Disclaimer: See chapter one.

Accused
Chapter fourteen

"Did you tell Wilson where we were going?"

House glanced at Cameron in the corner of his eye as he navigated his way through Vegas traffic in Wilson's rental. He squinted disbelievingly, rapidly changing lanes as they neared an exit. "Are you kidding?"

Cameron frowned at his response, resting her arm along the window frame. "Why not?"

"Because he would have tried to stop me."

Cameron swivelled her head. "I tried to stop you," she pointed out.

"Yeah," he snorted shortly. "And Wilson would have actually succeeded."

She rolled her eyes, mildly exasperated by his ability to dismiss her, though she had to admit, he was probably right about that. She glanced out the side window at the passing traffic, glinting in the impossibly bright Nevada sunshine.

Once they had left the Strip, the number of casinos had started to noticeably dwindle, and she could see the sprawl of suburbia stretching across the dry landscape ahead. She found it strange that people could exist in such normality when the garish, seedy lights of Vegas lit the skyline at night. It was like having two different worlds staring into each other over a single, tenuous, invisible line. She knew which side of the line she preferred.

House turned onto a residential street, and she soon spotted a housing development up ahead, surrounded by construction crew vehicles and heavy machinery.

It hadn't been difficult to locate the current whereabouts of Lafferty Constructions, though Cameron only hoped the concierge they were looking for was actually there, as the maid had claimed. Otherwise they had wasted a lot of valuable time.

The surrounding land was still flat and dusty this far on the edge of town, stretching limitlessly into the distance. The frames of several neighbouring homes had been put up, and some crude roads constructed, but other than that, it was void of life, and with the sun beating down so mercilessly, reminded her of the barren stretches of desert surrounding them on all sides.

She didn't know why that made her feel so claustrophobic.

"So," House started evenly, pulling the car to a halt behind a rusty pick up truck, a safe distance from the construction site, but not terribly far to walk. "Game plan."

He cut the engine, turning to look at her steadily. The confined space between them was causing her a whole other form of claustrophobia, and made it momentarily difficult for her to focus. She breathed in.

"Okay…"

"I'll handle the talking part this time," he declared unequivocally. "You just stand by and bat your eyelashes."

Cameron frowned, narrowing her eyes as he climbed out of the driver's seat.

"That's it?" she asked, sliding out of the car after him. She held her door in place, eyeing him defensively over the roof of the vehicle. "You just expect me to stand by and look pretty?"

House stared back at her. "You're the one who tagged along on my little field trip, not the other way around," he reminded her. He circled the front of the car, stepping up onto the curb. "And never underestimate the power of the female form, Cameron," he added, giving her his standard sleazy once-over. "Your mother should have taught you that one, what with your assets and all."

She rolled her eyes, slamming her door briskly and letting her heels crunch on the gravel as she followed him across the dusty block.

A middle aged man in a yellow hardhat stood near a cement mixer, head bent slightly to protect his eyes from the afternoon sun, eyes cast down on a clipboard in his hands. There weren't many workers around, and she had to assume they were nearly finished for the day.

House started towards him, and Cameron shoved her hands in the pockets of her jacket, stepping over loose stones as she struggled to keep up with him.

"Hi there," House called, causing the man to turn around.

He frowned, gaze sweeping them slowly, tucking a pen vaguely behind one ear. "Hi," he responded slowly. "Can I do something for you?"

House pursed his lips. "As a matter of fact…"

The base of his cane was covered in a thin layer of dirt and dust, sinking slightly into the earth as he tapped it at his side. She wondered if it was a nervous gesture, or if he just did it out of habit. She suspected it was the latter. She couldn't imagine House being nervous over anything.

He nodded at the man with his chin, elaborating swiftly. "I'm guessing you're the big cho. Lafferty, right?"

Lafferty senior nodded slowly. "That's right. What can I do for you folks? You two looking to buy? It doesn't look like much now, but I can get one of the guys to show you around if you want."

A brief, depreciating smirk touched House's lips as he glanced back at Cameron, and realised this guy assumed they were married. "Uh, no, thanks. We were looking for your kid."

Lafferty's eyebrows rose. "Max?"

House pursed his lips in silent acknowledgement. "Yeah. We heard he was working here. He around?"

Lafferty hesitated a moment, eyebrows furrowing. "He… in some kind of trouble?"

It was difficult to miss the apprehension in his voice, and it seemed somewhat clear to her this wasn't the first time mysterious strangers had arrived seeking out his son. House gave him an eerily convincing, easy-going smile, gesturing idly between himself and Cameron with the handle of his cane. "We look like we're about to bust anybody's chops over something?" he asked, sounding vaguely amused at the concept. "We were just looking for someone from the hotel. We wanted his help on it."

Lafferty removed the pen from his ear, sliding it through his thumb and forefinger. "Oh," he said, chuckling slightly and nodding his head. He pointed around the side of the house, and she could hear the rhythmic echo of hammering as framework was fixed into place. "He should be around there."

"Thanks," House said, starting off in that direction.

Cameron offered the man a polite smile before she darted quickly to catch up to him. She studied his gruff profile as she fell into step beside him. "For someone so adverse to lying, you sure are good at doing it," she noted offhandedly.

House gave her a surprisingly withering look. "It became necessary," he said curtly.

She went quiet, maintaining her silence as they came up behind two workers, both clad in sweaty wife beaters and grimy trousers. She knew House was already feeling the tension of the moment, and decided adding to it probably wasn't helping.

"So," House called flatly, letting his voice travel loudly over both of them. "Which one of you is the rat?"

Both men turned around, obviously oblivious to any approach, staring down at them from the slightly elevated concrete platform.

One looked to be in his mid to late twenties, with broad, muscular arms and day-old stubble covering his chiselled features. His eyes drifted over Cameron, and he shot her a lopsided smirk.

She folded her arms over her chest, unconsciously fixing herself by House's side. She didn't like that look. It was something she had strived to rid herself of for most of her young adult life.

House seemed completely oblivious to the other man, gaze riveted firmly on the younger of the two, whose dark eyes flashed for the tiniest moment with unmistakable dread.

House nodded at him darkly, catching this reaction. "Yeah. My money's on you."

His companion lifted his eyebrows at House's dark, unwavering glare, hooking his hammer over the tool belt around his waist. "I think I'm about finished here," he announced without preamble, clearly uninterested in being drawn into a confrontation. He jumped down from the ledge, landing close by Cameron, offering her another suggestive leer.

House swiftly lifted his cane, holding it flatly in front of her. "Get a hooker. Trust me, they're much easier to maintain."

The man snickered, but held up his hands in a sign of deference, turning to the front of the house.

House returned his attention to Max Lafferty, who had also climbed onto the ground, wavering uneasily in front of them.

"You know who I am?" House asked brusquely, lowering the cane back to his side.

Max hesitated, glancing around. He probably realised his chances of running, and nodded slowly. "Yeah."

"Good." House stepped closer, and there was no denying the menace in his stance. Cameron tensed. She could see the build-up of anger and frustration roiling off his stiff form, and watched him uneasily. She had seen him truly angry only a handful of times, and she glanced down, taking in the way his hand was contorted tightly around the handle of his cane.

This was definitely one of them.

"I think we can skip past all those pesky pleasantries and get straight down to the truth then," House growled. "I'm a big fan of the truth. How about you?"

Max shifted, and his discomfort was plain. He was muscular for his size and age, but at this moment, House was an imposing presence. She didn't think his cane would hinder him for a second.

"Tell me who paid you to break into my room."

Max paused for a noticeable moment, and Cameron eyed him uncertainly, waiting for him to give into House's demands. He surprised her when he straightened, and his eyes narrowed into slits. "I don't know what the hell you're talking about, man."

Something in House snapped. He looked like he had just been waiting for the opportunity to unleash some of his frustration. He clenched his cane, swinging it up and bringing it roughly against Max's chest, using it to slam him against the wall behind them.

Cameron jumped. "House--!" she exclaimed in shock.

House ignored her, glaring unflinchingly down at Max as he pressed his cane into the curve of his neck. The force was so strong it made his face redden, and his breathing immediately rasp.

"See where my cane is right now? That's your larynx. It's responsible for all those important things like talking and breathing." He glared down at him, speaking in a deathly calm tone. "Now if I put any more pressure there right now, it will obstruct your blood flow, which will eventually cause a haemorrhage in your brain. You don't want that, do you?"

It had the desired effect on Max. He lifted his hand, the one unpinned by House's cane, and gasped hoarsely. "Okay! Okay, I'll tell you!"

House lowered the cane almost immediately, stepping back and staring at him with an impossible coldness. Max bent over slightly, catching his breath, fingering his bruised neck.

Cameron swallowed, and found herself just the slightest bit scared of House in that moment. Not of him, exactly, but of what he might do. She had never witnessed him quite so threatening.

"Give me the name," House uttered lowly.

Max coughed, slowly lifting his head. He leant back against the wall as he regained his composure, but when he spoke, his voice was surprisingly clear.

"You're not going to like it."

"Try me," House grunted.

Max opened his mouth to speak. And that was when all hell broke loose.

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Max Lafferty.

Now that she had the name of the man who had at least partially played his part in framing House, she was determined to uncover the truth once and for all.

She stood in an empty, mutely lit lab, typing his name into the database, and waiting for some kind of probable result.

She wasn't disappointed.

Max Lafferty had a sealed juvenile record, but he also had two prior offences since turning eighteen- drug possession, and drug trafficking.

She narrowed her eyes, bending intently over the screen and stopping short when she scanned the rest of the report.

His suppliers were men affiliated with the drug dealers who first gave them House's description for purchasing Rohypnol. She laughed disbelievingly, a low, short, humourless sound. Unbelievable. House was telling the truth. She gathered up her papers and shut off the computer, mulling over the implications of this newfound information as she turned for the door.

She stopped inches before colliding with Grissom, who stood silently in the way.

Sara flinched, unable to help the abrupt jolt in her chest at his sudden proximity. She quickly recovered herself, lowering the papers to her side.

"What have you got?" he asked evenly, blue eyes tracing her slowly.

She swallowed, somewhat reluctant to share her discovery. All of her findings thus far could still be attributed to a string of unfortunate coincidences. She knew they usually went on less, but if she was following nothing but a hunch here, she didn't want to be wrong. She didn't want to fix her conviction on House's innocence to have the evidence contradict her. Not again.

Not if that meant Grissom would have proven her wrong twice.

"Nothing," she said slowly, managing to keep her voice light and even. She didn't want to think about the ease with which she lied to Grissom. She preferred not to think about the fact that it was a skill she had crafted far too well. "I just want to go back to the hotel one more time," she added, shrugging loosely. "Just for some recon."

Grissom stared at her, pursing his lips almost imperceptibly. There was a fissure of tension in the air, a slight, almost unnoticeable pause in his response, and in that moment she knew he was aware that she was lying. And she also knew he couldn't call her on it. It wasn't as if she was doing anything wrong. She was going back to the scene, just not for the reasons he assumed.

"Okay," he said quietly, at last, staring at her for a lengthy moment. "Call if you need any back-up."

She forced a thin, reassuring smile, brushing past his shoulder, feeling the faint spark of electricity that passed between them as she did. "I will."

She started down the hall directly for the locker room, feeling his gaze on her back the entire time. She mentally counted every step to stop herself from turning back.

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The hotel was still bustling with members of the conference, and news of the murder seemed to have already dwindled to old gossip, trading preference with more pressing, immediate matters, like forging lasting business contacts. Guests barely paid her any attention as she passed through the lobby, despite the CSI badge clipped prominently to her jacket. Obviously they had grown accustomed to the sight of the authorities.

She passed a pair of men chatting about their mutual speciality, shaking her head as she started for the elevators. She wanted to check out House's room one last time, check for trace evidence of Max Lafferty's presence; something, anything she or Greg might have missed.

She spotted a familiar face through the thinning crow, and paused, debating within for a split second herself before moving to intercept him.

"Dr. Wilson?"

The earnest young doctor glanced at her, features contorting with impatience for a moment before transforming into an expression of mild politeness. His ability to project such an easy professional mask was slightly interesting to her, considering his best friend.

"I thought you were done questioning us for now," he said, unable to conceal the faint look of resentment in his expression as she took the last remaining steps toward him and he regarded her carefully. "And I have a sneaking suspicion its considered unethical for you to speak to us without an attorney present."

Sara sighed deeply, in no mood to deal with his defensiveness. "I might have found evidence that clears your friend," she said abruptly. "But I need to see his room again first."

Wilson frowned, and she noticed the distracted way his gaze darted over her shoulder. "He's not there."

She folded her arms impatiently. "Well where is he?"

Wilson shifted, and when he glanced back at her, she saw some of the fight drain from his posture. He glimpsed some of the sincerity in her eyes and seemed to come to an inner decision. "I don't know where he is," he admitted levelly. "My car keys are gone, and I haven't seen him all morning."

Sara furrowed her brow, slightly apprehensive at this revelation. "Where would he go?"

"I… have no idea," Wilson said unhappily.

Sara tilted an eyebrow, cocking out a hip. She fixed him with a pointed stare, wondering if House had decided to skip town. That did not bode well for him, innocent or not. "Really?"

He sighed, closing his eyes. "I knew I was going to be the one to get into trouble for this," he muttered lowly. He rubbed a hand over his temples. "Okay, look. We've been… conducting our own investigation," he admitted reluctantly.

Sara blinked at him. "Your own investigation?"

"Yes," he said tightly. "And if you weren't so blinded by House's apparent guilt, you probably would have figured out as much as we have by now."

Sara rolled her eyes. "And in 'we' you mean you, House, Dr. Cameron and Dr. Chase?" she prompted sardonically. "Just for clarification."

Wilson scowled. "Yes."

She sighed at their recklessness, though on some level, she could understand their motivation. If she, or someone she loved, was being accused of murder, she wouldn't be willing to merely stand by and watch it happen.

"And you think House is out now, pursuing one of your leads?"

Wilson hesitated, folding his arms, tapping a finger against his forearm. "Yes," he admitted.

Sara ran a hand through her hair, all too aware of the danger House could have just stepped into. "And you really have no idea where that would be?"

"Last time I spoke to him, he was getting ready to question the maids who had access to his room," he explained. "To see if one of them had anything to do with the Rohypnol planted in there."

"We know who planted the Rohypnol in his room," Sara said, glancing around the interior of the hotel with newfound purpose. "A hotel concierge."

Wilson's eyebrows drew together in surprise, and she stared at him intently. "Is he the only one missing?"

Wilson paused, taking a noticeable moment before responding. "No…" he said carefully. "Cameron… hasn't turned up, either."

She quirked an eyebrow, the unspoken implication clear in the air. She didn't acknowledge it though, eyeing him pointedly instead. "Have you checked your messages?"

Wilson opened his mouth, closed it, then quickly scrambled for his cell phone. "Uh… no."

He seemed slightly sheepish, and after the riot act he had just read her, she felt a minor burst of satisfaction at his expense. It was short-lived. He lifted his cell to his ear after punching a few buttons, and listened silently. After a moment, he closed his eyes, returning it limply to his side. "Cameron said they're… on their way to a construction site. A company called Lafferty and Co. She left the message over an hour ago."

Sara heaved a deep sigh, tightening her hold on the cuff of her jacket. "Great. You do realise both of them could be heading into some serious danger, don't you?"

She turned for the door, and Wilson stalked rapidly after her. "I'm coming with you."

She scoffed. "Oh, I don't think so."

"Hey," he said flatly. "You can take me with you, or I can call a taxi and follow you. You've got the gun, so personally I'd prefer the former, but hey, it's up to you."

Sara stared at him, taking in the steely resolve in his face, and closed her eyes in exasperation. She had no doubt he would make good on his threat, and she wasn't about to have a dead cancer specialist on her conscience. "Fine," she snapped shortly. "But do not even think of trying anything stupid."

"Oh, trust me," he said, following her swiftly for the doors. "It's not high on my list."

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