Disclaimer: I don't own CSI, or any of its characters.

A/n: There will be no update to Masquerade next week, due to the fact that I have to work on my entry for the Smutathon at Geekfiction and I have three videos to do, and regular life stuff. Updates will continue as normal the next week. I've also decided that there will be no update to Sara's Journey this week for the same reasons, but I should be ready for next weeks update for that fic. Thanks in advance for your understanding, and thank you Aussie for all your help.

Chapter 10

Lurie stared in shock as Grissom made his way over to the table and sat next to Catherine. Grissom watched as the doctor jumped up and began to pace. Finally he stopped and looked at Brass, then Catherine, and finally his eyes locked on Grissom's. "She's dead, killed?"

"Shocked, Doc? Now, I find that surprising. It's certainly not the first time a woman you were seeing ended up dead." Brass asked from the corner.

"I-What?!" Lurie spread his hands facedown on the table. "Look, that thing a few years ago, there was never any proof that I had anything to do with it, and this thing now? Well I didn't do it. I liked Angela yeah, and we went out, once, and yes I would have liked it to be more, but that's as far as it went." He stopped and dropped his head. The room was filled with silence until he lifted his head up and sighed. "I had no reason to kill her. That's the bottom line."

Catherine and Grissom shared a look as Brass spoke up. "Yeah, no reason, but the thing is, we only have what you tell us to go by. How do we know that the lady didn't tell you she wasn't interested, and you took exception to that?"

Lurie sighed and rubbed his face. "You're right, for now you only have my word." He reached around and took out his wallet. "But once you check out this restaurant you might have more." He handed Catherine a receipt. "Check it out. It's my favorite restaurant the staff knows me well. I took her there on our one date. They can tell you exactly how the date went." He leaned back in his chair and watched them.

Brass shook his head. "I'm not sure how much weight the staff of a restaurant is going to hold. You see, you've been back in town for a year and a half, and coincidently the first murder was committed a little under a year and a half ago. And there have been months between murders, kinda like the killer had other obligations. A busy doctor with rejection issues fits the bill."

"I don't know what to tell you. Ask around, find out what you can. There is no proof that I did anything, and you won't find any. Because I didn't do anything." He clasped his hands in his lap.

Grissom leaned forward. "Do you own your own home, doctor?"

"Yeah." He shrugged. "What of it."

"And when did you buy your house?" Grissom watched him intently.

Lurie blinked. "About nine months ago, I got tired of living out of a hotel, and I thought it was better to buy than rent. Why? What does that have to do with anything?"

Ignoring the question, Grissom asked. "What was your realtor's name?"

Lurie shook his head, but answered. "Phyllis, Phyllis Johnson. Look, what does my house have to do with anything?"

Once again, Grissom ignored the question. "And what bank do you use?"

"So you're just throwing out random questions now, is that it?" Lurie stood up and started to pace. "Is that your plan, to get me so worked up and confused that I don't know which end is up?"

Brass stepped up. "Just answer the question Dr. Lurie."

Lurie spun around, his hands on his hips. "Fine, my bank is Bank of America."

Grissom sat forward. "And is that the only bank you have dealings with?"

"Well no, my mortgage is through First Union, but that's the only other bank I have dealings with on a regular basis." He lifted his hands and shrugged.

"Which branch?" Grissom pressed

"The one in Henderson. Look, could you please tell me what all this is about?" He sat back down and propped his elbows on the table.

"Did you meet someone named Nancy Curtis while you were there? Grissom stood up, leaning on the table.

Lurie shrugged. "Yeah, I think there was a brief meeting with her, or she sat in on a meeting I had with my loan officer, Jack Malloy. We only met the once though." He turned and covered a yawn.

"Are we boring you Doc?" Brass sneered.

"No, but I have had a busy day, a day which started," he glanced at his watch, "yesterday at nine AM. So forgive me, but I have no control over my body's reaction to the lack of sleep." He crossed his arms, watching them.

"Well, maybe we can perk you up." Grissom smiled. He looked to Catherine who handed him two files. He opened one and laid it in front of Lurie. "Nancy Curtis, VP of First Union Bank in Henderson, found on the sixth of October, two thousand and six. She had been killed and mutilated." He placed the other file in front of him. "Phyllis Johnson, realtor, found March fifteenth, two thousand and seven. She had also been killed and mutilated. And of course you know Angela Oliver. All killed by the same person. All known by you. Do you see why we might be taking a bit of an interest in your whereabouts the last few months?" Grissom sat back.

Lurie stared at the two folders in front of him in silence. Finally he sighed. "But you have no proof, no evidence. Do you?"

Nick glanced at his watch and sighed. The list of club members was over two hundred names long, and that only covered the people who had been in the lounge that night. They were still waiting on a full list of all the members, and he wasn't looking forward to the work ahead of him when that came in. So far he'd matched up twenty cars with twenty members, and when he was done he'd have to question each of the matches. He went back to the list and got through another ten members before he glanced at his watch again. Four AM, and he had hours of work ahead of him. He decided it was time for a break, something to eat should help his concentration. He picked up he phone and hit the speed dial button for W. Brown.

"Hey, you ready for a break? I was thinking about breakfast at Franks." He got up and headed for the locker room, phone pressed to his ear. "Okay, I'll meet you there. I'll grab Greg on the way, I'm sure he needs a break too." Nick closed his phone and made a detour to the research lab. "Hey Greg, time for a break. C'mon, Warrick and I are going to Frank's."

Greg looked up from the computer, he eyes looked bloodshot. "Yeah, I think I'd better take a break. Get my head out of all this gore for a while." He stood, and stretched. He joined Nick and they walked down the hall to the locker room. Nick opened his locker, taking out his wallet. Greg did the same, but Nick chucked him on the shoulder. "Put that away, it's my treat."

Greg shrugged and put his wallet back. "Hey, I never turn down a free meal." He grinned.

Nick smiled and took out his gun. Greg raised an eyebrow. "Expecting trouble at the diner?"

Nick looked at the gun and grimaced. "Well Greg, in the last three years, two of us have been kidnapped, and one was shot, so I pretty much like to have my gun with me wherever I go."

Greg nodded. "I can see your point."

The door opened and a whirlwind rushed by. Greg and Nick watched as Ronnie hurried to her locker. "Hey there T.D., what's the rush, and what are you doing here at this time anyway?" Nick laughed as he watched her try twice to unlock her locker, until she realized it was already unlocked.

Ronnie opened it, and began shifting things around quickly. "What? T.D.?"

Nick smiled. "Yeah, you came in here like the Tasmanian Devil. T.D.

Ronnie stopped and gave that some thought. "Oh, cute." She went back to rooting around in her locker. "I can't find my driver's license. If it's not here, I don't know where to look next." She pulled out a vest and then pulled out another. "Wait, where did this other vest come from?" She turned it over and found tape where the name tag should be. "Good luck? What does that mean?"

Nick looked at Greg, concerned. Greg turned and unlocked the locker in front of him, and opened it. "Hey, how do you know the combination to that? Nick asked.

Greg rolled his eyes. "Friends share things." He was silent for a moment, then qualified. "And this used to be my locker, but Sara wanted to switch for some reason." Greg searched the locker, not finding a vest. He looked up at Nick, shaking his head. "This isn't good."

Warrick speared some egg with his fork and added some hash brown to the bite before stuffing it in his mouth. He chewed while he listened to Nick question Greg. "So, what exactly did you hear Gris say that's made you blame him for Sara taking some time off?"

Warrick swallowed and cut in before Greg could start talking. "Wait, what do you mean? What does Grissom have to do with Sara taking some time off?"

Greg took a quick sip of his coffee, then cleared his. "Okay, I overheard Grissom telling Catherine that Sara was gone, and that it was his fault. You know, I knew she was having problems. She was just different whenever I talked to her, more subdued. A couple of weeks ago I found her in the locker room, sitting alone, and she said that the brunettes in slasher flicks always die, and I could see she was thinking of her time under the car. I told her that she survived, but she said that she felt like nothing she did helped, that the murder rate had gone up every year that she'd been here, and nothing we did could stop it. I tried to be there for her, I figured that she and Grissom talked about these things, and that he'd be there for her if she needed him. But, according to him, he didn't see it, and now she's gone, possibly for good."

Warrick thought for a moment, and then cleared his throat. "I didn't see it. I bumped into her the other day in the locker room, and told her I was having trouble sleeping." He rubbed his face. "She said she was too, and I said… I said that coming off grave could do that to you. Man, I'm so dense."

"Hey, you have nothing to feel bad about. But Grissom, Grissom was with her every day. How he couldn't see how lost she was…" He trailed off, and picked up his coffee. "It's just not right.

Nick shook his head. "Hey man, he might not have seen anymore of her than we did. Don't forget she changed shifts. That means that they saw each other for only a few hours, and the rest of the time they would have been working or sleeping. And if Sara had wanted him to know, well he would have known. I think we should be there for him, if she has left. Hopefully she'll come back, but Grissom isn't the type to take it lightly that she left. I'm sure they've been in touch, but maybe we should include him more, you know, when we come out like this, ask him to come along. After all, he doesn't have anyone to go home to anymore."

Warrick nodded, but Greg wasn't persuaded. "She was… IS my best friend and until I hear from her, I'm going to believe the words the man himself spoke."

Catherine watched Grissom as he sat at his desk, reading through the files for the third time. "You've been quiet since we had to let Lurie go, do you think it was the wrong thing to do?"

Grissom shook his head. "No, we couldn't hold him. He's right, there's no proof that he did anything, and I'm not totally convinced that he is guilty. It just seems too easy."

"Exactly what I was thinking, but if someone is trying to set him up, what made them choose him?" Catherine flipped through her notes. "They would not only have to know that he'd at least met all three women, but that we would have cause to believe that he was guilty." She stood, stretching. "I'm going to see if Brass has that list of medical personnel yet. If someone is trying to set him up, it's likely that they're also in the medical profession. I think we should start with the other suspects from the Debbie Marlin case. It's a start anyway."

Grissom watched as she left, turning back to the file. His phone rang, and without glancing at the ID, he answered with a weary. "Grissom."

"Hey, what's wrong, and don't say nothing. I haven't heard you sound like this since before your sabbatical." Grissom smiled at the sound of her voice and tossed the file down

He cleared his throat, buying time to think. He didn't want to worry her, so he gave her the bare bones of the case and situation. "…it's getting kind of hairy, but hearing your voice helps all that fade away. So, what have you been doing?" Grissom smiled as she told him about her trip to the pier, and how it reminded her of the trip they'd taken there. "Oh yeah, that WAS a good trip. Didn't we spend most of it in the hotel room?" Just the thought brought a response to his body, and he shifted to a more comfortable position. By the time the conversation got around to freckles that he hadn't known he had he'd given up on finding a truly comfortable position. Her voice wrapped around him, soft as satin, and he closed his eyes, his mind back in San Francisco on that long ago trip. "Ah yeah well, I didn't know you were kissing freckles. You should let a man know these things."

She shifted the topic, mentioning the waitress they'd run into. "Do you remember that waitress we met at that restaurant? The one that knew me from school?"

Grissom grinned, of course he remembered. If it hadn't been for her, they might have spent more time at that restaurant. "Yeah, the one you didn't like."

Sara talked about a friend that she wanted to get in touch with, and she was sounding so happy that there was no way Grissom could say no when she asked him to look up the friend who she'd found out had moved to Las Vegas. "Honey I'm glad to do whatever I can do to help. Just give me her name, and I'll look her up." Grissom shifted the files on his desk, picking up a notepad and pen. "Okay, give me her name."

Grissom smiled as he wrote down the name she gave him, but his smile disappeared when he realized that he knew that name. He heard Sara asking him a question, but he was focused on those two words. 'Angela Oliver'. Finally he managed to ask. "Angela Oliver? Are you sure that's her name?"

"Of course, unless she's married now. But that was her name then." He could hear the puzzlement in Sara's voice.

"What about her parents? Did you ask them?" He asked, still trying to find a way that this wasn't happening.

"Her father died a few years ago, and I don't know where her mother is. For all I know she could be dead too. I actually learned she was in Las Vegas through her dad's obit." Sara answered, concern in her voice. "Gil, is something wrong?"

Grissom shook his head, knowing that Sara wouldn't be getting in touch with her friend, but he couldn't tell her that now. He had to confirm his suspicions first, and then he'd decide what to do about Sara. He decided to stick with the truth, if not all the truth. "No, I may have just gotten some important information on my case. Can I call you back later?"

"Sure, work comes first. I'll talk to you later."

He heard the confusion in her voice but knew that she wouldn't press him. She knew him so well. Wishing he could comfort her, he did the best he could. "Definitely, love you."

"Love you too, bye." She whispered.

He said goodbye and hung up, still starring at the name. Slowly he leaned forward and searched for the correct file. He opened it up to the background info on Angela Oliver, praying that she would be from anywhere but San Francisco. Scanning the page he saw her date of birth, then her current address, and then there it was, from her employment records. She'd transferred to Las Vegas from the San Francisco PD ten years ago. His heart pounded. He didn't like the implications of this at all. "Fuck!" He threw down the file and hurried out the door.

TBC…