Author's Note: I'm really sorry there was such a delay in getting this chapter written. Real Life has been busy. Good news is that I've been on holiday from work this past week and got a lot of writing done, so the next few chapters should come more swiftly.

Thanks and much love to Wobbear for another amazing job as beta.

In her notes for this chapter, Wobbear mentioned that she found herself wondering whether or not Grissom was wearing a towel when he came out of the bathroom. Well, I'm just going to leave that up to everyone's imagination...

Chapter Nine

"Have you missed me?"

The voice was sickly sweet and did nothing to disguise the noxious evil of its owner. Her only purpose was to terrify, to break down Sara's last remaining walls, to make her completely vulnerable.

Sara felt bile rising in her throat. Unbidden, the image of Hank sprung into her mind – shot, bloody, his once handsome face eaten away by the caustic acid that Jill had poured over him in death. He had not deserved that. No one, no matter what their faults or transgressions, could possibly deserve such a horrible death. And the knowledge that he had been nothing more than a pawn – his death's only purpose was to set in motion Jill's sick game of revenge – made his murder all the more unspeakable.

Anger surged in her chest like a vengeful ghost, rage bubbling up, pushing her fear temporarily to one side.

"What do you want, Jill?"

"You sound angry, Sara." Jill sounded both surprised and arrogant. "You should be careful. If you lose your temper, you might do something rash. Considering your… family history."

"Killing you would be letting you off too easy," Sara said. "You're going to rot in jail for what you've done."

Her laugh was cold and derisive. "You and your boyfriend will have to catch me first. And I have plans for the two of you. I'm just getting warmed up – the real fun is still to come."

"Go to hell!"

"Poor Sara. The victims' champion. How does it feel now that you're the victim?"

"I am not your victim, you bitch!" Sara found herself screaming at a dial tone.

"Sara?"

Grissom stood in the bathroom doorway, dripping from the shower. He looked from Sara's face to the phone in a panic.

"Honey, what's wrong?"

Unmindful of his wet skin, he moved towards her with the intention of wrapping his arms around her. Before he could reach her, Sara had flung the phone down onto the bed and stalked away towards the window. She did not want to be comforted right now. She wanted to seethe.

"I'm sick of this," she said. "I'm sick of waiting around, waiting for her to call or to show up. God! She's got me feeling so pathetic and helpless. I hate that she has that much power!"

Grissom nodded. He understood all too well.

"I am not her victim!" she continued to rage. She could not seem to stop herself. "There's a difference between being victimized and being a victim."

"What do you want to do?"

She shook her head and rubbed her face, trying to find the answer. It was one thing to be fired up enough to want to fight back. It was quite another to know exactly what to do.

"I don't know," she said, a hint of defeat in her voice. "But we have to do something."

"Then we will," he told her. "Let's start by getting out of here. We'll go back to the guest house and pick up your things. Then we'll figure out where to go from there."

"What do we know so far?"

Catherine sat before her team, looking from face to face. Everyone was exhausted, but each person's eyes were alert and ready, prepared to puzzle this case out to resolution, even if it meant a week without sleep.

It was personal.

"Archie's managed to get into Graham Price's e-mail," Greg began. "Both his AOL account, and a bunch of e-mails that were saved on his hard drive. Most of them are from Jill."

"All recent?" Catherine asked.

Greg shook his head. "So far? It goes back about two years."

"They've been planning this for a long time," Nick added. "Jill's been feeding Price a lot of details about Sara, Grissom, the Tom Haviland case. She also asked him to follow Sara, and to send her any photographs he took."

"So he was her eyes and ears here while she was in California," Catherine said. "He probably stalked Hank Pettigrew as well, set his murder up for her."

"It looks that way," Greg agreed. "He must be as psychotic as she is."

Warrick sat forward in his chair and nodded. "He is. We spent the past few hours interviewing one of his victims – Denise Jones. She told us that Price isn't just into poisonous plants. He likes torture, rape and threats too."

Catherine was shuffling through the e-mail printouts that Nick had handed to her.

"Any indication that Price was the one who provided the rohypnol that was used to drug Sara the night Hank was murdered?"

"No direct evidence," Nick replied. "But it's sounding more and more likely to me."

"So, now we have two psychos to worry about, instead of just one," Greg said.

"That's for certain," Catherine replied. "Denise told us that Price spent hours bragging to her about people he'd murdered over the years. And, apparently, there were a lot."

They lingered no longer than necessary in the guest house. The few clothes Sara had hanging in the wardrobe were summarily scooped out and dumped unceremoniously into her suitcase. The couple of dresser drawers she had been using were quickly emptied.

Grissom picked up the suitcase as Sara stuffed the last of her things into a satchel. She took one last look around the room to ensure nothing was forgotten, before she picked up her laptop case and nodded to him.

"Let's go."

Once they were on the coast road, Grissom took a moment to consider their options. The sensible thing would be to return to Vegas. But that was a decision for Sara to make.

As if she were reading his mind, Sara turned to look at him and sighed. "Let's go home."

He glanced sideways at her. "You sure?"

"Yeah. Let's stop off at my mom's so I can let her know what's going on. Then take me home."

He reached across and squeezed her hand, taking a moment to caress her soft skin with his thumb.

"I love you."

She smiled. "I love you too."

Out of nowhere, headlights blazed behind them, shining through the rear window and making it hard to see. They lurched forward as a car slammed into them.

Grissom pressed down harder on the gas, speeding up in the hopes of eluding the pursuer. Momentarily, it fell behind, but soon picked up speed and was on their tail once more.

Grissom glanced to his right. A railing was all that separated them from a steep, rocky drop into the Pacific Ocean. With that in mind, he steered towards the center of the road, praying that no one would come towards them in the opposite lane.

The car hit them again, sending them fully onto the wrong side of the road. To their left was a forest, dark and dense with trees. The gas pedal was to the floor now as they careered along at break-neck speed.

Sara fumbled for her cell phone and managed to push a nine and a one before they were hit again. The car swerved; Grissom overcorrected. Suddenly they were tumbling over and over, down the embankment and straight into a tree.

Sara thought she heard Grissom say her name before the world turned black.

To Be Continued...