A/N: Wow, thanks for all the feedback, I'm glad you're enjoying this so far.

Sorry can't tell you what is on the tape...temporary amnesia...hopefully this chapter will give you a few more clues though ;)

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Chapter Four:

As Grissom entered the break room, the knowing glances of its occupants clearly indicated that Nick had already relayed the conversation that had taken place moments before.

"Glad you could join us," commented Catherine, in her most irritating manner.

Grissom threw her a withering look, as he took a seat at the table. Looking down at the papers in his hand, he smiled to himself. 'This will fix that smug look,' he thought. "Catherine, Nick, suspicious rubbish sack found just out of town," he said. "Initial inspection revealed some kind of 'liquid' seeping out of the sack and a very pungent odour."

Nick glanced at Catherine, who had wrinkled her nose at the description of their crime scene. "Lemons?" he asked, disgust evident in his voice.

"Lemons," she agreed, standing and snatching the paper from Grissom's grasp.

"Have fun," said Grissom, giving her a smirk of his own.

"You'll keep," she muttered as she stalked out of the room, Nick following in her wake.

"That was harsh man," chuckled Warrick, his eyes twinkling good-naturedly as he watched his co-workers disappear from view.

Grissom turned and gave him a small smile in return. "No, that was enjoyable," he admitted.

Looking down at the last piece of paper in his hand, his expression became serious again. "Okay, you've got a suspected break in downtown," he explained. "Should be fairly straight forward but if you need assistance, use Greg. I don't want to call Sara in on her night off unless it's unavoidable," he instructed. Tensions had been strained between Sara and himself for some time, so a night where he didn't have to watch what he said or did was a welcome relief.

"Gotcha Griss," said Warrick, taking his assignment and heading out the door.

Satisfied that he had successfully managed to dispose of his investigators for the next few hours, Grissom headed back to his office. Walking over to his desk, he picked up one of the evidence bags lying there and proceeded to the A/V lab. 'Time to find out what is on this thing,' he thought.

Finding the lab empty, he walked over to the VCR station and pulled up a chair in front. Removing the tape from the bag, he placed it in the machine and sat down. Picking up the nearby remote, he aimed it at the machine and pushed play.

After a few seconds, the delicate sounds of percussion instruments filled the room. Intrigued, Grissom hit the volume button so that he could listen to the instruments more closely. A voice soon joined the instruments and Grissom leaned forward in his chair, cocking his head to one side as he tried to place the accent. So intense was his focus, as he listened to the sounds and watched the first images fill the screen he was completely unaware that someone else had entered the room.

"Watcha got there boss?" Greg's voice punctured the wonderful sounds coming from the speakers and tore Grissom out of his cocoon of concentration.

Caught unawares, Grissom scrambled to hit the eject button on the remote and jumped up to retrieve the tape from the machine, his mind ablaze with the images he had just seen. He turned to find Greg standing directly behind the chair that he had vacated so quickly, seconds before.

Puzzled by Grissom's jumpy reaction, Greg continued. "Sounded interesting," he prodded, raising his eyebrows in a hopeful manner.

"Oh it's just...er...just a documentary about grasshoppers," replied Grissom, saying the first thing that came to mind.

"Grasshoppers?" questioned Greg. "I thought I could hear music and someone speaking, kinda sounded like a Jamaican accent," he pressed.

Knowing that he had been caught again, Grissom had to think quickly for the second time that night. "Well done Greg," he said. "It's a documentary about Jamaican grasshoppers, species Dellia karstica. That was the narrator's voice that you heard. Now if you don't mind, I have work to do." He marched purposely past Greg without meeting the young man's confused stare, eager to reach the privacy of his office.

Once there, he shut the door and sank into his chair behind his desk. Placing the video in front of him, he removed his glasses and rubbed his palm over his face. Staring down at the tape, his mind tumbled over question after question. Who had sent it? How had they got those images? Had anyone else seen it? One thing was for sure, he couldn't risk viewing the rest of it at work. Sliding it into his briefcase to take home, he pulled his mind back to the job and reached for the first file on the stack of paperwork.

TBC...

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