"Sidle."

Sara was perched on the kitchen counter and, despite her husband making train noises as he tried to feed their son cooked carrots across the room, she answered the phone without a hint of a giggle.

"It's me."

"Greg! How's the girl?"

"Apparently, perfectly fine. We have no idea how she got away, but apparently, she wandered around until a retired Hispanic woman who speaks three words of English found her, kept her in hopes a parent would come for her and finally brought her to the police."

"Wow, she was lucky."

"You're telling me."

"Did she help us get any closer to who did this?"

"Of course not," Greg sighed. "That would be much too easy for this case. Apparently, the retired woman was a retired nanny, and she knew how to care for a child. Bathed her every day, and washed away any hint of evidence that could have been on her."

"Any luck with the partial?"

"I compared it to Range's when Catherine was processing Olivia," Greg said. "No luck, it's not a match."

Sara couldn't help but feel a little disappointed. So much for woman's intuition.

"We're still going to run it through IAFIS, though, so I'll keep you updated with that."

"Thanks, Greg."

"Hey, did you realize that partial had traces of motor oil in it?"

"Like the trace from the Castrova case?"

"Hodges compared them, and they were a perfect match," Greg said. "Still generic oil, but at least we know the guy is one and the same."

"Thanks for everything, Greg."

"No problem," he replied. "Give my godson a kiss for me."

Sara snapped the phone shut with a sigh.

"No new leads?" Grissom guessed.

"Nothing," Sara huffed, sliding off the counter, grabbing a wet towel and wiping the smeared carrots off her son's face. "You know, this is one guy that might actually get away."

"Don't say that," Grissom warned. "The minute you give up is the minute he wins."

"I know," Sara sighed. "I just can't think of a thing that'll help us get this guy."

"He's bound to mess up sometime," Grissom said. "They usually do."

"Usually, we have at least one suspect by now."

"Are you going in tonight?"

Sara stayed silent a moment as she watched Aiden gum on another bite of carrots.

"I don't think so," she concluded. "I want to stay home tonight."

"Good," Grissom said. "I think you should stay home, too. And I've got another consulting meeting… it shouldn't take long, but with this guy, you never know. He talks like there's no tomorrow."

"What time will you be home do you think?"

"Eleven?" Grissom guessed. "Eleven thirty?"

Sara reached out with her good arm and stroked her husband's cheek softly.

"I was hoping to spend the night here with you," she said quietly.

"Oh, Sara," Grissom said. "Don't say that, or I'll call and cancel the meeting right here and now."

"Please?"

Grissom sighed.

"I can't. But wait up for me, if you can. I'll try to make it fast."

"Okay," Sara agreed.

She let her gaze drop down to her son, who was smearing the rest of the carrots around the tray of his highchair. He looked up at her with his wide eyes, smashed more carrots against his chubby cheeks and continued his artistic masterpiece. She smiled at him absently until she felt a hand on her cheek.

"Hey," Grissom said quietly. "You okay?"

She looked up at him and smiled again.

"Yeah," she said, equally soft. "I was just thinking that even though I'm really glad Ashley Taylor's daughter is okay, she's going to grow up without any parents. She's only three… she probably won't remember a thing about them. It's just sad."

Grissom said nothing, only pulling his wife towards him and holding her tightly, relishing the scent of her, even if it was mixed in with cooked carrots.

"At least I knew my parents," she murmured into his shoulder. "For better or for worse."

They pulled apart and Grissom looked into her eyes, obviously concerned.

"Maybe it's time you leave CSI," he said as Sara opened her mouth to protest. "And for good this time. I don't want you getting burnt out again."

"I'm not," Sara reassured, her hand stroking his beard. "I promise. I'm just… a little sad."

From his highchair, Aiden dropped his plastic spoon to the floor with a clatter and a squeal of delight. Sara couldn't help but laugh.

"But I shouldn't be," she grinned. "Not with this little guy around."

She pressed a kiss to the top of his head as her phone rang again from the counter. She went to it, pressing it to her ear.

"Sidle."

"Sara, it's Nick," the voice on the other line said. "We might need you tonight after all. We're about to process what little evidence we got off the girl, Olivia, and Catherine says she anticipates needing another body here tonight. She's still on her own case."

Sara sighed.

"All right. I'll be in soon."

Grissom looked at her quizzically.

"You're… going in?"

"Nick says they need me," she replied, a little exasperated. "The one night I want to stay home…"

"Is it necessary?"

"They might get new leads off the little girl," she said. "I want to be there when they do."

"You're sure that's a good idea?"

She smiled at his concern.

"I'll be okay," she said. "You can drop me off on the way to your meeting, and Nick or Greg will take me home. Under watchful eyes at all times."

"You better be," Grissom nodded, only half teasing. "We'll need a sitter for Aiden."

"Well, Nick, Greg and Catherine are all working," Sara said, ticking off the names of their usual babysitters. "Brass too. Your mother?"

Grissom glanced at the kitchen clock skeptically.

"It's nearly nine," he said. "She'll probably be heading off to bed soon, and she definitely won't be awake until I get home from the meeting. What about Joyce and Adam, from next door?"

"They're on vacation," Sara sighed. "Florida."

They sat in silence, trying to think of any one else who would be available.

"What about the our other neighbor?" Grissom suggested.

"Vince?"

"I don't know him that well," Grissom said. "Do you?"

"Not well," Sara admitted. "But he's always friendly when I see him. And he has a niece, he's got to be good with kids."

"Give him a call," Grissom prompted. "We're running short on options."

Thank God Vince was a bachelor with not much to do on a Saturday night. He was over in minutes of Sara's phone call. She explained Aiden's bedtime routine in a rush of breath, and Vince nodded again and again that he understood. Aiden was already calm in his arms, but she left a list of emergency contact numbers just in case.

"This one's my cell, and the next one is Gil's," she said. "Call us anytime if you need something. The other numbers are his godparents, but they'll be at work too. Worse comes to worse, if you can't get a hold of any of us, call Gil's mother, she's the bottom number."

"Sara," Vince laughed. "We'll be fine. Look, I already got him half asleep."

Sara beamed at her baby, kissed him on the forehead, and with one last thanks to Vince, she and Grissom were out the door.

"Hey," Sara greeted Nick when she walked into the lab. "Find anything yet?"

"Greg got a hair," Nick said excitedly. "Twisted in the girl's shoelace. It's too short to belong to her or the mother, not dark enough to belong to her fill-in sitter. Might be his. It's priority in DNA."

"What do you need me to do?"

"Process her clothes with me?" Nick asked. "It's unlikely, but you never know what other evidence could have survived."

"Lead the way."

Sara followed him to the nearest evidence room, where little Olivia's clothes were already laid out. Sara took her tiny t-shirt as Nick ran a magnifying glass over the child-sized pair of jeans.

"What'll happen to her now?" Sara asked. "Olivia. Does she have any other family?"

"Not that Brass has found," Nick replied, a little sadly. "Ashley Taylor was another single mother, and it looks like her parents passed away a long time ago."

"Probably get put into the foster system," Sara remarked, a little cynically.

Nick tilted his head to raise an eyebrow at her.

"What do-"

"Nick. Sara."

Greg interrupted them from the doorway, breathless and panting, papers clutched in his hand.

"We have a suspect."

"What?" Sara exclaimed. "Who?"

"How?" Nick put in.

"Mandy finally cleaned up the partial from the toilet enough to run it through IAFIS," Greg explained hastily. "She got a hit."

"Who is it?"

"Vincent Malone, ex-Marine," Greg said, handing a photo to Nick. "And get this, he was a Marine mechanic. What are the odds he still tinkers with cars in his spare time?"

"Looks like this is our guy," Nick agreed, handing the photo to Sara.

As she took it, it felt like her heart gained a hundred pounds and suck straight to her feet. She was staring at a picture of Vincent Malone, who she knew as neighbor Vince.

Neighbor Vince, who was currently watching her four-month-old baby boy.

TBC!