A/N: Chapter 2...finally! For those of you expecting an interesting case, my apologies. It's pretty cut and dried, because 1) that isn't the focus of this piece and 2) that isn't my thing (love to read/watch 'em, though!). Hopefully, though, the science and proceedure make sense and are at least logical if not strictly correct, and the characterization is right. As always, let me know what you think--your constructive comments help me improve :-)

Back at the Crime Lab for his next shift, Tim moved resolutely down the hall on his way to check on the DNA evidence he'd collected at Allyson's house. Halfway there he ran into Lieutenant Horatio Caine, his boss.

"Hey Speed," the older man greeted him. "How's the Allyson Brooks case going?"

"I'm about to find out," Tim replied. "Valera paged me in DNA…if she found something useful, then it's going well. If she didn't, then it's not."

"And the victim?" Horatio asked.

Tim blinked a few times, trying to decide how to characterize Allyson. "She's scared," he said. "But she held herself together pretty well when Frank and I interviewed her yesterday."

"Good," Horatio responded. "So she might be of help with an identification."

Tim shrugged. "Maybe. She was still pretty foggy from the attack and the anesthesia from the surgery when we talked to her."

"Then you might have to re-interview her," Horatio suggested.

His subordinate nodded. "Yeah."

"Okay. Do you think you can handle it alone from here on out?"

Tim nodded again. "Yeah. The big part was collecting and logging all that evidence in, and that's done now. I can follow up on it and process whatever's left. Why?"

Horatio frowned. "Well, I need Eric and Calleigh for a murder in the Gables. Someone broke in and killed a woman in her own home."

"Sounds like Allyson's attack," Tim observed. "You think it's the same guy?"

Horatio shook his head. "No, I don't. This was in a different geographic area, with a different M.O.—this guy used a gun and robbed the place on his way out."

"Allyson wasn't robbed that we know of, or shot," Tim said.

"Right," Horatio agreed. "So you stay on that case. And keep me posted."

"You got it." Tim headed off, back on his original path to the DNA lab, now working as the sole CSI on the Brooks case.

Maxine Valera, the DNA analyst on shift, looked up when he entered her lab. "Just the man I wanted to see."

"Tell me you have something," he responded, resting his palms on the counter.

"I have something," she smiled. Retrieving a file she had set aside for him, she pulled out the results of her testing. "Found your victim's blood all over the knife and the sheets," she began.

"That's not really a surprise," he replied, a note of sarcasm in his voice. "She was stabbed four times in her bed."

"Yes," she continued, "but hers wasn't the only blood I found." She handed him the results sheet, pointing to it as she spoke. "There was an unknown male bleeder, too. I ran it through CODIS and got a name."

She swiveled a computer screen toward him and he leaned closer, squinting a little as he studied it. "Aaron Polanski," he read aloud. "Priors for assault in South Dakota, last known address in Wyoming." He straightened up, his forehead wrinkling in thought. "What's he doing in Miami?"

Valera shrugged. "I guess you can ask him if you find him."

His only reply was a cynical smirk as he copied down the information. Once on the move again, he grabbed his cell phone and dialed Detective Tripp. "I got a suspect in the Brooks case," he explained. "But his last known is out of state. Think you can find him?"

On the other end of the line, Tripp nodded. "If he's in Miami, I'll find him."

———

While Tripp tracked down Aaron Polanski, Tim made himself useful in the Layout Room going over the personal effects the hospital had collected from Allyson. He opened the paper bag he had brought back with him after her interview and carefully removed its contents, spreading them out on the light table. There was an elastic hair tie, a simple spaghetti-strapped cotton nightgown, and a small gold heart threaded through a delicate chain.

The hair tie and necklace wouldn't yield much information, Tim knew, so he concentrated on the nightgown. He held it up in front of him, getting an overall view of the garment, before laying it back down. Grabbing a magnifier, he went over every inch of material, looking for anything that didn't belong. The holes from the knife were obvious, and he collected samples of the blood that had soaked through on the chance that the assailant had bled on Allyson when he cut himself. Putting the swabs aside, he continued his search with the magnifier, feeling an uneasy twinge in the back of his mind.

This is weird, he thought. I've gone through personal effects before, but those victims are usually dead. I don't meet them, interview them, before I process their stuff.

He shook himself mentally and focused on the task at hand. He tape-lifted some black fibers near the bottom hem, and discovered a few short, light colored hairs scattered over the front.

"Allyson did say she thought the guy was blond," he mumbled aloud.

Tim collected the hairs, seeing the roots still attached and making a mental note to take them to Valera when he was finished.

"She must have pulled his hair," he told himself. His eyes scanned the whole garment again, and he pressed his lips together. The blood, the ragged holes from the knife, the fibers, the hair, together with the cuts and bruises on Allyson's body added up to one thing. "She fought hard."

The satin trim along the neckline of the nightgown shown in the light from the magnifier, and Tim felt himself becoming angry. She was asleep…she was just lying in bed asleep, and this animal tried to kill her.

He closed his eyes briefly, taking a beat to make sure he remained professional. When he opened them again he was calmer, but just as determined.

"Okay. I've got the evidence. Let's put this guy away."

———

A few hours later, Tim was seated at a table in an interrogation room with Detective Tripp leaning against the wall behind him. Opposite the two law enforcement officers sat Aaron Polanski, a smug expression on his face.

Tim flipped through the file Tripp had brought, glancing from the suspect to his mug shot taken in South Dakota. The accompanying paperwork stated that he had attacked two women on separate occasions, each approximately the same height and build, same hair color and length, each with a knife. The first woman had been unable to identify Polanski as her attacker and, because her injuries were minimal, he had pled guilty to misdemeanor assault. The second victim had more serious wounds, but they were not life threatening and Polanski had again copped a plea, serving a year in jail. He had moved to Wyoming shortly after his release, where he dropped off the radar before fleeing to Miami.

"So you like to cut up brunette women," Tripp commented, locking eyes with the suspect.

"If you're referring to my previous encounters with the police, then I can see why you would think that," Polanski answered easily.

Tim looked skeptically at him. "You didn't do this?" he asked, laying out pictures of the previous attacks.

Polanski smiled. "Nope."

"Then why did you take a plea in each case?" Tripp continued.

The suspect shrugged noncommittally. "Small towns…once people think you're guilty, you might as well be."

"You're saying you couldn't get a fair trial," the detective clarified.

Polanski shrugged again.

"Well, you won't have to worry about that here," Tim informed him. "Miami's a big city, with lots of people to sit on juries."

"For what?"

Tim collected the photos from the old case files, his eyes narrowing as he presented the shots he had taken of Allyson in the hospital. "For this."

"Who's she?"

"Allyson Brooks," Tim said. "Do you know her?"

The suspect shook his head, staring at the pictures. "No."

"Well somebody broke into her house and attacked her while she was sleeping," Tim explained. "With a knife, Aaron…just like the one you like to use."

Polanski leaned back in his chair, his eyes still on the photos. "I didn't do that."

"We got DNA that says otherwise," Tripp told him.

"It's not mine," he retorted.

Tim tilted his head slightly to the side, squinting at the suspect. "Like we've never heard that one."

"It's not," Polanski insisted, finally looking up. "The DNA in the system that comes up with my name is really the DNA of the man that attacked those women in South Dakota."

"We can straighten that out right now," Tim said. Near his left hand was a still-packaged sterile cotton swab, and he reached for it now. "Open up."

For a moment, Polanski looked as though he would refuse, but then he thought better of it and allowed Tim to run the swab inside his cheek. "There. Happy now?" he shot back with a hard look.

The CSI stared him down. "I will be when it comes back a match to our evidence."

A uniformed officer escorted Polanski out of the room to a holding cell, and Frank dropped into the vacated chair, eyeing Tim across the table. "You think he's our guy?"

"I know he is," Tim answered. "That crap about the DNA in the system not being his…they would have tested him in South Dakota. I'll have Valera run this just to be sure, but yeah, that's the guy that attacked Allyson."

Tripp frowned. "My spidey sense is tingling 'bout that creep, too. Did you see how excited he got when you showed him her picture?"

"Yeah," Tim replied grimly. "I noticed."

"Well, let me know what you get from that swab," Tripp continued, rising from the chair. "Let's get this case wrapped up."