Chapter Ten- Plan A

Thanks to KWillows, gabiroba, soliz, DrusillaBraun, MYSTICAL PANTHER, Maggie Doyle, obsessedwithstabler, tylerhiltongrupie53, ACertainJustice, and KaydenceRei for their reviews.

I LOVE SEGEARENT HAPPY BUNNY! Sorry, outburst.

Disclaimer: I own no characters.

Author's Note: Forgive me if I don't reply all of your reviews. Lately, this site has been a little weird and it won't let me answer reviews. Just know that I'm getting them and trying to reply if the damn comp would let me.

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Casey strode into the NYU campus with Greg by her side. She was met by the principal, who was glaring at her for intruding. Olivia and Elliot were not far behind her with Warrick and Sara taking up the end.

"We have a search warrant." The ADA said in a no nonsense voice.

"Fine." He muttered, letting them in. "Knock yourself out."

"We will." Sara spoke up, smiling sweetly.

Olivia and Elliot questioned the professors, while Greg and Sara split up to examine different rooms. Sara went with Warrick while Casey followed Greg.

"We know this guy's an artist." Greg said, moving toward the art hall.

"Right." Casey replied.

"We found brown cloth beside Catherine's jacket fabric in the bushes." Greg informed her, walking into the first professor's office with his silver kit by his side.

"So if we find a brown jacket, it could be evidence?" Casey asked.

"You could make a good CSI." He teased.

She laughed. "Let's get to work."

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"Do you know this woman?" Elliot asked the philosophy professor, flashing him a picture of a smiling Catherine.

"No I don't, then again so many students come in and out, I may have never seen her."

"She's not a student." Olivia said. "She's with the Crime Lab. She's missing."

"Bummer. She's a pretty thing." He responded. "I wish I could help you."

"I think you can." Elliot said, exchanging a quick glance with Olivia. "Do you know which one of your professors uses paint?"

The professor thought for a moment. "Almost all the art professors, except the art history one. But I think Robert Smith is the one that uses it the most. Weird sorta fellow. Always keeps to himself."

"How long has he been working here?" Olivia asked suddenly, a thought popping into her head.

"Uhh…I think he moved her from Vegas a little over a week ago."

Olivia and Elliot exchanged glances.

Bingo.

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"Casey!" Olivia called as she walked toward the redhead, who was bent over Greg, trying to look at something.

"Yeah?" she asked straightening and turning to her friend.

"We got a Robert Smith. Just moved her a week ago, guess from where."

"Could it be Las Vegas?" Casey guessed.

"Got it in one." Elliot replied then turned to the spiked hair man, kneeling onto of a brown jacket. "What have you got?"

"We found brown fibers in the bushes near where Catherine was taken. I'm wondering if they match." He said.

Casey quirked an eyebrow. "And if they do?"

"Then we got our guy."

"Where is this guy anyway?" Olivia asked. "We should question him."

"I have no idea. He was supposed to be in, but something tells me he's gonna refuse to talk to us anyway." Elliot said, thinking outloud.

"I got something!" Greg suddenly shouted.

The New York team gathered around him. Casey closest to him and Elliot and Olivia right behind her.

"Strawberry blonde hair on the jacket."

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"No Robert Smith in the database." Nick announced to two crestfallen detectives and two very unhappy looking lawyers.

"Maybe he hasn't been convicted of anything." Casey said.

"Or maybe it's a false name." Alex also pointed out.

"Great another dead end." Olivia groaned

"Doesn't he have an address?" Nick asked.

"No. He gave a false one to his job, unless he lives in the middle of the Central Park." Olivia sighed.

"Damn. Doesn't this college check records?" Nick asked again.

This time Elliot answered. "I'm sure they did, but this guy has already proven he's tricky."

Munch walked into the room. "No leads?" He asked.

"No." Olivia replied, finger combing her golden brown hair. "We got nothing."

Grissom walked in to hear the last words. His heart dropped. "She's been gone for almost three days." He said quietly.

Usually at those odds, Grissom would have been looking for a body, not a person, but this wasn't just a person. This was Catherine. She was his second-in-command. His right hand. He couldn't manage without her.

"Keep looking." He commanded.

"We've got nothing." Alex pointed out, Nick coming up behind her to rub her shoulders, before she let loose that impressive lawyer temper of hers.

"I don't care keep looking." He said gruffly.

After he left, everyone else exchanged glances.

"Where do we go from here?" Casey asked.

"Bait." Olivia said slowly.

"No." Elliot said firmly.

Olivia shot him a look. "We have no choice Elliot. We're flying blind here and the longer we wait the less likely we'll find Catherine alive."

"We can't put anyone else in danger." Elliot argued back.

Everyone else remained silent. This was their argument and Olivia was the only one that could take on Elliot in the stubbornness category.

"If we don't use bait, then the next dead girl is gonna be some innocent student." Olivia said her tone on the verge of screaming.

"What if it doesn't work?" He demanded.

Olivia turned from him and rummaged through some of the files on the desk beside Nick and Alex, until she found what she wanted. She turned back to Elliot and held up five pictures of the dead women they had already found.

"Will it matter if we add a sixth girl to these?" she asked, her voice dropping lower, but speaking volumes.

Elliot couldn't look away from the horrid pictures. He couldn't say know. Careful and caring as he was, he was still a cop. He still thought like one.

"Who we gonna send?" he asked, giving in.

"Who else?" Olivia asked.

Their eyes met. They communicated without words. They were the only ones in the room now. Both of them knew the risk this job had, but both knew that Olivia was the only one that could pull it off.

"I'll tell Cragen." Elliot said slowly, through worried eyes.

"Yeah." Olivia said softly, fearing not for herself, but wondering if it was too late to save Catherine.

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Grissom was alone for the first time that day. He had run every test that existed through every fiber of evidence they had. Still nothing. All they knew was that the killer, who had Catherine, wears a brown jacket and works at NYU. Grissom knew he would not be back at NYU so looking for him from there would be pointless. This guy was too good. He had outsmarted Grissom far too many times and managed to steal Catherine right from under his nose.

He couldn't handle it. He buried his face in his hands. Catherine Willows was everything to him. Every time they worked a case together, and someone mistaken them for being married, he never denied it. It dawned on him now that neither did she. She never played the secondary role. She was always up and at them no matter what, and he was always able to trust her with anything and everything.

She was his equal, the yang to his yin. They complimented each other, and she completed him. He traced the picture in his hand. He always kept it in his wallet, but never told Catherine that. He highly doubt she even knew he had the picture. It was one of her and Lindsay at last year's softball game between the graveyard shift and the dayshift. Catherine was hoisting Lindsay on her shoulders after they had won the game 14 to three. Lindsay was beaming, and Catherine was laughing. It was one of Grissom's favorite pictures.

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It was so cold. Catherine noted as she forced herself awake. Her head spun constantly and she had no doubt that she had a concussion. Her wrists were still bleeding, her bonds were way too tight. She turned to note her surroundings a little more clearly. There were no windows, only a door across from her. She struggled toward it. Facing her back to it, she tried the knob with her tied hands. Just as she thought, it was locked.

Damn She thought.

Suddenly it was thrown open and Catherine was knocked off her feet and into a pile on the floor. Robert Smith entered.

"Well my pretty kitty, looks like it's still just you and me." He said, moving closer to her as she shrank away.

"But of course, your friends are looking for you, but there are a few I don't recognize." He said, not expecting an answer. "A red head, and by that I don't mean a strawberry blonde, I mean a true redhead. Who is she?"

Catherine looked away and tried to edge away from his touch. He didn't seem to notice.

"A then there's a blonde. I don't recognize her either. She's pretty. She's got your eyes. And then those two detectives. Old guy. He seems like the type to get on anybody's nerves and that other guy, looks like he was in narcotics. I recognize the type. Tell me about them.

Catherine didn't reply. She glared back at him defiantly. She would not tell him anything that would help him evade justice. He grew angry.

He kicked her hard in the stomach, and she doubled over in pain.

"Tell me who they are!" He yelled at her, wrenching her head back by grabbing her hair.

She didn't say a word. He lost it again. He kicked her over and over again in the stomach. She let out soft cry, a cross between a whimper and the loudest scream she could manage in her state. He stopped and knelt down beside her, a wicked glint in his eye.

He reached over to stroke Catherine's hair. "I'm curious to know how much longer it takes Mr. Grissom to find you, because if he doesn't soon. All he may find is your corpse."

Smith wrapped a hand around Catherine's throat and squeezed slightly, making Catherine gasp. "It was would be so easy. Just like the others." He murmured in her ear.

Then he let her go. "Three more days until the anniversary of my first kill. Three days for you to live Catherine Willows." He said, shutting and locking the door.

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I suck at writing from the mental point of the bad guys. I don't know why, but I know I have to-to really provide the kicker for this story, so if the bad guy part was a little sketchy forgive me and provide me with some ideas. I'm not good at thinking up ideas for torture. Lol. Please give me ideas! Enjoy!