Still Waters Run Deep

Chapter 3

Sara was anxiously pacing around her small apartment. Shift had ended a little while ago, and Greg had yet to show up or even to call her. She thought she had made it clear to him that she had agreed to a breakfast date after his shift. And yet, as eager as he had always been to take her out on a date, he had not arrived to collect her. Was it possible that, despite his blatantly constant flirting, he really wasn't that interested in her, either, just like Grissom? Had he only been after the chase, and now that he had caught her and she had agreed to a date, she no longer held any interest for him? No, Sara thought, shaking her head. Greg wasn't that shallow, wasn't that callous with her feelings. He'd always been very sensitive to her moods, always offered his friendship whenever he'd sensed that something was bothering her. He never ignored her or her feelings. And especially, after yesterday…No, Greg was just stuck at work, or had lost track of time. He wouldn't stand her up, not after almost five years of trying to get her to go out with him. Not after the caring he had shown her during her breakdown yesterday. Greg, unlike other men she had known, could never be that cruel.

But, a little voice inside her head whispered, you had once thought that about Grissom, didn't you? And then he goes and tells you to get a life, and when you do, he punishes you for it. He made you feel terrible, like you hurt him so deeply, and all you had done was take his advice, didn't you? Shaking her head, Sara desperately tried to make the voice go away, but couldn't. She stopped her pacing and turned on the CD player to a volume slightly more elevated that normal, hoping to drown out her little voice taking over. Then he tells a murder suspect how he feels about you, but can't tell you to his face. You're just not worth the risk to him, are you? And it's not about age, since he has no problem going out to dinner with Sofia, a woman barely older than you, does he? He just doesn't want you. And why should he, huh? You….

"Sara!"

At the sound of her name, at the touch on her shoulder, Sara whirled around, hands coming up in a defensive posture. She found herself staring into the surprised, and slightly afraid, brown eyes of Greg. His hands immediately went up, palms facing outward, in a non-threatening pose. He took a step back, trying to convey to her that he meant no harm. The wild look in her eyes scared him. She had had no idea he had come into her apartment; her thoughts had obviously been somewhere else, somewhere, by the look of her, he didn't want her to be. Some deep, dark place, close to where she had been yesterday.

It took all of three seconds for Sara's mind to register that it had been Greg who had called out to her and touched her shoulder. Her arms dropped down to her sides and she lowered her gaze, embarrassed and relieved all at once. "Greg, I…I'm…"

"Hey, it's okay," Greg cut her off, voice suddenly soft and consoling. "I didn't mean to scare you like that. I knocked a few times, but you didn't answer. Your door was unlocked and I was afraid something had happened…" He stepped to her, reaching out for her and taking her into his arms. He pulled her body against his, hugging her close and rubbing her back soothingly. "Are you okay?"

Sara leaned into him, resting her head on his shoulder and pressing her face into the side of his neck. "Yeah," she answered softly. "My thoughts just ran away from me, that's all."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Sara shook her head, "Not right now. I just want to…I'm glad you're here."

Greg, unsure how to respond, didn't say anything at all. Instead, he just continued to rub her back and rock her back and forth for a few minutes, until the rumble of his stomach broke the moment. "Uh, sorry about that," he said as she pulled away to look at him. When he saw the amusement in her eyes, Greg laughed out loud. "Guess my stomach kinda ruined the moment, huh?"

"Well, we are supposed to be having breakfast," Sara pointed out, now much happier that Greg had arrived. See, she told the voice in her head, he came, like he promised. I am worth it to him. "Let me just grab my bag and we can go." Sara walked over to the couch and picked up her purse from where she'd left it earlier when she was getting ready and wondering why Greg was late. "Where are you taking me, anyway?"

Greg shrugged. "I was thinking to one of the buffets at one of the casinos, maybe the Peppermill? I like their pancakes. But," he said quickly, running his fingers through his hair, "if there's someplace else you'd rather go…"

"No, the Peppermill's fine. I like their pancakes, too. And they have a large selection of non-meat breakfast foods," Sara agreed. She made her way from the couch to Greg, and started to lead him to do the door of her apartment. Before she got very far, Greg pulled her into another brief, but strong, hug, then let her go. She reached out with her free hand and cupped his cheek, gently rubbing her thumb back and forth for a moment, before letting go and opening her apartment door. Greg reached up and grabbed one of her jackets from the hooks by the door and helped her into it. She looked at him quizzically, but allowed him to wrap her up in her jacket.

"It's kinda cold out there," he explained. "Feels like we might get a storm."

"Thanks," Sara said, smiling at him for his thoughtfulness. Once outside her apartment door, Sara locked up, and then took Greg's offered hand and walked with him down to his car.

"There you are," a voice said, interrupting Sofia as she monotonously looked through DMV records for a possible match to the Dodge Ram from her case. She looked up at the interruption and found Brass in the doorway.

"This is where I've been for a while. What can I help you with?" she asked the older man.

Brass came into the room, waving a folder in one hand. "Got the medical records on your dead body. Pretty healthy guy, up until a few years ago. Had a surgery to unblock an artery in the heart two years ago. I guess it didn't help much."

"I guess not," Sofia said absently, returning her gaze to the computer and her search. "I'm not having any luck here. Too many cars match those tire tracks, and without another clue…" Sofia's cell phone rang then, cutting off her remarks to Brass. Quickly flipping it open she said, "Curtis." There was a long pause before she responded to whoever was on the other end. "Okay, Doc. Be right down." Snapping her phone shut, she stood up and turned to Brass. "Doc Robbins found something with Francis Calder's body."

"Your missing clue?" Brass asked.

Sofia shrugged. "Maybe. Wanna come find out?"

"Lead the way."

Doc Robbins didn't even look up as Sofia and Brass entered the autopsy room. Instead, he simply asked, "Can either of you tell me what this guy died from?"

"Heart attack," Sofia and Brass answered simultaneously, pulling on lab coats to protect their clothing from any of the random body parts or juices that they could come in contact with in the morgue.

"So then his heart wouldn't have been taken for an organ donation," the doc said matter-of-factly. "Which begs the question, why is it missing?"

"What do you mean, missing?" Sofia asked, coming over to the table where Doc Robbins had Calder's body. She quickly pulled her long blonde hair back into a ponytail to keep it from contaminating the body, as well as to keep anything from the body from contaminating it.

"Missing, adjective, meaning absent, gone, mislaid, not there," Robbins said sardonically, finally looking at them for the first time since they'd entered. He was decked out in his own lab coat, slightly bloody from the autopsy, with his plexi-glass face shield covering his face.

"Couldn't you have just missed seeing it?" Brass asked.

Robbins gave him a withering look. "I'm the chief medical examiner for the city of Las Vegas. The day I can't identify a heart is the day they lock me up in an old folks' home." He motioned to the body and his Y-incision. "Someone opened up his body, recently, and it was not done by a professional like myself. I had to cut through sutures to reopen for autopsy, which is not unusual for an exhumed body, especially one that had heart surgery or attempted life-saving measures before death. However, the sutures I cut through were sloppy work, if I do say so myself. No self-respecting surgeon or mortician would have done such shoddy work. Someone else dug him up and opened his chest, then closed it again."

"Why?" Brass asked.

"For his heart, apparently," Sofia answered. "Any other organs missing?"

Doc Robbins shook his head. "No. And nothing else unusual. This man had all the signs of heart disease, but without the heart to confirm, I can't say for sure. But he definitely suffered from arteriosclerosis, was overweight, and his cholesterol levels came back very high. None of his other organs seem to have suffered any damage, but I'm still waiting on the tox report. And, David was right. This man was embalmed."

Brass handed Calder's medical file over to Robbins. "Says he had an operation two years ago to open a clogged artery in his heart."

Robbins took the report and briefly perused the papers, leaning on one of his crutches. "I see that he was diagnosed with coronary artery disease at that time. That could most definitely cause a heart attack. He seems to have taken it seriously, lost almost seventy pounds in the past two years, if this weight from back then is accurate. And it says here that he wasn't an organ donor."

"So, I repeat, why's he missing his heart?" Brass asked.

"That's not my job," Robbins answered back. "All I can tell you is that it wouldn't have been taken for a transplant."

"So why dig him up now, after almost a month, and steal his heart?" Sofia asked, frowning.

"Many people donate their diseased organs upon death to medical labs and universities for scientific study," Robbins informed them.

"But a month after death and burial? And why dump the body then?" Brass pointed out skeptically.

"Could it be possible that someone other than a doctor removed his heart for research?" Sofia asked, staring at the body.

"I did find the suturing particularly inept," Robbins reminded them.

"But who would need to study a diseased organ that wasn't a doctor and research scientist with access to a legally obtained organ?" Brass questioned.

"A medical student," Sofia and Robbins answered at the same time, looking at each other in understanding and amazement.

"So then, to get him back, I put methyl blue indicator in some brownies and gave them to him. He peed blue for three days!" Greg hissed at Sara, eyes bright and dancing in laughter. "He had absolutely no idea what was going on!"

Sara leaned back in the booth and laughed with Greg. "You were such a prankster in college, weren't you?"

Greg shrugged nonchalantly. "Not really. I got picked on, so I had to come up with new and interesting ways to retaliate. It's not like I could have taken anyone in a fight."

"I don't know, Greg, I think you're pretty strong," Sara commented, taking another bite of pancake.

"Now," Greg pointed out. "But back at Stanford, I was a 98 pound weakling with funny hair, and was smarter than all the others in my classes. I ruined all the curves. Everybody hated me." He looked down at his food wistfully, moving it around his plate.

Sara leaned over the table and touched his arm. "No one here hates you just because you're smart. We like that; it keeps us on our toes."

"Yeah, I know," Greg said, still staring at his food. "Sometimes I just wish that I wasn't so smart, though. Because then I would have been going to school with people my own age, not a few years older, so I would have fit it, maturity wise, and then maybe I would have been with girls my own age and they would have gone out with me, and not turned me down numerous times because I was too young for them."

Something clicked in Sara's mind and she tightened her grip on Greg's arm. "Greg, look at me," she commanded. When he didn't, she squeezed even harder, forcing him to wince and look up at her. "Is that why you think I turned you down? Because I thought you were too young?" Greg shrugged his shoulders in answer, but Sara was having none of that. She stared at him, causing him too wilt under her strong gaze and nod his head. "Oh, Greg, that wasn't why I turned you down at all."

"Can I ask why?" Greg asked uncertainly, biting his lower lip, undecided upon whether he wanted to really know the answer or not. "What was wrong with me that you…"

"Nothing," Sara interrupted him, not wanting him to finish that sentence. For some reason, hearing Greg demean himself bothered her. A lot. "There's nothing wrong with you, Greg. That was the problem. I came to Vegas for Grissom; I think that much is pretty clear to everyone who knows me. I wanted to be with Grissom. And then I met you, and you made me laugh, helped me out when I was sad, never pushed me, and made me feel special. And I guess I just…" Sara sighed, not sure how to finish her explanation. "I've never had good success with men. I don't know if it's because there's something wrong with me, or if I just have horrible radar, but I've always been hurt and used. As long as I was fixated on Grissom, on the unobtainable, I couldn't be hurt. Or so I had hoped."

"But he hurt you more than anyone else ever has, hasn't he," Greg said insightfully, removing his arm from her grasp and taking her hand in his instead.

Sara nodded, glad to be holding Greg's hand. It gave her comfort and support, something she desperately needed to keep the voice from coming back and mocking her about Greg now, as well as Grissom. "I came to Vegas for Grissom. I stayed, for Grissom. But now that I've gotten it through my thick head that it's not going to happen between me and Grissom…"

"You're not leaving are you?" Greg asked worriedly, eyes flashing in fear.

"No. I may have been looking for a relationship with Grissom, but I found a family here, with everyone. Albeit, one big, messy, dysfunctional family, but certainly better than any family I've ever known growing up. I'm not ready to leave that simply because the boy I like doesn't like me back."

"Where do I fit in, in this family of yours?" Greg asked hopefully.

"I'm not sure anymore, Greg. You're definitely one of the most important people, but I'm not sure where that is exactly. I know what you want, where you want to be, I'm just not sure I'm ready for that yet."

Greg squeezed Sara's hand in comfort and understanding. "Hey, I'm not going to push you. Just knowing that I'm in the running right now is enough for me."

"How do you get…Nevermind," Sara said when she saw Greg grin mischievously. She realized that she had inadvertently told him that she was considering a relationship with him, and he was just being Greg, playing it up and flirting with her to make her smile. Unfortunately, though she was smiling, she was becoming uncomfortable with this conversation. Originally, she knew that Greg had set out on this breakfast to put her at ease and make her smile. To just be a friend for her and let her know that he was there and that she was safe with him. However, now that they had started to delve into her non-relationship issues with Grissom, and Greg's attraction to her, she suddenly found herself wanting to escape. Greg must have picked up on her discomfort because his next question was completely off the topic.

"Did you hear about then new Mortal Kombat game for playstation?" he asked, seemingly out of the blue.

Sara shrugged, glad for the change of topic, but not sure where her friend was going with this. "No, but I've never really played any video games, Greg."

"Never?" Greg asked incredulously.

Sara shook her head. "Nope. Didn't have any growing up; they weren't a real priority with my parents or foster parents. And I didn't have the time in college, and now I'm an adult, so…"

"So nothing!" Greg said loudly. "You're so coming over now and trying it out. We'll stop by the store and pick up the new game and I'll teach you how to play. Everyone should play once in a while. It's a great stress reliever."

Caught up in the younger man's excitement, Sara nodded her head in agreement. "Okay, but you better not have things running around your apartment, or I'm leaving."

"I promise my apartment is clean and presentable," Greg huffed. "Remember, I'm not the one who keeps experiments in the community refrigerator at work." Finished with their breakfast, they stood up, Greg helping Sara on with her coat. She put one arm through a sleeve, and as she turned to put the other arm through the other sleeve, her ear came very close to brushing across Greg's lips, and she heard him whisper to her, sending shivers down her spine, "For the record, there's nothing wrong with you, either, Sara. You're absolutely perfect, and for those who can't see that, it's their loss."

Warrick ran into Nick in the parking lot of the crime lab as he made his way in for the start of swing shift. He jogged up to the shorter man and nodded to him in greeting.

"Hey, man, how are you?" Nick asked his friend once he'd caught up.

The two resumed their walk into work and Warrick answered, "Not bad. Got some good sleep in. You?"

Nick shrugged. "Okay, I guess. I was trying to call Greg all morning, wonderin' in he wanted to get together and try out the new Mortal Kombat game, but I couldn't get a hold of him. He wasn't answerin' his phone."

"You could have called me," Warrick said, feigning hurt. "I woulda played with you."

"No offense, Warrick, but I actually wanted a real challenge, and I can beat you with my eyes closed," Nick teased, smiling.

"That's only because I let you win to keep from bruising that large ego of yours," Warrick playfully informed Nick. The two kept of their friendly banter all the way into the lab and to the break room where they were to meet Catherine for assignments.

"Hey, guys, nice of you to show up," Catherine said from her seat at the table.

Nick glanced at his watch. "We're only a minute late, Cath."

Catherine shrugged. "Late is late, guys. Here's your assignment. DB found out near Nellis Air Force Base. David's already on scene. I'll be around the lab today, finishing up the paperwork on the Melton case, and they running with anything new that comes in. Page me when you have something to report." Catherine stood up and left the break room, heading to her office to finish her paperwork in peace.

"I'm driving," Nick announced.

"No way, man, you drove last time," Warrick pointed out.

"Rock, scissor, paper?" Nick asked, making a fist.

"One, two, three," Warrick counted down, showing paper.

"Oh man!" Nick complained, his fist in rock formation. "I always lose when we do this."

"That's because you're always rock, so I choose paper," Warrick told him, sliding an arm across Nick's shoulders as they made their way to the locker room to collect their kits.

Once on the road, Nick asked Warrick if he'd heard from Sara. "I tried calling her today, to check on her after her suspension. You know how she can be. But I kept getting her machine and her voicemail."

Warrick shrugged, seemingly unconcerned. "If I'd just had a knock down drag out fight with both Catherine and Ecklie, and lost, I'd be hiding too, licking my wounds. And it's certainly not uncommon for Sara to run off, or hide out after something like this, especially if she's angry. She's really not into sharing her feelings and talking things out."

"I know," Nick said sadly. "It's just that all Sara really has is work, and us. I'm just worried."

"Well, you said that you couldn't reach Greg, either. Maybe they went out together today. They have gotten much closer since we've moved over to swing, so maybe Sara feels more comfortable talking to Greg now, rather than us. Plus, since she seems to have a beef with Cath and we work with Cath, she may not have wanted to drag us into the middle and put us in a difficult position, ya know?" Warrick wisely pointed out.

"I hate this split!" Nick suddenly shouted, slamming his fist on the dashboard. "It's ruined everything! We're no longer a team; we barely see Sara and Greg. And Gris. I have no idea what happened between Sara and Catherine and Ecklie! How can I help if I don't know what's going on, huh? Aside from you, Sara was my best friend; she actually would talk to me when something was bothering her, with a lot of prodding of course," Nick quickly added after Warrick's look of disbelief. "Now, we don't talk and…"

"And she has Greg," Warrick added softly. "A little jealously there, Nicky?"

"I don't know, maybe," Nick admitted grudgingly, rubbing his face.

"Did you think we'd all be working together for the rest of our lives?" Warrick asked gently, keeping his eyes on the road ahead for the exit towards Nellis.

"No, I'm not that naïve," Nick told him, shaking his head. "But I figured we had a few more years at least, before we were split up. I like Cath and all, but sometimes…well, I just miss Grissom's leadership, his teaching, ya know? And I miss hanging around with Sara and Greg."

Not sure what to say to comfort his friend, Warrick elected to say nothing, but rather to reach out and squeeze Nick's shoulder in friendly comfort. He, too, agreed with Nick in that he had pictured them all being the perfect little crime-solving team for a few more years. Now, that perfect picture was ripped apart, and it had left them all reeling in the aftermath. Catherine, it had seemed, had jumped right into her role as supervisor, and had no trouble being in charge and doling out orders. However, and Warrick would never say this to her face for fear of pain and death, but in his opinion, Grissom was a much better supervisor than Catherine. Maybe it was experience, though his people experience and skills left something to be desired. No, what it boiled down to was that, where Grissom knew how to teach and let his team learn for themselves, Catherine was trying to hard to remain a friend on the same level as before, as well as be the boss and appear in control of everything. And that, in Warrick's experience, didn't work. Either you were a chum, or you were the head honcho; you couldn't have it both ways. And sometimes, you just had to let your team discover for themselves. It just seemed that, though Catherine could handle more authority, she couldn't be the sole authoritarian.

At first, Warrick had thought that he was the only one who felt this way. It seemed that now, Nick was voicing a similar opinion. And truth be told, Warrick missed spending time with Sara and Greg as well. He wondered briefly if, had they all still been a team, if Sara would have lost her cool with both Catherine and Ecklie in the same night, resulting in her suspension. Probably not, he concluded. First off, they wouldn't have even had the case; the original swing shift would have handled it. But, even if things had been different and grave had taken the case, everyone on grave knew that Sara had issues with cases involving violence against women that ran deeper that just the mere fact that she was a woman, though no one seemed to know what the issues were. Plus, they also knew Catherine and Sara often differed on how to approach interrogations over his subject matter, and he, Nick, and even Grissom, as oblivious as he could be, kept the two women at different ends of the case to avoid such conflicts from ever taking place. Warrick couldn't really remember a time when Sara and Catherine worked together, alone, on a domestic violence or rape case. There had been that snuff film case two years ago, where they had worked very closely together through much of the case, but nothing, really, since then that was just the two of them.

Warrick was abruptly pulled from his musings when Nick pointed ahead and said, "There's our crime scene." Warrick followed where Nick had pointed, turned right onto a dirt road, and pulled the SUV between the coroner's van, and Detective Vartann's Ford. Getting out, the two men collected their crime scene kits and walked over to the homicide detective and the assistant medical examiner.

David was kneeling down next to the body, face screwed up in confusion, shaking his head. "I just don't get it. Two, in less than twenty-four hours. Why?"

"Two what, Super Dave?" Nick asked, bending down to get a closer look at the dead body.

"Two dug up bodies," David replied. "Judging by liver temp, this body's been dead a very long while, and my guess, she's already been embalmed, or she wouldn't look this well preserved. Greg and Sofia had a case exactly like this last night, except their body was male."

"Do you know any of the particulars from their case?" Nick questioned, shining his maglite over the dead body, searching for anything out of place.

"Not really" David replied. "Just that the body had been redressed, and that it had already been embalmed previously. I'm not sure what Doc Robbins found; I had to go out on a call when he performed the autopsy."

"So, two dumped corpses within a day of each other?" Warrick spoke up. "They've gotta be related somehow. Too big a coincidence not to be."

"How was this body found?" Nick asked Vartann.

"Video satellite telemetry from Nellis. I've already requested any video we can have that's not classified. Someone will drop that off at the lab for you guys later," Vartann informed them. "They were just doing a routine daily sweep to make sure there weren't any trespassers and found the body."

"Do they do the sweep the same time every day?" Warrick asked. When Vartann nodded Warrick smiled. "Sweet. You just narrowed down our time scale. The body was dumped sometime between the two satellite sweeps, leaving us with only twenty-four hours that we have to account for. The body couldn't have been here for more than a day." He turned to Nick. "I'm going to have a look around. Take photos of the body, then ride back with David and go through the autopsy with the Doc. Find out what you can about Greg and Sofia's case. I'll run with whatever I find here and meet up with you later."

"Who put you in charge?" Nick joked as he positioned his camera over the body.

"I drove, so I'm in charge," Warrick snapped back just as lightheartedly, grabbing his kit and moving away. He spiraled out from the body, his eyes roaming across the ground, looking for something, anything, that could lead them to a suspect. About fifteen yards southwest from the body, Warrick kneeled down and, using forceps, picked up a half-used cigarette. He placed the evidence in a plastic bag, sealed it and labeled it. He then stood up and continued his outward spiral for almost two hours, finding nothing but the cigarette. Defeated, he made his way back to the SUV and Vartann. David, Nick, and the dead body were no longer around. Shrugging at the detective, he held up his lone piece of evidence. Without saying a word, the two men got into their respective cars and headed back to the PD and crime lab.

"Hey, Greggo," Nick called out as he saw the younger CSI walking down the hallway ahead of him. He saw Greg stop quickly and turn about, waiting for him. Nick jogged the short distance and came to a halt. "I tried to call you almost all day. Where were ya?"

"I was hanging out with Sara, and then went to bed until a little while ago. I turned my phone off so I could get some uninterrupted sleep; I didn't get much yesterday," Greg smoothly told a half-lie. True, he had spent the morning with Sara, but also the afternoon as well. After breakfast, as promised, he'd picked up the new video game and taught Sara how to play. Eventually, he started to play solo in an attempt to show her some fancy moves. After one particularly good punch/kick combo, he turned to grin at her and found her passed out on his couch. He didn't have the heart to wake her up, and, looking at the time, he realized he should get some sleep himself, or he'd be bone tired through shift. He had shut off the TV, covered Sara with a warm blanket, and then went to his bedroom to sleep as well. He had awoken some time later to swearing in his kitchen; Sara had been trying to make him something to eat before his shift and was fighting a losing battle. Instead, they had ordered a quick pizza, and after a short shower, he dropped her back off at her apartment on the way to the lab, promising to pick her up the next morning for another breakfast date.

Nick didn't need to know any of this, Greg realized. It wasn't his business unless Sara made it his business. This was about her, and as much as Greg wanted to shout from the rooftops that Sara had agreed to not one, but now two dates with him, he kept his mouth shut. The rumor mill of the lab was already grinding with gossip about Sara, her altercation with both Catherine and Ecklie, and her subsequent suspension; he didn't need to add more fodder about a woman who wanted to keep her life private.

"Oh, how is Sara? I tried to call her earlier to check on her, but she didn't answer," Nick asked.

Greg shrugged. "She's Sara. She's fine. She's going stir crazy already with no work to occupy her time."

"I'll bet," Nick agreed, smiling knowingly. "Did she tell you what set her off and made her go postal on Cath and Ecklie?"

Greg lied, shaking his head. "Nah. She didn't seem to want to talk about it, so I didn't press her." Knowing he had to change the subject and fast, Greg started to walk away from Nick. "Sorry, but I gotta run and meet up with Sofia about our case…"

"About that," Nick continued, keeping pace with Greg. "Warrick and I picked up a case today that David said was very similar to yours. DB dump, already embalmed. We might be working the same case."

"Did you find tire tracks or a cigarette butt?" Greg questioned, now interested and no longer trying to get away from Nick, now that the focus had moved from Sara to work.

"Not that I know of, but I went back with David and the body. Doc Robbins confirmed that my DB had been embalmed and that no organs were missing except her heart. I'm on my way now to see if Mandy got anywhere with her ten card, and then to see what Warrick found from the scene. We should all meet up in a while and see if we can pull from both our cases."

"I don't know much right now; I took off for breakfast before Doc Robbins gave his report, but I'll bet Sofia knows. She stuck around. Beep me and Sofia when you and Warrick are ready to talk," Greg suggested, turning away from Nick and entering the break room to grab a cup of coffee. As he was pouring, his beeper went off, Greg and causing him to spill hot coffee over his had. Cursing softly, he ran his hand under cool water as we impatiently checked his beeper to see who had paged him. Mia. After he felt that he had sufficiently treated his hand, he turned off the faucet and made his way to the DNA lab, where he found Nick, Warrick, and Sofia all assembled around Mia.

"Okay, we're all here," Warrick said. "Why'd you page all of us?"

"Your cases are related. The DNA I pulled from Greg and Sofia's cigarette is the same that I pulled from yours and Nick's," Mia informed the four CSIs. "And they each seemed to have the same or similar foreign substance on them, so I sent them both over to trace. Hodges might have something for you."

"But you don't have a suspect for us, since CODIS came up empty," Sofia pointed out.

"Yeah, but I did find something that can narrow down your search," Mia offered. "I ran some random genetic tests and something jumped out. The person who smoked those cigarettes, they suffer from sickle cell disease. They're positive on both alleles."

"How does this help us?" Nick asked.

"Sickle cell disease affects people of African, Middle Eastern, or Mediterranean decent. Most common in the US is those of African decent, about 1 in 650 or so. I performed an autosomal DNA test, and, keeping in mind that many of these tests haven't been proved 100 percent accurate, it shows that the person is of African decent," Mia told them.

"So," Sofia summarized, "We're looking for an African American female who has sickle cell disease."

tbc