Ryan almost forgot why he and Detective Frank Tripp were here as he studied the big, spacious room. The maid had told them to wait in here for the family. Ryan carefully examined some of the sculptures. Most were foreign, from France, South America, China, England, and even Germany.

Frank was much older than the 20 something CSI. He was in a light brown suit and was nearly bald. He must've been making a funny face as he gathered his thoughts because Ryan stopped staring at the hideous sculptures and looked at him. He didn't have time to ask before the family walked in.

Frank stood and introduced himself and Ryan. In response, The Workens did the same.

"Over the phone you said you had some questions about Sean. Is he in any kind of trouble?" Natasha Workens asked.

She was a petite, well dressed woman. A polka dotted dress made her look a little pale, but she was still very beautiful.

Bryan and Matthew stood silent behind her. They looked just like their father; they could have been his twins except Bryan had blonde hair like his mother.

Ryan carefully explained to them what had happened. After all, you never know what they could revel to you. He noticed Natasha turned as white as a ghost, Bryan looked away uneasily, and Matthew sat next to his mother and comforted her.

"I'm very sorry for your loss." Ryan said sincerely. Even though they said that all the time, Ryan always felt it was true. He ahd never lost anybody very close to him, but everyday he saw the devisated faces all around him. It was hard, but putting the killer behind bars almost redeemed him.

"Do you know anyone who would want to hurt Sean?" Frank asked.

"No, no. Sean was a great man and an even better father." Natasha slowly answered.

Ryan turned to Bryan, he was still looking at the floor.

"Bryan, were you at the warehouse this morning with your dad?"

Bryan looked up, startled. He focused on the CSI.

"What! No. Of course not. I was at the skate park with my friends, you can ask them!" Bryan said quickly.

Frank could see the fear escalating in his eyes. He he seen his fathers killer? Or was he the killer?

Ryan's phone rang and he pulled it out of his jacked and turned around.

"Wolfe…Yes…It was? Really? Alright thanks."

"That was our ballistics expert. She said the bullet the killed Sean came from a gun registered to Sean. Where does he keep his gun?"

"He keeps it in his bedside table. He only got it to protect us."

Ryan could see the tears forming in Mrs. Workens' eyes so he volunteered to check. He came back quickly.

"Its not there. Do you know why he would have taken it out?"

"No. Boys, did Dad say anything to you?"

The boys looked at each other and both nodded no.

"We want to help find whoever…did this, but if you will excuse us, I must tell my mother." Natasha beckoned to the maid who slowly made her way over to them. "Please show these officers to the door."

Once they left, Ryan remembered the microchip. "Ill just run the serial numbers through our database. Something has to pop up," he thought to himself as he drove back to the lab.

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