"Mr. Grissom," Chloe begged once Sara was gone. "Please. Believe me."

"Miss Haydn, you do know I'm a scientist?" Grissom asked.

"No. I don't really know much about you. That's why I'm here," she admitted softly.

"If you're lying to me, I know many ways to find the truth. That's my job."

"What kind of ways?"

"DNA testing for one. If you are my niece, DNA will tell me, not you."

Chloe bit her lip and tried not to cry.

"When were you born?"

"Pardon?"

"When were you born?" he repeated as if she were a dumb child.

"Oh…April fifteenth, 1981."

He raised an eyebrow, "You're twenty-two? My sister would have been very young to give birth to you in 1981."

"She was seventeen, sir. She was already pregnant when she left home."

Grissom felt his blood freeze. Yes…he had suspected this much. "What's your father's name?"

"George. George Samuel Haydn."

The name now rung a bell. Of course, Haydn was Chloe's surname but George Haydn…he'd known a George Haydn, once upon a time. This could not possibly be the same person.

"Where is your real mother?" Grissom snapped. "I would love to speak to her. This should clear up this whole situation and confirm that you're just an unhappy runaway and not some con-artist out to scam an older man out of money."

"If you want to find my mother, call Sunset Rest Cemetery in Phoenix, Arizona."

Grissom wilted on this inside but held an icy exterior. "Beg pardon?"

"My mother is dead," Chloe said, trying not to scream out of frustration and anger. "I never knew my mother. She died of ecclampsia during an emergency C-section on April fifteenth, 1981."

"And your father?"

"Killed in a car crash last winter."

"I have nobody left, Mr. Grissom," she said. "All I have now are Walker and Shane."

"Who are they?"

"My boyfriend and my son…they're really my only family. Before my father died, he told me about my mother's family. It was something he never talked about. Told me I needed something to pass down to Shane. He said that my mother was from California, came from a set of divorced parents, had an older brother—one she loved very much, one she looked up to. He couldn't remember his name," Chloe paused. "So I did a little research. Some genealogy programs and internet people-finders."

Grissom sighed and stood behind his desk. "Stay here," he ordered.

"I never knew the sound of her voice…I never knew what color eyes she had…I didn't even know her birthday," Chloe said, more to herself than anyone.

"Hazel. Rose's eyes were hazel," Grissom said, "like the color of autumn. Her birthday was November twenty-second. And her voice…was as sweet as Tchaikovsky's Waltz of the Flowers."

He left without saying another word and just as he expected, Sara was waiting outside, her ear practically to the door.

"Well?" she asked like an eager child.

"I need coffee and Greg," was all Grissom said.

"In that order?"

The pair walked down to Greg's lab, where the overworked scientist was still at his microscope. He looked up and smiled as he saw Sara saunter on in.

"Hey, Sara. I thought you went home," he said.

"Something came up," Sara shrugged, nodding towards Grissom.

"We need a blood test," Grissom said. "Sara, bring Chloe in here, please."

Sara left again, feeling miffed.

"What's up, Grissom?" Greg asked. "I have a lot of work to do…I had to cancel a date with Casey just because I—"

"Blood test."

"For what?"

Grissom paused, "Someone. A girl. She may be related to me."

"Related? How?"

"Greg, you're a lab tech. Not Oprah," Grissom sighed. He held out his hand. "Pick a finger."

Sara returned with Chloe a few minutes later. Greg performed the test with a sterilized needles, taking blood samples from Grissom and Chloe. He put them into his machine, pressed some buttons and closed the lid. Then he picked up Surfer's Weekly and sat back.

"It'll be a few hours."

While they waited for the results, no one spoke. It was eerily quiet—except for the low hum of Greg's machine.