Grissom leaned back in his chair. Lifting his glasses, he rubbed his aching eyes. It was now nineteen hours since Nick's kidnapping, and they had barely moved forward.
Warrick and Sara were going back over the Jackson case, covering every angle. Catherine and Grissom were working on the actual kidnapping. So far, neither team had found anything useful.
Grissom stood and left his office. After being bent over his desk for hours, he needed to take a walk and clear his head; get a different perspective.
Almost of their own volition, Grissom's feet carried him back to the parking lot and towards Nick's truck.
He saw it almost immediately. A manila envelope tucked under the wipers of Nick's truck. Quickly, Grissom slipped on a spare pair of latex gloves he had in his pocket and gently removed it from the windshield. Mindful of any evidence, he opened the envelope and pulled out the note.
"Grissom!" Greg jogged up to the supervisor. "There you are! I was just going back over the fiber Nick had found, and -." The lab tech paused when he realized Grissom still wasn't looking at him. "What've you got there?"
Grissom tucked the note back inside the envelope and began to hurry back to the lab. Puzzled, Greg followed.
The night shift supervisor didn't stop until he found Catherine going over some papers. He held up the envelope.
"We've got a ransom note," he stated, not noticing Catherine's startled glare. "We'll split this. You do prints and handwriting on the letter. I'll take the envelope."
Catherine pulled on some gloves and reached for the envelope. "What does the note say?" she asked.
"The kidnapper wants everything we've got on the Brian Jackson case," Grissom replied as Catherine scanned the note. "I guess this confirms our theory about the connection to that case."
"Gil, this note says 'we'," Catherine stated. "There's more than one person involved here."
"One of them's a guy," Greg spoke up from the doorway.
Catherine and Grissom turned as one to stare at him. "How on earth do you know that?" Grissom demanded.
"I was trying to tell you outside, just now," Greg answered. "There was a strange chemical residue on that fiber that Nick found at the dump site. I swabbed it and shot it on over to Trace. The results just came back. It's cologne."
"Cologne?" Catherine echoed.
Greg nodded. "It's not your cheap dime store stuff, either. Tests came back Eau d'lorel. Very expensive, and sold in only two stores in Vegas."
Grissom nodded. "Change of plans. Catherine, you do both the letter and envelope. See what turns up." He looked at Greg. "How would you like to go window-shopping?"
Greg raised his eyebrows, confused.
Nick let out a strangled sob of relief as the tape finally came free of his legs. Sitting up, he cautiously lifted the trapdoor and looked around.
Nothing.
Opening the door all the way, Nick hoisted himself up and crept to the door. Pushing it open, he peered outside.
He was in a backyard that was fenced off. Abby Jackson's home stood before him, all the window curtains drawn. His captors were nowhere in sight.
Nick slipped out into the open, glancing around furtively. He reached a corner of the fence and looked beyond the house to the street. What he saw made his heart leap into his throat.
A very familiar black Tahoe had just pulled up to the curb, and Warrick's lanky frame
was climbing out. Fearful that his captors might hear any shouting, Nick climbed over the chain-
link fence. Because of his injuries, his usual grace was replaced with clumsiness, and he crashed
onto the ground on the other side.
It was enough. Warrick altered his path to the side of the house toward the commotion. His gun was drawn, anticipating danger.
Nick, hugging his left hand tightly, staggered to his feet. ". . . Warrick . . . thank God . . ."
"Nick?" Warrick holstered his weapon and rushed to his friend's side, supporting him. "My God . . . You've been here all this time?"
Nick nodded, too overcome with relief to speak. Before either man could head back to the Tahoe, however, the cock of a hammer behind them made them freeze.
"Going so soon?"
Warrick moved so that he was shielding his friend from view. Tyler Brandt's cold eyes stared him down, the gun in his hand not wavering in the slightest. Warrick reached for his own weapon, cursing himself for putting it away, when a small grunt behind him caused him to pause.
Abby Jackson had appeared and was holding Nick flush against her. Her arm was wrapped tightly around Nick's throat, her gun pressed firmly against Nick's temple.
"Take your gun out slowly and hand it to Tyler," Abby ordered. "Don't try anything, or your friend dies."
Warrick met Nick's eyes, reading the anger, fear, and desperation there. Trying to send the younger man a mental note of reassurance, Warrick did as he was told.
"Keys, too," Abby commanded.
Warrick passed his keys to Brandt, then held his hands away from his body. "We're all cool here, right? Why don't you let Nick go?"
Abby's eyes flickered over to Brandt, and she nodded. Stepping closer, Brandt cracked the butt of his gun against Warrick's head. Warrick grunted and fell to the ground in a heap, unconscious. Abby shoved Nick to the ground by Warrick and leveled her gun at him.
Nick checked Warrick, making sure he was okay, then glared at Brandt. "Why did you do that? He didn't do anything but cooperate."
Brandt responded by striking Nick across the face with his gun. Blood spurted from a cut in Nick's lip, splattering against the side of the house.
"Let's load them into the car and move them to the marina," Brandt told Abby.
Abby raised an eyebrow. "Is that really necessary?"
"We were careful with this one," Brandt told her, gesturing to Nick. "But I'll bet his friend told someone where he was going. The sooner we clear out, the better."
Abby sighed. "It's a shame. We had a good thing going here."
"I'll take them to the boat," Brandt decided. "You get our things together. Tonight, we'll tie up these loose ends and move to the next site."
A chill went down Nick's spine at the exchange. One way or another, it would all end that night.
Greg strolled into the high-end boutique, trying not to be conspicuous while feeling very self-conscious. The other boutique had been filled with many men and women in expensive designer suits, and their stock of Eau d'lorel was very small. The last purchase had been made over a year ago.
This boutique was much smaller, and was run by a jovial-looking heavyset man in Armani. The man beamed at Greg.
"Good evening, young man," he greeted. "Is there anything I can help you with?"
"Yeah, actually." Greg walked up to the counter. "I've been all over town looking for this cologne for my father. Eau d'lorel. I heard you might carry it."
"You heard right." The man went to a cabinet and pulled out a bottle resembling a flask. "Your father has very exquisite taste. You're the only other person I've ever had ask for this."
"Only one other guy buys the stuff?" Greg asked, handing over the credit card Grissom had given him to use.
"Just the one," the man replied, ringing up the sale. "The scent is rather unique. Not too many men prefer it, but this guy does."
Greg flashed him a debonair smile. "He's probably as dashing and suave as me, right?"
The man snorted. "Not exactly. Bigger, more muscular. Football player type, which struck me as odd. Not too many guys like that wear a scent like Eau d'lorel."
Greg took the bag the man handed him and, with a cheerful farewell, exited the boutique. Turning around the corner, he climbed into the Tahoe beside Grissom.
Grissom set his recording equipment aside and took Greg's bag as the lab tech set about removing his wire.
"Not bad," he told the young man. "We'll make a CSI out of you yet."
Greg only grinned.
Catherine met Greg and Grissom in the corridor as soon as they returned. "Got only one set of prints from the envelope and note. They all belong to Nick."
"Handwriting?" Grissom asked.
"Nick's," Catherine replied.
"Anything else?"
Catherine hesitated. "I picked up some DNA from moisture on the note. It came from Nick, also."
"What sort of moisture?" Grissom wanted to know.
"Tears."
This pulled the supervisor up short. Unbidden, and image flashed before his eyes:
Nick, terrified and alone. At the mercy of God knew what sort of torture. Grissom's face hardened.
Catherine sensed danger and quickly tried to defuse her boss' anger. "We're getting closer, Gil. Any moment now-."
"Any moment now Nick might be killed!" Grissom raged. "The kidnappers are smart! They used Nick to cover up any trace of themselves, and we're no closer to finding him than we were when we started!"
"We'll find him," Catherine insisted. "Nobody's perfect, you've said so yourself. The kidnappers are going to make a mistake, and when they do, we'll be there to catch it."
"Plus we have the ransom note," Greg added. "At least we know Nick's still alive."
"That's right," Catherine agreed. "And as long as his kidnappers want something, he still has a chance."
Sara chose that moment to join their small group. "Hey, any you guys heard from Warrick? He was supposed to meet me here after visiting with Jackson's sister two hours ago."
Greg, Catherine, and Grissom exchanged looks. "Two hours?" Catherine echoed. "And no answer on his cell?"
Sara shook her head. "Nothing."
"Greg, how did that store clerk describe the man who bought Eau d'lorel?" Grissom asked.
"Built like a football player," Greg answered.
"That could be anybody," Sara stated.
"Including Abby Jackson's fiancée, Tyler Brandt," Grissom told her.
"What would they want with Nick?" Catherine asked. "He only met them once."
"Maybe once was all it took," Greg suggested.
"He could've seen something while he was there," Sara agreed. She looked at Grissom. "What was he doing?"
Grissom frowned. "He was looking around the living room. Something caught his attention in the roll top desk; I had to call his name a couple times to get his attention. But he never mentioned seeing anything worth drawing attention to."
"Maybe Nick saw something he wasn't supposed to and didn't realize it," Catherine supplied.
"We're still basing this off of speculation," Sara pointed out. "We don't have one shred of proof."
"No, but now Warrick's gone missing and Abby Jackson and Tyler Brandt may be the last ones to have seen him," Grissom stated. "I think that's enough for another house call."
"I'll go tell Brass," Sara volunteered.
"Meet you in the lot," Catherine said.