Sara dragged her feet into the break room, her tunnel vision focused on the coffeepot. Nick and Warrick were working the scene, and Brass was talking to Darrell Wilson in one of the interrogation rooms. So far, he had said nothing about the towel or Joey Zucker. As she reached for her mug, a voice from behind startled her. "How long have you been awake?"

Catherine sat at the table with a cup of coffee, reviewing the case notes and photos from the night before. She raised her eyes to meet Sara's face, noting the dark circles under the eyes and thin lines in the younger woman's forehead. "I'd bet almost 24 hours."

Sara smiled in spite of herself while pouring her own cup of coffee. "Almost."

"How's he holding up?"

"Who?" Sara asked, pulling up a chair to sit across from Catherine.

"Who do you think? Grissom." Catherine studied Sara's reaction, the subtle shift in seating and the grip on her coffee mug.

"He's tired, been up too long. He was drinking coffee last night."

Catherine raised an eyebrow. "Did he have a headache?"

Sara looked up sharply. "Yeah, he had a migraine earlier today, but—"

"He only drinks coffee when the headache is really bad. The caffeine gives him some relief."

"Oh." Sara stared in her cup at the smooth surface of the dark liquid inside. "Catherine, he, um…. He worried me today. He was getting really personal, almost like I do. He seemed almost possessed last night."

Catherine leaned back in her chair, nodding. "This is one of his trigger cases. I've only seen it a few times."

"Trigger case?"

"Gil can get hooked whenever kids are involved; drugs, abuse, sexual abuse all get under his skin. He's been getting better, but I don't know what it is about this kid that has him so out of sorts.."

"He's still upset?"

"Oh, yeah," Catherine answered, raising her mug to her lips for another drink. "I stuck my head in his office to say hello, let him know that Lindsey and I had a great time at the circus yesterday, and his hands began to shake. He didn't say a word to me." She paused again, taking a second sip. "Lousy timing on my part."

The corners of Sara's mouth turned up, but the smile didn't reach her eyes. "Something like that." She set the half-empty mug onto the surface of the table. "I should get back. See if this kid has said anything we can use yet."

"Good luck, Sara. You know you'll solve this."

"I wish I could be so sure."

Catherine regarded Sara's drawn face, the doubt in her eyes. "You'll solve it because he would solve it."

"What do you mean?"

"You're both more alike than you know. What he can do, you can do, sometimes better…." Catherine took another closer look at her, deciding to take a bit of a leap. "And what you can hide, Sara, he can hide just as well."

Sara eyes widened as she stood before Catherine, wondering if her interpretation of that last remark matched Catherine's intent. She opened her mouth to respond, then shook her head, briskly walking to the door and out of the break room.

Catherine reclined back into her chair with her case notes, the smile curving around her lips like the cream in her coffee.



Nick and Warrick processed the boys' bedroom, looking for evidence which could tell the story of Joey Zucker's death. Closer examination under the bed yielded no items beyond the towel. Warrick concentrated on picking his way through the dirtied clothing on the floor, while Nick pushed a dresser drawer shut, hard, with frustration. "How do we know that's the towel?" he fumed, exasperated. "This is a snipe hunt."

"Maybe, maybe not," replied Warrick, examining a pair of blue jeans.

"Are we even sure what we're looking for?"

"Evidence." Warrick set aside the jeans, reaching for a green T-shirt.

Nick pursed his lips, his chin and nose crinkling with disgust. "Thanks for the clarification. That was real helpful."

Warrick dropped the shirt and rose from his squatting position. "What's with you? You've been pissy since we got here."

"Nothing. Just how the hell do we find anything in this shit?"

"The way we always do, Nick. By doing our jobs." Warrick studied his pal, observing the discoloration under his eyes and the paleness of his face. "You didn't get any sleep, either, huh?"

"What?" Nick opened his mouth again, then hesitated, realizing that he could not bluff Warrick. "No. No, I didn't."

"And Grissom's behavior isn't helping, is it?"

Nervous animation overtook Nick's face as he began to reply. "No, I mean, what's with him? He was weird last night, and then he was like a zombie when we got here today. And Sara's the lead?" Nick shook his head. "The whole situation ain't right."

"I'm not sure it is, either, but you can't let Grissom's mood influence your work."

"Why not? He's so off on this case, and I've never seen him like this before. Usually, he's so—"

"Cool? Collected? Damn, Nick, the man's human. Just like us. Why shouldn't he get a little freaked?"

"But—"

"But nothin', man." Warrick's green eyes flashed, and he reached his hand up to his face to rub his forehead. "We all get affected, in some way or another, by the shit we see every day. Some days you deal better than others. But you can't let Grissom be your measure of how you handle a case." Warrick could see Nick's expression grow pensive. "He'll figure out a way to deal with, however he does. And you need to find your own way, and quick, or Sara will tan your hide if you screw up her case."

Nick's frame slouched, his head hanging in exhaustion and shame. "All right. I'm sorry, man, and I don't want Sara coming down on my ass." Nick made eye contact with Warrick, offering a half-hearted grin in apology. "How about I start going through that closet and break this case wide open?"

Warrick rolled his eyes. "Whatever, man. I'm gonna be on this floor, finding the stuff that'll put this to bed."

"Care to put your money where your mouth is?"

Warrick regarded Nick intensely, considering the possibilities.



Stifling a yawn, Sara shuffled down the bright hallway to the interrogation rooms. Day shift employees passed her with nary a glance, which was fine by her given her current mood. Her brain was still processing her earlier conversation with Catherine, puzzling over the seasoned investigator's last statement. Could Catherine see what Sara had been trying so hard to hide? The thought made her tremble slightly, not from embarrassment, but from Catherine's implication that Grissom might feel something of a similar nature. She wasn't sure if she could accept the idea at face value. Her tired brain could interpret the words in any number of ways, and Sara recognized the fact that Grissom had not done much in the way of showing his true feelings on the subject. Sure, she mused, he had sent her the spider plant in a bid to keep her at the lab, and had made that cryptic remark about becoming interested in beauty since he met her, but Grissom was Grissom: obtuse, introspective, deeply retreated within himself. There was no way of knowing how he felt about his choice of take out for lunch, much less trying to read his mind for signs of romance.

Coming to the door of the fishbowl room, Sara tried to push those thoughts out of her exhausted mind and focus on the case at hand. Brass had been grilling Darrell Wilson about the towel, and she couldn't afford any distractions right now, not until this case was over and she could go home and sleep.

As she placed her hand on the doorknob of the fishbowl, her wireless phone rang. Seeing Nick's number on the display, she answered. "What have you got?"

"How about everything you need to blow this case open?"

The wide smile covered Sara's face as she considered the possibilities.