EASY TARGET

A/N: This site doesn't seem to wake up until after breakfast. Two of the most recent chapters were uploaded early in the day, and they ended up with the wrong date on them! Sorry if that confused you.

Thanks again for the awesome reviews, follows, etc. I've just about caught myself up as far as this story is concerned but I'll try to keep the chapters coming on a daily basis if I can. Right now, it's time for...

Chapter Twelve

"How are you holding up?"

Jo stuck her head around the door to check on Lindsay. The older woman's face was concerned, but the tightness around her eyes suggested that she, too, was struggling with the whole situation. Lindsay shrugged. Knees tucked up to her chest, she perched on the bottom step, pretending to search through her kit . In reality, she hadn't moved for the last ten minutes. A tell-tale flush spread across her cheeks as she looked up at her colleague. "I'm okay."

"Mmm. So I can see. Want any help? Mac and Sheldon are checking out the area in and around the service elevator. In fact, they're concentrating so hard that they didn't even notice when I left."

"Thanks. I actually think I may have found something useful here." Lindsay forced herself to move, and stood up briskly, clutching a swab that she had pulled from her cluttered case. She gestured with her other hand. "Scuff marks, from rubber soles. A button, with broken thread. And..." she swallowed. "A smear of blood on the floor. I think that something happened here quite recently. Didn't Mac say that Danny took the stairs?" She stared at the blood, and tried to control her emotions, but it was hard. She hated not knowing where he was, or what had happened to him. "I wish we had got in here sooner."

"Can't be helped. Look on the bright side," suggested Jo. "At least the bomb threat wasn't real. Otherwise, it could have taken us days to get in - and the evidence would all have been destroyed."

"I know that." Lindsay gave a heavy sigh and crouched down, stroking at the smear of blood with her swab. Testing it, she found that it was definitely human. Not that she had any doubts. Jo studied the black marks on the floor, frowning deeply.

"If you ask me," she said at last, "I'd say there was an accident here. Danny would have been running - desperate to catch up with the elevator before he lost Adam completely. What if he went too fast? And maybe there was someone on the stairs?"

Lindsay groaned in dismay. "Then we're chasing a dead end. The blood probably belongs to a hospital employee."

"Yes..." Jo's eyes gleamed. "An employee who was lurking near the basement, in the middle of the night." She lifted her camera and began to take detailed shots of the scuff marks. "Rubber soles and a regulation button. Maybe a janitor, or an orderly? Perhaps our mystery woman had some help. After all, Adam may not be trained in how to defend himself, but your husband certainly is. How could one small woman overpower them both? Even if she had serious kung fu skills - which I doubt - that's quite a challenge."

"Don't ask me questions like that. I've been running through alternatives in my mind - and none of them are pleasant." Lindsay smiled grimly. "But I like your theory. It makes more sense. And it gives us something new to focus on."

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The service elevator was a jumbled mess of prints - on the handrail, on the walls, and even on the floor, where two full palm prints splayed out in sharp relief beneath the UV filter. No doubt, thought Sheldon, some of these will belong to Adam. But if he came down by himself, what else is there to find? Closing his eyes, he tried to imagine how the little lab tech must have been feeling - sinking inexorably towards his fate, alone and afraid. A shiver ran down the doctor's spine, and he pushed the thought away quickly. Evidence. That was what he needed to concentrate upon. Watching Mac, he marvelled at the man's self-control, as his boss stared down the corridor with quiet determination, following the light from his torch.

"There are wheel tracks here," Mac commented at last, sensing Sheldon's eyes upon him. "And footprints in the dust. Lucky for us, no one uses this place very much. Our stalker may have made her first mistake. If I had to guess, I'd say that, after she lured Adam down here with her bomb threat, she took him away in a wheelchair."

"That's smart," nodded Sheldon. "Easy to control him if he's sitting down in front of her. Maybe she tied him up - or knocked him unconscious." He tried to pretend that it wasn't his own friend he was talking about. "Can you tell where the tracks are leading?"

"Yes," said Mac. "I can." Taking care not to obliterate their precious evidence, he side-stepped along the corridor, following the uneven trail. After a moment, he paused. "There are three sets of footprints here now. All different sizes - and one set could definitely belong to Danny."

"Then he isn't tailing her. She's caught him too." Sheldon frowned. "But what about the third set of prints?"

"I think that we can answer that," said Jo's voice warmly, as she poked her head out of a nearby doorway. "The woman may have an accomplice. Probably someone on the hospital payroll. Lindsay's upstairs right now, asking for records of all their current staff."

"That's good work." Mac began his complex dance once again, and they followed him at a careful distance. The trail led all the way down the corridor - and there they found the old emergency exit. It had been left slightly ajar, as if the kidnappers hadn't bothered to check behind them but had simply trusted it to close all by itself. Sheldon lifted his UV light once again, to focus on the handle of the door.

"Got you," said Mac, with feeling.

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Danny and Adam studied the pictures in silence for several minutes. There were at least thirty of them, and it was clear that they had been taken over a number of years. It was also clear that the subject of the photographs had no idea that they were being taken - as Adam himself confirmed, in a horrified whisper. There were shots of him working, and talking to his friends. There were shots of him walking down the corridor. Adam throwing paper aeroplanes. Adam goofing around. And one particularly poignant shot of the lab tech sitting, head in his hands, alone in the dimly lit locker room. "When was that?" asked Danny curiously.

Adam shook his head. "Oh... I don't remember," he lied. In fact, he remembered it all too well. The letter containing his dismissal two years ago, and the terrible sense of impending doom that had haunted him for weeks - until he realised exactly what his colleagues had done to save his job. "Maybe I was just tired."

"Sure," said Danny, regarding him with that sideways, knowing gaze that always made Adam nervous. The man was far too sharp. It wasn't fair. Quickly, he changed the subject.

"Why do you suppose they took all of these?"

"Really?" Danny stifled a laugh, as it seemed so unkind in the circumstances. "You can't think of a reason? I know you're a goofball, Adam, but I never took you for naive."

Adam flushed. "But - this person must have been working alongside me for years. If they felt that way - why didn't they say something? I'm a nice guy. Ask anyone. I'd have been flattered."

"Especially if they were cute?" smirked Danny.

"Whatever they looked like," scowled Adam. "I'm no oil painting."

"Well, not at the moment," his friend said blithely. "But you do have a certain geeky charm. An' don't take that the wrong way," he added. "I'm just saying."

Adam tested his bonds absently. "So you're telling me that this is all about unrequited love? Doesn't that seem a little bit... extreme?"

"Not if you're the one who's feeling rejected." Danny considered. "But I know what you mean. All these things that this woman's done to you - they're more like an act of hatred. So bitter and extreme that they leave a nasty taste in your mouth. And besides, I've seen her face and so have you. She never worked in the lab, I'm sure of it. We're missing a part of the puzzle here. Do you have any idea who might have taken these pictures? Look closely."

"Oh, right. I'll just snap these ties and leap up off this bed. Danny, I think we've already established that I'm not a super-hero."

"Okay," said Danny patiently, "then do your best. Surely your eyesight isn't quite that bad. Or have all those computer screens fried your retinas?"

Adam winced. He knew that Danny was only trying to keep his spirits up by goading him with banter. But the little man's nerves were raw, and he was very close to snapping. "Fine," he grumbled tightly. "I'll do my best. Move out of the way."

He pushed past the pounding in his head and screwed up his eyes, staring as hard as he could at the scattered array. So many lab techs had come and gone in the past few years, dissatisfied with the long hours and the lack of job security that had arisen since the budget crisis. Even Kendall, his good friend and onetime secret crush had moved on to a private lab, where her career could advance more successfully. So many faces, and so many names - he was shocked to realise that he couldn't remember half of them accurately. Most of the time, Adam retreated into his own quirky little world when he was processing evidence. Social interaction was an ongoing trial to him, in spite of his desperate need to please. He wanted to be friendly but he knew that, often, his nervous over-exuberance made him a figure of fun. The friends that he had managed to acquire - including the CSIs - seemed to tolerate it more than embrace it, watching him with amused expressions as he tied himself up in verbal or emotional knots; waiting for him to sort himself out and get to the point. Thinking about that, Adam tried to picture if anyone had been more reticent, studying him from a distance and never taking part in the mockery. He forced his memory out into the shadows, beyond the circle of popular characters.

And one face stared back at him.