For a brief moment Flack felt the world close in on him. Everything receded into the background until all he could see was that last photograph and the red dripping down over his and Stella's faces. He dimly realized that he was shaking, in anger or fear he didn't know. It was only when he heard Mac's voice behind him that the world came back.

He turned around to see the entire team just inside the door of Stella's apartment. The grim looks on all their faces and the tears shining in Lindsay's eyes brought the harsh reality of what was going on into sharp focus. "Manes," was the only word he could manage to force out.

The look of complete anguish on the younger man's face took Mac a bit by surprise, but that was something for later. "I was afraid of that."

"Damn it," Danny swore.

"Obvious signs of a struggle," Angell told them, walking back in from the hall. "The gaggle of people in the hall saw it all. Stella's next door neighbor Mrs. Klein was the first to get past the shock and describe the events."

The tightness around Mac's eyes was the only outward sign of the inner turmoil he was feeling. "What happened?"

Angell felt the same panicked nausea she'd experienced earlier rising and pressed a hand to her rioting stomach. "From everything I can tell Manes broke into the apartment and waited for her. As far as what exactly happened, it's kind of jumbled. Mrs. Klein and the others heard the door slam open and Stella scream. There was evidently a lot of general chaos, which is understandable given the mess in here. They could hear her putting up a fight and a few came out into the hall to see what was happening. Manes led Stella out of here at gunpoint, threatened to shoot anyone who got in his way. About that time was when we started getting the 911 calls."

Don felt a primal terror rise up and for a moment he felt as if he couldn't breathe. An impossibly vivid vision of Stella with a gun to her head sprang unbidden to his mind and he felt as if a ton of lead had been dropped on his chest. Everything he was feeling must have been playing across his face because he felt gentle hands on his arms and looked down to see Lindsay's concerned face. "Don?"

He wasn't sure what to say; obviously he wasn't fine, none of them were. So he shook his head and gave her the only answer he could. "I'll be okay when we find her."

"Start processing," Mac told the team. "We go over every inch of space. Manes had to have left something behind. Don, you and Angell interview everyone who saw anything. We're going to find Stella, and we're going to catch this guy."

The interviews that Flack conducted in the next two hours were the hardest of his life. He heard the story over and over again, and it felt worse every time. He tried to stay positive, but as the witnesses ran through the incident again and again everything he knew about kidnapping ran through his head. He knew that the chances of finding Stella alive diminished every second that she was gone; he also knew intuitively that there wouldn't be a ransom note or anything like that. This wasn't motivated by money or fame; this was motivated by rage and fury. Stella knew what Manes had done, and she intended to prove it at all costs. Clearly Manes was willing to do anything to keep her from exposing the truth.

Just the thought made his blood run cold, and when he finished with his last interview he drifted back into Stella's apartment where the others were wrapping up. The grim looks on all of their faces didn't do anything to boost his confidence. "None of you look happy."

Mac shook his head. "We don't have much to go on. I don't know how the hell the bastard does it but there's practically no trace. Other than the debris from the struggle we practically have nothing."

"Damn it."

"Well," Danny commented. "The stuff on the pictures isn't blood. It looks to me like some sort of paint marker; we'll know more when we get everything back to the lab. There's no blood on the floor or furniture so it's likely that Stella was in one piece when Manes forced her out of here. At least there's that."

Don nodded. "It's not much, but it's something."

"The sooner we get back to the lab the sooner we can get started," Mac told them. "We're bringing everyone in on this. Nobody works another case until we find Stella."

They had all learned early on that cases that directly involved a team member were the hardest ones to cope with. It didn't matter how many times they had gone through something like this, it never got any easier. Everyone in the lab was scrambling to gather any information that they could; simultaneously cursing the fact that even the wonders of science they had at their disposal had limits. They were pushing those limits as much as they could, but when it came down to it they could only go so far.

As it had been with all of the other scenes from the Manes case, there were no finger prints, no DNA to go on. Still, they went over everything they had, looking for anything that would point them in the right direction. Flack and Angell went over the existing files again and again, hoping to find some clue as to where Manes would take Stella.

After a few times through, Don could recite the details of the files without even skipping a beat. He knew every little insignificant detail like the back of his hand, and still they were no closer to figuring out where Manes might be; and twelve hours after Stella's disappearance his mind kept prompting that he may have to deal with the reality that they were too late. He could only hold out hope that his head was wrong, and he let his heart keep powering the hopeful mantra that was playing in his head: She's alive; we're going to find her.

The rest of the team was in much the same mental state, though it manifested differently for all of them outwardly. Danny was just flat out pissed, and the anger written on his face was enough to keep all but the bravest lab techs away from him. Lindsay was withdrawn; having cried herself out early on she was singularly focused and had spoken very little to anyone since her return to the lab. Mac was his usual stoic self, but the tightness around his mouth and eyes revealed his worry. Hawkes had simply immersed himself, and hardly anyone had even seen him.

The nausea and panic had faded a bit for Angell, only to be replaced by potent fear. She was afraid for Stella, but she was also worried for the man she was working with. There was something else eating at him, something below the surface. Shaking her head, she set a cup of coffee and a pastry next to his left hand. "How are you holding up?" she asked.

"About as well as anyone could expect I guess," he told her, never looking up from the file he was perusing.

"Don."

The subtle note of worry in her voice made him look up, and he found the same worry reflected in her eyes. "Don't worry about me Jen," he told her.

She frowned. "Yeah, that'll happen. What happened before Manes got to Stella that's got you so wound up?"

At first he wanted to brush it off and pretend there was nothing wrong other than the obvious. But he knew that if he didn't get it off of his chest it would drive him insane, so he opened up. "I was on my way to her place when the call came in."

"Why?" she asked.

"I don't know," he said helplessly. "I'm guessing she found the picture, freaked and called me."

Jen shook her head. "Why is that tearing you apart?"

"I didn't pick up when she called." And suddenly the light was beginning to glimmer. "I figured she just wanted to make me see her side of things so I didn't pick up; it was about to go to voicemail when I did. Then I told her I wouldn't come. She practically had to beg me."

"Don you know what time the calls came in. You don't even know for sure that you would have been able to get to her before Manes did."

He shook his head. "What if I could have? What if I had answered the phone on the first ring? What if I had thought beyond my anger and picked up on how scared she sounded and gotten in the car right that second?"

She frowned again. "Don you know that it never helps to think about the ifs. You'll never know if you would have been able to get there on time, none of us ever will. So you can wonder what might have happened if things were different, or you can do everything in your power to make sure that they turn out right."

Flack nodded. "I know, you're right; but I can't help but wonder if we're going to be too late."

"None of us can. That's why we're doing everything that we're doing, so we can make sure that we aren't too late."

"I hope you're right."

Everyone met up in the break room two hours later. Fourteen hours had gone by since Stella had been taken and they didn't have a lot to go on. Still, they each went over everything they had, hoping that a fresh pair of eyes and ears would be able to find something new.

"Danny was right about the substance on the frames; it's a generic paint marker, available in pretty much every gas station, arts supply chain and grocery store in the country. It's really nothing special and as far as I can tell it has no significance other than the color's resemblance to blood," Adam told them.

Lindsay spoke up next. "There wasn't as much as a hair at the scene that didn't belong to Stella. We've been over everything twice and still nothing."

"Don and I didn't have much more luck," Angell told them. "We went back over the existing files and had another detective try to run down Manes through a credit trail but we didn't find everything. The bastard must have a never ending supply of cash because there hasn't been even an ATM withdrawal in the past month and a half."

"And as far as we can tell he doesn't have any property to his name other than his primary residence. It's entirely possible that he has something under a false identity, but since he doesn't have any known aliases it's practically impossible to track anything down," Flack told them.

In a rare show of fatigue Mac scrubbed a hand over his face. "We've got very little to go on and no idea how much time we have…" There was an unspoken addition to the end of the sentence: or if we have any time at all.

"I don't know what else we can do," Danny said, fear edging his voice.

"Just keep doing what we've been doing. Angell and Flack can dig a little deeper into Manes financial history and see if they can find any aliases he may be using."

Hawkes sighed. "And the rest of us go back to the beginning and see if there's anything we've missed."

They were all dispersing when Flack's phone rang. Hoping it was a lead on Manes, he picked it up and momentarily shut down when he saw the name that flashed on his caller ID. The next second he had it to his ear. "Stell?"

Everyone stopped in their tracks when they heard her name, and in moments they were back to the table and listening eagerly as Flack put the phone on speaker. Their faces fell when Stella's defeated voice came over the line. "Don, you and Danny were right about everything."

"Don't say that Stell, we're going to figure this out. Where are you?"

She was still one of the best CSIs the lab had ever seen, and evidently her skills continued to serve her well. "I'm in the Bronx; some kind of warehouse. I doubt it's been used in the past fifteen years. It smells like wax, maybe some sort of old candle factory or something along those lines."

Flack felt a little flutter of hope in his chest as he listened. "Good, Stell, that's good. Is there any way for you to get out of there? A door or window?"

"There are several windows, but my legs are shackled to a pole. I've tried and I can't get loose."

The flutter of hope was painfully crushed out and he could see the same emotions on his friends' faces. "Okay, that's okay. We're going to figure out where you are. Where's Manes?"

"He left just before I called you and my phone fell out of his pocket. I'm guessing he dropped it on purpose but I knew I had to call."

"You did the right thing Stell. We're going to find you. Stay on the line with me as long as you can." They were all up and running in an instant. Angell was on the phone with dispatch as they all headed as fast as they could for cars. Flack switched the phone off of speakerphone and cradled it at his ear as he went.

Stella took a ragged breath before she spoke again. "I'm so sorry Don," she said quietly.

"Hey, don't apologize to me, there's no reason."

He could almost see her shaking her head. "If I had listened to you…"

"We'll never know will we?" he asked as he climbed into the passenger seat of Angell's car. "All that matters now is that we're going to get Manes' ass on kidnapping, assault, anything I can think to throw at him; and we're going to get a confession on the other murders. We're coming Stell, just hold on." There was a sickening silence on the other end of the line and white hot fear rose up in Flack's chest. "Stell?"

The voice on the other line made the fear burn into rage. "Detective Flack is it?" Manes asked. "I seem to recall your presence at my original interrogation."

"If you hurt her…"

"You'll what? I assure you Detective that I can be long gone by the time you even figure out where I am. But just to give you a fighting chance, I'll tell you where I am. Your fellow CSIs and detectives should receive a text message any second now. Don't bother tracing it, it's disposable."

Sure enough, there was a beep, and Angell opened it to find an address. She looked over at Flack and when he urgently mouthed 'go', she listened. She looked over at him in search of answers and he covered the mouthpiece on the phone briefly. "Just go, and tell the others to go too." He turned his attention back to Manes. "Why are you telling me this?"

He laughed. "I told you, I want to give you a sporting chance. Don't believe me?"

"Do I sound like an idiot?"

"No, I suppose you don't. Fine then, Detective, I'll tell you the truth. In exactly ten minutes I'm going to shoot her. I'm well aware of the fact that you probably won't be able to get here in time, and I want you to find her dying a slow death in a pool of her own blood. Of course I'm accustomed to working with a knife rather than a gun, so there's no guarantee of my aim. Could be I'll just end up shooting her in the head."

"You son of a bitch."

Manes laughed again, and it chilled Flack down to the marrow. "I've been called much worse I can assure you. We're down to eight minutes. Maybe you'll make it here in time to save her; maybe you won't." He couldn't refrain from one more comment before he hung up. "Clock's ticking Detective."