Disclaimer: i dont own anythingto do with CSI

The geography and some of the language and stuffmight suck but just pleaseignore it and pretend that there is a cliff face next to Lake Mead if there isn't. I tried my best but i live in England and am off to america for the first time this Christmas. Also this is my first fanfic.

It was almost 3 am as the young teenage boy ran while someone droned at him to speed up or prepare to lose. He was running along a deserated stretch of highway that ran steeply upwards clinging to the side of a cliff. To go off the edge either meant that you'd be swimming with the fishes or, if you were even more unluky, you would land on a ledge where you would die slowly and painfully and aware of the vultures that were your only company during your last moments.

This ofcourse, meant that the cliff was a hot spot for suicides and it was popular for people to go over in thier cars. Thereby securing thatyou couldn't back out at the last minute. The council were sick off repairing the railing which was falling apart in more than oneplace.

The boy closed his eyes to focus on his breathing.For a while he shut out the rest of the world, concentrating on controlling his aching muscles. As he ran, the boy counted, controlling his pace and breathing.

After a whilehe could go no futher,he opened his eyes to look for the onethat produced the drone to relay this information; instead, he wasfaced withan oncomingtruck.

Before he can blink the truck hit the boy head-on and sent him flying backwards. Tyres screech as the truck lost control andwent careeringover the edge. Then a second vehicle hit the barrier as a land rover hastly changes direction andspeeds off inthe direction thatthe boy had been coming from.

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The rising sun cast shadows over the scene that was already swarming withsleep-deprived police officers.Catherine Willowshovered near a white body bag with a cup of coffee. This was the last thing she needed. She had finished her grave yard shift an hour earlier and wanted nothing more than to go home, see Lindsey and then fling herself onto her bed. Someone was going to suffer and it wouldprobably bethe next person she had to talk to.

After a while, a short, balding man, also known as Conrad Ecklie,walked over and nodded in recognition.She shot him a deadly look which would have made any normal person change direction. But then, no-one had ever been mad enough to call Ecklie normal.He took no noticeand insteadstarted to talk inhis usualdry, bored voice.

' Dead male, no ID, in his teens, hit by something big.'

He stopped to take a breathe which was Catherine felt was hercue to cut in.

' Where's Brass? I thought you didn't do field stuff. You might break a nail.'

Ecklie finally sensing her bad mood chose not toreply and simply turned and walked towards the media that was gathering. That he could cope with.