"Found her," Brass said with a grin as he plodded into Grissom's house. "She – or at least her car – is out on the edge of the city. King Street, to be exact."

Grissom, who had been slumped on the couch, head spinning, jumped up and nearly hugged the older man, but quickly thought better of it. "Where on King Street? Is she staying with someone? Is she ok?"

"Hey, calm down for a minute." With the help of an exasperated Catherine, Brass managed to push Grissom back into a sitting position before he keeled over from shock. "Like I said, we found her car on King Street. It's parked in front of number 28, but that's no guarantee that she's in that house, or anywhere else in the vicinity. Maybe she dumped the car."

"I'll go get her." Grissom jumped up again.

"No you won't!" Catherine said sharply. "First of all, you can't drive anywhere. That migraine medicine nearly knocked you out. Second, it's the middle of the night and it wouldn't go over well if a bunch of police types stormed the house of an innocent person at 4AM. Third, you know she doesn't want to be found. She said that when she called."

"Do you not get it?" Grissom asked bitterly. "I need to know where she is and that she's ok. I have to know that, at the very least."

"Maybe you should worry about yourself right now, Gil. What would make you think that after whatever earth-shaking fight you guys had last night, you can appear in front of her and even get her to talk to you, let alone tell you something meaningful or come home with you?"

Grissom was silent as the reality of Catherine's statement hit him. "I don't know," he finally said, defeated. "Just hope, I guess. Stupid reason."

"Not stupid," Brass cut in when he saw the pain on his friend's face. "Not exactly. Ok, so you guys had a knock-down-drag-out last night. It's not the end of the world, and I happen to think that you're not wrong to think that after a day apart, you guys would be able to try to talk it out."

"Yeah," Nick said suddenly. "I'm with Brass on this. You guys need to talk, and Sara's never been afraid of fighting it out when it comes to something important to her." Nick's search for Sara had been fruitless, and he felt like he was useless to his friends. He needed to do something to help. "You know what?" He jangled his car keys. "I'll drive you over there. Just you and me, and we'll knock on the door real nice and see what happens."

"I don't think . . ." Catherine began, but was cut off by Brass.

"No, Catherine, I think Nicky's right. Let them go."

Grissom sighed. "I don't know. Maybe Catherine's right. Maybe she really doesn't want to see me."

"Oh, come off it," Catherine muttered. "When was the last time you agreed with me when it came to Sara? You're wallowing again, Gil, and I'm not a big fan of that. Just go, get it out of your system."

The clock in her kitchen had just chimed five thirty when Susan heard the knock on her door. She quickly scanned her memory for any reason someone should be here this early in the day and came up with a blank. As she stood up to check things out, Ben came trotting out of the room where Sara still slept. He gave the door what Susan would have sworn a suspicious look, then walked to her side.

"Ok Bennie, now that we're all here, let's go figure out who the visitor is." Susan took a gentle grip on Ben's collar and led him toward the door. She checked the peephole first and nearly ran away to hide when she saw who stood on the front stoop: Grissom and one of those young guys who had been with Sara the night she was attacked.

She undid the deadbolt but left the chain on. "What?" she demanded, pulling the door open an inch. Ben put in his two cents with a deep growl.

The two men on the other side of the door exchanged cautious looks. "Hi, ma'am," the man who wasn't Grissom began. "My name is Nick Stokes and this is . . ."

"I know who you are," she retorted coldly, pulling the door open a little more so they could see her face. "I guess my memory is better than both of yours. You're the Texan," she said, indicating Nick. "And you're . . . him," she spat, looking at Grissom.

"Do I know you, miss?" Grissom asked, struggling with his still-foggy brain.

"I guess not," Susan retorted. "I repeat: what do you want?" Ben growled again, trying to get his head through the gap between the door and the wall.

Grissom looked down at the big dog and was hit with a flash of comprehension. "You're Susan. Susan . . . Akers?" When the woman didn't correct him, he pushed on. "We investigated your case. You know Sara."

"So?" She may have been sympathetic to the situation last night, but the fact that these men had flouted Sara's explicit request to be left alone did nothing to endear them to her. She wasn't going to invite Grissom or his friend into her home until she knew what he wanted and what his tactics were going to be.

"Look, Ms. Akers . . . Susan. May we come in, please? I have some questions for you about Sara."

"You're the one who got her pregnant," she said, glaring at Grissom. "I don't know anything about her that you shouldn't already know. Oh, and you're not coming in, gentlemen," she said in a mocking voice, "until I know exactly what it is you want. With Sara or with me."

"So she's in there?"

"Did I say that? I don't think so. I'll have you know that Sara's my friend. You, however, aren't, especially given what you did. I don't trust you any farther than I could throw you.

The younger man stepped forward again. "Listen, Miss Akers. I know that you maybe don't like us too much right now, though I'm not sure why, but we really need your help. Sara's lost and we're worried about her."

"Sara's fine. She told you that when she called you – the same time she asked you not to try to hunt her down. So don't worry." She began to shut the door.

"That's easy for you to say!" Grissom's voice floated in through the door. "You don't have to stand out here wondering if she's dead, or hurt, or just plain gone. You know where she is, Susan." His voice softened. "Please, help me. I just want to know that Sara is ok. She doesn't have to go anywhere with me, I just want to know that she's ok."

With a sigh, Susan acknowledged that the man did deserve to at least know that much. "Fine, she said," removing the chain. "Come in. But if you start threatening me or her, you're out of here, escorted by my dog's teeth."

Grissom nodded earnestly as he walked past the woman into her house. "No. No, I won't do anything like that."