Author's Note: A big thank you to Wobbear for being a terrific beta. And thanks to everyone for their support.

Two things - If you don't remember the letter that Jill (we assume) wrote back in the prologue, you might want to quickly reacquaint yourself with it (though it's not vital).

Secondly, before everyone asks at the end of this chapter (because you probably will – Why yes, I am evil…


Chapter Six

Sara pocketed her phone as she left the guesthouse and walked out into the crisp early morning air. She caught herself looking up and down the street, seeking out anything suspicious. Her peaceful hometown had been tainted by her paranoia, and she resented the hell out of that fact.

Setting off at a moderate pace, she jogged down the street and towards the beach. Running on the soft sand was difficult and the extra exertion helped focus her – temporarily pushing other concerns aside as she exercised.

The sun was still low in the sky, glinting off the waves. The beach was deserted and not a sound disturbed Sara, save for the cry of the gulls and the muffled thudding of her own feet hitting the sand –

Until a loud bang that startled both her and all the nearby birds.

She stopped in her tracks and looked around, fearful. Somewhere on the road, a car had backfired. Just one of those things, and yet it had left her heart pounding in her throat. Dimly, she wished her firearm wasn't back in the lab in Vegas.

Damn Nicky for telling her what was going on.

No. That wasn't fair. She had asked him to tell her. And even if she hadn't – what sort of a friend would he have been if he didn't warn her, prepare her, for what was coming.

And she was coming.

Sara could feel Jill's presence drawing nearer with every moment that passed. It was not a question of if Jill would find her. It was only a matter of when.

Trying her best to calm her breathing, she set off again – walking this time – in the hope of settling her nerves. She doubted that it was possible – not when she couldn't shake the feeling that she was being watched.


Catherine found Nick bent over the layout table, logging evidence with a distinctly dissatisfied air about him.

"Hey. What have you got?"

"A whole lot of nothing," the Texan replied, his usually relaxed features stretched taut on his face. "Plenty of evidence for a conviction on the Haviland murder – I've already matched the pen and paper she used to write the note and Warrick found hemlock in a greenhouse in the back of the property."

She sat down and regarded him closely, knowing full well that a slam-dunk case would normally have him elated, not down in the dumps as he was now.

"So, what's the problem?"

He sighed and sat back in his chair, rubbing a hand over his face. "To be honest, I could give a damn about solving that scumbag's murder right now."

"You'd rather know what Jill's planning next," she stated.

"Exactly," Nick replied grimly. He paused, glancing down at the white knuckles of fists he didn't remember forming.

"I'm worried about her, Cath."

She didn't have to ask who he was referring to. "Sara will be just fine," she reassured him. "Gil will be with her by now. He'll keep her safe."

"I'm worried about him too," he admitted. "That psycho bitch is after both of them. And we don't know if she's got someone helping her this time or who that might be…"

At this, Catherine visibly perked up, smirking as she slid the file in front of her colleague.

"We know now, thanks to Brass," she told him. "The house Jill was supposed to be staying at is owned by a Graham Price. Thirty-five years old. Works as a botanist out in Henderson. Hasn't been to work in three days."

"A botanist? Well that explains the greenhouse. Jill wouldn't have had time to grow the hemlock herself," Nick mused. "Criminal record?"

Catherine shook her head. "Not as such. He was hauled in on a sexual assault charge last year. The victim originally claimed that Price was stalking her, and it escalated to assault. But the charges were dropped – the witness claimed it was all a big mistake."

"You don't sound so sure."

Catherine shot him a smile of pure confidence. "Well, I certainly plan on finding out."


"Hey, Hodges? What have you got for me?"

Warrick strode into the trace lab and found David Hodges, hunched over his microscope.

"Just a moment," the lab tech replied, carefully adjusting the focus on one half of the comparison microscope. "Ah, perfect."

He took a step back from his workstation and gestured to Warrick to take his place at the scope.

"Take a look."

Warrick peered down both lenses and once and was relieved to see what appeared to be a perfect match.

"What you're looking at are plant cells. The sample on the left is from the poisoned chocolates in the Haviland case. The right is the sample from the hemlock plant you brought in last night. As you can see, they're identical."

Warrick almost smiled at him. "Good work, Hodges."


The envelope was waiting for her, on her bed, when she returned to the guest house.

Gloves should have been the first thing that popped into her mind. She'd been a CSI for a little over eight years after all. Her second thought should have been the police – she should have instinctively called them and not touched the letter until after they arrived.

But training, common sense – both went out the window at the first glimpse of the creamy white envelope resting on the lavender comforter of her bed. She grabbed it and, with shaking fingers, opened it.

Snatches of words ran through her mind – disjointed like her thoughts – as she read.

Your life is mine.

You are nothing

my victim.

destroy your soul.

make you beg

the end.

Retribution.

Vengeance

mine…

The paper drifted innocently back down to the bed as all the strength left Sara's hands. She was frozen – a deer in the headlights.

Jill had been in her room…

A noise sounded above her head – a footstep, a creaking floorboard. Fight or flight kicked in, and flight was the instinct she found herself responding to. She turned and ran, back down the stairs and out the front door. She didn't stop, didn't look back, didn't register anything except her sheer terror.

Until she ran into someone very solid.

Then she screamed.

To Be Continued...