Disclaimer: Not mine, but found them unattended.

Spoiler: No Humans Involved

Chapter 8 was intense. Didn't get so much feedback. Hope you are all hanging in there. There are many chapters to go yet, and I am still writing 3 chapters ahead of what I post. Thanks to those of you who have followed this story through its entire journey thus far.

Sheila

Chapter 9

The morning sun hit Sara's face like a laser. She blinked wildly, and tried to organize the bright lights in her face. Before her eyes could focus, strong arms reached down and jerked her out of the trunk. Her legs collapsed beneath her, and she would have fallen if not for the two men dragging her away from the car. She was on a driveway in front of a house. It looked like one of the many identical neighborhoods in the Vegas suburbs. The events of last few hours were falling into place in her mind, and a stab of fear gripped her. She struggled against the men holding her, but she wasn't strong enough to make an impression. Viktor opened the front door to the house, and beckoned wildly to them.

Her feet dragged as they pulled her up the front steps. They pulled her into a living room, hazy dark with all of the shades pulled. A woman was standing there in a bathrobe with a child perched on her hip. She had long, curly hair falling down her back, and Sara could tell she was upset. Viktor was moving through the house, pushing doors open and looking inside.

The woman looked Sara up and down, and then started yelling at Viktor. "I'm not putting up one of your junkie whores, Viktor, you hear me?"

Viktor ignored her. He had disappeared into the laundry room, and was ripping out a phone line. The child start squealing and struggling against his mother's hip. Viktor popped his head back into the room and started cooing at the child, talking to him in Russian. Then he looked at the woman.

"How is my son?" He came up to the child, and started to tickle him. The child grabbed at his mother and started to cry.

"Stop it, Viktor."

"Why does he cry? What do you say to him, Dolly?" He fixed her with a suspicious glare.

"Oh, for Christ's sake. You hardly ever see him. Can you blame him?" She jerked the child away from his grasp.

He pointed a finger in her face. "I blame you."

"Right, 'cause I've been sitting him down to a series of anti-Viktor seminars. Idiot! He's 8 months old!" Despite her defiance, she backed away from him.

"We going to put this girl in your laundry room for a little time." Viktor gestured at Sara.

"No way, Viktor. I am not a detox for your whores."

Sara was amazed as this somewhat domestic conversation went on in front of her. She wondered if she could stay on her feet if the men weren't holding her, and worried that the truth of it would show that she was unable to escape.

"She a cop, Dolly."

"Oh, shit, Viktor. How the hell could you bring her here? This is your son's home. No way. Get her out! You promised you wouldn't bring trouble into this house."

"No choice." He shrugged.

"You promised that you would keep us out of your business. Dammit, Viktor!"

He was fast. In a second, he had a hand on her throat. The child wailed. "Shut it, Dolly. If something happens to Viktor, you lose your big suburban wet dream. You hear me? On the streets. Maybe you go back to dancing, no? I don't think so. I have seen your stretch marks. You are good for nothing but a street corner. You ready for that, my sweet girl?"

She shook her head, a look of terror stamped on her face. He smiled at her and let go. Choking and gasping, she bent over, letting the child slide to the floor. He turned to the two men and Sara.

"Put her in the laundry room. I need to make a couple of phone calls before we have our party." He reached over and lightly slapped her cheek. "You ready to party, pretty police girl."

Sara's face burned. She didn't respond, but couldn't stop the tears form sliding down her face. With his meaty thumb, he wiped them off her cheek, and smiled at her displaying his yellowed, jagged teeth. Then he gestured at his goons. They pulled her over to the room, and shoved her through. She fell against a counter and slid to the floor as the door slammed behind her.

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The sun beat down on them as they gathered at the city park. Brass insisted on the CSI's in addition to the five plain clothes deputies. The energy in the group was electric. Grissom could barely contain himself enough to focus on the proceedings. His colleagues were even less calm. Nick paced the outskirts of the group like a caged animal while Greg kicked tufts of grass and soil out of the ground.

"Okay, people, our informant doesn't know an address. He only knows that Viktor has an ex named Dolly that lives within walking distance of this park. Our informant knows this because they did a deal in this park once, and Viktor walked back to the house." Brass rotated as he spoke making sure he was able to eye every person around him.

"We have the drug addresses. Let's bust them all." This came from a large deputy wearing a muscle shirt and a goatee.

"Not an option." Monroe spoke up. "We don't want to tip our hand. Besides, we are not at all sure Dolly would be a drug address. Our guess is that Viktor tries to keep the riff raff away from her. Our informant says that she has mothered a son for Viktor, and that he has been very excited about this. Says he bought her a house special for this."

"Our plan is this. In teams of two, you will each be given a neighborhood. We want you to knock on doors, and ask if anyone knows a Dolly. Tell them you found a monogrammed purse, expensive, in the park with her name on it, and you want to return to her."

Nick threw his hands up in the air. "You're kidding. This is our big plan. This could take all day."

Brass stepped forward. "It's the best we've got. If you get information pointing at a house, we regroup immediately. Understood?"

"Brass and I are going to keep a command post here at the park. We're going to need someone to run our maps here. Any takers?" Monroe held up an array of maps.

Greg stepped forward and took the maps

Monroe clapped his hands together soundly. "Good! Get your partner. Take a map. Brass has street assignments for you. We stay in radio contact. Any development should be called in immediately. Okay!"

Warrick grabbed a map, and nodded at Nick. They went off in search of a street assignment.

Catherine walked up to Grissom, map in hand. "Ready?"

"I can't seem to concentrate, Cath. I don't know if I can hold it together." He had taken his glasses off, and was wiping them on his shirt. He couldn't raise his eyes to hers.

She put a hand on his arm. "I can't even remember the last time we slept. Can you? We're running on fumes right now." She shrugged. "We don't have any choice, do we?"

He perched his glasses back on his nose. His eyes looked tired and red. "Right. You're right."

She put her arm through his. "Let's go, okay?"

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Sara pulled herself up on the washing machine. Standing, she let go. She was wobbly, but able to stay on her feet. Her legs were shaking and weak. A combination of the drugs, dehydration, exhaustion, and hunger had turned her into something of an invalid. Dizziness overtook her and she clung to the machine. She was both sweating, and chilled at the same time. She placed the back of her hand to her forehead, and was surprised at the damp heat she found there. She wondered if the fever was from the drugs or a virus or, worst case scenario, a dirty needle.

She slumped back to the floor and realized that even if she could get out of the room, she would never be able to outrun her attackers. Tears stung her eyes as the hopelessness of her situation became clear. Sobs escaped, and, for a time, she gave into her terror.

But lying on the floor waiting for something bad to happen was not Sara's style. She stopped herself after a few minutes, and pulled herself up onto her knees. She decided that she needed to know her resources. She pulled herself back to her feet, and started searching drawers. In the third drawer she searched, she hit pay dirt. She found a sharp pair of scissors. "Yes!" she whispered. She tucked into her jeans, and continued her search. Unfortunately, the drawers were largely empty, and found nothing else that was promising. She sank back to the ground, and considered her find. A scissors would definitely be helpful, but it wasn't enough to get through three men and an angry, ex girlfriend.

"Think, Sara!" She hissed at herself. There had to be something she could do that would make a difference. She saw a basket of dirty laundry beside her, and wondered what she could do with that. She turned over the basket, dropping clothes to the floor. A surprising clank sounded as the clothes spilled. Frantically, she shifted through the laundry, and at the bottom, she found keys on a key chain. She whimpered in relief.

Sitting back, she studied her find. There was a Honda key, and several other keys. The amazing part was that they were labeled carefully in small, neatly penned stickers. Rifling through them, she found a key clearly labeled, 'laundry room'.

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"I got an address! I got an address!" The voice exploded over the radio. Grissom stopped dead, and put the radio to his ear.

Brass' voice jumped in. "Deputy, what is your location? Over."

"I am at 1134 Tyler, and the home owner says Dolly's boy goes to the same daycare. Gave me the address off a list that the provider hands out in case of emergency."

"What's the address?"

"1254 N. Sugarhill Lane."

"Okay. Everyone rendezvous at the corner of…Greg! Find me a damn corner…ah, Fox and Karden in 2 minutes. Over."

Catherine listened in at Grissom's ear. She pulled out the map and quickly pinpointed the spot. Pointing ahead, she started running down the middle of the street. Grissom took off after her.

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Sara tried to formulate a plan, but it was hard to concentrate. Outside the room, she heard T.V. noises and the sounds of shouting, guttural sounds, not English. She wanted to wait until she could think more clearly, but she knew that they could be at the door at any moment, and, if she was still there when that happened, it really didn't matter what keys she had in her hand.

She turned the key in the lock, and eased the door open a few inches. She winced, waiting for Viktor or his thugs to just barge through on top of her. There was no change in the noises she heard. She peeked out, and found the hallway empty. It was hard to pinpoint what part of the house Viktor was yelling from. To her right was the kitchen and the living room, and to the left was a hallway leading to what she presumed were bedrooms. The door squeaked a little and she froze. She waited, but again nothing happened. Carefully, she closed the door and locked it, hoping that they would not notice her absence.

Sara reasoned that if she could get to the door, and out to the car, she had a chance of driving away before they could catch her. The trick was to be able to get past the doorway to the living room where the goons sat, and through the kitchen. Hugging the wall, she eased her way along until she got to the open doorway to the living room. She took a deep breath, and eased her head around the doorframe. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the two large men focused on the T.V. Viktor was pacing in front of them, yelling into a cell phone. She didn't know how to time this. There was no way to coordinate where all three of them would be looking at the same time. She was going to have to take her chances, and sneak past the door. The risk was tremendous, and she worried that her terror would overwhelm her. But she willed herself to act. Just as she was going to rush past, Viktor spoke in English:

"Eggs! I have not eaten today. Tell Dolly to make me eggs."

She heard the sticky sounds of a man pulling himself off a leather couch.

No! Wait! I don't want her out here. You make me eggs."

"How do you like 'em?"

"With the soft middle. Go!"

Sara turned around. He was going to be passing by her in seconds. The laundry room was not an option. It would take too long to open. She slid rapidly along the wall, trying to make it to the first bedroom. She didn't even look back to see if he was there. At the first door she hit, she turned the handle stiffly and backed into the room. She then carefully closed the door. A click sounded and she jumped.

"What are you doing here?" came a voice behind her. She whirled herself around to find that she was in the nursery, and there Dolly sat with the baby in a rocking chair.

Sara pulled the scissors from her pants and shifted away from the door. Her limbs trembled, and her hair plastered itself onto her sweaty face.

"Going to do something with that?" Dolly watched the scissors.

Sara licked her lips. She wanted to be able to reach over and grab the woman, scissors to her neck, in order to ensure her cooperation. But there lay the baby, cheeks rosy pink, nestled in his mother's arms; the only real innocent in the entire house. She couldn't do it. She was weak, and if they struggled with the scissors, the baby would be in the way. In exasperation, she sagged against a corner and sank down to the floor. Wiping the hair away from her face with her free hand, she could think of nothing to do but look at the woman and whisper, "please."

Down the hall, a voice erupted, and Sara stiffened. "Dolly, did your door open? Stupid here says he saw your door close. Do you want to make trouble with me?"

Sara closed her eyes. There were no options left. She could barely make it to her feet, let alone fight several people and then escape. She put a hand over her mouth to stifle a sob and waited.

Dolly stared at her intently.

"Dolly! Don't make me come to you!"

Dolly let out a deep breath. "Viktor!"

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