Author's Note: Hee hee hee. I love toying with you guys like this! Ahhh, the joy of cliffhangers.  I appreciate all the reviews that you guys give me. You are all so nice! And I have to give a BIG shout out to CSIaddict who always reviews my stories AND mentions me in their author notes (see; now you know how to get on my good side!). Again, I thank all of you; you rock! Please keep the reviews coming and I hope you enjoy the story. Characters belong to the rich people at CBS – they are the ones making money off them, not me.

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Nick stared in horror at the prone figure of his friend. This was not happening. This couldn't be happening, he told himself. He began to run down the aisle towards the spot where Greg lay. His legs felt like lead as he tried to move. It seemed to take hours, but in reality was only a few seconds. Oh God, there was so much blood. Nick was afraid to turn Greg over. He was afraid of what he might see. How badly was the kid hurt? What the hell had happened? Who had done this? The questions were racing through Nick's head so fast that he almost missed it when Greg stirred. He touched Greg's shoulder and was rewarded with a low moan.

"Oh thank you God. Greg? Greg? Are you ok? Answer me!" Nick's voice was frantic.

It took Greg a minute to realize who was talking. What had just happened? As he opened his eyes, he was greeted by a sea of red. The blood covered the floor, his clothes and his skin. Ugh, the stench was overwhelming. It smelled like the blood had been sitting around fermenting for the last few hours. He made a mental note not to breathe to deeply. He tried to focus his mind and remember how he had ended up on the floor. Oh, that's right. He had come in here while Nick was looking around in the cemetery. He had called to his friend, but Nick must not have heard him. Greg had gone inside to see if there was anyone there. That was starting to seem like a not-so bright move. He had heard a rustling noise coming from the front of the alter and had gone forward to investigate. He had found a large bucket filled with blood on the floor in front of the alter. He remembered thinking how odd it was to find something like that here of all places. He was crouching down to look at it more closely when a noise had spooked him from behind. He had whirled around too quickly and lost his balance. His hands had found the bucket and he had accidentally brought it down with him when he fell. The last thing he saw was the corner of the pew coming up to meet his forehead. He must have blacked out for a couple of minutes. Now Nick was here, and judging by the tone of his voice, he was panic-stricken. Greg shook his head slightly to clear the cobwebs from his brain and managed to find his voice.

"Nick – I'm Ok."

"Are you sure? You're bleeding……"

Greg pulled himself up off the floor and closed his eyes momentarily as the room began to spin. He must have hit his head harder then he thought.

"It's not me. The blood – it came from a bucket that was sitting here. I fell and whacked my head. But I am fine, I swear".

Nick helped his friend move away from the blood. "Are you sure? Let me see your head" Sure enough, there was the beginnings of a nasty bruise forming just above Greg's left eyebrow. It didn't look too serious but it was enough to warrant a trip to the hospital. Nick tried to slow his rapid heartbeat. He had been so scared for a minute. Seeing Greg laying there in a pool of blood had really shaken him. Was that how it had been for Warrick when he had discovered Nick's body that horrible day in Rachel's kitchen. Because if was, then man, Warrick probably needed to talk to someone as much as Nick did. He made a mental note to talk to his friend when they got back to the lab. But now was not the time to start thinking about that. He needed to make sure that Greg was truly alright.

"Think you can stand up?" He grabbed Greg under the elbow as the young man nodded and shakily began to pull himself to his feet. He leaned heavily on Nick as he tried to fight off another wave of dizziness.

"I'm fine. Nick – before you came in, I heard a noise. That's what startled me and caused me to fall. Maybe we should go and find it…."

"No! Absolutely not! Our first mistake was coming in here and we are not going to make another mistake by hanging around here. We are getting out of this place. We will call Brass from the car and have him send a couple of uniforms over. But we are not going to go and try and find the nutcase who is keeping buckets of blood in a church in the middle of nowhere. Now let's go!" He left no room for argument as he propelled his friend towards the door. They had just pulled the doors open when –

"AHHHH!" Three voices chimed in as they all cried out in shock. Nick and Greg found themselves face to face with a priest who looked equally shocked to find two men in a church that he thought was abandoned. The priest was in his early forties and had thinning black hair that he kept neatly groomed. He was dressed all in black, except for the white of his clerical collar. His skin was pale and looked like he hadn't seen the sun in quite some time. His eyes were a dull muddy brown and his mouth was very thin. Right now his face wore a look of surprise upon finding that he had guests.

"What is going on here? What have you done?!" The priest was staring at the two intruders in horror.

Nick realized that this must look bad. He had a gun in one hand. The other had a vise-like grip on Greg's arm. Greg was completely covered in blood. He quickly holstered his gun and tried to explain.

"This isn't what it looks like. You see, my friend and I were just looking around when he fell and knocked over a bucket of blood that was in the church. I am just taking him to the hospital."

The priest crossed his arms. "And the gun?"

"I work for the Las Vegas Police Department. I'm a Crime Scene Investigator".

The priest eyed them suspiciously. They certainly didn't look like dangerous criminals. But how could anyone be sure anymore?

"Really? Well this is not a crime scene, so maybe you'd like to explain why you are breaking into my church."

It was Greg who responded now. "We are not breaking in!"  He said indignantly. "We were driving and saw the lights and decided to see what was going on out here. We have done nothing wrong. But as far as this not being a crime scene, well maybe you should rethink that!"

Nick turned to his friend. Now he was the one who was confused. "Greg, what are you –"

"The blood that I found in the church – the stuff that I am wearing right now? I think it is the same type of blood that we found at a crime scene earlier today. Someone doused the bodies in sheep's blood – I meant to tell you earlier –but I think that this gives me adequate reason to believe that the blood that I tipped over is consistent with the blood we found on our victims."

Nick looked at the priest. The man looked stunned. But more than that, there was a look of fear in his eyes. He knows something, Nick thought. He watched the man carefully.

"Care to explain that Father?"

The priest let out a sigh. They weren't going to leave until they got some answers out of him. He motioned for them to follow him. The went back into the church. He led them up behind the alter. There, behind the large crucifix were two more buckets of blood. The man looked very weary. He sat down on the floor. Nick and Greg followed suit.

"My name is Father Manilla. I am the priest at Holy Order of the Cross. It is just outside Reno."

"Then what on earth are you doing out here?" Greg interrupted. Nick nudged him roughly in the ribs and shot him a look.

"It is a sad story about how I ended up here. This church has many ghosts in its past. I suppose I may as well share them with you, as I am certain you would investigate it anyways. You see, this church was built a little over thirty years ago. It was the first building that was erected in what was supposed to be a small town. However, after building the church, it was discovered that this area in which the homes were to go was actually an ancient Indian burial ground. The state of Nevada forbid the further construction of a town. They won't permit the disruption of burial sites. No one wanted to tear down a place of worship, so they left the church standing and built the town over that ridge there" Nick and Greg followed his gaze out the window. In the distance they could make out the ridge of which he spoke. He continued with his story as his audience sat in rapt silence.

"Over the years the town folk used to come out here and use this cemetery to bury the dead. Why they didn't bury the bodies in their town, well I don't know. There are old legends of course that their town was haunted by those that were buried there. It is not a happy town, and many believe that laying bodies to rest there will lead to more ghostly activity. It is all nonsense of course. There is no proof that any of those hauntings ever occurred. I think it is just the townspeople trying to justify their decision to bury the bodies out here. But whatever the reason, this church was only ever used for funerals. There as been no life in this church – only death. The sadness here is sometimes unbearable. Some people used to come to the graves, but they have either died themselves or are too old to make the trek out here. No one has been here in years. Sometimes people would come and leave flowers, but usually this church remains abandoned. My father was the priest here for all those years until he died. I never presided over any of the funerals obviously, but I come out here from time to time to make sure that everything is ok. In fact, I wasn't even supposed to be out here tonight. But something happened that changed all of that."

Nick and Greg looked at him. He returned their gaze for a moment before turning and looking at the buckets of blood that sat on the floor. He ran a hand over his hair and let out a sigh.

"One of my parishioners came to me late last night asking for a favor. He knew about this church and he knew I was the only person who had a key. He asked me if he could borrow the keys for a while. He explained that he needed to store some things out here, somewhere where they would not be discovered. If I had had any idea about what he was up to I would have never given him the keys. I was suspicious but he assured me that it was nothing illegal and that no one would get hurt. He swore that all he was doing was leaving some things here because he was afraid that they might get stolen. Like a fool I believed him"

"What happened to change your mind?" Nick's voice was gentle. They were gaining valuable information and he didn't want to scare the priest off by being too pushy.

"Well I walked him to his truck. I noticed that it was covered in dust, which struck me as odd because he doesn't live near the desert. There was mud on the tires and splashes of red in the bed of the truck. It looked like blood. I thought that was odd, but he seemed like such a good man that I didn't think I had reason to believe that he had done anything wrong. I asked him about it, and he said that been transporting some carcasses for a friend. I assumed he meant animals. But then I saw the news tonight and they were talking about the murders. They said that they had found two bodies, doused in blood, in the desert. It finally clicked in my head that everything fit. The dirt on his truck, the blood in the back, needing to hide something in the middle of nowhere; it all made sense. So I decided to come out here and see what he was leaving behind. I was actually afraid that I might find more bodies, but thankfully, I was wrong. I came here to find the door unlocked but I didn't see him anywhere. I came in and found three buckets of blood up here behind the crucifix. As you can probably tell by the smell, they have been sitting out here for some time. I moved one of them and was going to bring it with me to take to the police, but I heard a noise and I panicked. I thought he might be coming back, so I put the bucket down and slipped out the back door." He pointed to a wooden door at the rear of the alter. "I hid around back until I didn't see anyone anymore and then I came back through the front door. That's when I heard a crash, and I found myself hiding for a second time. There is a hallway in the vestibule that is practically invisible because of how it is situated in the room. I hid down there until the footsteps passed. I went back out a minute later and that is when I met you two." He looked tired. Nick knew that he probably wanted to get out of there as much as he and Greg did, but he had a couple of questions first.

"What is the name of the man who asked you for the keys?" The priest hesitated. He hated to think that any of his church's members could be involved in something like this. Nick saw his hesitation and his voice softened.

"Father, I know that you want to protect this man. But if you don't tell us, he could go out and hurt more people. I know you don't want that either. So please, give us the name and we will do the rest".

Father Manilla relented. "His name is Raymond Jacobs. Everyone calls him Ray". Nick smiled gratefully.

Greg interjected now. "Wait, if you drove out here, why didn't we see your car?"

"Easy. I parked it out back about a hundred yards away. I didn't want Ray to see me if he was here, so I parked and walked up. My car is far enough away that you wouldn't be able to see it with a flashlight until you were fairly close to it." Well, that would make sense, thought Greg. He didn't blame Father Manilla for not wanting to be seen by someone who was now a prime suspect in a murder investigation. A sudden thought hit Greg so fast that he physically lurched in his seat.

"Father?" his voice was breathless and his eyes were glassy. He looked very afraid all of a sudden. "You said you heard a crash and you hid. You were gone from the alter before I came in, correct? I mean, you didn't see me?"

The priest nodded. Greg took a deep breath and continued, all the while looking at Nick. "I heard a noise behind me, which caused me to fall. Father Manilla was already back in the vestibule, because the crash he heard was me when I fell. Which means……."

Nick finished the sentence. "We're not alone."

The three men jumped to their feet and looked around. The church was as empty as it ever was but every hair on Nick's head was standing up. He drew his gun again.

"If Father Manilla could hide his car, then surely Ray Jacobs could as well. It is pitch black out there; we would never have even seen it."

"I think I would like to get out of here now" Greg's voice was shaky and a knot of fear was forming in his stomach. Nick agreed and carefully led the way out of the church. They didn't speak another word until they were safely locked in the car and back out on the highway, racing towards Las Vegas. Nick drove with Greg in the passenger seat, fighting to stay awake, and Father Manilla in the back, looking around nervously. What had he gotten himself into? Nick assured him that he would be safe, but that he would have to come with them to the crime lab to give his statement. After they dropped Father Manilla off, Nick intended to get Greg to a hospital to get his head wound checked out. As they drove, a sudden query popped into Nick's head.

"Father? What was the name of the town on the other side of the ridge? The one that was supposed to be where the church was?"

The priest responded immediately. "Pandarus Point."

Oh no. Oh God no. This was not right. Nick's mind was screaming at him as he struggled to maintain his composure in order to get them back into town safely. The lights were getting brighter but Nick didn't feel any safer. It was just too big a coincidence. Rachel had lived in Pandarus Point. The evidence that was tied to the crime that was similar to hers was found in a church that serviced Pandarus Point. It seemed clear that Ray Jacobs was the link they had been looking for. He was the person whom Rachel had passed her evil plans on to. Nick pressed harder on the gas as he sped towards the CSI lab. He needed to get Father Manilla there to give a statement to Brass and Grissom. Then maybe they could track down Jacobs and finally lay the evil to rest. They were almost there when Greg suddenly lost his battle with consciousness. He slumped over, held up only by his seatbelt.

"Greg!" Nick glanced at him, but couldn't do anything. He had to keep his eyes on the road. Father Manilla leaned forward and checked Greg's pulse.

"This boy needs a hospital – NOW!"

It looked like the crime lab was going to have to wait.