Unbeta'd because my new beta, babythunder, is currently unavailable. So hopefully you'll still enjoy this. Same disclaimer applies; I don't own or am in any way affiliated with the show or Jerry Bruckheimer. Concrit greatly appreciated, as always.

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"Well," Martin said, "I guess we're out of suspects."

Sam glared at him from across the room where she was sitting at her desk, searching through phone records, not quite sure exactly what she was looking for.

"There has to be someone else," Vivian insisted, squinting against the harsh blue light emanating from her computer screen as she scrolled past endless lists of names and numbers, looking for something -- anything -- that could help them get any closer to Tricia Elliot. With every second that ticked by on the clock next to her, a knot formed deep in the pit of her stomach; reminding her that time was running out with every lead that proved to be a dead end.

"Hey." Jack greeted his team as he walked in, gazing expectantly at them. "Where's Danny?"

Martin shrugged. "He took off after we interviewed the parents. Said it was important and he'd come back later."

Jack nodded uneasily. "Sam, you find anything yet?"

"No," She answered curtly; avoiding any eye contact with him as she turned back to face the phone records once more.

"Jack?" Vivian asked. "Is Mr. Winters married?"

Quickly he opened the file he was holding and flipped to the page on Edward Winters. "No," he began, scanning the page, "but he is divorced. He has a fourteen-year-old son who lives with his mom."

"Where do they live?" Vivian asked, almost urgently, impatiently. The clock was moving too fast, almost mocking her, and everything else seemed like it was moving too slowly.

Jack looked up at her. "Just across town. Her name is Marjorie Winters."

Fingers flying, Vivian entered the name of his wife into the database and pulled up her information in a window next to Edward's. Turning back to face her boss, she explained, "Marjorie Winters lived in the same three towns as Edward, but at different times. According to this, she moved to the next town just weeks before he followed. And this is when they're divorced."

"He's stalking her?" Sam asked. "That still doesn't rule him out as a suspect in this case, though."

Martin leaned back in his chair and folded his hands in his lap. "Maybe she kidnapped those girls to frame him and get him off her back."

Sam frowned, furrowing her brow as she looked at Martin. "That's a little far-fetched, don't you think?"

Martin shrugged. Jack interrupted, "Sam, Viv, you come with me to Mr. Winter's. Martin, swing by Danny's and pick him up -- we'll meet you at Ed's."

--

Martin knocked, two sharp raps on the door that resounded in his ears and seemed to echo in the empty hallway. "It's me, Martin." He called when there was no answer.

Eventually the doorknob began to turn uncertainly, and he was gazing into the face of a woman, her eyes dull and dark, resting in the hollow cavities of her sunken, pinched face. He felt a chill when he made eye contact with her and quickly turned away after he did, feeling a pang of guilt much like the one he felt when he passed by beggars on the street without giving them money -- guilt caused by the knowledge that he should somehow help them, although he didn't know how.

Quickly she was pushed to the side -- gently, but still hurriedly -- and Danny's face was peering inquisitively at him. "Hey, Martin." He paused as Martin stood in the hallway awkwardly and he leaned against the doorjamb, the door still closed as to prevent Martin from seeing inside. "What's up?"

"Jack sent me here. He wanted me to pick you up and bring you over to Ed's, since there's been a break in the case . . . " He trailed off, shrugging his shoulders in what he hoped was an explanatory gesture. Reflexively he strained his eyes to see beyond Danny's head and into the apartment, catching himself moments later and stopping.

Danny sighed, and then pushed the door open. "You may as well come in."

Martin stepped into the apartment, uncomfortable in his surroundings. Half of the apartment was immaculate -- the magazines in the corner were stacked neatly and even placed in chronological order; the pillows on the sofa were carefully placed so as to look casually tossed while still giving the room an aura of comfort. On the wall was a calendar covered in streaks of blue ink, and in front of the hall closet every shoe was lined up with its match in a single, straight line.

But the sink was piled high with dirty dishes and the bathroom looked disheveled, as if a hurricane had raged through that room and missed the rest of the apartment. The second couch, parallel to the one with the throw pillows, was wrinkled and covered in blankets, currently inhabited by the woman who had previously opened the door for Martin.

"So." He said finally, shoving his hands in his pockets and feeling painfully out-of-place.

Danny shrugged in a gesture he hoped came across as nonchalant. "This is my sister, Estrella Alvarez." He watched as Martin cautiously shook hands with her, his strong hands enveloping her frail ones, and then continued: "Well. I guess we'd better be going."

Danny kissed Estrella on the cheek lightly and whispered something to her in Spanish. Then, as he turned to Martin, he appeared to be back to normal -- more energetic and good-humored, motioning towards the door as they walked out of the apartment.

--

"Mr. Winters?" Jack called, standing on the doorstep of a tiny house tucked away in the corner of a forgotten suburb, faded street signs pointing them in the direction of the home overrun with vines. A bundle of mail was stuffed awkwardly in the mailbox, envelopes of all colors sticking out in all directions. Some coupons and letters had fallen to the ground and littered the porch, lying next to the flowerpots that housed nothing but weeds and a small, faded American flag.

"Mr. Winters." Vivian repeated, exasperated.

Sam fidgeted, glancing at the sides of the house from her stance on the porch's step. "His car's here," she pointed out, smiling at the sight of the spotless black automobile amidst the brown, wilted vegetation of the lawn.

Jack knocked once more before pushing the door open. Silently the soles of his feet trod the beige carpet, which was covered in places with newspapers or magazines. The foyer lights were off and shadows fell over the hallway, making the light at the end of the path all the more prominent. Vivian and Sam followed closely behind as he opened the door to the kitchen.

Edward leapt up from his chair and stood behind the table as the agents filtered in. "Hey! Hey -- Don't you need a warrant to come in here?"

"Technically, yes. But we're not searching, we're just -- "

Edward's face fell as sudden realization dawned upon him. "Are you going to arrest me?"

"We just want to talk." Vivian repeated for what she felt was the thousandth time. Weariness overcame her, as the sleepless nights she had been spending finally seemed to catch up to her and she had to fight the urge to lie down and just give up already.

"No," he replied, becoming more frantic. "That's what you said last time." Jack had positioned himself so that he was next to Edward, while Sam and Vivian covered their sides of the kitchen.

Sam smiled at him reassuringly. "And nothing happened then, did it?"

Edward's eyes were darting from agent to agent, desperately searching for something. Quickly he reached behind him and pulled a gun out of his back pocket, holding it straight in front of him at Jack. His grip on the revolver was tight as his arms stayed remarkably steady, keeping the gun facing the man next to him.

Their eyes locked as Edward's eyes became less panicked and more focused, almost predatory. A low chill ran down Jack's spine as he heard a click from the doorway.

"Hello?"

Upon hearing Martin's voice, the spell that had kept Edward calm for so long seemed to shatter as he flinched and jerked the gun to his right, accidentally pulling the trigger and fragmentizing a glass vase that had been resting on the tabletop. The dark water that had been resting in the bottom of the container spilled over the front of Sam's shoes as it fell to the floor with an alarming crash. Jack breathed a barely audible sigh of relief, not permitting himself to see how close the bullet had come to Samantha.

From the other side of the room Vivian used her steadiest, calming tone. "Mr. Winters, why don't you put the gun down?"

Danny and Martin entered the kitchen as Martin surveyed the scenario: Vivian to the left of the table and Sam to the right, with Edward and Jack at gunpoint behind it. His mind raced to think of how he could handle this while sticking to protocol, but his many nights of studying and memorization all seemed worthless now -- he drew blanks whenever he tried to recall a certain procedure or technique that would help now.

"You think I did it." Edward swallowed hard, his hands beginning to tremble slightly. "I can't go to jail for something I didn't do."

Martin moved forward a little bit as he made eye contact with Vivian and attempted to silently communicate with her. "Well, holding our boss at gunpoint isn't likely to solve this, either. If you put the gun down, we can discuss this."

Suddenly the gun was thrust in Martin's direction, and a rush of fear shot through him. Edward's eyes were glinting and his arms even steadier than before, while Martin was beginning to tremble involuntary.

"Mr. Winters." Commanding his voice to stay flat, he raised one quivering hand in Edward's direction.

Jack looked at Vivian as Edward's finger tightened around the trigger.

And then Jack saw his opportunity -- Ed shifted his balance from foot to foot ever so slightly and left a gap where he was not focused entirely on Martin. Lunging with one hand for the gun and one for Edward's back, Jack shoved him hard to the right as his finger slipped.

The sound of the gunshot filled the kitchen before a body hit the floor.