For Mary:

We've been through a lot and we'll go through a lot more. Your friendship means more to me than life and CSI… which to me is kind of the same thing. Have the happiest birthday. This is written in chapters and I hope you like it. I love you to the moon and back.

I love you more than cheetiz and cheerios and frosting-less pop-tarts.

Thanks to Deb for helping me proof read.

~00~

"I'll be the grandma," Jessica, the oldest child in the house, said as she took her place by the fence. "You guys be the children."

The name of the game was 'Grandma's footsteps', and it was a favorite of the youngsters. They would play it every day when the bus dropped them off. The only child that did not participate was the newest arrival at the home: Sara Sidle.

Sara had been brought in only a few weeks ago and had yet to socialize with anybody. The other children were curious about her and had asked her numerous questions about her parents, but the little girl remained quiet. Most days she sat to the side and read while the others played.

"Why don't you go and join them?" the house mother said, taking a seat beside the little brunette.

Sara just shook her head. "I just want to read," she said, turning her attention back to Charlotte and her web.

The book was taken from her hand gently and set to the side. Sara looked up at the woman who was now her guardian. Though the smile on her face was kind, Sara was not ready to interact.

"Come and play," Jessica called.

Sara nodded and stood slowly. Not because she was ready, but because she saw that she had no choice. As she walked over to the group of playing children she thought about how cruel life could be.

~~00~~

Sara set down her silver kit and studied the concrete figure in front of her. The statue was in the form of a mourning guardian angel that was typically found in graveyards. Its hands were open-palmed and placed over its face. She turned and glanced at the mirror-paneled walls. Reflective glass had been professionally glued in place, providing a panoramic view.

The statue had been found locked in a high security vault at the prestigious Hotel Manaco. The vault was usually patrolled by round-the-clock surveillance but, nobody on the staff could explain what became of the four night watchmen. The only sign that men had been present was a half-eaten lunch and a black mag-light. The light had been found alongside a back wall underneath a shelf that housed other artifacts. It had been photographed, bagged, labeled, and sent back to the lab for processing.

"Who would take the time to customize these walls?" Sara asked, snapping on a pair of gloves and walking over to look at the remains of the half-eaten lunch.

Nick walked over to one of the mirrored walls and knocked on it. "It's not a cheap job," he said. "You say there were four grown men in here?"

Sara looked down at her clipboard once more. "Yeah, they signed in two days ago," she explained, pulling out her camera to take a photograph. "And they never signed out. One of the men had a second job and he never showed up."

Nick arched his eyebrows. "Is there an air vent?" he asked, looking up.

Sara followed his line of sight, but the ceiling was smooth. There was an air duct along the base boards, but it was too small for her to fit through, much less a man. Hearing footsteps she turned to see Gil Grissom walk in. Quickly she turned back to her work.

"What do you make of this?" Nick asked him.

Grissom shrugged. "What the eyes see and ears hear, the mind believes," he quoted.

"Harry Houdini," Sara said without turning.

"Very good," he said to her. "Since there is no was in or out of this room, the answer is here."

"Did you check the eye-in-the-sky?" Nick asked.

Grissom nodded. "I did, but no one entered or exited the vault since the men began their shift," he answered.

"Do you suggest that they just vanished?" Sara asked and then pointed her thumb towards the angel statue. "Or that our friend witnessed all this?"

Nick whistled a few notes from The Twilight Zone theme. "Freaky stuff," he said.

~o~

As Sara walked down the corridor toward the work garage, she couldn't shake the feeling that she had something to do. Mentally she went through a list of things that she had to accomplish that day. She had gone to the library, the plant store, and she had paid her rent. It wasn't time to pay the utilities, but still something tugged at her subconscious. She pushed open the heavy, metal door that led to the garage, but stopped in her tracks when she saw the evil looking angel once again.

"Does it scare you?" Nick whispered in her ear.

Sara looked at him annoyed. "Why would it scare me?" she asked, turning to open the toolbox nearest the door.

When she lifted the lid she caught her reflection in the mirror that was fixed to it. She couldn't help but realize how exhausted she looked. The bags under her eyes had grown darker and her hair appeared limp, Over her shoulder she eyed the ominous angel; somehow it looked different. She gave her head a shake and opened her eyes wider. The fingers that had been covering the face of the statue were now split apart and an eerie chiseled eye peeked through the space. Quickly she dismissed the thought and turned.

"Why on earth did they haul this here?" She asked, sizing up the figure and snapping on a pair of latex gloves. "And who brought it in?"

Nick looked around for a clipboard, located it on the hood of the truck, and read the log. "Some new guys," he said. "Don't recognize the names."

"Well someone needs to tell them that when they bring evidence in they need to check in with the shift supervisor," Sara commented, lining up jars of finger print powder and clean ten-cards.

Nick looked around. "But their stuff is still here," he commented, kicking a pile of bungee cords.

Sara wrinkled her forehead. "How do four grown disappear from inside a sealed vault without being caught on camera?" she asked, more to herself.

Nick shrugged. "How many licks does it take to get to the tootsie-roll center of a tootsie pop?" he jested. "The world may never know."

"Actually," Grissom said as he entered the room. "That is a question without a solid answer as people have different sized tongues and thus more or less saliva contributions," he stopped to examine the row of different powders that Sara had set out. "One person's answer will never be the same as the other."

Sara turned back to her work. She poured a small amount of black powder onto a clean sheet of paper, dipped her brush into it, and began to swirl it onto the concrete. It wasn't the first time her supervisor had interrupted with another meaningless statistic.

"We may want to fume this," he said as he came to stand beside her. "Concrete is mostly porous. It'll be difficult to get a print."

Sara was annoyed that he was looking over her shoulder and critiquing her work. She knew what was and what was not doable, and she did not need his input. Still she nodded her head in agreement and continued to mover hand in a swirling motion.

"Can I talk to you in my office?" he asked her.

Sara did not turn to acknowledge him. "You know what? Not feeling it," she said, dipping her brush back onto the paper.

Grissom looked over at Nick, who appeared to be busy. He leaned in closer to Sara to whisper into her ear, a move that both annoyed and angered her.

"I need to talk to you," he said.

Without breaking her concentration she replied curtly. "I don't need this right now," she whispered back without turning away. "I have work to do."

Sighing Grissom turned to see Nick staring at him. "What?" he asked, leaving the room.

After he had gone, Nick chuckled. "What was that about?" he asked.

Sara dropped the brush on the table. "I parked in his spot," she said, snapping off her gloves. "Have Bob come do this. I'm going home."

~00~

Cooking breakfast for yourself when you were single, or newly single, was almost as appealing as being in a live action version Saving Private Ryan. On days when she was depressed, Sara made it a routine to visit a small sandwich shop and order breakfast to go.

As she walked across the parking lot she couldn't shake the feeling that she was being watched. Instead of turning to look behind her, she her quickened her pace. Inside the place was packed and she took a seat at a table facing the window to wait on the line to dwindle.

Out of corner of her she saw a new individual enter. Without turning her head, she swiveled her eyes until the character was in her line of sight. The man looked nonthreatening, but he was out of place. He wore an outdated coat and under his chin she caught a glimpse of a bow tie. His hair was shaggy and he had the sharpest chin she had ever seen. To her he looked like the cosplay of Bill Nye or a displaced history teacher.

He looked in her direction and she quickly looked down, avoiding his eye contact. Instead of taking his place in line or finding a seat, he made his way over to her. Sara stirred uncomfortably in her chair. Talking to strangers was not her strong suit, especially if they looked museum tour guides.

"Excuse, me," he said in a heavy English accent. "Am I in Las Vegas?"

Sara pursed her lips and nodded. "I'm afraid so," she said sarcastically.

The man clapped his hands and rubbed them together. "Las Vegas," he said with a hint of pure excitement in his voice. "Of all the places I've been I am finally stopping at the most interesting city in The United States!" he took a seat beside her excitedly. "Can you tell me how many Elvis get-ups you see on average?"

Sara scooted back in her seat as far as she could. "Can I…. get you a map or something?" she asked, wishing he would leave her alone.

"Actually," he said, leaning into her and lowering his voice. "I need you to come with me right away,"

Sara grimaced and held up her hand in a protective stance. "I am not that kind of a woman, but if you're looking to buy a good time I would go look on the strip," she said. "I hear the girls give discounts when it's early."

The man pulled back and wrinkled his nose at her. "What… no," he said. "For God's sakes you just gave me nightmares."

"I'm sorry," she said. "Who exactly are you?"

The scruffy man rummaged in his coat. "Right, that's rude of me I didn't introduce myself," he pulled out an ID wallet and held it out to her. "This is who I am?"

Sara stared at the credentials. "Health inspection?" she asked skeptically.

The man replaced the ID back quickly. "That's right I'm with the Health department," he said. "There is some rotten cabbage floating around and I am to get to the bottom of this."

Sara raised her eyebrows and gave his outfit a once over. "You don't look like a health inspector," she said.

"I'm incognito," the man said. "Don't want them to stash the cabbage."

It was hard to tell if it was his personality that was comical or if he was being spastic on purpose. He had a demeanor that was serious, but wired at the same time. She wasn't sure how a person could balance the two moods and not have a psychotic break. Then again, this man could be in the midst of one.

"You know what," Sara said, standing and grabbing her purse. "You stay. I'll go."

As she passed the man stood quickly to block her retreat. "Angels!" he said quickly. "You-saw-the-angel-and-you-need-to-take-me-to-it-this-is-a-life-or-death-situation."

Sara blinked at him and shook her head. The last words that he had spoken sounded like one long indistinctive word, but she was sure that she had been able to catch the general idea. She put her hand under her jacket and touched the cool steel of the gun she had there. Did this strange person know something about the case?

"Let's not get hasty," he said to her as if she were a rabid mastiff. "Remember guns don't kill people. People kill people."

"How do you know all of that?" she asked, trying to move past him.

"You need to come with me," he said again, more seriously.

"Why do you think I would do something like that?" she asked, looking around the room to see if anyone was aware of her situation.

The man looked skeptically around the room. "Because …I too have a gun," he said, loudly and unconvincingly. "I'm a mad man. You need to stop me!"

After his last sentence he turned, coat tail floating up behind him, and flew out the door. Pulling out her phone Sara followed him. As she ran through the parking lot, she kept him in eye sight. Surprisingly he was quick and nimble. He skirted over the hood of a car on his backside like he was a stunt double, causing the alarm to sound.

"Sorry!" he called as he ran.

"This is CSI Sidle," she said when the phone connected. "I have a potential threat running through parking lots on the corner of first and third," she stopped to gulp down air. "I believe he is armed."

The man turned into an ally and Sara stopped. She wasn't the one to follow an armed assailant into a dark ally in Las Vegas, but her curiosity go the better of her. Who was this man? How did he know about the angel? Was he a witness?

She stepped cautiously around the corner and peered around the brick wall. There was nothing there but empty trash bins and a pile of wooden pallets. Just then she saw darkness and a scrawny pair of arms wrapped themselves around her. She kicked out violently and screamed. She heard that when you died your life flashed before your eyes. The possibility of being murdered in a dark alley by a man in a bow tie wasn't the way she wanted to go.

"This is quite new for me," the man said as they struggled. "I've never nabbed someone before."

Sara leaned forward and felt the man lift off the ground. Her screams were muffled by the bag, or blanket, or whatever the man had dropped over her. She fought wildly, but the harder she fought the tighter his grip became.

"I just want to apologize for this," the man said as Sara rammed their bodies into a wall. "but I need your help and…. you wouldn't have believed me …. Maybe this wasn't the best idea."

Somehow, whether it was from exhaustion or weakness, the man overpowered her and began to drag her backwards. Still fighting, she swung out her arm until it connected with his jaw.

"Ow!" the man cried out. "That's really quite painful," he stopped and panted. "You really need to cut dairy out of your diet. You're rather weighty."

Somehow she broke free from his grasp, quickly picked a direction, and bolted. She realized that she had chosen the wrong direction when her forehead collided with a wall. She felt herself fall backwards and her world grew darker as she slipped into unconsciousness.

The man was bent at the knees and was gasping for breath. "That wasn't too hard," he said,