A/N: Thank you for all the reads!! You move me to write!

Ok, as with my previous fanfictions, I use that cute li'l red brush liberally but I give it a purpose...understood? Yes, what follows is disturbing and graphic but take in consideration that redemption takes place soon after.

Hope you all enjoy!

Horatio, Mac and their respective CSIs (c) CBS, Daikonran and Secondet (c) my sister

10, Faithless

Meanwhile, Tammy Henderson was enjoying a reinforced Margarita when a knock hit her door. It was 3: 32 am, it was way too late for any solicitors and she didn't have any dates planned for that evening. She left the drink on a lavishly decorated tripod top and proceeded to greet the visitor.

She was met with dour young eyes and a letter written in cotton paper and sealed with a rubber stamp. Tammy ripped the seal apart and interpreted the contents. Her face paled and her knees became a trembling mess. She quickly slammed the door shut and locked it tight.

The messenger giggled so deceivingly innocently as she drew out a larger butcher knife from her frilly dress. Her lively blonde hair tied in a pretty bow, her chubby face almost as evil as her dispatcher; Henderson screamed in terror as she ran upstairs, only to have the door pile-driven to the floor. The murderous doll grinned as she made her presence known.

"Please! I can still make money!" Tammy tried to bargain, her pleas falling onto deaf ears.

Their guns armed and their line of vision aligned, the Hummer screeched a halt just outside the residence. Horatio noticed the door on the floor and readied himself; someone had beaten them to Tammy. The ripped wood was consistent with a sharp object meaning whoever it was meant some murderous business.

Damn…

As they entered the home, Mac picked up the metallic scent of blood over in a northern direction and treaded to the main staircase. From there, he heard muffled screams come from the eastern bedroom area. He signaled the lieutenant and carefully advanced to the second floor.

Both officers picked the sheen sounds of metal crushing flesh and quickly lay against the walls adjacent to the scene's door. The screams had begun to die down; Tammy was hastily dying while the killer took a surprising stop. Horatio realized the killer's momentary pause; it was about to either leave her to die or to cut her into little pieces.

With no hesitation, Horatio and Mac barged into the room and pointed their guns at the murderer.

Otis relished in every luxury he never had, everything was at his beck and command. Marla simply watched as the man rested for a while; she was already setting shop for another cemetery raid. And this time, she'd run the dollhouse personally. But in order to do well, expendable heads had to roll.

"I have a job for you to start with, Mr. Otis."

He looked up with an arrogant look in his face. "Not yet, I don't feel like it."

Marla sighed annoyed and in a blink, she held the man by the throat. "Listen to me and listen good; I have to go to a gala right now and I don't have the time to get the next shipment, so you have to dig 'em up. I want them pristine when I come back." Her nails pierced the trachea, causing Stuart to choke on his own spit but he nonetheless nodded in response.

She grinned slightly, Tammy should be out of her way right about that moment, but where was her assassin to be?

The sight that followed could make most people even CSIs retch as Horatio kicked the door open; entrails strewn on the floor, a leg tossed towards the bathroom, an arm clinging to the bed post and the entire lower part of Tamatha Henderson spread all around her fading body.

Her backbone shone with the dim light as Horatio sped to hold her. Her voice reduced to a whisper, the lieutenant grabbed her remaining hand and held it tight. Taylor, on the other hand, seized the bloody little girl and held her down. She obviously had no remorse; the killer didn't make the least amount of struggle. Their only witness lay helpless but could still talk, even if it was fragmented.

"Mrs. Henderson, who would do this to you?" Horatio managed to ask without looking at the missing limbs. Even if she was selling dead little girls, she was still a human and deserved a better end than being ripped into shreds.

Tammy grunted, or tried to, "My boss…she said that I'd be the biggest madam in the history of Florida…"

Blood tears lined her eyes as she strengthened her leftover hand's grip as she continued, "She's a bitch that's what she is…" A wet cough and her life practically slipped from her grasp just her hand escaped from Horatio's grasp. In that moment of delusion, she said with her dying breath,

"My, what bright wings, lieutenant…would you forgive me for my sins?"

Mac overheard the peculiar death wish and disproved it as delirium as he neutralized the little girl that convulsed violently, her imminent capture setting in. But what surprised the New Yorker even more (and that's saying much) was Horatio's subsequent reaction as he placed her hand on her chest. The lieutenant closed the victim's eyes and laid her to rest in peace, or, in this case pieces. It was almost like…atonement.

I can't do anything for you except a proper burial and catch the person who did this to you…

"I'm the last person she should've asked for that." Horatio muttered as he headed towards the girl. Surprise, surprise; it was one of Otis' victims.

"Ruthy, who sent you?" His cold voice was replied with a childish snarl. Her golden curls beseeched a more innocent event but both had seen the girl dismember the victim and concurred on a more austere treatment. The little zombie wriggled around, trying to escape Mac's grip.

She hissed at her captor only to receive a push to the ground. "You think I'll tell you? You're just another human just waiting to die." Ruthy scrounged before turning her attention to Taylor. "And you're a pathetic excuse of a demon."

Horatio knelt before the girl, "I can probably guess that you came from a local provider." He then noticed streams of watered make up around Ruthy's eyes. "Have you been crying?"

The girl's hated expression fleetingly softened; it was a given fact that the undead don't cry for many a reason. "I didn't ask to come back."

"Let me guess; whoever brought you back promised you'd go back to your mother." Taylor suggested just to get a sarcastic chide as a response. "I'm not telling you."

Daikonran had kept a close watch on Tyler, observing his behavior. He didn't know how a transaction took place but normally a go-between was common ground for the madam, the reanimator and the client. St. Lucia's Inn was exactly that, and Delko did recover those fingerprints…time to have a chat with Mr. Perry.

Eric was already imputing the last of the evidence file when his own database searched beeped positive. One of the prints were of course Perry's but the search yielded a new player and Felicity's most recent possible client: Ferrer Glencoe, head private accountant to Walter Thompson of Thompson Steel Refineries.

Wait…what the…no way. The surprise paid off as the paternal links connected to the little victim lying over at Alexx's post.

"Tyler, we can make this whole thing a lot easier if you just told us the truth." Daikonran grinned, the cross clearly visible.

"I call police brutality! You're using my disease as a way of torturing information from me!" Perry yelled, hoping for a reaction but to no avail. Kino's smile was from ear to ear as he sat down.

"You have two things against you: one, you're dead. Two, you held information from a murder investigation. I just need one more strike and this baby ends up pinned to that space that used to be your heart." The former bounty hunter stated rather humorously. Perry knew better to cross a provider but…

"The reanimator who does our jobs lives over in the Hispanic district. Doña Socoro…" the faltered response was the last straw in his defense. "She's from Costa Rica!"

Daikonran signaled Ryan to follow the lead. Dawn would break in a couple of hours and the news of both Otis' escape and the Coco Beach dollhouse would become headline news. At least half of all the loose ends had to be tied up before Erika Sykes greeting the general population of Miami with her own brand of twisted journalism.

A/N: So how was it? Reviews are always appreciated