Benjamin Bracker, a name once forgotten but now everyone seemed to know it. Rick, never familiar with the case, was currently getting every last detail on it as his team and Horatio's worked their way through red tape and phone calls trying to gather up all the evidence they had ever had on it. They were divided over the workload, they still had the existing bodies of Kara Watkins and Quentin McCoy to deal with and Kara's only connection to Benjamin at the moment was his blood.

Kara's cause of death was strangulation but she had had traces of drugs in her system, which the M.E Tara Price had confirmed meant whilst she was potentially conscious when killed she wouldn't have put up much of a fight. The drugs had appeared in her stomach suggestion ingestion in some form but whether it was intentional, forced or without Kara even knowing remained to be confirmed. Kara hadn't been seen by anyone since that morning as far as they knew, which mean she could have spent the entire day drugged and captive before getting dragged out to the park for her murder. The phone call to 911 confirmed that she had died that evening. The wings, halo and the presence of Benjamin Bracker's blood suggested it was something much more sinister than a random crime of opportunity.

Quentin McCoy's murder just made it all the more confusing. The killer had made Kara phone through her own murder, which meant they had to have purposely stayed for the police's arrival. It was hard to imagine the killer could have known that Quentin would be the one responding and wanted to target him personally. Yet his murder had been brutal, he hadn't surprised the killer they had surprised him. Unlike Kara, Quentin did have a connection with Benjamin Bracker as Rick was learning today.

Rick stood outside beneath the Florida sunshine surveying a grand house with a grim expression. Old-fashioned, isolated, abandoned and oozing of lost wealth and decay, it was all a little too familiar for the lieutenant. He didn't want to go into it, hell he didn't even want to cross the threshold through the iron gates.

"Since when did Miami become a place for gothic mansions?" he quipped darkly.

Tobias gave his boss an easygoing grin, hoping to put him at ease with it. "Well sir, Miami is popular with the wealthy and most of them are eccentric," he mused.

Rick glanced at Tobias out of the corner of his eye and frowned at his attempt at humour. Spying Eric standing past him he was grateful for Tobias' presence despite his jest.

They were standing outside the Bracker family mansion where, five years ago, a disturbing scene of murder had been discovered. Eric had been one of the original CSIs on the case, which was why he was here today. The other CSI had been the late Timothy 'Speed' Speedle. As Speed had been the one to insist there was enough evidence to confirm Benjamin Bracker to be a victim of foul play, the ever moody Eric was taking it very personally that there was now some serious doubt on that conclusion. One of the homicide detectives who had attended the grisly scene had been Quentin's older brother Bill McCoy, then only just out of uniform, and that was the sum of Quentin's connection to Benjamin Bracker as far as anyone was aware.

Tobias and Rick had looked at the crime scene photographs with a professional detachment. Used to scenes of macabre and gore, they had been unfazed but seeing the house before them made the images they had looked at seem a little bit more real.

"Are we just going to stand here?" Eric quipped calmly as he glanced at the other men. He wanted to be with Ryan on the fresh case of Kara, he didn't see the point in visiting the house and he certainly didn't enjoy having to put up with Rick while being here. Even Tobias was irritating him with the way he called Rick 'sir'.

"No Delko," Rick retorted bluntly.

Rick stepped forward, hand out to the iron gate, black paint long chipped off with age. No one had even bothered with a padlock or chain, the house relied on its creepy reputation to act as its security.

The property was in a disputed ownership, the heir was the only suspect in the murders and currently behind bars and therefore not capable of any kind of upkeep for the house or entitlement to it. It had meant they had to secure a warrant for today's trip but the oddity of Benjamin Bracker's blood had been enough for the judge to sign off on one.

"What are we even looking for?" Eric queried. "We were thorough and it's been five years."

"Eric, Benjamin was said to have died in this house but his blood just showed up on a dead girl," Tobias reminded him. "I don't know what we're looking for but either Benjamin didn't die in this house or our killer was involved with his death which means suspect number one for the Bracker Murders may have been wrongly convicted. Honestly, I'm not even sure which would be worse."

Eric glanced back at the blonde letting him see his expression of displeasure. "Are you implying we didn't do our jobs? You know, your friends at homicide agreed with the conclusion as did the jury and the judge," he added pointedly.

Tobias held his hands up in mock defence. "I'm just doing what we all do best, following the evidence," he said calmly.

Rick suppressed the urge to sigh. He had figured Eric was going to be a pain today but damn it they hadn't even entered the house yet and he was already in full asshole mode. Rick realised the irony of it given he was the one often accused of being an asshole but he still found it hard to summon the patience for the CSI.

"Delko no one's making any accusations," Rick attempted to ease the hostile mood. "I'm sure everyone did a good job at the time but the fact is, Bracker's blood has shown up on a fresh body so we have to look into it."

Eric resisted the urge to scowl, to him Rick sounded sarcastic but he was considering that the man probably didn't mean it, it was just a default tone he was stuck with.

Rick kept going up to the front door. It was set in a wooden porch and there had been a lazy attempt to board it up but the boards, like the porch, were rotted. There were still faint remnants of crime scene tape fluttering at the edges of the frame, a reminder of the horrors that had went on within. There was a lock as well, old and forgotten, one which Rick had been granted a key for.

Rick tensed at the thought of the anguish behind closed doors, imagining the screams as people had been hurt. He swallowed hard before shaking his head of memories of Garrett House as he told himself that this wasn't there.

Rick used the key and then pushed the door, it was stiff but came away from the frame as he gave a hard shove. He winced as he felt a pang in his stomach with the movement, a reminder of the gunshot wound that had nearly ended his life a few months ago.

"You okay boss?" Tobias queried calmly.

Rick nodded without looking back, damned if he'd show any weakness before anyone especially Eric Delko. He continued to push the door inwards and winced as he breathed in a mouthful of stale, dusty, dead air.

They stepped into a forgotten lobby with a grand, decaying staircase at the entry with a set of bannisters they all recognised too easily.

Eric stiffened slightly at the sight, unlike his two companions he had already been here before and seen first hand what the other two had only looked at in photos. It had been carnage but an odd sort of carnage, something messy and primitive. Hanging from the bannisters had been Rose Bracker, Benjamin's mother, her husband's body, Hunter Bracker, had littered the stairs, chopped up into unwanted pieces of bloody limbs. Their children- Henry, Viola, Bruce, Benjamin and Clara had all been unaccounted for initially. Viola had turned up in the garden pond, Bruce in body parts in a bag in a nearby copse, and Clara in a small room upstairs in the attic that had functioned as a play area. Benjamin remained missing save for blood spatters, it was concluded that he, like Bruce, was chopped up somewhere.

The sole survivor had ended up convicted as the killer. Eldest son Henry had been found laughing to himself in his bedroom stained in dried blood.

Bruising and ligature marks had indicated the deceased had all been bound up at one point before suffering numerous harms prior to death. It had all seemed too personal to be a stranger's doing and no alarm had been raised until the school had reported three days of absenteeism without explanation for Benjamin and Clara and a truancy officer had called to investigate.

The Medical Examiner had concluded that they had suffered for probably two of the three days they were indicated to have been missing before being killed off.

Henry Bracker had shown no signs of being bound or detained but he claimed his innocence anyway. His family's wealth had been frozen by a judge but he had had over twenty grand of his own in a personal bank account. Despite this he hadn't bothered with securing a lawyer, allowing the courts to appoint one for him. His defence had been a babbled mess, an insistence that an evil spirit had done it. The jury had taken that for claims of possession or an attempt at insanity. They had been unimpressed. Henry Bracker had been declared sane and guilty.

Eric had always felt it was one of those rare cases where the insane plea had actually been sincere but Henry Bracker had never pushed it. Henry had always been adamant that a figure wrapped in darkness had been present in his house torturing and murdering his family.

"If Benjamin didn't die here," Eric said coldly, "then either he was the real killer, not Henry, and now someone else has conveniently hurt or killed him, or there really was someone else here doing all this."

"Scapegoating," Rick murmured dryly. He knew more than a thing or two about that having had people trying to blame him for the murders of the Garrett household, a young reporter and, more recently, a frame up involving corrupt cops. Rick bristled as he considered how his now incarcerated ex-boss Daniel Greene had attempted to make Rick look insane.

"Henry was left to be blamed, to throw everyone off the scent," Rick suggested, "and now we have Benjamin's blood either to throw us off the scent again from Kara Watkins and Officer McCoy's murders or because their killer wants us to know something about this Bracker case."

"Could Henry and Benjamin have done it together?" Tobias pondered.

The blonde studied the rotting lobby with only a mild interest. There was still an odour of death in the place, the clean up conducted out of the pocket of Hunter's brother- Matthias Bracker- who was slowly but surely getting the rights to his brother's finances and estates. That was another messy business, the slayer rule, if you killed someone who had left you assets then you couldn't inherit so Henry, as the sole heir, wasn't getting any of his father's fortune but Matthias had never been mentioned in any will as the next in line should all of Hunter's heirs die, and he had another brother and sister to quarrel it out with. As Matthias was rich in his own right no one had seriously considered him or his siblings as potential killers.

"It's possible," Eric said reluctantly, "but there was no evidence linking Benjamin to anything. Remember, Henry had Hunter, Rose and Clara's blood on him," he added moodily. That had been Speedle's find, a difficult one as most of the blood had mingled rendering it indeterminable but Tim Speedle had found enough minute traces on Henry's clothes that were pure and could only be linked to one person.

"But not Benjamin or Bruce's," Rick surmised.

"That we could determine," Eric added pointedly as he frowned over at the taller man. "The blood was all mixed up on him, most of the samples were corrupted because there was too much DNA mingled together."

"So Benjamin and Bruce's blood could have been on him as well, we don't know," Tobias concluded. "Messy, very messy." He shook his head before turning his gaze to the stairs. "Shall we?"

"Look I know he was found sane but I think that was wrong," Eric remarked firmly as he glanced over at Tobias and Rick. "He was crazy, crazy enough to do this."

"Delko you lead, you know the way to where Henry was found," Rick ordered him in a calm, quiet tone.

It was taking everything Rick had to be courteous to Eric. He was fed up with his frowns and glares already, although he did wondered if he was reading too much into them, maybe even misinterpreting a grumpy look as being personal when Eric probably wasn't even really looking at Rick. He figured it was probably because all he could think about was how Horatio still had to tell him about his engagement. Rick worried Eric would say something negative about it and he knew that if Eric dared to voice something negative about Cassandra then Rick wasn't going to be able to resist a retaliation. Rick knew better than anyone that Cassandra was far from perfect but he knew all the reasons why as well and felt that she more than anyone deserved to be happy. He would be damned if he allowed Eric to put any kind of dampener on that.

Eric gave Rick the expected sullen look of defiance before he obeyed anyway. He headed up the stairs quickly, careful not to touch the dusty bannister. He paused briefly to glance to the right where Rose's body had been swinging. Eric was good at being numb to the job, putting cases from his mind because it was the only way to stay sane but there were always a few that were impossible to forget. The Bracker case was one of them for Eric. He recalled copious trips to the bars and nightclubs with Speedle to try and shake their unease over the case from them.

Eric's frown returned as he thought of his deceased friend. Shot mercilessly in a gun fight in a jewellery store after his own gun had jammed. Rick had come after it, suspicious that Speedle's gun was suffering from poor maintenance, Calleigh had covered it up by concluding that the gun had simply malfunctioned. Eric had hated Rick for his insensitivity over the murder and his attempts, right as they were, to insist Speedle had somewhat brought about his own death.

Eric glanced over his shoulder at Rick as he finished ascending the stairs with another hostile brown stare. For one brief moment Eric could actually look down at the taller man. Rick had survived getting tortured and he had survived getting shot and Eric couldn't help but wonder why he was so fortunate when all it had taken was one gun shot to end Tim Speedle's life.

"Delko your face is going to stick that way soon," Rick remarked to him with his own look of hostility.

"I was just wondering if anyone looked into your gun maintenance when you got shot," Eric said icily before he promptly looked ahead.

"Eric," Tobias injected swiftly, "not the time or the place."

Rick tensed at the reminder and he scowled. He heard the sound of Officer Zebrowski's gun as it fired at him, catching him in his stomach. He had shot Zebrowski in the chest and just assumed he had gone down before he had shot at Detective Grayson. It had taken another shot to finish Zebrowski.

"I shot and killed an officer and a detective," Rick said numbly, "and then I shot a lieutenant, my gun worked fine."

"Rick," Tobias dropped formalities as he came to stand beside Rick on the staircase. He gave him a sympathetic grey eyed gaze. "Let's focus on this case," he said quietly.

Rick nodded before he continued walking up the stairs.

"Do you think McCoy being the detective who worked this case is a coincidence?" Tobias pondered.

"I don't believe in those," Rick retorted darkly. He knew he was going to have another meeting with Bill McCoy, which he wasn't relishing so soon after the first. He knew Bill was pushing hard for his brother's body to be released for burial and was trying hard to ignore the issue of his missing head. To say he wasn't handling it well was an understatement and Rick didn't know how Bill would take being questioned about this old murder especially not when he learned it was because Benjamin's blood had appeared on Kara.

It was quiet. The air was still and warm and the song of birds had settled for the afternoon. Far from being an unnerving silence it was a peaceful one. Horatio figured it was apt given his surroundings and likely to be the only peace he got today. To say he enjoyed it was a stretch too far, he could never enjoy coming here.

The redhead dropped to one knee and gave a bitter smile as he recalled the last time he had knelt before a woman he loved like this and wondered if it was a bitter omen. He tugged off his dark sunglasses with one hand and reminded himself that his stance was just habit.

The lieutenant looked ahead to the object of his attention- a gravestone. It was only a few years old, well kept with a modern design, it was actually two blocks of stone, one with an arch at its top and a plaque on the front reading Marisol Delko Caine with her dates of birth and death. Sometimes Horatio felt guilty as he studied the Caine, it was a name she had donned so briefly, the ink had barely been dry on the certificate, and it was a name that had led to her untimely death.

The name of Caine had always been a heavy one to bear- Horatio's mother had died a victim to his father, a father he in turn had murdered, and his younger brother Raymond Caine Sr had been beaten to death in Brazil. Raymond's plot wasn't far from Marisol's, he occupied a grave that had been dug for him before he had been prepared to fill it.

"Marisol," Horatio addressed her softly, "I'm getting married again. I didn't think I ever would, I didn't think I'd love anyone again or risk them by tying them to me. Cassie makes me happy, all she's been through and all I've been through and still she smiles and makes me smile. I thought about how short life can be," he grimaced at his word choice before continuing on, "and realised I shouldn't wait to propose."

Horatio dipped his head slightly, taking in the fresh flowers someone had left, Eric he imagined but it could have easily been his mother or sisters.

"I would have never moved on from you in life," he assured, "and if moving on is something I should be forgiven for then I hope you forgive me." He smiled again and shook his head. "I know you would say there's nothing to forgive, even now I'm in denial. It's Eric I hope will forgive me. He thinks I'm replacing you when I could never do that, you and Cassie are two very different people and worse, he thinks I'm replacing him with Rick. He has so much hate for Rick and I can't blame him for that, I had a lot of hate for that man once too but I can't support it."

Horatio sighed and slipped his sunglasses back on as he turned his head back up to her name. "I don't know how to handle that Marisol and I wish you could tell me."

Horatio glanced at his watch. It was just after one, Cassandra would be waiting at the aquarium for him to collect her before they would get the girls after three from school.

Cassandra had never learnt to drive and when she had considered lessons last year the news that she couldn't because of both her poor vision and irregular headaches had put a swift stop to that. She had been frustrated about the matter, long fed up with being a burden on friends and relations, their assurances that she wasn't a burden had meant little to her.

Cassandra had been adamant about taking public transport but Rick and Horatio knew it made her anxious when she did- she had an understandable fear of being surprised by violent strangers and she despised the way people gawked at her facial scars. They couldn't stop her from getting public transport all the time but when they could offer her a lift, Rick or Horatio usually would, sometimes Tobias or Ryan would too if they happened to be around. Mostly, to avoid denting Cassandra's pride, they dressed it up as helping the girls- Marissa and Annabelle - as it was usually them Cassandra was with save for when she needed lifts to and from work.

Horatio stretched out a hand to the gravestone, pressing his palm against the stone and enjoying the warmth he felt there. "I'll talk to you soon," he promised.

Horatio headed off for his car. He had had an extremely busy morning dealing with the news that someone thought dead for five years might either be not so dead or potentially far more recently dead. He was fortunate to have this afternoon to spend with Cassandra and the girls even if it meant errands to the shop and homework. Once, Horatio would have never bothered taking any kind of leave but after almost losing Rick last year, Horatio had realised prioritising was important. They all had.

Rick had spotted something that wasn't in any report, the minute scratches and discolouring on the door of the room that Henry Bracker had been found in that suggested some form of lock or bolt might have been there. The house's doors all had old fashioned key holes under the doorknobs but there had been no suggestion of usage according to Eric. All the bedrooms and bathrooms had them but the bathrooms had newer locks inside them as well.

Eric had also pointed out that no lock or bolt had been found on any of the doors five years ago other than what was there now and if there had been one on Henry's door then it had to have been removed by the killer, which seemed unlikely.

Rick had murmured grimly that maybe it wasn't the killer who had used them or removed them. He knew he was thinking too closely of his own tarnished family home and he tried to shake it off but there was something all too familiar about this place. It had the same unsettling atmosphere of despair. Apparently no one had done much with the place since the deaths, Uncle Matthias was the one who had gotten it locked up but he hadn't won any entitlement to its lands or possessions.

Rick realised what was odd about the house but yet so familiar to him- the pictures or rather lack of. He figured they could be in the living room or bedrooms but there wasn't any sense of the former residents in the lobby, landing or hallway save for a couple of empty eyed paintings. He was certain that this had never been a happy household.

Rick's phone rang while Eric and Tobias studied Henry Bracker's bedroom. Rick was standing at the ajar door fixated on the lighter rectangular spot of paintwork, suggesting something had once been there. As there were other stains and warping and there was no bolt at the time of the murders he could understand how it wasn't noted. Hell he was only noticing it because he recognised that spot, a space where there had been a bolt to keep someone in a room not out of it.

Rick tugged out his phone on the second ring and answered. "Hello, Lieutenant Stetler speaking," he greeted politely.

Eric rolled his eyes at the title, thinking the man vain for always using it.

Rick tensed and frowned. "Is she alright?" he quipped. His right hand was crawling up to his tie before he could help it.

Eric and Tobias both turned with concern at the lieutenant's voice.

"Right, no, I'll be right there," Rick murmured as he yanked at his tie's knot.

Rick hung up the phone and pocketed it. "Shit," he muttered crossly as he raised his hand to push it through his dark hair.

"What's wrong?" Tobias pried as he gave the older man a look of concern.

Rick gazed over at the detective and CSI with exasperation before his dark stare turned apologetic. "I have to go," he said bluntly. "Annabelle threw up in class."

"Oh." Tobias' gaze brightened slightly and he smiled before he could help it. Seeing Rick's glower he held his hands up apologetically. "Sorry boss, I thought it was something worse. I've three kids, I've gotten that call many, many times," he mused. "Vomiting, headaches, nose bleeds, tripped over untied shoelaces and managed to get a sprained ankle." Tobias shook his head and chuckled.

The blonde detective gave his superior a reassuring look. "We'll be fine here and you'll be fine going," he remarked.

"What if she's got something?" Rick pondered worriedly.

Tobias laughed again. "Probably a minor bug if even, get her home, check her temperature, get her water and get her to bed, she will most likely be right as rain tomorrow. No food for the rest of the day unless she's really hungry," he advised, "then it's toast, minimal butter, no jelly or anything and no juice, just water."

"Right." Rick nodded awkwardly.

Eric gave a slight smile before he could help it, there was no malice to it just amusement. It was interesting to see Rick suddenly so anxious and nervous.

Rick rubbed at his hair again before fidgeting with his tie.

"What's the problem Rick?" Tobias pried.

Rick looked at him in agitation again. "I don't..." He sighed. "I don't know what her dad would have done for her, if there was some routine or some comfort toy or something." He bowed his head sheepishly and shook it. "I can't really get a handle on her, she doesn't let anyone in."

"Rick, it's enough just for you to be there," Tobias assured, "so go do that."

Rick glanced up again and nodded. "Right, ring me or I'll ring you." He turned and headed from the room hastily.

It was just after two when Rick got a pale faced, watery eyed and vomit stained Annabelle back to their house. She had been quiet throughout the drive, tears streaking her face as she shuddered and gazed out the window forlornly.

The teacher hadn't said much, just commented that the girl had been her usual self this morning, which Rick knew was code for quiet, painfully shy and a little anxious, and that the vomiting had come out of nowhere. Annabelle had just hurled up over her desk in the middle of class before bursting into tears as the other children had squealed in alarm.

Rick was relieved Marissa was in a different class and not caught up in the drama. He collected Annabelle dutifully and informed Cassandra of the news via text message, telling her she just needed to collect Marissa today and asking her to keep their niece from the house until he got Annabelle settled and worked out if what she had was potentially contagious or not.

Once home, Rick led a trembling Annabelle up to the bathroom to clean her up.

The girl continued to tremble as Rick ran a damp cloth under the tap. He glanced over at her sympathetically before ringing out the cloth.

"You can put your jammies on after we get you cleaned up," Rick said.

He turned, crouched down and began dabbing the cloth around her face. The tears continued to trickle down her cheeks but there were no more sobs.

"Do you still feel sick?" Rick pried.

Her headed bobbed up and down in an anxious nod.

"Alright, I'll get you a glass of water."

"Am I going to bed?" she queried hoarsely.

Rick lowered the cloth and studied her expression trying to work out what she wanted him to answer. "Do you want to?" he asked.

She shook her head as a sob emerged at last. "I didn't mean to be bad," she said sorrowfully.

Rick raised his eyebrows in surprise at this. "You weren't," he assured her. "You're not well that's all, no one's mad Annabelle."

Rick stood up and rinsed out the cloth before he opened the cabinet behind the mirror. He took out the children's temperature strip and returned his attention to the young girl.

"Can I put this against your forehead and get your temperature?" he quipped. Rick held the strip out to her with one hand.

Annabelle glanced down at it and nodded.

Rick resumed his crouch and pressed the flat thermometer strip against the girl's forehead.

"Do you want to lie down in the living room with me and we'll watch some cartoons?" Rick offered.

"Yes," she croaked out weakly.

"I'll get you water and the bucket just in case," he said.

"Okay."

Rick checked the temperature, it was a little high but nothing alarming. He stood up again and returned the thermometer to the cabinet.

"Alright, you get your jammies on," he said, "and get whatever teddy or doll you want."

"Will you check my room first?" she queried with a fearful look.

Rick frowned before he could help it. He understood of course, Annabelle and Marissa always had him checking under their beds and in their wardrobes at night and neither would use the bathroom at night unless he or Natalia checked it first and then waited dutifully outside to escort them back to bed. Rick couldn't blame either one of them, they had both witnessed too many horrors in their young years from violent people, Marissa had almost been abducted more than once and Annabelle had been kidnapped. He doubted it was a terror either of them would ever fully outgrow but he was determined they had some mastery over it.

Rick made himself smile reassuringly, it might annoy him to check rooms every night and even upset him at times to think that the girls didn't fully trust his judgement but he knew it wasn't fair to blame them for it.

Rick held his hand out to Annabelle. "Let's go check now," he said.

She accepted, pressing a warm palm into his before allowing him to escort her to her bedroom.

Rick made a show of a thorough check, under the bed and in the wardrobe before promising to wait upstairs while she got ready.

Annabelle changed into a set of pyjamas which were lilac and patterned with happy faced stars before exiting to the corridor with a stuffed dog that had a bandage about its paw.

"Which one is this?" Rick pried. He couldn't keep track of the names of the stuffed animals Annabelle was gradually gathering. It was easier with Marissa, she had one favourite, her doll Becky, a gift from Cassandra many years ago that she was only recently getting weaned off.

"Penny," Annabelle retorted hoarsely. "She's sick too."

Rick nodded sympathetically before extending his hand out again. "Alright, well you, me and Penny can go watch some cartoons now."

Annabelle took his hand. "My tummy is still sore," she complained.

"Well I can't do much for that but I'll get you some water and the bucket just in case, the water will help a little," Rick said.

They headed to the living room where Rick got Annabelle settled on the couch, lying down on the cushions with a blanket over her. He put on the cartoons before heading to fetch a glass of water and the basin. When he returned, at her insistence, he sat on the couch with her instead of occupying another seat.

Annabelle threw up another couple of times as the hours drifted by. Sore and upset, she cried until Rick drew her against him, cradling her loosely before placing her head on a cushion on his lap and singing nursery rhymes to her until she nodded off.