Alison and Greg walked up to the reck while Flack gave them the details.

"The driver if the car's name was Dean Rovin. He was 35 years old. According to the first on scene, he was killed on impact. M.E.'s just hauled the body out of here."

"He was drunk," Greg growled the words out at the sight of several empty beer cans on the front seat. Flack and Alison shared a glance. Greg's parents were killed in a car accident involving a drunk driver.

"This was actually Dean's third and last D.U.I." Alison looked around them.

"So this is a traffic accident, and we're here because."

"What I'm not gonna call you all the way out here for a 10-99. Take a look at those skid marks." Greg took Alison's hand as she hopped up on the front of one of the squad cars.

"It looks like the driver of the rig lost control and jumped the median." She said, looking down at Flack.

"And immediately fled the scene." Greg shook his head.

"I can see doing that if you were drunk driving."

"Sure, or if you recently committed murder." Greg helped Alison down, following Flack over to the back of the rig. He put on a pair of gloved, removing the lid of one of the burials that had fallen out of the trailer. Alison covered her nose as the pungent smell of death hit her. inside the barrel was a body. "If not for that accident, we may never have found her."


Greg handed over another evidence container to be taken over to the lab. Hawkes and Alison had gone back with the body to the lab. Syd wanted it kept in the barrel, so they would look it over when he was finished. Lindsey and Messer had shown up and were looking over the cabby of the truck.

"Well, you can forget about catching a break on this one," Flack called out. Greg closed his eyes. "Truck was a commercial lease out of Charlottesville, North Carolina. And the I.D. on the paperwork came back as phony." Greg pinches the bridge of his nose.

"So we have no idea who we're chasing."

"Sanders!" Messer called out, popping out of the passenger side of the tipped truck. "You're going to want to come see this." Greg walked over to the ladder that they were using to get into the truck. He had initially sent them in so he wouldn't have to get into the truck. Taking a deep breath, he climbed up, slowly lowing himself into the cab of the truck. Messer and Lindsey held their hands out, ready to catch him if his knee gave out.

"What is it." Lindsey handed over her flashlight. Greg lifted the metal door to the sleeper and stopped. There was a dirty mattress on the ground with large twine ropes. There was a jug next to it.

"Portable outhouse." She explained.

"Our truck driver was holding someone in here."

"Found a lockbox under the driver's seat," Messer called out. "We found few rounds for a 45 in there but no gun."

"We have to assume he took it with him. What else we go?" Lindsey turned back to the sleeper.

"I found hair in the sleeper and in the cab. Judging from the length, I'd say the donor's female."

"Do you think the VIC was in here before she was killed?"

"We could be looking at a second victim."

"Whoever it was." Messer pointed with his flashlight.

"They were a prisoner. We got multiple locks on the door but nothing to unlock them from the inside. Also explained the artwork on the wall." Greg examed the scratches. They told the story of someone desperately trying to escape.

"Did you guys find any biologicals?" Messer shook his head.

"No, no I-I hit it with a light. No signs of sexual assault."

"Door's damaged." Lindsey nodded.

"But it doesn't look like it was caused in the accident." Greg closed his eyes.

"It might have caused it."

"But there's nobody. There's no major blood staining. There's no obvious signs of trauma. There's nothing to indicate that she didn't survive the crash." Messer huffed.

"I'd call that lucky." An image of Alison curled up in the corner of the bathroom flashed in Greg's mind.

"No, if she's still with the driver."


Alison and Hawkes walked into the M.E.'s lab. The Vic's body was covered on the table. Syd turned the main light on for them.

"Turns out I wasn't the first person to cut into this girl." Alison's eyes were locked on the girl's face. She was so young.

"You found evidence of sharp force trauma?" Hawkes asked.

"That's your C.O.D. Exsanguination due to surgical transection of all major blood vessels supplying the liver." Alison looked up at that.

"You're saying someone remover her liver?" Syd nodded.

"That's right. And a microscopic immunohistochemical test indicated her body released histamine in an immunological response to the injury." Hawkes straightened.

"So she was alive when it happened."

"She died as a result of the harvesting. Based on the precision of the work, I can only conclude that whoever did this had a long term plan for the organ.

"Maybe sell it on the black market." Alison looked over the report.

"There doesn't seem to be anything else missing."

"Everything here but the liver."

"How about an I.D," Hawkes asked.

"Nothing yet. So far, I sent her prints up to the lab. Figured they could run a more comprehensive search." Alison looked at Hawkes.

"If you're right and they're transplanting her liver into someone else, we don't have much time." Syd pulled out another file.

"I already had her blood typed for surface protein markers. She's A.B. positive." Alison took the file.

"That's an unusual blood type. Finding a liver donor would be difficult."

"Al tell Mac he can talk to the other crime labs that are more familiar with this type of crime. I'll get in touch with every hospital in the area. They can give us a list of every patient capable of receiving an A.B. positive liver. If we can I.D. who that liver was intended for, we'll be one step closer to catching our suspect." Hawkes ran out of the lab, leaving Alison and Syd. Her eyes still fixed on the V.I.C.

"You doing alright, Al." She looked up, shaking her head.

"Huh…Uh yeah, yeah, I'm fine."


Greg stood behind his desk, looking over Syd's report.

"Hey, Greg, I got an I.D. on the girl in the sleeper." Lindsey walked over, handing a tablet. "Her name is Madeline Briggs. When I ran the prints and the DNA I lifted off the jug I found in the sleeper compartment, I got a hit to a missing girl out of Miami. Her mother filed a report five days ago."

"So we have to assume our guy picked her up in Miami. Then drover her up to New York, keeping her locked up as a prisoner. Any results on the urine workup."

"her analysis revealed traces of the sedative propofol. I'm thinking that's what he used to keep her under control."

"The accident tells us that it didn't keep her from fighting back."

"That's because she's fighting for 2." Greg closed his eye, letting the weight of her words set in.

"Madaline's pregnant?"

"Yeah, her urine analysis also revealed traces of human chorionic gonadotropin. H.C.G." There was a knock on the door interrupting them. Greg gesture Adam into the room.

"Greg, we ran the rest of those prints that we lifted from the sleeper cab."

"Madeline Briggs right." Lindsey asked.

"She was there too." Adam nodded.

"What do you mean." Greg looked up from his report focusing on Adam.

"I found evidence of more than one woman in that sleeper."

"How many."

"A lot." He walked over to the T.V. in the corner, pulling up 28 pictures. "When I realized I had multiple donors, I ran the prints through every database that I knew of. I got these in through NAMUS National Missing and Unidentified Persons System." He started to point at pictures. "This one's from Florida, North Carolina, Philadelphia, Atlanta. These girls are from every state." Greg took a deep breath.

"And all of them at one time or another were in that truck." Lindsey walked up to the scene, pointing at one of the pictures.

"That's our Jane Doe. Debbie Menzel." She read the name. There was a knock on the door, and Mac walked in.

"Greg, I got a Dr. Ray Langston holding on a video call. He's working a case in conjunction with Miami P.D. He says he knows you." Greg smiled.

"He replaced me."


Greg followed Mac into the main conference room. Ray was on the scene. Greg nodded, hello.

"Good to see you, Greg." Mac and Greg moved to stand in front of the scene. "I understand you have our missing girl in your city?" Mac looked over the reports.

"If we do, it might not be for long. The man who abducted her, Casey Steele, stole a car after his truck was sidelined in a traffic accident."

"We have alerts out and roadblocks set up, but so far, we haven't found the car," Greg added.

"Well, that's good. He might still be in New York."

"What can you tell us about Madeline Briggs?" Mac asked.

"Lieutenant Horatio Caine and I just wrapped up two murders here in the Miami area. During the investigation, a young woman named Madeline Briggs came across our radar first as a suspect. Now we have reason to believe she's a victim. We found this note in a truck stop restroom in Orlando." Ray held up an evidence file. "The last person seen with Madeline Briggs is a small-time hustler named Goodman, Tyer Goodman."

"Where is he now?" Mac asked.

"In a morgue in Northern Florida. 48 hours ago, Tyler was found shot to death. In the bathroom of a truck stop near Jacksonville. The kill was clean. It was a pro job." Greg tilted his head.

"So Tyler hands-off Madeline to Casey and then gets paid with a bullet. You have ballistics on that shooting?"

"We do weapon's a .45. I'm sending you our ballistics evidence right now see if it matches up." Greg turned, pulling up the information.

"We have a witness a gunshot victim Casey pulled the trigger on," Mac said while Greg looked over the information. "The slug was too deformed to get caliber determination, but we have reason to believe that It might be a .45." Greg snapped his fingers.

"yep, it's a match. Looks like Casey's been a busy boy."

"The Zelas run a tight ship, and they do not tolerate mistakes," Rey responded. Mac looked at Greg.

"Bad news for a small-time player like Tyler. It means he was expendable." Greg noded.

"What else do we know about these perps."

"Targets are always young women between the ages of 19 and 25. They're highly organized. They're well-financed. They lure these women into prostitution black-market surrogacy, use them as human-trafficking pawns, you name it." the hair on the back of Greg's neck stood up.

"And now harvesting bodies for organs."

"Makes them extremely dangerous," Mac said.

"Detective, I have chased one victim from Vagas to Miami, only to find her dead. When Madeline Briggs's mother reported her missing, she asked for my help, so I'm not going home until I find her daughter."

"Greg has spoken highly of you. So when can we expect you."

"I'm on the first thing smokin'."


Alison walked down the hallway, heading toward the computer lab. Greg was with Mac. They had gone to pick Ray up and interview a cellmate of a suspect. Hawkes walked up next to her.

"I ran organ recipient search with the national donor list." He handed over a report. "A patient awaiting a liver blood type A.B. positive withdrew from the list yesterday."

"Could've died waiting."

"Thought of that he's still alive, and liver disease int's something that just goes away, so you're thinking he's forgoing the national doner process and getting an organ off the black market? Possibly the liver from our victim in the back of the truck."

"A Manhattan clinic requested 50 pints of A.B. positive blood for prep of a liver transplant. That blood was delivered this morning."

"What clinic?"

"A Wellness Medical Clinic." Alison's hands went cold, and her pace slowed. Hawkes turned, looking at her.

"Are you alright?" She nodded.

"Yeah…yeah, I'll be fine."


Greg walked into the apartment. They had caught Cassey earlier, but Madalin was still missing. Ray was at the hostel, packing his things up. Greg tossed his bag at the door. He really thought that they were going to save her.

"Ally, I'm home." He walked into the kitchen and froze. There were two bags on the counter. Alison walked out of the office, tossing her laptop charger on one of the bags. "What is this." She smiled at him.

"We are going on a trip." Greg froze, looking around the apartment.

"A trip where would we go." Alison leaned against the counter.

"Las Vegas. We'll have to talk to Mac first, and I know that we won't be able to leave this week, but I thought I would pack."

"Why?"

"Because that girl deserves to be found." Greg held up his hands.

"Why this case, there have been others." She closed her eyes, letting out a breath.

"Because the liver of the V.I.C. was transplanted in the clinic where Dr. John Whitworth worked."

"Oh."

"I just…I don't know." She dropped into one of the stools, looking at her hands. Greg walked over, not touching her. She was lost in memories. His touch would not be taken as a comfort but as a reminder of the Monster. "That pore girls family is going through what mine did the first time. The constant wondering what I was going through, fearing I was dead or worse, still alive. I thought we could help." Her eyes cleared, and Greg pulled her into a hug.

"I think that would be a great idea."