine to realize the phone was ringing and her pager
was going off at the same time.   She jumped to her feet quickly, shutting her
pager off without checking the number, and scrambling for the phone.

“Yeah,” she said into the receiver, voice grainy and scratchy from a night
filled with too much bourbon.

“Catherine?” came Sara’s familiar voice back at her.

“Yeah, hey.   What’s up?” she asked, leaning back against the kitchen wall.

“You, I hope,” Sara replied in a concerned voice.   “You’re late.”

“That’s impossible.  I just fell asleep a few minutes ago,” Catherine said,
shifting the sleeve of her shirt to check her watch.  She closed her eyes
tightly.  She was late.   Fashionably late.   ‘Grissom’s gonna kick my ass’
late.

“Are you alright, Catherine?” Sara asked, and Catherine knew on the other end of
the line the young woman was clicking her pager on and off her belt like she did
whenever she was concerned or nervous.  

It made Catherine smile to herself and at the same time it made her sad to know
that she was keeping parts of herself from Sara because she was too scared of
what she’d think of her if everything were to come out.

“Yeah, I’m fine.  Just a little tired, I guess,” Catherine assured her.

“Listen, I’ll cover for you as long as I can but you gotta get down here,” Sara
said in a hushed voice.   “Come right up to DNA.  You’re not going to believe
this.”


Forty minutes and one speeding ticket later, Catherine finally made it to CSI. 
She ducked down past Grissom’s office, happy to see that he was nowhere in
sight, and proceeded directly to the DNA lab just as Sara had instructed her.  
Sara was waiting for her just outside the door, leaning on the glass frame
leafing through the latest issue of Guns and Ammo.   When she saw Catherine
approaching, Sara shut the magazine and had to steady herself from flinching
when she saw Catherine’s ragged appearance.  

There was a pair of sunglasses hanging off the side of Catherine’s belt which
was attached to yesterday’s pants.   The shirt was different, a bright shade of
white that made her skin look even paler underneath the fluorescent lights of
the lab.   But it was the bags under her eyes that revealed more than anything
that last night or this morning hadn’t been very kind to Catherine.   Sara
reached out to take a cold and shaky hand in her own and squeeze it gently.

“Get much sleep last night?” she asked, ducking her head a little to look into
Catherine’s worn eyes.

“Can’t remember,” Catherine admitted, releasing Sara’s hand too quickly. 
“What’s going on?”

Sara stepped back, still confused and a little hurt by Catherine’s sudden
curtness with her.  She opened the door to the DNA lab and motioned for
Catherine to go in before her.  The door swung closed behind them in a swishing
motion.

“Tell her,” Sara instructed Greg, who was sitting with his feet up on the table
in front of him.

“Machines are down,” he said offhandedly.

“The machines are what?” Catherine asked.

“Massive power surge about the end of shift last night,” Greg explained. 
“Knocked everything out of commission.   We’re just waiting on the electric guys
or the generator to kick in.”

“How long is that going to take, Greg?” Catherine asked, pinching the bridge of
her nose tightly.

“Got me, pretty lady,” he answered.   “Ten minutes, an hour, all night.   Just
be thankful I finished your semen sample before the lab exploded.”

“You ran the semen sample and you didn’t tell me?” Sara interrupted him,
annoyed.

“I was waiting for Catherine.   It’s her sperm,” he replied with a grin.

“And?” Catherine prodded him.

“And it wasn’t a match to the DNA sample you sent over on the boyfriend...But…”

“But what, Greg?   Some of us don’t have all night to sit around and wait for
our equipment to start working again.   But I bet you’ve got a little experience
in that area,” Catherine shot at him, only half joking.

“Touché, and ouch while I’m at it,” he said holding his hands to his chest. 
“Since you two are my most favorite ladies in the entire history of crime scene
investigating, I skipped my very hard earned break last night and ran your
sample against any DNA on file.  After a lifetime I got a hit on a guy named
Ronnie James,” he continued, flipping through a short stack of paperwork to find
the piece he was looking for.   “Vegas PD was looking at him for manslaughter a
few years back.   DNA cleared him, but they kept it on file just in case I
guess.”

“Who they think he killed?” Sara asked, taking the papers from Greg.

“Pimp trying to work out of his club.”

“Thanks, Greg,” Catherine said and walked out of the lab.

“Call or page me when you get anything else,” Sara said and followed Catherine.

“How ‘bout just to talk?” he called after her.   “Or you know, hang out or
something?”

“Don’t push it, Sanders,” Sara called over her shoulder with a smile and caught
up with Catherine.

“How about Nick’s scrapings?” Catherine asked when Sara fell to her side.

“Good thing I ran this puppy myself before the machines went down, huh?” Nick
said from behind them.   They turned to look at him, Catherine still a little
jumpy.

“Female DNA,” he said with a grin.

“Matches?”

“On my way to the computer lab to run it against any known samples,” he said. 
“You guys?”

“Mouth swab came back positive for Ronnie James’ little soldiers,” Sara said. 
“We’re gonna go have a little chat.”

“Have fun,” Nick smiled and took off down another hallway.

“Want me to call O’Riley ?” Sara asked Catherine, who was stifling a yawn.

“No,” she said, shaking her head.   “I think we’ll make more progress using our
God-given assets.”

“You want me to shake my boobs in his face?” Sara asked with startled horror
spreading across her features.

“Well, I was going to say your charm, but I think I might have to reconsider
now.”

********************

Hot Legs was even seedier than the night before, if that was even possible.  But
they were heading into the weekend, so the crowd was a little denser though not
by the standards of some of the more popular clubs.   More than a few heads
turned as Sara and Catherine came through the door, Sara placing a protective
and territorial hand on the small of Catherine’s back and shooting daggers at
any eyes that trailed over to them.   She felt Catherine relax a little and was
thankful for that.

“Ladies, can I help you?” Beefy asked, pushing off from his watching post and
approaching them.

“We need to talk to Mr. James,” Catherine said with a sweet smile.

“He’s expecting you,” Beefy replied, pointing toward the back of the club near
the bar.  “Door next to the bar.”

“Thanks,” Sara said skeptically and guided Catherine to the door, not removing
her hand.

Catherine knocked lightly and opened the door, Sara following her eyes.  A young
girl with no top on was dropping quite a large amount of cash on the desk in
front of Ronnie James, who was grinning like the Cheshire cat.   He flicked his
eyes over to the two CSIs, giving them a look that forced Sara to move her hand
from Catherine’s lower back up to grip her shoulder in a firm reassurance.  He
stood up to give the girl a long, sloppy kiss before turning her to leave and
patting her on the rear end forcefully.  She slid out the door without picking
her eyes up from the floor.

“You were expecting us, Mr. James?” Catherine asked, slinking towards his desk
in a slightly predatory way.

“You said you’d be back, Ms. Willows,” he answered, sitting on the edge of his
desk.  “Or can I call you Catherine?”

“Ms. Willows will be fine, Ronnie,” Catherine said with a sharp telling of her
tongue.   “Now let’s just get right to the point.   We found your semen in
Ashley Bowman’s mouth.”

“I’m sure you did,” James answered with a shrug.   “So what?”

“So you were sleeping with her?” Sara asked.

“I sleep with a lot of women.   Ashley was my employee.  She was just doing her
job,” he said with a smirk.

“So you pimp your girls out.   They come in to drop their hard earned money on
your desk and you decide you’re going to take one more thing from them.   Mix a
little business with pleasure,” Catherine said, grinding her teeth.

“I provide services, Ms. Willows.   My girl Jenny tells me you might know a
thing or two about that yourself,” James said, focusing his eyes on Sara’s
protective stance behind Catherine and grinning further.  “Whatever the girls do
when that door closes,” he said pointing behind them, “is strictly out of their
own free will.”

“What, Ronnie?  Did she want to quick tricking?  Quit sucking your dick?  So you
killed her?   Let her know who was in charge?” Catherine accused, stepping
closer to him.

“I’d never kill a girl who swallows, Catherine,” was his only reply.  That and
the smile that only kept getting wider.

Sara saw Catherine’s body language and knew what was coming next.  Just as the
shorter woman made a move towards the bar owner, Sara had both hands locked
firmly on her waist pulling her back.  She forced Catherine behind her, keeping
on hand curled in a fist around the material of her shirt near the waist of her
pants.

“That’s enough,” she said, first at Ronnie James and then turning to look at
Catherine giving her a warning look.   She pushed Catherine towards the door and
turned back to James.   “Don’t go anywhere, Mr. James,” she warned and opened
the door, all but shoving Catherine through it.

“Next time you come back, you’re going to need a warrant in order to get past my
bouncer, Ms. Willows,” he called after them and went back to counting his money.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Sara said loudly once they were safely on the
other side of the door.

“My job,” Catherine replied, firmly.

“I think it’s a little more than that, Catherine,” Sara accused, not softening
her tone.

“Think whatever you want.   That guy’s a fucking predatory beast preying on
innocent girls that either don’t know any better or have lost all faith in
themselves,” Catherine spat at her.   “He’s going down.”

“Back up against a wall, Catherine?” Jenny Daniels commented, passing by them
and stopping.  Both sets of eyes shot at her, Sara’s even more deadly than
Catherine’s.   “Word has it you never found Stephanie’s killer either, though,
so I wouldn’t take it so hard if I were you,” she added and proceeded on her
way.

Catherine swallowed hard at the mention of Stephanie’s name and clenched her
fists at her sides.  Her eyes fixed on Jenny’s retreating form, tears starting
to sting her eyes.  Sara stepped to her and looped an arm around Catherine’s
shoulders.   But when she tried to pull her close, Catherine pushed off of her
roughly and made a quick exit into the open street and surrounding fresh air.

Sara followed close behind her.   She grabbed Catherine again, ignoring the
protests and slightly flailing arms, and forced the blonde woman tightly against
her body, locking her arms around Catherine’s back firmly until she felt her
give in and relax.   Catherine’s sobs were muffled by the hard leather of Sara’s
jacket and she reached around Sara’s waist and gripped the material in her
fists.   Sara stood there and held her, running a hand steadily over Catherine’s
back and hair, promising her that everything was going to be okay, oblivious to
the stares and looks from the passersby.  

********************

“Nick’s meeting us in the break room,” Catherine told Sara as they walked
through the entrance of CSI and headed towards the lab areas.

“I’ll be there in a couple minutes,” Sara said.   “I need to talk to Grissom for
a second,” she smiled weakly at Catherine and took off down the hallway.

Rounding the corner, Sara snuck into the DNA lab to talk to Greg.

“Guys are working on the wires outside as we speak,” he said before Sara could
open her mouth.

“Okay, thanks,” she said.   “Listen, Greg, do you think you could do me a favor
and process my samples first?” she asked in a soft tone, Catherine’s state of
mind weighing on her shoulders.  “It’s just that I think for Catherine’s sake we
need to close this case as fast as we can.”

“Yeah, sure,” Greg said, becoming concerned.   “Anything else I can do?”

“No, thanks Greg.   Just call me as soon as you get something…anything.”

“Sara,” he said, stopping her from exiting.   “You know I’d never tell anybody
else about you guys, right?   Cuz I wouldn’t.”

“I know, Greg-O.  Thanks,” she said with a weak smile.

“Sure,” he smiled back, and let his eyes fall back to the stack of paperwork on
his desk.

“Hey Greg, you maybe wanna grab a beer sometime?” Sara asked, stopping halfway
through the door.

“Definitely,” he answered, with a sparkle in his eyes.

“Okay, I’ll see you later then,” Sara said and let the door swing shut behind
her.

“I’ll call you,” Greg said and heard the machines kicking in.  He grabbed the
stack of samples he had already put aside.  They were all marked with Ashley
Bowman’s case number.

********************

“So what do we have so far?” Sara asked, sitting down at the table in the break
room and taking a big gulp of her Mountain Dew.

“Boyfriend?” Nick asked, looking through the case file.

“Catherine thinks no,” Sara replied, both her and Nick turning to Catherine who
was sitting in her chair and staring at one two inch piece of the tabletop.

“Catherine?” Nick said, snapping his fingers in front of her.

“Sorry, what?” she asked, shaking her head.

“Boyfriend?”

“Uh, no I don’t think so,” she replied.  

“His girlfriend was turning tricks and sleeping with her boss,” he reminded her.
  “And it says here he’s a chef.  Can we all say many many knives?”

“Didn’t get the killer vibe from him.  Sorry, Nicky,” Catherine said with
sympathetic eyes.

“Club owner, Ronnie James,” Nick threw on the table.   “Sounds like a real piece
of work.”

“He is,” Sara assured him.   “Motive?”

“Does he really need one?” Catherine asked.   “He’s a fucking scumbag.”

“Regardless of how much of a lowlife he is, we need a motive, Catherine,” Sara
reminded her.   “I’m thinking, Bowman was ready to quit.   That puts a dent in
his cash flow, not to mention his libido.”

“That’s a pretty loose motive,” Nick pointed out.

“I’ve seen his temper, though,” Catherine said quietly.   “Grabbed some poor
girl by the arm so hard he left finger imprints on her before she walked away.”

“Who else?” Sara asked.

“Bartender, Rex Adams,” Nick read from the file folder.

“No way,” Catherine said flatly.   “Next.”

“How about the blonde?” Sara said noticing Catherine swallow hard.  “Sorry,” she
added quickly.

“Jenny Daniels,” Nick said, flipping through pages.   “Female DNA,” he said and
raised his eyebrows.   “But our foreign hair was brown.”

“Catherine?” Sara turned to her.   She was staring off again, head starting to
spin.

“Huh?”

“Well, you knew her, Catherine.   You think Jenny Daniels…”

“No.  She’s a real bitch, but murder?  I don’t think so.   Plus no motive,”
Catherine dismissed her quickly.

“So that leaves us with no one,” Nick surmised, shutting the folder.  “My
scrapings got no hits off the computer.”

“We’re still waiting for Greg to run the root cells from the hair,” Catherine
added quickly.

“And that’s all we’ve got left,” Sara said with a sigh knowing there was
something they were missing.

“What do we do in the meantime?” Nick asked.

“Get a warrant,” Catherine decided.   “I think it’s time to turn Ronnie James’
business upside down.”

********************

“You get my warrant, O’Riley ?” Catherine asked, stepping to the front of the
club and waiting.

“Have I ever let you down before?” he said with a smirk as he handed the blue
folded paper to her.

“Shall we?” Sara asked with a smile, as Nick stepped up behind her.

They walked through the dingy front door as a group, promptly being stopped by
Beefy, who motioned to Ronnie James.   He met the law enforcement agents head on
before they could take two steps onto the floor.

“I brought you a present,” Catherine said, before the owner could even open his
mouth.  She handed him the warrant, but held on and pulled him close to herself.
  “I’m not leaving until you’re in cuffs, asshole,” she hissed close to his ear.

“Then you’ll be here for a while, Ms. Willows,” he hissed back, his confidence
never faltering.

“Tear it down,” Catherine called loudly and raised an arm instructing her
partners to start searching.

She stood in the middle of the room and watched as Nick, Sara, and a few
uniformed cops spread out into all rooms and behind the bar.   There was the
occasional clinking of things being dropped and thrown around.   Sara made sure
to drop a few glasses behind the bar and not bothering to clean up all the
broken glass.   Catherine and O’Riley waited for what seemed like forever and
were starting to think they were going to walk away empty handed when Nick
emerged from the dressing room holding a bag above his head.

“Direct hit,” he said with a wide smile.   “I’ve got an eight inch hunting
knife.   Still got blood on it.”

“Where?” Catherine asked.

“Locker,” he said, pointing to the man standing next to the bar.  “Had to use
bolt cutters.”

Catherine shook her head.   Something had to be wrong.  Or was she just so
messed up by the circumstances and the players in the case to see what was
really going on.  Nick passed the knife to Catherine and nodded to O’Riley .  He
walked over to the bar and took a pair of cuffs from young cop in a blue
uniform.

“Rex Adams, you’re under arrest for the murder of Ashley Bowman,” he said,
slapping the cuffs on the tall man and pushing him towards the door.

“What?” he protested.   “You’re wrong,” he yelled.   “I didn’t do it.  I
wouldn’t hurt anybody,” Rex held Catherine’s eyes as he passed by her and she
knew they were making a mistake.

“Coming Catherine?” O’Riley asked.

“No.  Uh, Nicky you take the questioning.  I’m going to get this knife back to
the lab,” she said and waved Sara over to her.   “It’s not right.  Something’s
not right,” she said to her.

“Okay,” Sara replied, with a hand directing her out of the club.

“Not sticking around, Ms. Willows?” Ronnie James called after them.  “Maybe
you’re in the wrong profession,” he snickered.

********************

“Catherine,” Grissom called to her from behind his desk when he saw her passing
by.  “Come in, please.”

“I’ll get this to DNA,” Sara assured her, taking the evidence bag from her
hands.

“Shut the door,” Grissom instructed Catherine and she did so and then sat down. 
“You don’t look so great.”

“Thanks, is that all?” Catherine said, getting ready to stand.

“No, it isn’t,” Grissom stated firmly.   “I think maybe it would be a good idea
for you to leave your case to Sara and Nicky.  Warrick and I can always use an
extra set of hands.”

“What?” Catherine asked, shocked.

“Listen, I know that what happened to your friend and having the case reopened
last year wasn’t easy for you…”

“You don’t know a goddamn thing, Gil,” Catherine yelled, standing.  “If
anything, I need this case more because of what happened to Stephanie…if
anyone’s not going to stop until this bastard is behind bars, it’s me.”

“Catherine,” he said, raising his voice.   “You’re letting your personal
feelings cloud your judgment.   That’s nothing if not dangerous.”

“You want me off this case, you’re going to have to fire me,” she said defiantly
and abruptly exited the office, slamming the door behind her.

“Catherine!”

********************

“Hey, Nick called,” Sara said as a rather pissed off Catherine caught her on the
way out of DNA.   “They’ve got Rex Adams locked up, but he’s adamant about his
innocence.   Greg says the knife won’t be done until tomorrow, but he’s gonna
print it too.  So we can get out of here if you’re ready.”

“Did you tell Grissom to take me off the case?” Catherine accused, hands gripped
at her sides tightly.

“What?” Sara asked, dumbfounded.

“Earlier when you went to see him,” Catherine said with malice.  “Did you tell
him I couldn’t handle it??  That I was falling apart??”

“Well, aren’t you?” Sara shot back, hands on her hips.   People walking by were
starting to stare.

“No, I’m a-o-fucking-k,” Catherine shouted back.   “In fact, I’m the only person
in the fucking world that gives a shit enough to find out who really killed that
girl.”

“That’s not true, Catherine,” Sara said.   “We’re all doing what we can.  You
are about to fall of the edge and you know it.”

“You’d know about that, wouldn’t you?   Always getting too involved and claiming
you don’t fucking care.   You’re transparent, you know that?” Catherine
countered almost getting in Sara’s face.

“Always hitting below the belt, huh Catherine?” Sara said, tears stinging her
eyes.  “You want to hang around, fine.  I’m going home,” she added and turned to
leave, but Catherine grabbed her arm too hard.

“Don’t ever talk to Grissom about my work performance,” she said in a low growl.

“I didn’t even talk to Grissom earlier,” Sara said, pulling back hard, tears
starting to roll down her face.   “I went to see Greg about putting a rush on
your fucking samples.   I’m sorry I give a shit about you, Catherine.   Okay? 
I’m fucking sorry.”

Sara broke away as fast as she could and brushed past a few unsuspecting lab
workers before getting as far away from Catherine as possible.  Catherine spun
quickly on her heel, cursing under her breath, tears burning from behind her
eyelids, and started off towards the break room.  If she wanted to go home now,
it was too late.   She had just pushed Sara away as far as possible.   She
decided she was in for a long night and headed for the coffee maker.


Three hours later, Catherine closed her eyes.   They were burning from a mixture
of staring at computer screens too long and from the occasional minutes of
silent crying.   She attempted one last search of Ronnie James’ name in the
database and reached around to turn the unit off.  But she stopped.  There was a
hit. Finally.

Catherine scrolled down what looked like property rights.   It was the lease for
the building that hosted Hot Legs.   The paperwork looked fairly normal at
first, legitimate.   But towards the bottom, Catherine noticed two separate
signatures.   Ronnie James had a business partner.   Jenny Daniels.

********************

Even in her sleep, Sara felt like she was being watched.   She opened her eyes
slowly, trying to blink away the blurriness and looked up to find Catherine
standing over her.   Her shirt was unbuttoned and hanging loosely at her sides,
blonde hair falling in her face like camouflage.   Sara reached a sleepy hand
out gingerly, a light haze still covering her senses.  Catherine slid her
fingertips over Sara’s outstretched hand and trailed them up her bare arm
slowly, eyes deliberately averted.

In seconds, Catherine was climbing on top of Sara with a newfound and desirous
sleekness…the hunter cornering her prey.   Sara welcomed the weight of
Catherine’s body bearing down on her, but when Catherine roughly pushed a hand
up underneath Sara’s tank top and dropped her head down grabbing the soft flesh
of her neck between piercing teeth she knew something just wasn’t right.

Their intimacy had always been a steady mixture of sweet, tender moments and no
holds barred raw fucking, but there was something primal and desensitizing in
the way Catherine was touching her.   It was forceful and wrong.  Sara suddenly
got the feeling it wasn’t about her or the sex.   It was about the struggle
going on inside of Catherine the past few days and to give in would be much like
taking advantage of the wounded and vulnerable.  That and she just wasn’t liking
it.

“Catherine, wait,” Sara breathed quietly, reaching up with one hand.

Catherine continued her assault on Sara’s neck much like she hadn’t heard her
speak at all.  When Catherine grabbed Sara’s wrist firmly in her fist and forced
it back onto the mattress with a thud, Sara knew she needed to stop her.   She
pushed back at Catherine’s grip hard, raising her hand back off the mattress,
and in the same moment grabbed Catherine’s other wrist as her hand began pulling
at the drawstring of her pajama bottoms.   Sara sat up fast, causing Catherine
to fall to the side.

“Catherine, stop,” she almost shouted, still gripping the woman by her wrists.

Catherine pulled away quickly and jumped to her feet at the side of the bed. 
The faint glow of the streetlight sliding through the open window washed across
Catherine’s face showing the shock and disgust as it flooded her features.   She
raised a hand to her face and she began to crack and shut her eyes tight.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry,” she said, her voice wavering.   “What am I doing to you?”
she cried, bringing her other hand up to cover her face completely.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Sara said in a soothing tone, shifting closer to reach out a
hand towards her girlfriend.

“It’s not okay,” Catherine demanded, pulling further away.  “I think I’ve
finally fucking lost it.  I don’t know why you’re even putting up with me.”

Sara grabbed Catherine by the fronts of her shirt and swung her legs off the bed
in a sitting position.   She pulled Catherine forward until their legs were
touching and reached up a little to take the blonde’s face in her hands, pushing
past Catherine’s own defensive hands that fell to her sides grazing Sara’s
thighs.   Sara ran her thumbs gently over Catherine’s eyebrows, silently willing
her to open her eyes.  She felt the fluttering of wet eyelashes and looked up
intently to find crystal blue orbs staring back at her.

“I love you, Catherine,” she said softly, “all the time.   God knows you’ve put
up with enough of my shit in the last few months.   Now it’s my turn.”

Sara waited a few seconds while Catherine bit her bottom lip in an attempt to
stop the tears from falling and blinking them away when they still came.  In a
rash attempt to begin making up for her earlier actions, Catherine threaded her
hands through either side of Sara’s tousled hair and leaned down to give her a
sweet kiss, the mere brushing of lips, a symbol of surrender…of retreat.   Sara
applied the slightest bit of pressure back, the assurance of forgiveness. 
Catherine pulled back, resting her forehead against Sara’s, keeping her eyes
shut for a moment longer.   Sara held Catherine on either side of her waist,
tracing delicate circles on soft cotton.

“Sorry I woke you,” Catherine said, her voice just above a whisper.

“Get in and I’ll forgive you,” Sara smiled back and scooted back enough to let
Catherine crawl in beside her.

Catherine settled in, back to Sara, pulling a strong arm across her waist and
feeling the brush of lips against her collar.   Her shirt made crumpling noises
as Sara spooned up behind her, pressing their bodies so close they might as well
have been one.   Sara threaded her fingers through Catherine’s and held her
tightly, hoping that the deep intake of breath meant that she was getting ready
to talk.  The words were soft at first, and Sara almost had to strain to hear
them.

“I thought that by making a better life for myself, for Lindsey, I’d be able to
leave all the mistakes I’ve made behind,” Catherine began, feeling her chest
becoming lighter with every word she was uttering.   “I’m not talking about the
stripping,” she continued with a small shake of her head.  “I’d never apologize
for that.  I did what I had to do to make something of myself.  Jenny Daniels
worked at the club that Stephanie and I worked at.   We were all friends back
then.  When Stephanie was murdered, I got out of there as fast as I could.   I
didn’t want to end up like that…and I didn’t want to end up like Jenny either.

“About a month after she started, Jenny was turning tricks out of the club. 
Some girls did it, others didn’t.  For me, it just wasn’t an option.  That was
never going to be a part of me.  I don’t know what she said to you...it’s not
that she’s a bad person, I guess she just never forgave me for leaving her
there…”

“Catherine, I know you better than to believe anything that they’d say to me,”
Sara interrupted her, rubbing her thumb over Catherine’s in an even motion.  “I
know you’re no saint.  None of us are.”

“But maybe there was something I could have done.   Jenny and I weren’t so
different from each other.   What’s to say I wouldn’t have been exactly where
she is now, if it weren’t for another roll of the dice?”

“That’s just it, Catherine,” Sara said softly.   “You’re not like her.  You’re
not where she is because of who you are.  You’re stronger than that.  You got
yourself out of there and you’re doing something that matters and you’re good at
it.  Jenny Daniels can see that and she’s just trying to tear you down because
you managed to get what she’ll always be left wanting.  Don’t let her do this to
you.  Don’t let her win.”

“I know you’re right,” Catherine agreed.   “A lot of Jenny’s anger is jealousy,
but part of her is right too.   I ran from my past as fast as I could.   I left
that all behind me without thinking twice, without looking back,” she continued,
feeling tears welling in her eyes.   “I think part of why I became a CSI, part
of why I work so much, so hard, is because of what happened to Stephanie.   With
every case I can close, with every girl I can save, I feel like I’m one step
closer to saving her.  But I know that I never can,” she finished, starting to
cry openly, sobs rising from her chest raggedly.

“They put the wrong guy away once and now we’re doing it again,” she managed to
eek out before the tears took over her body completely.

Sara rolled her over gently, placing a firm kiss on Catherine’s forehead and
pulling her in close.   Catherine’s head fell across her shoulder, her body
melting into Sara’s as she bared her soul, her thoughts, her fears.   Sara
didn’t run, instead held her deep into the night, through the morning.

“We’ll find out who did this, Catherine.   I promise you that,” was all she
said.   It was all that needed to be said.   Because it was the truth.

********************

Catherine and Sara were barely through the door the next day at work when Nick
came jogging up to them.   He looked slightly excited, slightly pissed off, and
mostly tired.

“What’s up, Nicky?” Catherine asked, slowly easing back into herself.

“There a fifty mile fucking backup in DNA again,” he complained.  “But I slipped
Greg a twenty.   He’s doing his best to get our results on that knife and for
another twenty he’s gonna call me the second he gets anything.”

“Grissom needs to hire more techs,” Catherine said with a sigh.

“However,” Nick continued and started to smile.   “About a month ago, a life
insurance policy was taken out on Ashley Bowman.  Payout’s just over a hundred
grand.”

“You’re kidding me,” Catherine said, crossing her arms.  

“Who gets the loot?” Sara asked.

“Ryan Charles.”

********************

“This just doesn’t feel right,” Catherine commented when they arrived back at
Ryan Charles’ apartment.

“You’re convinced we’ve got the wrong guy in custody Catherine,” Nick said. 
“We’re gonna have to hit this from every angle if we want to cover all our
bases.”

“Following the evidence,” Sara said.

All three of them stood there in front of the building and all three of them
knew they were about to run head first into another wall.  Still, Nick opened
the door and they climbed the stairs to the door of Ryan Charles’ apartment.

Ryan Charles opened the door a few moments later and opened the door widely to
allow them entrance.   When they stepped in, the room was even more sparse than
it was the day before.  There were cardboard boxes stacked in the corner and the
sofa was missing.

“Did you find anything?” the young man asked as he shut the door.

“Are you going somewhere, Ryan?” Sara asked, motioning to the boxes.

“Back home,” he replied.   “I just can’t be here anymore.  I mean, we were
mostly here for Ashley anyway so there really isn’t any point now,” he shrugged.

“Well that may be a problem, Ryan,” Catherine said, noticing the confusion in
his eyes.  “Ashley had a life insurance policy taken out on her a month ago.”

“Oh geez, I had almost forgotten about that,” Ryan said, running a hand through
his short hair.

“Forgotten?” Nick commented.   “You don’t have two nickels to rub together and
you take out a life insurance policy on your girlfriend for a hundred thousand
dollars?”

“It was Ashley’s idea,” Ryan pleaded.   “She wasn’t just a stripper, you know.  
She was smart.  Before we came here, she was two years into her Bachelor’s
degree in business.   When she brought home her first paycheck from the bar I
wanted to buy some furniture or a tv or something.   But Ashley said she had
already put a down payment on that policy.   She said that the work she was
doing now wasn’t all that safe and she wanted me to be prepared.”

“And she just happens to buy the farm less than a month later?” Nick accused.

“Please, I would never have hurt Ashley,” Ryan replied with tears in his eyes. 
“I loved her more than anything.  You don’t think I had anything to do with
this, do you Miss Willows?” he directed at Catherine.

“You have to admit it’s a little too convenient,” she answered.  “But no, Ryan,
I don’t think you did it.”

“Why haven’t you claimed the body yet, Ryan?” Nick asked.  

“I thought her parents would want to do that.   To bring her back home maybe,”
he answered, wiping at his tears.   “I still haven’t been able to reach them.”

“Convenient,” Nick muttered under his breath.

“Listen, Ryan, just don’t leave town until we contact you, alright?” Catherine
said and squeezed his hand tightly.   “Let’s go,” she instructed Nick and Sara.

Once they were down the stairs, Nick’s cell phone rang.   He flipped it open,
hoping it was Greg.   It wasn’t.  A few seconds later he turned back to the
women with a slight frown.

“That was Danny up in video,” he explained.  “I’ve had him going through Casino
surveillance tapes since yesterday.   Circus Circus has Ryan Charles entering
right about the same time as the murder.”

“Guess your gut was right yet again, Catherine,” Sara commented.

“And we’re back to square one,” she replied with a heavy exhale.

“Where to now?” Nick asked.

“You get back to the lab and help Greg finish running our fucking samples before
I kill him,” Catherine instructed him.  “Sara, call O’Riley.  I want to make
another stop at Hot Legs.  I wanna talk to Jenny Daniels again.  Maybe we can
scare up some more info.”

“Or at least bust Ronnie James’ balls a little,” Sara said with a smirk.

********************

On the way back to the bar, as Catherine drove, Sara leafed through the folder
Catherine had put together on Hot Legs’ property rights and the partnership
between Ronnie James and Jenny Daniels.   They were nearly there and Sara was
about to close the file when she came across a stack of papers that caught her
eye.

“Catherine, did you see this?” she asked, holding them up to her.

“What is it?”

“Ronnie James was planning on buying out Jenny Daniels’ half of the club.”

“He was pushing her out?”

“I think so,” Sara said, eyes narrowing on the papers in her lap.  “No fucking
way,” she breathed.

“What?” Catherine asked anxiously.

“Guess who was helping James draw up the first draft of papers,” Sara said,
shaking her head.  “Let me give you a hint.  She’s definitely taken some
business classes.”

“Ashley Bowman,” Catherine stated, pulling the truck up behind O’Riley’s squad
car.   “So Ronnie James was trying to push Jenny out of the business and Ashley
Bowman was helping him.”

“There’s your motive,” Sara said and exited the vehicle.

“Yeah, but where’s the evidence?” Catherine asked.

“We’ve got female DNA from the scrapings,” Sara suggested.

“That’s not a whole lot more than circumstantial at best.   Stray hair was
brown, she’s a blonde.   The murder weapon was found in Rex Adams locker.  
We’ve got a whole lot of motive and even more conflicting evidence.”

“Except that the guy we arrested had no motive,” Sara said.  “And if James and
Daniels own the club, they probably both have access to Rex Adams’ locker.  
Case isn’t closed yet, Catherine.   And I’m thinking we’ve been going at it
wrong all along.”

“How so?”

“We wanted James because he’s a jerk, to say the least.   But if Jenny Daniels
is that bitter about you getting out of the business, just imagine how crazy
she’d go if she knew her partner was about to push her out of her own free
enterprise,” Sara explained.   “You said it yourself.  This is the kind of place
women end up in when they’re on their way out.   And most of the girls working
in there can’t be more than twenty-five years old.”

“The new replacing the old,” Catherine nodded.   “Let’s see if she bites.”

“You sure you can handle this?” Sara stopped her with a hand on Catherine’s
shoulder.

“Just don’t leave my side and I’ll be fine,” she replied with a smile that Sara
returned gratefully.

“Ladies,” O’Riley nodded as he met up with them.  “There something wrong with
the guy we already have in custody?”

“Yeah, he’s the wrong guy,” Catherine said flatly and turned to enter the
building.

O’Riley smiled at Sara and shook his head.  Then they followed Catherine inside,
not surprised to be met head on by Beefy the bouncer.   He told them to leave,
but O’Riley pushed him aside so that the women could pass.   Catherine spotted
Jenny Daniels’ tall blonde head sticking out of the crowd and quickly made her
way over to her.

“Jenny, I need to talk to you for a few minutes,” Catherine said, approaching
her old friend.

“I’ve got nothing else to say to you, Catherine,” Jenny replied, looking
slightly pissed off, scratching at her arm roughly.   “Why don’t you get the
fuck out of here?   Cops are really bad for my business.”

“Why didn’t you tell us you and Ronnie James are partners?” Catherine asked,
watching Jenny’s hand move from scratching her arm to running through her short
hair.

“Didn’t think it was relevant to the pertaining case,” Jenny said with a smile.

“How about the fact that you knew he was trying to push you out?  Think that’s
relevant?   Or maybe about the fact that Ashley Bowman was helping him out? 
Think that’s relevant?” Catherine badgered her. 

“Fuck you, Catherine,” Jenny spat in her face.   “You’re so fucking holier than
thou…”

“What happened to your arm, Jenny?” Catherine asked, reaching over and pulling
at her shirt strap until it revealed four long scratch marks.

“Rough client,” Jenny said pulling her arm away gruffly.

“Your roots are showing, Jenny,” Catherine commented, motioning to the dark
shades poking through close to her scalp.  

O’Riley stepped forward from where he and Sara were standing a few feet behind
Catherine.   From the way the conversation was going he had an idea that he was
going to need backup and his cuffs.  He called over the two-way for another
squad car and pushed his jacket aside, hand resting on his handcuffs.

“What?” Jenny yelled at Catherine.  

“We’re going to need a sample of your DNA, Jenny,” Catherine stated, her blood
starting to flow freely again.   “And your key to Rex Adams’ locker.”

“You want my DNA, you’re going to have to think of a more creative way than that
to get it, Cath,” Jenny said with a snicker.   “You’ve got no evidence on me. 
I’d seriously suggest getting into a different line of work.   In fact, I can
probably get you a job here.   It’s like riding a bike Catherine.   You can lead
a girl away from evil, but you’ll never be able to make her pure again,” she
hissed close to Catherine’s face.

No one saw it coming, not even Sara.   O’Riley was too busy watching Ronnie
James rush out of his office and into the crowd towards them.   Sara heard the
ringing of a cell phone and had her head down for a split second to see if it
was hers.  When she looked up again, Catherine was already in mid-swing.   Jenny
Daniels had no idea how much trouble she was in.

Catherine’s right fist connected with left side of Jenny Daniels’ face.  Her
head snapped back violently, blood spraying and dripping from her nose.   An
immediate bruise began forming on her face.   Catherine stepped back, shaking
her hand at her side and cursing.   But when Sara looked at her, the smile on
her face was unmistakable.

“How’s that for creative, bitch?” Catherine commented to a stunned Jenny
Daniels.  “Cuff her,” she instructed O’Riley.

“I’m gonna sue your ass, Catherine,” Jenny said to her.  “You think you’re so
much better than me…”

“I know I’m better than you, Jenny,” Catherine said, coming close to her face.  
“I’m doing something with my life.   I got out of all this shit and you’ll be
stuck in it forever.   One day I’m going to find Stephanie’s killer and the two
of you are going to be locked up for a long time,” she finished and realized her
cell phone was still ringing.  “Got a swab?” she asked Sara, holding up her
right hand that was covered in blood at the knuckles.  She smiled again and
clicked open her phone.

“Willows,” she said rather cheerily.   “Hey Nicky.   Yeah…yeah…Thank you,” she
said closing her eyes for a moment.

“What’s up?” Sara asked, stepping closer to Catherine and watching O’Riley snap
the cuffs on Jenny Daniels.

“That was your evidence,” Catherine said, turning back to Jenny.  “Make sure you
guys get a good picture of the cut on her left thumb,” she said to O’Riley.

“But how…” Jenny uttered.

“I’m good at what I do,” Catherine replied.

“Catherine, spill.  Come on,” Sara said grabbing her arm.

“That was Nick.  Root cells from the hair match the DNA from the scrapings,” she
said, smiling.   “There were two sets of prints on the knife.   One came back
Rex Adams.  The other got a hit from a prostitution conviction five years ago.”

“Jenny Daniels,” Sara said.   Catherine nodded.

“But the best part is that Greg managed to isolate two separate blood samples on
the blade of the knife,” Catherine continued.   “The first was Ashley Bowman’s. 
The second was found near the handle and it’s a perfect match to the other
female DNA at the scene.”

“Slam fucking dunk, Catherine,” Sara said with a grin.

Catherine wiped her hand on a bar napkin and folded it up tightly.  She pulled a
plastic bag out of her pocket and slid the napkin inside shutting it tightly.

“Get this over to the lab for me, ASAP,” she said, handing it to a young
uniformed cop who took it quickly.   Then she turned back to the tall blonde
woman in custody, “Jenny Daniels, you’re under arrest for the murder of Ashley
Bowman.”

“This is how you take care of your friends, Catherine?” Jenny pleaded with her. 
“This is my fucking club and no one’s gonna take that from me.   No one!”

“Get her out of here,” Catherine said to O’Riley. 

They all turned towards the entrance and were all slightly shocked when two well
dressed men in crisp suits entered the club and walked directly over to Ronnie
James.  In seconds they were pulling badges and slapping their own cuffs on him.
  He was led out of the bar first.   Catherine looked to Sara and then O’Riley
for an explanation.

“Your boy Nicky sent over some paperwork on the property rights for this place. 
It seems Ronnie James is about a decade behind on his taxes,” O’Riley explained.
“I called in a favor over at the Bureau.”

“Thanks, big guy,” Catherine said, patting him on the back lightly.

“Yeah well one more dirtbag off the streets can only be a good thing,” he
replied and pushed Jenny Daniels out the door and into a squad car.

“Thanks,” Catherine said to Sara after the cars had finally pulled away.  “I,
uh…” she began, but realized there weren’t really any words left that really
made sense.   And a part of her knew that no words needed to be said anyway.

“I know,” Sara said, slinking her arm across Catherine’s shoulders and steering
her towards the Tahoe.   “It’s a tough job,” she joked, smiling widely when
Catherine nudged her with a playful elbow.

“Hey people in glass houses,” she replied, unlocking the door and staring at
Sara across the top of the Tahoe with a restored sparkle in her eyes.

And once again, things were starting to look up.

********************

“Nice work, Catherine,” Nick said on his way up from the locker room.  “Where
you been?”

“Morgue,” she replied.   “No one’s released Ashley Bowman’s body yet.   Guess
Ryan Charles took the money and ran.”

“Didn’t you hear?” Nick asked her, with a sideways glance.   “Charles refused to
take the money.   He was on the first flight out of here after we gave him the
go.”

“No kidding.”

“Yeah,” Nick nodded and then added with a grin, “by the way, Rex Adams told me
to say thank you.   We released him a couple hours ago.”

“Thanks, Nicky,” Catherine moved past him.   “Any news on Jenny?” she turned
back for a second.

“DNA matched up,” he answered, placing his hands in his pockets.  “No confession
yet, but O’Riley’s still working on her.”

“You’re not going to get a confession,” Catherine said sadly.  “Guess I’ll see
her again at trial then.”

“Yeah, see you Cath,” Nick said and walked towards the exit.

Catherine made it down to the locker room just in time to meet Sara and Greg on
the way out.  They were talking and laughing about something.   It was almost
cute.

“Hey, there you are,” Sara said as they stopped to talk.   “Greg and I are gonna
go grab beer for breakfast.”

“Emphasis on the beer,” Greg interjected with a goofy grin, leaning on the
doorjamb.

“Coming with?” Sara asked, zipping up her jacket.

“I’ll meet you guys there,” Catherine answered her.   “Order me the usual?”

Sara nodded and pushed Greg through the door, turning to follow behind him. 
Catherine pulled her back and into a tight embrace.  She felt Sara’s heart
beating fast and hard against her own chest and smiled.

“I love you,” Catherine whispered close to Sara’s ear and then pulled away
quickly.

Sara held onto Catherine’s hand and slowly followed Greg out the door, staring
back with a silly grin and only letting go when her fingertips slid over
Catherine’s and out of her grasp.

“You two are so adorable,” Greg teased her as they fell into step with one
another.  “You really make me want to yack sometimes.”

“Shut the fuck up, Greg,” Sara said and pushed him playfully.   “You’re buying.”

Catherine laughed at the two of them acting almost like teenagers and walked
over to her locker.  On the way she exhaled a number of times, finally beginning
to feel like the world had stopped spinning.  She opened her locker to find a
post it stuck on the shelf at her eye level.

                        C.-
                                Thought this might be helpful.
                                Patrick and Mary Bowman, 601-555-8334.
                                      -S.
                                PS – You sent Grissom flowers and an apology.   
                                Trust me.

Catherine smiled and looked back at the door that Sara had just exited through. 
She held the bright yellow piece of paper in her hand and grabbed her cell phone
in the other.  Pacing back and forth, Catherine dialed the numbers one by one
pressing each one with shaking a shaky finger.   Finally, the ringing began in
her ear.

“Mrs. Bowman.  My name is Catherine Willows,” she said, turning to lean her back
against the lockers, sliding down slowly until she was seated on the floor.  
“It’s about your daughter, Ashley.”

END.

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