A/N: Thank you to those who are reading!

A Return to Vegas

Chapter 2

Gil Grissom knew there was movement in the room without opening his eyes. The whisper of fabric, the shuffling of small feet, the sigh of a gentle breathe near his face. As he opened one eye, his first thought was the hope his bare butt was covered. Coming into focus was a little red car in a small hand.

"Hey, buddy—you're up already." Not for the first time in his son's young life, he thought about how his son's face was an updated reproduction of the face in photographs of his own father.

The car moved closer to his face.

"Libby is awake, too." The boy's face appeared inches from Grissom's. Clear blue eyes fringed in long dark lashes blinked twice. "We are quiet," the child whispered as he pushed the toy car along the sheet. "But we want you up too."

Grissom touched his son's hair and pushed dark curls away from his face. He said, "It is time for me to get up, isn't it?"

The faint pleasant scent of Sara-after-sex still tingled his nose; he would have liked to bury his nose against her neck and begin a replay of their actions the night before. But Sara was tucked under covers; her head snuggled into the curve of his arm and chest. The rhythm of her breathing was enough to tell him she was deeply asleep. Carefully, he moved, enough to know he was covered, gently enough to leave his wife undisturbed. Smiling, remembering the previous night, he tucked an edge of the bed's coverings around himself and pushed out of bed.

He said, "How about we fix pancakes and let Mom sleep? She'll like that."

Four-year old Anthony slipped his arms around his father's neck and whispered, "Mommy likes pancakes too."

Grissom spotted the pants he's dropped last night near the bed and stretched a foot to pull them near. At the same time, his eyes found his small daughter sitting in the middle of the bedroom. Her head lifted to meet his eyes and smile in the same way her mother smiled. A flood of memories moved quickly across his mind as he looked at the small smiling face, a mini-Sara who always laughed and hugged and shared, who had the sweetest nature of anyone he'd ever known. Except her mother.

This morning, the sweet child was covered in the transparent pink gown Sara had worn into his office and her hands were pulling the pink panties over her foot. He smothered a laugh and pulled on his pants. In a swift move, he guided his son toward the door, lifted his daughter from the floor, the pink lingerie draped over her head like a veil, and left Sara asleep.

After pancakes had been plated and covered with blueberries, Sara appeared in the doorway, smiling at the activity. Smudges of white flour and blue juice covered countertops but her two children were happily indulging in stuffing pancakes into mouths. Her sexy pink nightie was covering her daughter's head like a queen's coronation cape.

Her husband stood at the grill, somewhat expertly flipping another pancake. Looking up, he said, "Pancakes, dear?"

It was later in the morning, after taking the children to their morning play-school that Sara's phone rang with a familiar number—the Vegas Crime Lab. Few of the original investigators remained at the lab; all of those who were close friends had moved on.

Catherine had 'retired' to be more active in her casino operations. Greg had taken the jump to federal law enforcement and was temporarily assigned to Washington, D.C. Morgan, who had, for a brief time, been Greg's girlfriend, had moved to another county job after Greg left the lab. Two years previously, Lindsey Willows had married and had followed her mother to work in the family casino.

Pressing her finger to the phone, Sara lifted it to her ear and heard the voice of Maxine Roby, the new director of the Vegas lab. They were not strangers having met on several occasions but had never had a reason for a phone call; with apprehension and uneasiness, Sara said "hello". After a few exchanges of small talk, Maxine got to the reason for her call.

"We need your help, Sara—and before you say 'no', I know you've moved on to other things. But you'd be helping me—the lab—and your old friend Jim Brass."

Sara slid into a chair at the table, motioning for Grissom. She said, "I'm going to put you on speaker, Maxine. Gil is here."

For several minutes, they listened as Maxine explained a puzzling situation in Las Vegas. The long severe drought had lowered the water in Lake Mead to levels never seen. And in the receding water, long-lost pieces of mostly forgotten events had come to light.

Maxine said, "One of the first things uncovered was an automobile from the 1950s—with remains of two teenagers in it. No missing persons report—nothing had ever been reported but we found family with DNA and the family's story was the two kids had run away. Simply disappeared in a car the boy had been rebuilding. There have been several others, and this is where I need your help."

A sunken boat in a remote spot of the lake had appeared as water receded. Inside the boat were four bodies, each with an obvious bullet hole between the eyes. "This is where it gets interesting," Maxine said. "Three of the bullets were recovered—and all three came from the same gun." She paused for a moment.

Sara and Grissom looked at each other, both trying to imagine the rest of the story.

"We traced the bullets—it was easy to do."

As Maxine Roby paused again, they could hear her deep breath. "I've already spoken to Jim Brass—the bullets belonged to the forty-five he used for years."

Sara and Grissom made an audible sound of shock.

Maxine continued, saying, "There's more—we had already established a time line for the boat and identified three of the four on the boat. When we checked dates, the boat and the men were last seen on May 18, 2006." She stopped, giving them a minute to think about the date.

Grissom mumbled, "May 18, 2006."

Sara was quick to remember. She said, "Jim was shot that day. He—he—where was his gun?"

"That's why I need your help. Both of you could help—we've pulled another body out of another car—a truck. He'd been shot—same way—between the eyes. He was last seen in June 2009. Comparing records, the same gun was used."

Sara's hands covered her face.

Grissom said, "There's something else—you know Jim could have not have used this gun."

"Oh, it gets better," said Maxine. "And more complicated. Two more bodies have been recovered from the lake. More recent—in 2012 and 2017—all these men had a history of petty crimes going back decades. All with the same type wound—bullet to the brain between the eyes."

"Same weapon?" Grissom asked.

"Yes, we think so. And here's why I'm asking for your help. I pulled some cases—random, involving guns—going back ten years. To call it a mess is a drastic understatement. It's a crisis—and if word of this gets out, there are dozens of cases that will be thrown out. All the ballistic records are—are compromised—because out of fifteen records, seven have the same ballistic patterns—all match the gun Jim Brass used for years."

They could hear her sigh of frustration before she continued.

"I want you to help with a complete review—the process of disposal of weapons hasn't changed in decades. We need to know—and to keep it quiet—what's happened." She paused for a moment.

Sara and Grissom glanced at each other; both waiting for another bombshell disclosure.

"It's not just guns and these records that are compromised—I thought I could get your interest with the link to Jim Brass—right now, I don't think his gun was used. We can't find this gun—it was supposed to be destroyed years ago. Lab evidence is compromised—cases are active so this is going on right now—not something from ten-fifteen years ago. I—We need your experience. If you'd agree to help—and I'd be thrilled if both of you would help—I'll give you full access to find out what happened and you can help us find the—the threat—it's more than a leak—of how evidence is getting—and the simple word I can use is—changed."

Grissom and Sara exchanged a quick look. They knew they were thinking the same thing. Grissom made a small nod. They would work on details later.

Sara said, "Of course, we'll come."

A/N: Thank you for reading Chapter 2! Now, take a moment to send a message of encouragement! For those who mentioned the name of Grissom's son-Anthony. We know its generally accepted that Arthur is Grissom's middle name. We like to think the "A" initial is for Anthony-as in Anthony Zuiker!

Thank you for being interested in this return to Vegas! More to come!