Title: Little Girl Lost

Author: Max Tyler (a.k.a. Max452)

Email: Max_01_09@yahoo.com

Rating: PG-13

Spoilers: Butterflied,

Disclaimer: I do not own any CSI people or places. They all belong to CBS Productions, Jerry Bruckheimer, and Anthony E. Zuiker. I do not make any money off this, it is strictly for entertainment only.

Author's Note: This is kind of a sequel to my fic "The Butterfly Effect". You don't have to read it, but it will help make sense of things. Also, I'm taking the liberty of making up a past for Grissom, and perhaps Sara, too.

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Chapter One- Starting Over

Sometime during the night, probably around 2:30 a.m., five-year-old Madison Davenport was

taken from her bedroom.

Gil Grissom, alone for the moment, stared the little girl's room, his face haunted. He had a feeling that this wasn't good.

When children are kidnapped, usually a great deal of them are abducted by one of their own parents. Non-custodial abductions, and the children usually are returned within the week.

Another is runaways, something Gil Grissom was familiar with, working in Vegas. Lots of them turned up in this lovely desert city of neon casinos. But they find that living on their own isn't easy, and return home.

But this case... Grissom feared it was one of the last category, a Non-Family abduction, in which of these cases over three hundred disappear... and are never seen again.

Not a word, not body... nothing. The parents don't move on, they stay haunted. Waiting for some miracle.

Grissom was conceding that this was what happened to Madison Davenport.

The girl was only five years old. He didn't think she got fed up with her parents, and decided to hit the road.

Her parents were still together, no sign of trouble in their marriage.

He stepped inside the room, carrying his silver flightcase-like field kit, he carefully walked over to Madison's bed.

The pillow was thrown to the floor, the bedspread, which bore a redhead figure and the words, Kim Possible, emblazoned on it, were on the floor as well. Signs of a struggle?

"So what do you think?" a soft, familiar voice.

Grissom turned, Sara was standing in the doorway, wearing the same expression he was.

"It doesn't look good. Her parents are still together. She's only five, so...I'd have to say it's a Non-Family abduction." Grissom said, and as he actually said the words, his face grew even more grim.

Sara crossed her arms, and she looked at a picture on top of Madison's dresser. The little girl, hugging a golden retriever, and laughing.

"She's a beautiful little girl." Sara said quietly.

Grissom nodded. Madison was on the small side, with dark brown hair cut in a bob, and very dark blue eyes. She had a delicate bone structure, milky white skin, and bow lips.

"We'll do our best do find her Sara." Grissom felt uncomfortable around her, since their talk in her apartment. He wanted to say more, but didn't want to rush her.

He turned back to the bed, "I'll start in here."

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Sara went outside and methodically began to check all of the windows and doors of the Davenport's house. Every now and then, she glanced up at Madison's room, her thoughts on Grissom.

She had been standing up there for awhile, and had seen the look on his face as he stared at Madison's bed. That lost, empty look.

He was hurting for that little girl.

Sara had accused him of not having feelings, because he had reprimanded her once for being too attached to a victim once.

But Grissom did feel, as he had proved first in her apartment, now here in this house. He just hid them better.

Something about children brought out fierce emotions in him. Like in the Zachary Anderson case, and this one, children being hurt or abused made Grissom angry.

Sara finished the windows and doors, and couldn't find any evidence of them being forced open.

On her way in to report that fact to Grissom, she passed Brass talking to a tall handsome man with black hair, supporting a hysterically sobbing woman with dark brown hair. Madison's parents, Sara thought.

She met him coming down the stairs.

"Get anything?" she asked.

"No hairs, except for the girls, I suspect. Some 'prints, though the way our luck's been, they'll probably come back the parents. Our guy knew what he was doing. What did you get?"

"No sign of forced entry. Windows and doors were all locked."

His eyes tightened, "Well, that suggests that whoever this was, had a key."

"Shall we finish the house? Then we can talk to Mr. and Mrs. Davenport about their keys." Sara suggested.

"After you."

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It didn't take long to finish the rest of the Davenport's house, as large as it was, because there was nothing to find.

As Grissom had said, whoever had kidnapped Madison Davenport, they were good at what they were doing. And if they had a key, it made it easier.

When they finished, they headed outside, where Jim Brass was waiting for them.

"Hey. Find anything?" he asked.

"No, I don't think so." Grissom said, and then told him about Sara finding no sign of forced entry.

"Ohh-kay. Well, I just finished the interview, but this changes things. Should we go talk to the Davenports again?"

"Absolutely." Sara replied.

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They brought the Davenports inside, away from the flashing cameras. Meeting them, Grissom saw that Madison had inherited her mother's dark brown hair, milky white skin, and the delicate bone structure. From her father, she had been bequeathed the dark blue eyes.

"Mr. and Mrs. Davenport? I'm Gil Grissom , and this Sara Sidle with the Las Vegas Crime Lab."

"I'm Alex Davenport...this is my wife, Miranda."

"Can you think of anyone who could've done this?" Sara asked.

Miranda Davenport shook her head, lips trembling, "No, we have no...enemies, and Madison," her breath caught, "my baby's such a sweet little girl. Why would someone want to hurt her?"

Grissom caught Miranda's hand, "Mrs. Davenport, I promise you, we will find Madison. I swear." He locked eyes with her.

Sara exchanged puzzled glances with Brass, who shrugged. They had seldom seen Grissom connect with someone like this. It was startling.

Grissom turned to Alex Davenport, "Sir, how many keys do you have to your home?"

The question obviously threw him. He stared at Grissom, "Well...three. I have one, Randy has one, and we have a spare."

Grissom nodded, "Where do you keep it? If you don't mind me asking?"

"Outside, on the front porch, in case one of forgets our key, and gets locked out. It's in one of those fake rock things...Why?"

"Because there was no sign of forced entry, sir. That means someone had a key." Sara said, fielding that question.

"Oh Jesus." Alex Davenport got to his feet, and bolted outside.

"Mr. Davenport, no!" Grissom shouted, and he lunged after the man.

Luckily, he snagged his shoulder just in time before Davenport could grab the fake rock.

"We need check it, sir." Grissom said, keeping his voice calm and level.

Alex took a deep breath, and nodded, "Okay. Sorry, I'll get out of your way."

"It's fine, sir. Go in, and sit with your wife. Could you send out Miss Sidle when you go in, and tell her to bring our kit out?"

The man nodded again, and on autopilot, he walked back into his house.

Grissom carefully examined the rock, which looked realistically enough at a casual glance, but at a closer inspection, was hard gray plastic.

He heard the door close, and Sara's voice say, "You called?"

"Yeah, can you hand me the fingerprint brush and dust please?" He held out his hand, and she dropped the items into it.

He glanced at the color of the dust, "Ah, electric blue. Wonderful color." He then began to dust the rock thoroughly, and voila, some prints appeared.

He went about collecting them.

"Are we done with the Davenports?" Sara asked.

"For now."

She paused, glanced around the yard. Except some cops, which were too far away to hear, they were alone.

"Grissom."

"Yeah?"

"Why do these cases always get to you?" she asked, her voice almost inaudible.

He paused in the middle of stowing the prints, his hands frozen in place. She watched as he swallowed, fighting to regain his composure.

"What do you mean?" he asked, his voice deadly calm.

"I mean, like the Zachary Anderson case for one. No one had ever seen you blow up like that. Now, this, assuring Miranda Davenport that we'll find Madison? A promise you know that we might now be able to keep."

Grissom stared at the ground, "I want to find that little girl Sara. Safe, unharmed, bring her back to her parents."

"I know you do. So do I. But that didn't answer my question."

He wanted to scream at her. Tell her that it wasn't any of her business.

But by going to her apartment that night, and confessing his love for her, he had opened the door to his life, and let her in. So indeed, it was part of her business.

He sighed, "We're finished here. So go tell Brass and," he saw the look on her face, and interrupted, "I'll tell you on the way back to HQ."