Mind you, I'm a little slow on updating, so don't pin me with the pitch forks... I'm trying to get all the little facts right in my story, making sure everything is adding up, which of right now it is.

So let's starts, shall we...

This chapter begins after Lady Heather's Box. And no, I can't exactly tell you what will happen, or who will end up with who. That in fact would just ruin the surprise.

And these chapters have to be the longest I've written in my living... Okay, enough of my babbling... on with the story.

-----

Chapter One: Sweet Shadows

Time had already fallen to the morning light, as Gil and Sarah stopped in front of Catherine Willow's house. And both had already analyzed over the house, such as the left markings of a child's chalk drawings on the driveway; three drawn flowers in a vase, the name Lindsay designed in a bubbly form, and outlined with bright green chalk, with the letters filled in yellow.

Sara scanned over the drawings and noticed they weren't faded--so they must be recent-- like a day or two old. "Lindsey's pretty good" She pointed to the drawn vase and flowers, before stepping forward a few steps. Grissom stopped and looked back to examine the pictures, and nodded before continuing on to the front door.

Once they got up there, they passed a red bike that sat against the side of the house, as they walked up the stairs. The door was mahogany colored, and had a colored glass window.

Grissom exchanged looks with Sara. "Has she always had this?" He asked as he pointed directly to the colored glass in the middle of the door.

Sara shrugged. How could she remember? She hadn't been here in ages-- and already things looked different-- more than she could recall right now. "Don't remember" She called back, while they stood there for a moment, before he turned back towards the door, gave a small 'hmm...' and shrugged his question of mind.

A moment later he raised his hand and gave a small knock, then another before putting his hand back down to his side.
---

Sprawled across the white flowered couch laid Catherine, who wore an olive green t-shirt and white pajama bottoms. And next to her stirred her daughter Lindsey, who wore a pink tank top with matching pants.

"Mmm..." She groaned softly, as she turned sleepily onto her right side-- making her mother stir slightly at her movement, but not enough to wake her up-- which allowed both to start falling asleep again.

That is until Lindsey heard another similar noise a few minutes later-- and she moved off the couch, without waking her mother and headed sleepily to the closed door of the living room, before slipping out quietly, and closing the door behind her.

Lindsey looked around still quite dazed until she saw what could be the source of the noise and as she looked over at the door and saw two figures waiting patiently at the door. She perked up slightly as she rubbed at her left eye, and headed towards the door--unlocked it quickly and pulled it open.

She pressed her lips tightly together, as she exhaled. At this time she was not either expecting nor was she exactly delighted to see them again. Lindsey griped the frame of the door tightly, her eyes moving back and forth between Sara and Gil.

"Lindsey" Gil greeted mildly, noting the look on her face, and pressed himself to continue talking. "Your mom around?"

"No" She shook her head quickly, as she rubbed her thumb over the smooth side of the door, and gazed up at them with a catching look in her eyes.

---

Catherine exhaled in deeply, as she stirred to her side, and took in a few more deep breaths, while the rays of sunshine coming through the blinds, made no apparent mark on her as she settled again.

Her mind fell into more of a haunting dream, as it had done the whole night through; placing an added sinking feeling, which made her feel more like she was falling into a black hole.

And she lay there with uncertainty, knowing a killer was on the loose-- walking around with a criminal mind, and not a care in the world. They sure weren't suffering from anything but certainty, because they had done the job-- and had succeeded better than planned.

That made many times difficult for her to contemplate just why they did this and elements played in all this. Even so, it wasn't hard to notice that one or both, Mr. Keiner or Candeece knew something that could make a world of a difference. They just weren't willing to let go.

In the background of the silence she was deepening herself in Catherine heard distant voices. At first she didn't have any concern for them, but the more she registered to mind, and the more she grasped, the better she learned that those voices weren't just people off the TV, no, those three voices were distinctly familiar.

She pried open her eyes, adjusted herself to the growing brightness of the room. And after looking around the room, and then beside her, after remembering that Lindsey had come and fallen asleep on the couch with her early this morning. So she sat up, rubbed her eyes, and stood to her feet.

The effects of the endless crying-- the puffy purple bags underneath her eyes, tear streaked cheeks, eyelashes that were once wet, crinkled slightly now that they were dry--and hair that was slightly tossed.

She walked over to the door and opened it, before making her way onto the wood floor of the foyer, and gingerly scooped back a piece of hair behind her ear, and made her way down the hall into the kitchen.

Short echoes of voices trailed--by the familiarity of them, she knew who they belonged to. Now Catherine needed to figure out why they were here.

She pursed her lips tightly as she padded barefoot down the hall and stopped at the frame of the kitchen door. With her arms folded loosely against her chest, she leaned her right shoulder against the frame and listened. "She's trying to be happy--" Lindsey continued in her innocent matter, as she looked up at Grissom, who sat across from her, and Sara sat to the right at the end of the oak table. "But it's hard--" Catherine had to catch her breath as she slid out of sight, and to the side. She leaned her head against the cool wall, and took in a few sharp breaths. "Sometimes" Lindsey added quietly.

Sara looked out of the doorframe and into the hall, and exhaled, before she gazed back into the eyes of her coworker's daughter. She reminded Sara each time that she saw her, of how innocent the mind was at this age, and how much at this same time she could tell how much Lindsey was willing to protect her mother from what she could.

Sara nodded in response, and closed her eyes then reopened them before gazing back into the hall-- yet she found it empty once more. She exhaled and continued to gaze-- as it was at this time that she knew something in the air had changed. Grissom looked back into the hall with a slight puzzled look, and occasionally looked at Sara in hope that she would give him some insight of what she found so interesting out in the hall.

That was until he caught sight for the first time today-- a defeated Catherine, her back towards them as she quickly walked back down the hall, and took the stairs, before going up quickly, and disappeared. His eyes trailed with her, until he could no longer see her.

Sara exhaled deeply. That's when he knew without looking at her that she had felt something the last couple of times also. Grissom caught eyes with her, and shot her a considerate look that read, 'I see now. I saw her too' She gazed at him and looked up at the stairs. He read her exact thoughts and nodded. That won him a gentle smile as Sara excused herself from the table.

----

Observe to know. That's what her father always told Sara when she was younger. And she had always had an idea of how much he meant what he said--but in the times those words were needed, that's when she knew that they mattered the most.

Sara trailed down the half-lit hall, as she noted to green walls, the three pictures that hung in their positions, the light fixtures nearby; throwing out little light, and illuminating the closed door at the end of the hall.

She took in a breath, and looked at everything once more before pushing herself down to the end, and stood at the closed door--giving a short knock before reaching for the knob and opening the door softly. "Catherine?" She called into the room as she peeked in.

The room was still, beside a familiar tune that created a lovely melody throughout the area.

When your down and troubled, you need some loving care Nothin, Nothin is going right. Mmm... close your eyes
And think of me, and soon I will be there, to brighten up
Even your darkest nights.

The bedroom itself was clean-- the two flowered chairs in the corners were neatly arranged, no clutter was seen anywhere on any of the chairs, the floor, the two nightstands on each side of the bed, or even the dresser.

She looked around and stilled upon hearing a noise from the bathroom-- and she walked quietly across the room, to the half-open door. Sara started to look in, and opened the door just a little more, and saw Catherine wiping her mouth and throwing a wadded Kleenex into the toilet.

Sara then stared into the basin, as she held fast to the fact of just how much all this was taking a toll on her coworker. And no matter how much Catherine wanted to believe that she was fine, and her daughter was coping well, this moment proved otherwise.

You just call out my name, and you know wherever I am
I'll coming running to see you again.
Winter, spring, summer, or fall-- all you have to do is call
And I'll be there. You've got a friend.

---

Gil raised an eyebrow as he looked at the picture. Lindsey was now drawing a grave, while two people stood nearby, and they looked on towards the horizon; downhearted expressions on their faces.

Grissom tilted his head in interest, and he watched her own expression; her head slightly downward while her eyes were fixed on concentration. "Now that's a really good drawing" He complimented with a small smile, and the concentration on her face melted slightly as her eyes gazed upon him.

She watched him for a moment, trying to figure out what to say to the kind admiration she saw in his face. And the meaningful smile upon his lips, which after a little encouragement from the silence, she tried to meet that smile with her own-- but instead she failed miserably, and frowned, before covering up her sadness with a small thank you.

Tilting his head in thought, he gave a distracted nod. She watched him, then picked up her pencil and looked away. In indecision to look up at him, and slowly she started adding details to her picture.

He took in a deep breath. Something about this conversation was unsettling-- He absolutely didn't want to make her talk if she didn't want to. Besides he wasn't interviewing her for a crime, instead he was helping to answer a scared cry for help--which at this point, she didn't want anything to do with.

Lindsey let out a sigh, and took a slight pause before continuing to work silently. "My mom taught me how to draw three years ago" She broke the silence, without looking up. Gil blinked, and looked at her in sudden surprise. It was as if she had sensed that he was going to ask a question.

He adjusted himself in his chair-- no exact uneasiness was noted-- he just had to marvel knowing something that had never been mentioned until now. "Three years ago?" He checked to make sure he had heard her right, even though he had been reading the words right off her lips.

She looked up at him and nodded. "Yeah" Her innocent eyes searched his. Hmm... he looked away from her gaze, and brought in newfound questions into his head as he thought.

---

The sound of flushing that broke the silence startled Sara a bit-- but not as much as her knocking on the door would do for Catherine. She let out a hesitant sight as she pushed back a hair from her face. In her heart she knew that Catherine was just trying to help. It was also true that although she was connected to this case, she would have done anything to do something. And if Sara could take anything away to help this situation, it would be how angry she had been a couple days ago when Catherine had burst into the middle of the interview with Candeece.

Sara raised her hand and knocked, pressing the door softly with the tips of her fingers, so the door opened. "Hey Catherine" She heard a sniffle, and saw Catherine use her hands to wipe away the tears, as she walked into the room.

"I'm alright Sara" She called back quickly without looking at her, and rolled off a piece of tissue and wiped her nose, before she threw the wadded piece in the wired trash can, between the sink and the toilet.

Sara furrowed her brows at the tone in her voice. "I never said you weren't" She closed her eyes, took in a deep breath and stepped into the room. "Catherine--" She stopped at the sudden motion, as Catherine veered around. And that's when Sara noticed that her eyes were red, underneath they were puffy and swollen-- which highlighted the deep purple bags that show how much Catherine hadn't slept in the last day and a half.

In turn Catherine took in a rapid breath, and cast her eyes to the side, before refocusing. Catherine... Her eyes peered up at Sara. "What?" She thought in her head, and shook her head slightly, to move some hairs away from her face. She watched Sara intentionally for the sole purpose of catching some cue, or hint that suggested the purpose for her being up here.

Sara took in another deep breath knowing in the first place that she was breaking territory. If anything, Catherine was a strong woman, a friend, and personally somebody she looked up to. But she was also somebody who learned you can't tie rope through water-- She knew that Catherine had accommodated that from the beginning of her growing career-- making her way through stages with a young child.

She loves you, you know"

Catherine exhaled with a sigh, and then pressed her lips tightly together, before releasing. "Yeah, I know" She swallowed hard, and stared at anything at the moment that would help her just focus. "Only it feels like we're always a mile apart" She had that longing, sad voice, with a catch that made their eyes connect. Yes, she understood.

"We have a hard job Cat" Sara exhaled, and folded her arms, before leaning up against the side of the doorframe. She couldn't imagine how much it killed Catherine to watch somebody else raise her child, while she sat on the sideline.

"Right" Catherine said palely. The words of the last time they had together as family swarmed throughout her head, as she brushed past her co-worker and into the room. Her heart was racing, and every step she took she felt something wasn't right, but she refused to hinder to it, until the blackness engulfed her.

----

Quite focused on the crime scene in front of him, Greg snapped one last picture with his camera, and stood up. Soon afterward he shoveled into his shirt pocket, and took out a pen, scribbled something in his notes, looked over the individual that lay in front of him, and tucked the notes underneath his arm before re-pocketing the pen.

"Greg" Warrick greeted as he and Nick walked into the room. What do we have? Silently he pointed to the body. Nick stopped to the side of Warrick, lifted his hand in greeting, searched over the sprawled body with questioning eyes, and then looked back up at Greg.

"Male, I'm guessing he's in his late twenties" Greg started to inform them. "One blank shot to the chest-- Livor temp show's that he's been here for at least a half an hour"

"Who called it in?" Warrick asked, tilting his head to the side in interest. Lack of blood for a gunshot wound. He noted in his head, and his eyes trailed around the room to the blood splattered front door, and floor.

"Anonymous 911 caller" Greg answered quickly, as he looked over the body again.

"Do we have any idea who that anonymous caller is?" Nick chimed in, while pulling out some gloves out of his pocket.

"Already tried that. The 911 operator told us that from the beginning, the person who called wanted to remain anonymous." Greg stated, as he loosely crossed his arms, in part displeasure.

Warrick took in a deep breath and stepped forward. "Greg, no one happened to move the body before we got here—"

"No. That's how it was when I got here— although you might want to ask him that—" Greg turned and pointed to an officer that was standing in the corner of the room talking to another officer "He was the first one on the scene"

----

"Come on Catherine open your eyes" It was Gil's encouraging voice that she heard, as she lightly stirred. Now her head was definitely protesting again the hard hit she had sustained while her sudden fall.

She felt everything… their movements, whispers, the fear in their voices as they tried to awaken her. But she could do nothing to help, even though she had tried to open her mouth to say something, tried to find some way to move, and found herself helpless as she passed into a deep sleep.

xxxxx Beginning of flashback...

"Whenever are you going to realize that you have a daughter Eddie?" She heard herself ask her ex-husband as they stood at the driveway of her house. He was wearing a dark blue dress shirt, jeans, and smelled of perfume. Which was a definite clue that he had been with another one of 'his girls'

He turned his head towards the house, and gazed up at their five year old daughter. "I had to take care of something" By his expression Catherine was quite sure that he was slightly embarrassed, so he had said it quietly enough that Lindsey could not hear his words, from where she was standing.

"You're three hours late. You never called. We didn't think you would even show up." She added in a warming tone. In no way was she going to let him off the hook, after he took advantage of some woman, just so he could be late to his own daughter's birthday party.

He exhaled in sharply, glaring at her. "I had something to take care of" He repeated coolly, still not answering the real reason he was late, or why he never called. Although, she had her suspicions.

"Look, I was having a hard time choosing" He said holding up the two presents he held in his hand. "I picked this one up earlier in the week" He added, holding up the bigger present of the two, "But I needed to get one more thing" His words lingered with her, his eyes pleaded with her just to listen, to give him a chance to explain himself.

But she didn't know if she was ready to.

End of flashback...

----

Dr. Robbins solemnly assessed the body of their recent victim. He noted where the man had been shot; that it had been a close range. He turned the body to the side and found that there was no exit wound, so the bullet should still definitely be inside.

Hands were clean of any gunpowder residue, most likely ruling out suicide. Defensive wounds were found on fingers of both hands, and a bruise on the left wrist. Fingernails were mostly clean, except for a couple of his fingers on his right hand, which Dr. Robbins had collected some evidence that could be useful.

While a white powdery substance was found on the lower bottom, on the inside of his blue dress shirt, pants, and remained everywhere from his stomach to his upper thighs. Dr. Robbins scraped off some of the powder for a sample before continuing.

He then went back, and detailed the facts of the bullet wound on paper, then dug deep into the wound, until he got a hold of the bullet, and pulled it out.

----

"Catherine?" Gil said gently, both in relief and in kindness, as she opened her eyes, and scrolled across the features of his face. Come on Catherine, open your eyes. His words safely washed over her, as she glimpsed over the initial shock. She uncurled her body slightly, noting at the same time, the position that she had been in. "Do you know where you are?" Her blue eyes gazed up at him, then looked down at the floor, as she carefully levered herself up into a sitting position, and scrubbed her face tiredly with her hands. "In Las Vegas" She answered dryly, but with a touch of amusement on her face, that made him smile softly.

Catherine shifted her body. Gil watched her, and knew her intentions, so a moment later he extended his hand out to her as she then took it, and he watched cautiously as she stood up, wavering here and there, in chance to steady herself.

He pressed his lips together, and tightly, as he titled his head. "Going on a hunch here, but when's the last time you ate something?"

She directed her eyes towards him, knowing when, and how sparsely she had eaten during the last few days. Lindsey could attest to that—well since the days that she had been home with her.

----

"The pattern of blood spatter shows that our victim was facing the door when he was shot" Warrick observed, as he went on snapping some pictures of the door.

"Foot traffic on this floor gives a regular pattern of life" Nick added, tape lifting a few of them for evidence. "I've noticed the same prints show up all around the house, and by the door, which is also where we're introduced to a new set of prints"

Warrick gazed around at the illuminated footprints on the wood floor. "One that doesn't fit in" He nodded, and got out a swab and took a sample of the blood on the door, then on the floor.

"Right. That and the trace of dirt left behind" Nick arched his brow, and held up a small sample of brown dirt.