Walter Riggs stood up and grabbed at the wall. His right leg felt so normal and yet it felt so alien. He could feel the entire limb. All the way down to the foot he could feel the pants he wore. He was aware of the leg the same way he was aware of his left.

"Looks like you'll get the hang of this pretty quick." Alex said.

"I can't almost tell the difference." Walter admitted. He began to take a step. There was only a slight hesitance at first. "This isn't so hard to get used to." He added.

"The one leg is rather easy. You're left leg is perfectly fine. You only have to force a little more concentration on your right. After a while you won't even notice it."

Walter was walking back and forth. "It feels good to be on my feet again. I can't wait until you give the all clear for me to go back to work."

Alex smiled. "That won't be for another month or so. But I promise you it won't last too long. The recovery process is very fast." The scientist was beaming. She was happiest when her work was being used to help people. Even if it was an FBI agent.

"I want to thank you again." Walter said.

"Don't mention it." Alex replied. "It was the only option you had left. I was glad to do it. Now how about some stairs?" She grinned.

"Oh boy," Walter replied.

Rick pulled into the drive and cut the engine. "Remember, if we don't like anything we may not bring home a dog today." He said.

"I know." Penny replied. She was already unbuckled and poised to open the door as soon as Rick unlocked them.

The doors unlocked and everyone got out. Penny walked between Jess and Rick as they approached the door. Jess knocked and a man opened the door after a minute.

"Jessica?" He asked.

"Yes," She answered. "thank you for agreeing to show us your puppies today."

"My pleasure." The older man said. He had a warm smile and graying hair. "The dogs are in here. Please come in."

The three stepped in. "I'm Dave." The breeder said to Rick.

"Rick." He returned. "And this is Penny."

The man looked at the girl. "Is this your first dog?" He asked. Penny nodded.

"Yes."

"Have you owned dogs before?" It was a logical question.

"I grew up with dogs, my wife has had a few too." Rick replied.

"Here they are." Three puppies were romping in a fenced in area covered in newspaper. They nipped and pawed at each other.

Penny leaned in close. She put her hands into the pen. The pups looked at her and sniffed curiously. She petted one and it licked her hand. Giggling she picked one up. Jess grabbed another. Rick just watched. He was enjoying the two's reactions. The girls were smiling and cuddling the squirming animals as if they were already part of the family.

"You want to hold this one?" Jess offered. Rick shook his head but she stepped closer and thrust the tan and black puppy in his face.

He reluctantly took it and looked into it's dark eyes. The dog squirmed and he rubbed its head. The soft fur was short and he quirked a slight smile. It had been a long time since he had owned a dog.

Penny was watching him with a gleam in her bright green eyes. Rick caught her grin and stuck his tongue out at her playfully.

An hour and a half later he was trying to drive while Penny exclaimed in disgust and shock as the puppy emptied the contents of its stomach on her sneakers. Jessica laughed a little. Rick glowered. His week wasn't going so well.

And a dog that got car sick was not much of a help.

Penny and the dog took to each other well. She named him to her father's amusement and Jessica's shock, Brain. Although the dog didn't seem very smart so far. Brain was a trouble maker. He got into things he shouldn't have. But he was beginning to learn that scolding was not something he wanted.

Rick didn't have much time to spend on a dog. He was busy with a sudden rise in violent attacks at the local University campus.

No matter how hard the CSI people worked not a trace of DNA. The victims were African-American, Hispanic, or Jewish. It was obvious that some racist group was at play. Some kind of neo-Nazi group out for blood. Most victims were found beaten, bloody, and alive. Unfortunately a few were found dead or died after arriving at the hospital.

The case was getting nowhere.

Greg came out of an interview room and kicked a table. "This is ridiculous. There's no witnesses. It's a campus at midnight. There's got to be a frickin' witness somewhere!" He shouted. Some people looked up and nodded. Others like Rick kept their focus.

Rick was reading a report for the third time. He couldn't find anything in it, but he was rereading everything. Trying to find something else that connected the victim was almost impossible. Rick however believed in doing the impossible. He'd done it quite a lot in his life-time.

He pulled up the next one and scanned through it. He was about to give up on them when something stood out. He compared the previous to it and then began searching the others. On each was a single similarity besides ethnicity.

There was a wound in the right side of their necks. All of them had it. They were always a knife slit, but they were in the same exact spot on each victim. What was worse was Rick knew the location well. He'd been shot in the same spot once.

That was early in the spring. Now it was mid-September. He fingered the spot, though there was no scar it was hard to forget such a spot.

An idea dawned on him then. One that he'd briefly entertained a week ago, but rejected as paranoia kicking in.

But there was only one racist who had a reason to mark that spot on his victim's necks. It was an obvious calling card for only one person. The leader of The Purist Reich.

Rick looked up his name on the desktop computer. Gerald Richter. The name was blatantly German. Rick jumped up to his feet and was about to head for the Sergeant Hanson's office when a distinct ringing made him shove his left hand in his pants pocket.

He was still angry with Alex for that. Her need to rebuild his entire left arm had given her the perfect chance to add in a few new extras. Like a cell-phone in his hand.

He went into the men's restroom and once he was in a stall with the door locked he pulled his left hand back out. His thumb was flashing with a blue light.

Rick grudgingly chose to answer the call. Then he stuck his hand next to his face. His pinkie was near his lips and his thumb against his ear.

"Hello?" He asked.

"Hey Rick," It was Alex.

"What can I do for you June Bug?" He replied. He had made it a habit to always call her that when she called that ridiculous phone. She was usually the only one.

There was an irritated sigh from her. "Did you notice the neck wounds on the victims?"

"Just found that a minute ago. You actually interrupted me on my way to tell Hanson, now if you'll do your job and let me do mine?"

"Of course. Should have known you'd get it." Alex replied proudly. "Catch ya later Rick."

"See ya, June Bug." He cut off the connection as she swore at him.

With that he went back to what he had been doing. He waltzed right into Hanson's office and began to explain his theory.

Hanson agreed it was a good, if not their only, lead.

An hour later Rick was in the morgue. It was his least favorite part of the job. But someone had to do it. He looked at the half covered body of the young man. The victim was Hispanic and handsome.

Rick looked at the opening in his neck. It was clean and dark. The wound was no bigger than a slit from a thin blade. It was exactly where Rick had expected. A clean stab had made the wound. No jerking the blade or slashing it. Just a simple plunge and retrieve.

He didn't see anything else of note and left as quickly as he could. There was something about touching a dead body that made his spine tingle.