Chapter 2- Deep Voices.

"Oh ...my ... God"

That was all Doc Robbins could say or think. It just wasn't computing. He could tell the cause of death of some bodies by just looking at them. But somehow, seeing one of his co-workers...friends on that familiar stainless steel table was just...unnerving. Frightening.

"Grissom..." he whispered. "It can't be you..."

He had to tell someone. Anyone. Catherine? Yes, Catherine. He had to tell Catherine. He quickly turned to get to the phone; and found himself slipping on the spilt Blue Hawaiian Coffee.

"ACK!" He felt himself fall towards the sharp edge of the table. He instinctly put his hands forward and stopped from colliding with the table, but the motion still kept him moving and found himself face to face with Grissom's pale and deathly face.

"I think I'm going to be sick for the first time" he moaned, and started to get slowly until he saw something strange on the corner of his eye, near Grissom's chin. Look like...he prodded closer,... latex? Skin colored latex?

"What the hell?"

He raised his gloved thumb and forefinger and pulled at the small piece of latex. To his surprised the latex proved to be bigger. He pulled some more. And bigger...and bigger! "What...?" The latex proved to cover Grissom's face, until it proved it was Grissom's face.

A mask. A convincing one too.

"What is this? A soap opera?" The doctor intoned.

Without the mask, the body looked like any other body. A body type similar to Grissom's. The man even appeared to be the Head CSI's age. Someone went to a lot of trouble to make this man look like a dead Grissom.

The phone rang. Al ignored it. He had more important things to do. Like examine the body for more clues. Why would someone do this? A sick joke? But why? More importantly, who?

After it's 26th ring, Doc Robbins avoided the spilt coffee and broken ceramic pieces and limped to the incessant phone. He picked it up and said rather harshly "Yes? Who is this?"

"Like my little joke Doctor?" a deep computer voice said.

The hairs on the back of Doctor Robbins' neck stood up. "Who is this?" he demanded.

"A person who seeks justice" the voice hissed.

"What kind of justice is this? Making a dead person look like another? This is more like a perverted joke!"

"Do not criticize things you do not comprehend, Doctor" the voice added a sarcastic tone to the last word.

"Why are you doing this? Why Grissom?" Robbins asked urgently. He needed more information.

"I have Grissom, that is all you should care at this point," the voice stated coldly.

Robbins froze. "You what?"

He could hear the smirk in the voice. "I have Grissom, and if you do not want his dead body to become a reality, you will follow my orders to the dot."

Fear clenched the doctor's stomach. For God's sakes he was a pathologist not a detective! He examined dead bodies for a living! What the hell was he supposed to do?!

"Doctor..." the voice said impatiently.

"Yes.. Whatever you say"

"Good. You will contact Catherine Willows and nicely ask her about a abuse/murder case that occurred 3 years ago. Then you will await my call the day after tomorrow at 7 p.m." said the distorted voice.

"How will you reach me? By this phone?" The doctor asked nervously.

"I will contact you" and with that the voice hanged up.

Al Robbins let the phone drop. The cordless clattered on the morgue floor. Shock cursed through his body. What was happening? Hostages and deep voice ransom calls? That kind of things happened in movies. Not real life.

But this was all too real.

He must reach Catherine. He must tell her everything. She was the CSI, she dealt in this kind of things! But so did Grissom...and look where he was. Still, she had to know.

The morgue's heavy metal doors slammed shut behind the rapidly limply figure of Doctor Albert Robbins