a/n: For those of you checking back today for a second update, here it is—

Hauntings

Samantha Davis.

32 years old.

Ambitious reporter.

Single, no kids.

Cause of death: suffocation.

Warrick frowned over the body. Even though she'd been bugging Nick, he didn't feel any satisfaction in her death. That was probably a good thing.

He snapped some photos of her, documenting the body. As he stepped back for a different angle, he noticed something beneath her. It was white, a paper of sorts.

He knelt down by it and snapped another photo. Then he moved a gloved hand and picked up the paper. It was folded.

"Warrick?" Grissom came to Warrick's side. "What is that?" Warrick just shook his head and started to unfold the paper.

Both men sucked in their breath when they saw what it said.

She won't bother you again, Nick.

Nick stared blankly at the book in front of him. He hadn't read a word since the team left. Part of him wanted to go along, but he knew he wouldn't be allowed to. Part of him was glad he was here, at the lab, where it was safe.

Grissom had called about the note.

Crane was still out there, and very much aware of where Nick was and who he spoke with. And now he's killed again.

For me.

A shudder ran through him.

"Oh, Nick," a voice said, interrupting his nightmare. "I didn't know you were back." Nick looked away from the book to see the receptionist.

"Hi," he said meekly and with a half-hearted smile. She smiled sweetly back at him.

"You have some messages and a package up front," she said. "I was waiting until you came back to tell you, but I guess you're back now." She smiled again, and went on her way.

Nick numbly stood up and followed her to the front desk. She handed him the wad of messages and a small package, and Nick went back to the breakroom.

Most of the messages were from the press, requesting interviews. They were old. Nick chucked them in the trash. He picked up the package. It was a padded envelope, with his name written simply on the surface. There was no postage on it.

Nick opened the envelope. There was something weighted inside. He dumped the contents into his hand.

There was a note and a watch.

Nick's breath stopped as he eyed the watch. It was his. The one Nigel Crane had taken. He just stared at it.

"Nick's going to torment himself about this," Sara commented to Catherine as they walked back into the lab.

"Yeah, well, he shouldn't," Catherine said. "We just need to get Crane." She sighed and brushed her hair away from her eyes. Ahead of her was Nick, sitting in the breakroom where the team had left him.

The two women entered the room. Catherine was stunned to see Nick completely still.

Except for his hand. It was shaking, slightly tossing around what he held.

She knelt by him, gently shaking him.

"Nick?"

He shook his head, as if to bring himself out of whatever shock he faced. He never glanced at Catherine or Sara, but merely held up the watch for them to see.

"It's mine," he said simply. Catherine shot a look to Sara.

"And . . ." Sara prodded. Nick swallowed.

"And Crane took it from me when . . ." He swallowed again, more urgently, like he was trying to keep something down. "It came to the front desk."

Catherine's jaw dropped. He's been here. Her eyes traveled from the watch to a piece of paper on the table top. She could see handwriting on it, and gently opened it.

Nick—I thought you may want this back, at least for now.

See you soon.

Nigel.

The CSIs divided up the evidence from Sam Davis' murder. Combined with the notes at the crime scene and with Nick's watch, there was enough to process.

But it wasn't as urgent. They all knew who did this. It was just a matter of finding him and stopping him before anyone else got hurt.

Nick hadn't moved much. He sat in a corner, watching the others work. He didn't dare go back to his hotel yet, although he didn't feel much safer at the lab anymore. Nigel Crane had just walked in and handed someone the package. Archie was pulling up the front desk's security footage right now.

This won't be over until he's caught. You can't go back to normal life. He didn't know if he'd ever be back to that. Nick watched as Greg scurried from his lab to Grissom's office, no doubt with DNA results confirming Nigel's crimes.

Nick wanted to help. Not just help, but stop this. He wanted Crane gone—one way or another. But how?

It wasn't enough to process evidence, theorize or chase dead ends. He appreciated everyone's efforts, but it hadn't gotten them anywhere.

And Crane's still out there, watching you while you look for him without results.

Nick sat up straight, a sudden thought in his mind. He quickly left the room and made his way to Grissom's office.

Greg was just leaving, and Nick didn't hesitate to shut the door behind him. Gil raised an eyebrow at that.

"What is it?" he asked.

Nick took a deep breath and started pacing the short width of the office. His ideas were still organizing themselves, and he was trying to solidify the courage he needed.

"I know how to get Nigel," Nick said. Grissom leaned forward. "You're not going to like this."

Gil raised an eyebrow at that.

"Go on."

Nick nodded and took another breath. "He's obviously following me still. We just can't see him." He stopped pacing and faced Grissom directly. "And I haven't made myself accessible lately."

Gil started to shake his head slowly. He was seeing where Nick was headed.

"Before you say no, hear me out," Nick interrupted. He quickly sat down, and paused a moment. The fear inside of him and the desire for life as he used to know it flooded him. He gulped and looked Grissom in the eye. "I'm not going to be able to move on and live my life if he's still out there. I'd run the risk that anyone I'm ticked off at would wind up dead. And I'd never feel safe."

"Yes, but if you're thinking about—"

Nick just held up a hand. "Gris, please!" His sudden outburst silenced Gil. "Please. What I'm suggesting puts me in danger, yes. But at least I'm expecting it. And we get to Crane quickly."

Grissom sighed and leaned forward on his elbows. He braced his chin in his hands and stared at his desk. "You want to be bait. How do you know he'll kidnap you again?"

Nick shot him a look. "You've seen the notes, Gris. He thinks our friendship has been interrupted." He had to fight back a gag reflex as he said that. "I just need to go out more. Make myself easy to kidnap again."

"Except this time with a tracker and microphone on you," Grissom said. Nick nodded, but noted Gil's look. He was glancing to the side, with a disbelieving expression. "You've been 'available' already, when he's seen you with Sam Davis. Why didn't he already take you?"

Nick opened his mouth to respond, but failed with any answer. He sat back in his chair, momentarily defeated.

Why didn't he already kidnap me again? Or why didn't he just come after me, before Jane Galloway?

Grissom's expression lightened with excitement and knowledge.

"You came to him," he said. Nick frowned.

"What?"

"You were at his house. You were investigating him, but Crane saw it as you willingly coming," Gil said.

"Even though he tied me up," Nick pointed out with a bitter twinge to his voice. "So if I went back to his house …"

"Or some place associated with Nigel Crane, he might just take the bait," Grissom finished.

Nick slowly smiled, despite the rising fear inside him. "So I take it you approve." Gil just raised an eyebrow again, but slowly nodded.

"Let's talk to Brass."