Author's Notes: This is the bulk of it; I'll be posting the conclusion just as soon as I edit it. And I'm definitely thinking this is my first and last case file fic, I may have to stick to short character pieces from now on...

Warrick tiredly headed back into the lab. He had been at the casino for hours, going over the security tapes. None of the angles captured the door to Mark Call's room exactly, and if someone had been trying not to be seen, they would have been able to sneak under the radar and into the room without a trace. He had gone over the tapes to the hotel entrance next, trying to see if Viva ever entered the casino, but he found no trace of her there, either.

Either she had been disguised, or Nick was right and she had not been there at all. Something was still off about the whole thing, and tired as he was he wasn't ready to quit.

He pulled up short when he saw Greg in one of the labs, sorting through a large pile of items. He entered the room. "Hey, what are you doing?"

Greg glanced up at him. "With Nick off the case, Grissom asked for some help. I'm going over some of the items Catherine brought back from the vic's house."

Warrick grabbed a pair of gloves. "Need any help?"

Greg nodded before turning back to the mail they had collected. "Bills, bills, and more bills. I'm not seeing any other threatening letters, and his stuff is pretty standard. Chances are the killer found him at the hotel and was never even in his house."

Warrick, who had grabbed a photo album and begun flipping through it, shook his head. "I don't think your odds are as solid as you think," he said, sliding the photo album towards Greg.

Greg glanced up and looked down at it. "Viva Charles," he said quietly. She was in the picture, sitting with Mark Call on his living room couch, smiling for the camera.

Viva Charles found herself back in the interrogation room, and this time the atmosphere was tense. The eyes across from her held no semblance of sympathy, not like Nick's had, and after what she had just learned she had no desire to toy with any of them any way. One of her old boyfriends had died, and the CSIs had come to her door with a warrant to search. "I want to talk with Nick," she demanded.

Brass looked down at her and shook his head. "Nick Stokes isn't working on this case. I'm afraid you'll have to settle for us."

"You drag me down here, you tell me Mark is dead, and now, what? You think I did it?" she yelled. "Haven't we been through all this once before? I'm not a murderer."

Grissom watched her calmly. "Where were you at one o'clock today?"

"I was with Nick," she said, leaning back in the chair and glaring him down. "In bed, if you must know. But I'm sure he told you that."

Grissom grinned wryly. "I wanted to hear it from you. You didn't leave at any time during the afternoon?"

Viva crossed her arms and leaned back in the chair. "No. Look, I haven't talked to Mark in years. I didn't even know he was still living here--you're looking in the wrong place."

"Two people that you have been involved with have received threatening letters. One of them is dead," Brass snapped, walking to stand beside the table. "That's a pretty big coincidence if it has nothing to do with you."

Viva's eyes slid in his direction. "Two people?" She looked back to Grissom. "Nick?"

Grissom tilted his head back, and it was answer enough.

Viva bit her lip. "Look, Nick is a great guy, I would never do something to hurt him."

Catherine entered the interrogation room, holding a manila folder and small brown bag. "Then I don't suppose you would know anything about that bruise under his eye?"

Viva glared at her, and Grissom turned slowly in her direction. "Catherine, good of you to join us."

Catherine smiled at him. "I am sorry I'm late. Sara just had something dropped off from her search." She opened the brown bag, and placed a small male doll on the table. It was wearing jeans and a backwards cap, a little plastic cigarette hung between its lips. "Looks like the same dolls in the letters, doesn't it? Granted it's in a little better condition and still has a head, but I had Greg analyze the plastic against the remains of the doll found on the victim, and from what he can tell, it's a clean match."

Viva shook her hair out of her eyes. "That doesn't prove anything. They sell those at the cigarette stand in a liquor store I go to. It's where I buy my matches. Anyone could get one."

"Ms. Charles," Grissom said slowly. "Did you ever give one of these dolls to a boyfriend?"

Vive looked down at the table, and tapped one of her fingers on the tabletop. The tip of her acrylic nail clicked against the metal in a quick, uneasy tempo.

"Ms. Charles?" Brass prompted tightly.

She looked up defiantly. "I've given one to all of them."

"I don't like this, Grissom," Catherine snapped as they walked back to the lab. "She's just going to walk out of here…"

"We have nothing to hold her on," Grissom said reasonably. "Sara is still at her house, if she finds anything we'll be the first to know."

Catherine caught sight of Nick in the break room, and motioned to the door. Grissom nodded and they entered. "Hey, Nicky," she said. "Does this look familiar?"

Nick glanced up, saw the small doll and leaned back against the counter with a sigh. "Don't tell me it's the same as the one found on the murder victim."

"Got it in one," she said. "Still think your little girlfriend is clean?"

He pursed his lips together. "Catherine, she's not a murderer. She's obviously a piece of the puzzle, but it doesn't make her guilty and you know that--"

"Hold on," Grissom interrupted. "Nick's not working on this case."

Nick let out a frustrated sigh and dropped down on a chair. "I was answering a question."

"Nick," Catherine said quietly. "Viva used to be involved with Mark, just be careful, okay?"

Nick placed his head in his hands. "That's where I recognized him," he said in realization. "She has a wall covered in pictures."

Catherine's eyes snapped to him. "Where?"

He looked up. "Her bedroom. Why?"

Catherine grabbed her cell phone, and started towards the door without answering. "Sara? Check the bedroom."

Catherine took the steps two at a time, and stepped into Viva Charles's bedroom on the second floor. She dodged matches and clothing to join Sara at the other side of the room. Sara heard her enter, and spoke without turning.

"It's like a shrine," she said. "All her old boyfriends, or at least the ones that made the cut. Guess who's being featured this week?"

Catherine came to a stop beside her. A large picture of Nick was tacked dead center in the collage. "I've got a bad feeling about this."

"You're telling me?" Sara asked dryly. "This girl could compete with Nigel Crane on the compulsive scale. And you're not going to believe this, but she's got a numbering system."

"You're kidding," Catherine said in disbelief, glancing over at Sara.

Sara smiled tightly and nodded towards the pictures. "Nick's lucky number seven. You would think someone this organized with their boyfriends would have better luck hanging up their clothes."

"How many have you found?" Catherine asked quietly, her eyes roaming over the board.

"Seven," Sara said simply. "They've been ordered. Mark was number one." Sara motioned to a picture of him off in the corner, a small number one was scribbled in red marker on the side of the photo.

"Collect them," Catherine ordered. "If this is a serial, we've got to find these guys before the killer strikes again."

"Don't we have Viva in custody?" Sara asked.

"We had nothing to keep her on. Besides, Nick seems convinced she's innocent, he could be right." Catherine's eyes flickered back to his photo, and the small seven in the corner.

"I have less than stellar confidence in Nick's taste in woman," Sara snapped. "And he's sometimes too willing to believe a suspect is innocent."

"And sometimes I'm too willing to believe they're guilty," Catherine countered. "We all have our downfalls, Sara, that's why we work better as a team." Her eyes narrowed as she caught sight of a photo hidden beneath the others, the corner burnt. She snapped on her gloves and carefully pulled it out.

"What do you have?" Sara asked.

Catherine held the photo up. It was Viva sitting on a park bench with a man, and where his head was had been burned, a neat hole blocking out anything above the neck. "Number eight, maybe?" she whispered.

"Or zero," Sara said with a raised eyebrow. "I'm guessing her numbering system is chronological," she said in explanation. "And this guy looks like one she doesn't want to remember. Maybe first love?"

"Why don't we ask her?" Catherine asked, and Sara grinned.

"You can ask her more than that once we track her down again."

Catherine and Sara turned at the voice, and saw Brass standing in the doorway with a frown. "We got a call about a half hour after Viva left the station. Wife came home from the grocery store and found her husband dead on their bed, I just came from the scene--guy was strangled, and here's the best part--"

"You found a souvenir," Catherine whispered. "A burnt doll."

Brass nodded, and Sara sifted through the photos before pulling out the one labeled two. "And is this, by any chance, our D.B.?"

Brass stared at the picture and his eyes widened. "Damn. You girls are good."

"Not good enough," Catherine said with an angry shake of her head. "If we'd had another hour we might have saved him."

Catherine put up Nick's picture in the briefing room, beneath a seven, the last in a row of the pictures they had taken from Viva's house. Sara leaned against the table behind her. She examined the set up carefully. "So we know three of the seven, our D.B.s Mark Call and David Clark--and Nick. We should run the other pictures, see if the DMV can find us a match. We've got to find these guys."

Grissom entered the room, and held up a small book with a grin. "That might not be necessary. I stopped by to help Warrick with the other items you brought back from Ms. Charles's home, and found this."

"A diary?" Catherine asked.

"An address book," he corrected, laying it down on the table. "There's a section labeled 'special', and there's only seven names there." He flipped to the right page and Catherine and Sara glanced over his shoulder. They were numbered again--neatly down a row, with phone numbers on the opposite page.

1. Mark Call

2. David Clark

3. Simon O'Neil

4. Aaron Breece

5. Chad Thompson

6. John Lindsay

7. Nick Stokes

"If she is our killer," Catherine said with a raised eyebrow. "She certainly makes our job easier."

Grissom nodded. "There's still been no sign of her, so we need to contact them. See if they received one of the notes, warn them, offer protection."

"We're on it," Sara said, taking the address box.

"Actually, can you handle it?" Catherine asked, as she backed towards the door.

Sara nodded, looking bemused, and Grissom stepped beside her. "I'll help her--what are you thinking?"

Catherine grinned at him, and then stepped into the hall. "I just have some questions for Nick."

Catherine found him in the lab, leaning over the counter and looking into a microscope, Greg standing beside him. "Hey, guys. What are you working on?"

Greg turned to her, grinning. "Nick's been helping me out for a change."

Nick laughed and stood up. "I was bored--and even though I'm off the case, Grissom wanted me here in case you guys needed me. Greg kindly offered to allow me to do his grunt work."

Catherine grinned wryly. "Well, I'm glad you're still here--I have questions."

Nick crossed his arms and leaned back against the counter. "Fire away."

"Viva gave you one of the dolls, right?" she asked.

Nick raised his eyebrows. "One with a head, yes."

Catherine watched him carefully. "Anything suspicious about the way she did? Creepy comments you didn't really think about, but might be meaningful?"

"She's strange, Catherine," Nick said with a laugh. "She said all kinds of things, but she's just…quirky--she didn't do this." Nick sighed and looked over at her. "I heard about the second D.B., and even if you could make a case that she left the station and went directly to his house, pulled off a murder, all within a half hour, she wouldn't do it. There's no motive--she said she hadn't seen that guy for years."

"To be honest with you, Nick, I'm not sure I believe anything she said. And the pictures…the numbers, it doesn't look good."

Nick's arms uncrossed and fell to his side. "Numbers?" he asked, confused.

Catherine looked at him in surprise. "Yes. All the photos had numbers, you were number seven, just like on the doll."

Nick shook his head. "Catherine, I was in that house this afternoon, there were no numbers on any of the pictures."

Catherine paused, momentarily thrown by the unexpected testimony. "You said you had a fight," Catherine said. "Maybe when you left she thought it was really over, she was angry, she decided to make her plans clearer--"

"Or maybe the killer was in her house," Nick interrupted firmly. "Maybe you should check those photos for prints. They might not all be hers."

Catherine bit her lip, and placed one of her hands on the table. "You think someone came in, and labeled the pictures?"

Nick shrugged. "Maybe we're dealing with a stalker--possessive, wants to get rid of anyone that might come between them. All I'm saying, Catherine, is to explore all the angles. I really don't think Viva is capable of murder, not to mention the lack of any real defensive wounds on the D.B.s--whoever subdued them was strong and didn't give them a chance to fight back, and Viv acts tough, but she's a lightweight."

"I thought you weren't working on this case," Greg said, looking smug.

Nick grinned at him. "I'm not. It doesn't stop me from thinking about it."

Catherine nodded. "Alright--I'll check the photos for prints." She walked to the doorway and then turned back. "You keep thinking, Nicky."

Greg turned back to Nick once Catherine had gone. "You really think Viva is innocent?"

Nick sighed. "Yeah--but the evidence doesn't lie, and it's not looking good."

"You just made a pretty good case to defend her," Greg pointed out.

Nick turned and grinned weakly at him. "Right now, there isn't enough evidence to rule out anything."

Nick's cell phone rung, and he flipped it open. "Stokes."

"Nick! I need to see you, it's important."

Nick turned away from Greg, who followed his movement with suspicion. "Where are you?"

"I'm in my car--meet me at Carlson Liquors. Nick, I didn't do this, I need you to believe me. Please, come meet me. I want to talk with you, and then I'll come back to the station with you."

Greg was straining to hear, so Nick gave him a hard look and moved further away. "Why don't you just come now?"

"I need to see you first. Please, Nick."

Viva's voice was breaking over the words, and he thought she sounded like she was crying. He closed his eyes, and resisted the urge to angrily hit the wall. He knew what he should do--and he knew what he was going to do. If Grissom found out, he was going to kill him. "Sit tight, I'll be there." Nick hung up the phone, and turned to face Greg, who was trying his best to look casual and not at all like he was eavesdropping. "I've got to run an errand."

"What kind of errand?" Greg asked promptly.

Nick smiled disarmingly. "Just got to pick up a few things, I'll be right back, Greggo. Don't worry."

"Grissom wanted you to stick around," Greg said cautiously.

Nick shed the lap coat and grabbed his jacket from the chair. "I'll be back before he even knows I'm gone."

Greg fell back into his chair as he watched Nick leave, and then nervously tapped his pen along the counter. He toyed with the idea of calling Grissom to give him a heads up, but dismissed it. He wasn't going to get Nick into trouble over nothing. He sighed, and looked up as the computer began printing a read-out. He just hoped it really was nothing.

"So these are our guys?" Sara asked.

Grissom nodded. They watched the next four men on the list through the glass, they were all sitting in the hallway, half of them looked anxious, and the other half just looked irritated. "Simon O'Neil, Aaron Breece, Chad Thompson, and John Lindsay. All of them received the same messages and dolls. Once we explained what was going on, they were more than happy to come in. I'm having Warrick check the messages for prints, but like with Nick's and our D.B.s--"

"They'll probably come back clean," Sara said wryly.

Grissom tilted his head in acknowledgement. "Aaron Breece and John Lindsay," he said. "The two on the end, both say Viva couldn't have anything to do with this. The other two are demanding she be arrested--they both say she's insane."

"The difference between a good a break up and a bad one, I guess," Sara said with a small grin.

"Chad Thompson actually had a restraining order against her a year or two ago, said she kept throwing ashes all over his porch and torching his garden. He had an affair with Viva, and after she came to his house a few times the wife figured it out."

"You think he could be a suspect?" Sara asked.

"Right now?" Grissom asked. "They're all suspects. The one playing with the lighter is Aaron Breece. Another pyromaniac."

Sara nodded. "So it's possible he's behind the notes. The burned dolls, the threatening message. If they were smart they would have sent one of the letters to themselves--it takes the suspicion off them if they're potential victims."

Grissom nodded. "Only problem with that theory is, if they're killing in order--"

"What do they do when they get to themselves?" Sara filled in resignedly. "If one of them was skipped over, it would give them away."

"I've got something," Catherine said briskly, as she joined them. They both turned to look at her. "There were no prints at all on the photos we collected from her house. Someone wiped them clean. And that might tell us more than if they'd been covered in Viva's. Nick may be right--there might be someone else behind this."

Sara nodded. "Maybe our zero," she suggested.

Grissom raised his eyebrows. "Maybe she's a neat freak and she didn't want smudges on her pictures?"

Sara grinned over at him. "You weren't at her place. Not a neat freak. I seriously doubt she's ever dusted in her life, let alone worried about fingerprint smudges."

Catherine sighed, and turned to look at the first picture they had tacked up--the man with his face burnt out of the picture. "Either way, we should find this guy. There's five lives at stake."

"They're all safe for now at least," Sara said, nodding towards the glass window that showed the men waiting in the hall. "We rounded them up."

Catherine turned and her eyes ran over them. "Not Nick," she said.

Grissom frowned and walked to the phone. "I'll page him. He said he was going to stay around the lab."

She nodded. "Just call Greg's office," Catherine said. "Nick was helping him out the last I saw him."

Grissom dialed the phone, and Greg answered on the first ring. "Greg, have you seen Nick?"

"He's not back yet?" Greg asked, sounding concerned.

"Back?" Grissom snapped. "Where did he go?"

"I don't know, he left for an errand--"

Grissom hung up before Greg could finish, and dialed Nick's cell phone. Catherine and Sara shared a concerned look, and on the line, Grissom listened to it ring, but no one answered.

Nick walked up to the liquor store entrance, but the store was dark, except for one flickering bulb behind the counter. He stepped forward when he noticed the door was ajar, and turned to look behind him. Viva wasn't standing on the street, so he carefully pulled the door back and stepped inside.

His phone started ringing, caller id placed the call at LVPD, and with a wince he turned the phone off. If he answered now they would ask where he was, and he didn't want to lie, but he had to see Viva before he told them where she could be found. He stepped further inside, and noticed the dolls Viv loved so much lined up on the front edge of the counter, following his every move with their little plastic eyes. "Those things are really starting to creep me out," he mumbled, before turning to look back towards the street.

He heard a crash behind him and spun, his hand falling down towards his weapon before slowly pulling it out, his eyes scanning the darkness. "Viv?"

No one answered, and he felt a flash of air behind him, a quick movement--and before he could react something connected with the back of his head. His eyes rolled backwards slowly, and as his legs went limp, he began falling towards the floor.

Catherine pulled the SUV to a stop and jumped out onto the pavement. Two other doors slammed after hers, and as she moved to grab her kit, Grissom and Sara were already heading over to talk to Brass. She pulled the kit from the back and walked to join them.

"A patrol saw his car, called it in. But there's been no sign of Nicky," Brass said with a sigh.

Grissom turned to look at Nick's car. "It doesn't look like there was a struggle near the car. Sara, why don't you process it anyway--see what you can find?"

Sara nodded and headed back towards the car. Grissom turned to Catherine. "Why don't we--"

"Go across the street," Catherine said, nodded to the other side of the road. "A liquor store."

Grissom followed her line of sight and gave a small grin that was quickly washed away by worry. "Let's go."

Brass followed them into the store. An out to lunch sign hung in the window, but the time it said he would return had passed ten minutes before and a man stood behind the counter, watching the activity outside with interest.

Grissom took the lead and flashed his id badge. "I'm Gil Grissom and this is Catherine Willows, we're with the crime lab. This is Detective Brass. We have a few questions."

The man looked to be in his forties, and there were lines on his face Catherine thought might be premature--considering he was working behind a cigarette stand in a liquor store she wasn't surprised. "Dave Landers," he said, before looking at the criminalists with interest. He ran a hand through thin brown hair, and the strands fell back into his eyes. "What's this all about?"

"One of our guys is missing," Catherine said, her eyes straying towards the dolls lining the counter. "His car is across the street. We have reason to believe he may have stopped here."

Dave shrugged. "If he was, I didn't see him. When I got back from lunch the police were already here. I thought there was an accident or somethin'."

Catherine smiled tightly. "Was that truck out there already here when you left?"

The man shook his head. "I've never seen it."

Grissom picked up one of the dolls, a distracted look moving to cloud his eyes. "Do these sell well?" he asked.

The man smiled and leaned back against the wall behind him. "Nah. Hardly ever. This one crazy chick practically buys me out of them, though."

Grissom's eyes flicked to his. "Viva Charles?"

The man's eyes widened. "Yeah. Hey, she got something to do with all this?"

Grissom didn't answer as he turned to examine the store. His eyes narrowed as he caught a flash of silver, and he lowered to his knees. He snapped on one of his gloves and lifted it from the floor. "Catherine," he said. "Does this look like Nick's cell phone to you?"

Catherine stepped forward as she placed on her own gloves and took the phone from his hands. She flipped it open, and when she turned it on it flashed the message 'Hello, Nick.' "This is his," she said, moving to check his call history. She sighed when she recognized the number. "And the last person he talked to was Viva Charles."

"Damn it," Brass snapped. "He came here to meet her. And now…"

"Don't say it, Jim," Catherine snapped. "We don't know anything yet. There's no blood, there's not even a sign of struggle." She spun back around to face the cashier. "Do you lock up before you leave for lunch?"

"I sometimes forget," he said. "But I'm only gone for like fifteen minutes, it's never been a problem."

Grissom glanced at him. "And did you forget today?"

"The door was open when I got here," he admitted. "But nothin' was stolen."

Catherine's eyes rolled to meet Grissom's. "What are you thinking?"

His eyes roamed over the room. He could see in his mind Nick enter the store, the lights turned off, his hand hovering over his hostler. He could hear him call out Viva's name and then see a shadowy figure appear behind him, a bottle of whiskey held almost tightly enough to break. Nick starts to spin around when he hears the motion behind him and the bottle swings down, sending him to the ground.

He turned to the wall beside the door as Nick and his assailant melted away to nothing. There was a small drop of amber liquid lodged in the corner. He tilted his head and pulled out a swab, leaning down to collect it. He lifted it to his nose, and smelled the alcohol. "When you returned," he asked Dave without turning. "Was anything broken, maybe a bottle on the ground?"

"No. Why?" he asked.

A fleck of glass caught his attention when it reflected a flash of light, and he pulled out his forceps. He lifted it up, and on the edges of the brown glass he could see red. "I'm going to have to ask you to leave for awhile, Mr. Landers. This has just become a crime scene."

Behind him, Catherine lowered her eyes to the ground.

He woke to the sound of dripping water. Each time one drop slipped to the ground it would echo in his head, waves of pain spreading outwards as he tried to place where he was. His hands where pulled somewhere above his head, he could feel the rope burning his wrists. He moaned and tilted his head back. It connected with hot concrete, and tears stung his eyes as the gash on his head sprung to life.

He opened his eyes, and through a blurry layer of confusion and tears he saw a door across from him, shelves lining the walls. His feet weren't bound but it hardly mattered, he could barely move at the moment and the ropes around his wrists were not going to be easily undone.

He could feel wet cotton on the tip of his tongue. A gag had been wound around his head, and forced between his teeth. He closed his eyes and when he opened them again he could see things somewhat clearer. He thought he was in a storage closet of some kind, and a bottle of water was on its side on the second self, water slipping slowly towards the ground--the sound of it connecting with the concrete and slicing through his aching head.

And near the door one of those dolls lay broken, a matchbox by its side.

"Hit the lights, Catherine," Grissom said, as he pulled a spray bottle of Luminol from his kit. He sprayed it on the door and the wall beside it, the ground and the edge of the counter. A few small specks showed up blue, but it was barely enough to swab and some of it could months old.

"No blood," he said.

"No blood splatter means he was probably only hit once. That's good," Sara said as she walked through the door. "I have O'Riley dropping off that piece of glass to Greg for analysis. What do you want me to do here?"

Catherine looked over at her. Sara looked edgy, and she could hardly blame her. This wasn't exactly a usual case, and Nick's life was on the line. She stepped over to her. "Why don't you check behind the counter? See if you can find any sales records. I'd like to know who has been buying those dolls."

Grissom glanced up. "Mr. Landers said he only sold them to Viva. You don't believe him?"

Catherine shrugged. "I'm just exploring all the angles. Nick is absolutely convinced Viva isn't behind this, and it wouldn't hurt to check. Landers gave us permission to look wherever we'd like--albeit reluctantly."

Grissom nodded and looked back out the window where Landers was arguing with Brass. He had a bad feeling they were running out of time. Dealing with cases like this was always very different than their ordinary routines--when the people in trouble weren't dead every move you made just let the seconds slip away.

Sara went through the drawers and files. "I can't find anything. Places like this don't usually keep very thorough records."

"I didn't think they would," Catherine said with a sigh. "What's the status on the other guys? 3 through 6?"

Sara shrugged. "They're still at the station but they're getting anxious. Brass offered them all police escorts but none of them seemed to like the idea. Lindsay was the only one that agreed, the others just want to finish answering questions and go home."

Catherine shook her head. "People don't make it easy to keep them safe, do they? And what the hell was Nick doing going to meet Viva anyway?"

Sara bit her lip and looked down, Grissom just shook his head. "Recriminations aren't going to help anyone, Catherine."

"Yeah, yeah," she snapped, running her flashlight over the shelves of liquor. "I'll save the recriminations for later--after we get him back."

Sara and Grissom said nothing else, because though they wanted to believe that, they were both unable to voice the hopes out loud and so casually as Catherine had, as though it wasn't a hope at all and simply the truth.

Greg glared angrily at the printer, waiting for the results. He had taken a DNA sample from glass shard that had been brought in, and he knew with a sinking feeling it would come back as Nick's. None of them were supposed to be on the other side of the microscope, they were investigators not the victims. He knew logically that all of those horrible things that happened to the people brought here could just have easily have happened to any of them, but knowing it logically and facing it were two entirely different things.

Archie appeared at the doorway. "Is it true about Nick?"

Greg glanced at him. "Bad news travels fast," he said tightly.

"No kidding," Archie said. "I just saw it on the channel seven."

Greg's head shot up. "What?" He got to his feet and pushed past Archie to the break room. The television was already on, a few of his fellow lab rats gathered around to watch as the reporter told the world about the mysterious disappearance of a CSI, possibly related to the two recent stranglings that were being labeled a serial by the LVPD.

"How did they find out about this?" Archie asked tiredly.

Greg ran a hand through his hair. "Who knows? They have spies everywhere. Nick found a reporter hiding in the closet of a crime scene once. Grissom isn't going to like this." He closed his eyes and then spun, heading back towards the lab.

And when he got there the printout was waiting for him, and when he read the results he knew Grissom wasn't going to like them, either.

His phone started ringing as he was sprinkling fingerprint powder on the edge of the counter. He answered it without pausing. "Grissom."

"I got the results. It's Nick's blood," Greg said, for once getting straight to the point. "And I don't know if you've heard, but this case is all over the news."

Grissom paused and then sighed. "I suppose it isn't surprising. Thanks, Greg." He closed his cell phone and Catherine glanced over at him. "The blood came back Nick's," he told her. "And they're running the case on the news."

"Doesn't take them long, does it?" Catherine asked wryly, as she turned to run her flashlight along the other wall.

"It might pay off this time," Brass said as he came to stand between them. "O'Riley just called. Viva showed up at the station--says she saw the story on the news and wants to help."

Grissom raised an eyebrow. "Let's let her then." He turned to Sara. "You want to finish up here?"

She nodded. "Sure."

Catherine, Brass and Grissom headed back out onto the street, and Landers caught Grissom's attention before he could get in his car.

"Are you guys done yet?" he asked.

"One of my CSIs is finishing up and then you can have your store back," Grissom said. "I'm sorry for the inconvenience, Mr. Landers, but you really need to lock up your store." He started to get into the car.

"I'll work on that, Mr. Grissom. Sorry I couldn't be more of a help," he called after him. Grissom paused and slowly turned around, but Dave was already walking back towards his store, and he needed to get to the lab before time ran out and there was no one left to save.

Grissom, Catherine, and Brass met O'Riley in front of the station and started towards the interrogation room. "She came in on her own," he said. "Stupid move if she's guilty."

"Or a smart one," Catherine said wryly.

O'Riley tilted his head in acknowledgement. "Our four guys left when she was placed in the interrogation room. We tried to explain we can't ensure their safety if they do and that Viva was not our only suspect, but they didn't listen. No one ever thinks it will happen to them." He paused when the reached the room. "She's in there. I'll let you guys handle it--I'm going for a coffee break."

"Have fun," Grissom said absently, before leading the way into the room.

Viva shifted anxiously when she saw them. "Nick is missing?" she asked tersely.

"You tell us," Grissom said, taking one of the chairs across from her. Brass sat in the other, and Catherine leaned against the wall.

"I came here," Viva snapped. "I'm trying to help. If this has something to do with me, maybe I can. But I am not a murderer."

"So you've said," Catherine said slowly. "The evidence is telling a different story."

Viva slouched back in her chair impatiently. "Nick is in trouble and you're wasting time trying to pin this on me."

"We don't try to 'pin' things on anyone," Grissom interrupted calmly. "We look for clues and we follow them. Biases don't enter into it."

"Maybe not for you," Viv said slyly. "I doubt all of your CSIs could say the same." Viva's eyes flickered to Catherine's as she spoke, but Catherine showed no reaction and neither did Grissom.

"Where have you been since you left the station?" Catherine asked.

Viva flipped her hair behind her. "Since I'm not allowed in my own house I drove around for awhile."

"And then you called Nick," Catherine said.

Viva glared at her. "Yes, then I called Nick. I needed to see him."

"Why don't you tell us exactly what happened?" Grissom suggested quietly.

Viva shifted again, and Catherine watched her carefully. She could simply be anxious over Nick's disappearance, or she could be hiding something.

"I called him," she said. "I asked him to come meet me at the liquor store. When I got there the place was locked. Nick wasn't there so I figured he changed his mind, and I left." She met there eyes challengingly, as though daring them not to believe her.

Grissom frowned at this, and Catherine stepped forward agitatedly. "Why didn't you just come to the station?" she demanded.

Viva looked up and glared at her. "I needed to speak with Nick, and I knew you wouldn't let me see him."

Grissom held up a finger. "You said the liquor store was locked?" Catherine's eyes widened marginally as she realized what she'd missed.

Viv nodded. "Yes. There was an out to lunch sign in the window. Why?"

"Did you see Nick's truck across the street when you arrived?" Catherine asked.

"No, I wasn't really paying all that much attention," Viva said. "I was just looking for Nick. Why?" No one answered her.

Catherine pulled a photo from her shoulder bag and slid it across the table to Viva. It was the one with the old boyfriend burned from the picture, and Viv winced when she saw it. "Can you tell us who that is?"

"Roger Banks," Viv snapped. "Why? You think I've offed him too?"

"We're just trying to find out what's going on here," Brass said reasonably. "Why don't you tell us a little bit about Roger, and why you felt the need to burn him out of the picture?"

"He's another old boyfriend," Viva said. "My first serious relationship. He slept with my roommate of the time, so I burned him out of all of my pictures. I don't see how this is relevant."

Catherine watched her carefully. "Maybe you have a score to settle with men," she said. "I know how it is--falling in love, head over heels, only to watch as he throws it all away for someone else."

"You don't give up, do you?" Viv snapped. "Look, I was upset when I caught him cheating, but I didn't kill him, I got even by sleeping with someone else too. I've been the other woman enough times now myself--I'm over it."

"Then why do you still have this picture?" Grissom asked gently.

"Because I look good in it," Viva snarled.

"What time were you at the liquor store?" Grissom asked, changing tracks again.

Viva sighed, irritated, but thought about the answer. "About ten to nine."

"Ten minutes before Landers would have returned from his lunch break," Grissom said. "At which time the door would no longer be locked."

"What are you talking about?" Viva demanded, but Grissom ignored her and turned to Catherine.

"Catherine, go find Greg. Ask him what time Nick left. We need to establish a timeline."

Catherine nodded, and with one last glance at Viva she left the room--and nearly collided with Warrick.

"She in there?" he demanded.

"Yes, but let Grissom handle it," Catherine said easily. "What's up with you?"

He placed a hand to his forehead. "Nick is probably dead, Catherine, and she probably did it--how do you expect me to react?"

"I don't think Nick is dead," Catherine said simply. "This killer is meticulous. No fingerprints, no hairs--the only evidence we've been able to find so far are the fibers in the neck wounds, and they're still with Trace. He stages the victims on their beds--if Nick was dead I think we would have found him by now. The killer wants us to find them."

"Yeah, yeah okay," Warrick said, calming only slightly. "But if he is alive, for how long?"

Catherine started down the hall. "We're going to find him, Warrick."

"You sound pretty confident. Have you forgotten we're all pessimists here, Catherine? We know how these things work." He slammed his hand against the wall. "We're going to find him alright, but what are the chances it won't be too late?"

"Right now?" Catherine asked. "I'd say they're still good. Like I said, I think the killer has a system."

Realization began to form in his mind, and he glanced up at her. "You mean maybe that's why you didn't find Nick dead in that liquor store," he said quietly. "It isn't his turn yet."

Catherine gave a half shrug and then continued walking down the hall, her heels clicking and echoing off the walls, leaving him standing behind her until the sounds faded and he was alone. She didn't have any of the answers yet, but she knew there were four lives standing in wait before Nick--and all five of them were at risk.

When she reached the DNA lab, Greg came out to meet her. "Any news?"

Catherine shook her head. "Not yet. I need to know what time Nick left the lab."

Greg frowned and glanced at the clock. "I think it was about eight twenty. Why?"

Catherine walked into the DNA lab, and picked up one of the washable black markers. She moved towards the glass partition. "We're making a timeline," she said absently. "Nick left at eight twenty, and Viva says she arrived at eight forty to find the liquor store locked. It takes about seven minutes to get there from here--Nick would have already been there by the time she says she arrived." She made the notations on glass, but it wasn't making any of it clearer.

"She could be lying," Greg pointed out.

Catherine nodded. "That's my best guess, too. She says the liquor store was locked, but Nick got inside, and he would have arrived after the time Landers said he left for lunch."

"So, whoever knocked Nick out and cleaned the place up locked the door behind them," Greg said. "Viva shows up, doesn't see him and the door is locked…"

Catherine shook her head. "No, that doesn't work either. When Landers came back from his lunch break he said the door was unlocked. Viva's lying to us."

"Or maybe whoever attacked Nick was still there, and he locked the door while he cleaned the place up, unlocked it again before he left…" Greg pointed out.

Catherine glanced at him. "Maybe." Catherine's eyes flickered back to her timeline. Greg could be right, and worse, Viva might have been too--she kept trying so hard to pin it on Viva that she might be missing everything else.

Grissom caught up with her as she was heading through the lab towards the parking lot. "I had a background check run on Banks," he said as he caught pace beside her. "He's clean. He's married and has a couple of kids, I don't really see him as a suspect but we should question him anyway. On Viva's character if nothing else."

Catherine nodded and glanced over at him. "I got our timeline. And someone might be lying to us. Whoever attacked Nick did it before Viva says she arrived, leaving the door locked--but Landers found it unlocked when he arrived ten minutes later."

"If Viva is telling the truth, then perhaps the assailant was still inside cleaning up," Grissom said. "And when they left they unlocked the door."

Catherine nodded. "That's exactly what Greg said, and it's possible, but Nick was hit right by the door--the entire front of the store is glass so there was no where for whoever was cleaning up to hide. And Viva would have been right there trying to get in, she would have seen something if he was still there."

"The assailant could have been hiding behind the counter," Grissom said.

"Then where was Nick?" she countered. "Would he have been able to drag him out of sight in time, clean up the bottle before Viva showed up a few minutes later?"

Grissom gave a half smile, but his heart wasn't in it. "Well, that's what we need to find out, isn't it?"

Catherine sighed. "I'm going to meet Sara at the liquor store. She was getting ready to pack up but I told her to wait for me."

Grissom nodded. "I'll go question Banks. Call me if you find anything."

"Will do," she said tiredly, as she pushed through the doors.

He didn't know how long he had been there. Time seemed oddly suspended, and he suspected that was a result of his head wound and the bouts of unconsciousness, but even awake he could hardly keep track of the minutes. Moments of clarity would sneak between the confusion, and he would find himself processing the room as though it was someone else tied to the steel set of shelves and not him.

It wasn't like he hadn't been in similar situations himself before. He'd been held at gunpoint more than once, and in some strange way he almost preferred it to this--at least then he had known what he was facing. This was different, and he could almost feel himself disconnecting from the reality of it. His mind still clung on, however, sharp and analytical, forcing him to take in his surroundings and try to make sense of the situation.

Things started to come together a bit for him when he noticed the pictures. They were scattered behind him and to his left, on the bottom shelf. All of them had Viva in them, some of them had him too, but he was obviously not the focus of whoever had taken the pictures. This was obsession, he'd seen it before--had been the object of it himself. He was beginning to think he was being held by another Nigel Crane, only this time, he was playing the role of Jane instead.

Catherine couldn't see Sara when she first entered the liquor store. Landers and O'Riley were outside talking about degeneration of society in general, over coffee. There was only one black and white left across the street, the lights turned off, the beat cops leaning against the side with crossed arms. She placed her kit down on the floor and moved curiously to the counter. She kneeled down behind it, and measured the space with her mind. There was more than enough room for one person to hide, but two was pushing it.

She stood up and saw Sara standing on the other side of the counter, a bemused smile playing across her lips. "What are you up to, Catherine?"

Catherine smiled too, though hers held hidden secrets and not confusion. "What have you found?"

Sara seemed to deflate. She shrugged. "Nothing. Chances are whoever attacked him got Nick out of here just as quick--I checked out the back door and the front for a blood trail or footprints--but the only useable footprints I found, I matched to Landers."

Catherine frowned and nodded. "We're wasting time here. I was hoping there was something here…I've got a feeling we're missing something."

Sara looked slightly affronted, and she crossed her arms. "I went over this place twice, Catherine, there's nothing here."

Catherine's eyes strayed to the smoking dolls, she picked one up. She looked at the bottom, there was a D.L. engraved there, and she wondered if Dave Landers designed them himself.

When she got no response, Sara sighed, her eyes straying back towards the front windows. "How did it go with Viva?"

"Dead end," Catherine said tightly. "She says she was coming to meet Nick here but he didn't show up."

"It could be true," Sara said thoughtfully. "Nick isn't a lightweight, its unlikely Viva could have moved him without getting noticed."

"I know," she said softly. "But if isn't her, we're almost out of places to look." She placed the doll down, but didn't take her eyes off of it. "You can tell Landers he can have his store back. We're done here."

Sara nodded, though Catherine couldn't see her, and walked outside with her kit in hand. When she filled them in, O'Riley motioned for the officers to head off and moved towards his own car. Landers headed back into his store, and Sara watched from the sidewalk, waiting for Catherine to join her outside.

"You seem fascinated by those," Landers said when he noticed where Catherine was looking.

She glanced up. "I was just wondering, do they sell these anywhere else?"

"Nope," Landers said with a pleased grin. "Designed 'em myself. Had to put in a special order--only place to get them is here."

"And you say Viva Charles is the only one to have purchased any number of them?" Catherine asked.

Landers moved behind the counter, and outside, Sara agitatedly moved her kit to hold in her other hand. "Well, I think so. I don't really pay all that much attention. I suppose it's possible, but she's the only one that sticks out in my mind, you know?"

Catherine gave a quick smile. "Of course." She handed him a card. "If you remember anyone else who bought a few of them, will you give me a call?"

"Sure thing."

Roger Banks answered the door on the second knock, a young girl about six clung to his side. He smiled curiously out at Gil Grissom. "Can I help you?"

Grissom flashed his ID. "I'm Gil Grissom, with the crime lab. Are you Roger Banks?" The man nodded and Grissom continued. "I was wondering if you could answer a few questions."

Banks glanced behind him as a woman shouted, "Who is it?"

Roger Banks, obviously not sure how to answer, didn't immediately respond. He turned to his daughter. "Emily, why don't you go tell your mother someone is here with some questions?"

The little girl watched Grissom with wide eyes for a moment, before turning and running into the house. Banks stepped out onto the porch and closed the door behind him. "What is this about, Mr. Grissom?" he asked.

"Viva Charles," Grissom said.

Banks frowned. "I haven't heard from her in years. Is she alright?"

"She's fine, Mr. Banks. I just have some questions. To start, when was the last time you were on the strip?" Grissom knew this was perhaps not the best place to start, as people never liked being suspects--but the quicker he knew the answers, the closer to finding the murderer they got.

Either not realizing the purpose of the question, or simply not caring, Roger Banks looked more amused than anything. He laughed. "It's been months," he said. "Alice and I are lucky to get to a movie."

Grissom gave a small smile, more for the sake of social courtesy than anything else. "You said it's been years since you've seen Viva Charles?"

"Yes," Banks said, shifting to leave against the side of his house. "I'm married now, Mr. Grissom. I dated Viva in college, we had a bad break up."

'So I heard,' Grissom thought wryly, though even he knew enough about people not to reveal too much aloud. "Have you received any threatening letters, Mr. Banks?"

"No, I haven't. Mr. Grissom, I'd really like to know what's going on." As he finished speaking the door opened, and a pretty brunette in her early thirties leaned outside.

"Roger?" She glanced at Grissom. "Who is this?"

"He's from the crime lab, Alice," Roger said. "He has some questions about Viva."

Alice grimaced. "What has she done? Gone and burned down a casino?"

Grissom's eyes flickered to hers. "You know Viva Charles."

"Sure," she said. "We used to be roommates."

Grissom almost let a smile slip. "You don't seem to think very much of her."

"She nearly set me on fire," Alice said with disgust. "She's a menace."

Roger turned to glare at his wife. "She was upset, they were having a…fight. She doesn't try to hurt anyone, really. She's not in trouble, is she?"

Grissom shook his head. "Like I said, I'm only here to ask a few questions." His cell phone started ringing, and he glanced at the couple. "If you will excuse me for a moment…?"

Roger nodded and then turned to whisper something to his wife. Grissom would have liked to know what he said, but his cell phone said it was Brass calling him, so he stepped away and answered instead. "Grissom."

"We've got another one, Gil," Brass said, sounding tired. "Simon O'Neil. I had a couple of under cover cops patrolling all of our guys' houses, they went by O'Neil's and saw the doors open. He was dead when they found him."

Grissom glanced over at Banks and his wife, who he very much doubted could have gone across town for murder, and been back here and so composed by the time he arrived. He decided this was a dead end and stepped back over to them. "Thank you both for your time, you've been a great help."

They both nodded, Banks looking worried while his wife remained coldly composed. Grissom knew Banks was probably simply worried about an old girlfriend, while Alice was thinking her old roommate was finally getting what she deserved--but sometimes he couldn't shake that drive within him that made everyone, however unlikely, suspects in his mind.

He sighed as he started back to his car. Nick didn't seem to have that problem, he still trusted people, and Grissom admired that. He hoped that when they found him, that wouldn't have changed.

When Grissom reached the crime scene, David and Warrick were already hovering over the body. As with the other two, this victim was strangled. He frowned as he looked at the man, who a couple hours ago he had seen at the police station. It shouldn't have happened, but it seemed that this kind of thing happened all the time.

Warrick nodded when he saw him. "We matched the threads from the first two victims." He held up his forceps, and a small thread was held between them. "I have a feeling this will match too."

Grissom nodded. "Same murder weapon."

"Looks like," Warrick said. He sounded tense, but Grissom didn't comment. They were all on edge.

He turned to David. "Time of death?"

David glanced up at him. "I would put it at about ten o'clock."

Grissom glanced at his watch. "He hasn't even been dead an hour."

David nodded then got to his feet. "He's all yours. Tell us when you want him moved out."

Grissom nodded and came to kneel besides Warrick. Warrick turned to him. "How did it go with the Banks guy?"

Grissom shook his head. "It looks like a dead end. It took me almost twenty minutes to get here, and I was with him before that. It's possible, but extremely unlikely."

Warrick frowned, frustration getting the better of him. "If he isn't the killer, then why isn't he a target?"

Grissom thought about it for a moment, then started to speak slowly, as realization unraveled in his mind. "Because his picture was cut out," Grissom said. "And he wasn't in her address book. The killer didn't know about him. I don't think Viva is behind this--If this was about revenge, he would have been first on her list."

He heard familiar voices behind him, and turned to see Catherine and Sara entering the room. He noticed that Catherine looked a little pale, but didn't comment. "Did you find anything?" he asked.

Sara shook her head. "Nothing. We're not getting any closer to finding Nick."

Catherine looked at the third victim. "No, we're not. And there's still three lives hanging in the balance before his."

The single light bulb hanging in the center of the ceiling was bright, lancing into his eyes as he tried to think like the investigator he was. He could handle this, if only he pretended it wasn't him that had to. He'd placed himself in this kind of situations more times than he could count, trying to put himself in the same frame of mind as the victims they investigated. No problem.

Of course, when the door started to slip open, he realized it wasn't that easy.

He didn't recognize the man that entered, but there was something, in the back of his mind, whispering that he should. He swallowed, shifting on the ground. He wasn't in the best position for a showdown, but he'd have to make do. The guy walked over to him, and tugged the gag free.

"I don't know how you found me," the man snapped. "But you're ruining everything. You should have just waited for your turn."

Nick blinked. He didn't know how he had found him either, and though he didn't mind waiting as opposed to being killed off, he was pretty sure the guy was planning to kill the other men before him, and that couldn't be allowed. Grissom and Cath would stop him, Nick decided. Even if they couldn't get to him.

He decided not to respond. His track record with talking down the obviously insane was less than encouraging, so he might as well try his odds with saying nothing at all.

It didn't seem like it was the exact right thing to do, if the guy's growing frown was any indication. "You can't have Viva," he snapped. "None of you can. She belongs to me."

"Those guys you've been killing haven't seen her for years." So much for not speaking. Nick winced when the man's expression grew darker. That was apparently not the right thing to do either, but he decided not to be too hard on himself for it. He was pretty much damned no matter what he did.

"I want to get rid of anyone that's touched her," he hissed. "I'd start with you if I could, but it isn't allowed."

"Not allowed?" Nick asked, honestly confused. He realized only after he spoke that he shouldn't be questioning a system that kept him at the end of the line.

The man waved his hand dismissively, as though they were in the middle of a casual conversation. "You wouldn't understand. You don't need to."

There was a ring on the man's hand, a garish gold one on his middle finger. There was a flame engraved on the surface, and suddenly, Nick remembered seeing it before. He remembered who it belonged to, as well, and he knew now who the murderer was. He would be excited about breaking the case, but the information didn't really do him any good.

All things considered, he was actually hoping not to have been the first to have found out.

"Gris is starting to think Charles is innocent," Warrick said, as he ran his flashlight along the bed. "Banks too. We're running out of suspects."

"We're running out of potential targets, too," Catherine said irritably. "Has Brass put guards on our other three guys?"

Warrick nodded. "Yes. They didn't argue this time."

"I bet they didn't," she said. The beam of her flashlight ran across a small charred figure, and she paused. "Isn't O'Neil's doll in evidence?"

Grissom came beside. "Yes."

Catherine nodded towards the doll. "Looks like they replaced it. Couldn't bear to break the pattern."

Grissom nodded to Sara, and she moved forward to bag it for evidence.

"But where are they getting them?" Catherine demanded. "Landers makes them personally, and he says Viva is the only one to buy them. She's been in custody this whole time, there's no way she put that doll there."

Grissom turned to her with a frown. "You think Landers is lying to us?"

"I think he has to be."

Sara paused after sealing the bag, and glanced up at them. "When was the time of death?"

"Around ten o'clock," Grissom told her. "Why?"

"Landers…he just disappeared for awhile. He left at nine thirty, I think. O'Riley and I thought he must have gone to get something to eat, but it was strange. He came back twenty minutes later, acted kind of oddly, like he hadn't left."

Brass, who had joined them, cursed. "You think it's the liquor store guy? Are you kidding me? We've had him all along."

"It's just a theory," Grissom said, but something flashed in his eyes that led Brass to believe he thought it was more than that. "But maybe we should pay him a visit."

"The stores hours are over," Catherine said. "He might have gone home."

Grissom nodded. "Brass, find out where he lives. Sara, Warrick, I want you two back at the liquor store. Take O'Riley. If he's there, call me. Catherine and I will pay him a visit at home."

Sara and Warrick nodded, each grabbing their kit and starting for the door. Warrick opened his cell phone, and Grissom could still hear him talking to O'Riley as they disappeared.

"Got it. He lives near the store," Brass said, a few minutes later. "Let's go."

Nick watched him carefully, trying to hide his fear as much as he could. The man had already killed two people that he knew of, and judging from his murder weapon of choice, he probably got off on it.

"You don't have to kill them, Landers," Nick said, and he hated that his voice shook. He should be used to this by now, and this time, there wasn't even a gun--just the bloody length of rope hanging from Dave Lander's right hand. "They don't mean anything to her. I don't either. She broke up with me already."

"You think I care what you mean to her?" Landers demanded. His voice was steady in contrast to Nick's, but his hands were shaking. "I care what I mean to her. I care what she means to me. You're nothing but an inconvenience."

Nick adjusted his hands, numb now, though there was still enough feeling in them that he could recognize the blood trickling over his fingers from his torn wrists. His eyes were darting from Lander's to the rope in his hands, and he couldn't seem to keep them still. "I'm sorry about that," Nick said. He winced the moment the words left his mouth. He got a flash of Nigel Crane. Are you mocking me?

Landers' reaction was much the same. He reached over and untied the ropes from where ever it had been hooked, though the length wrapped around his wrists did not loosen. Landers shoved him to his knees in the middle of the room, and for the third time in his life, he watched it all flash behind his eyes.

He wanted to say something, to come up with some reason why this was wrong, but it had never worked before, and he was running out of things to say. There were tears in his eyes and he shut them closed, refusing this time to let them fall. He didn't see the rope come down to wrap around his neck, but he felt it pull back, twisting, cutting off the air supply. He would have reached up to pull it away, but his hands were tied and he couldn't get them to move.

He'd always thought strangulation would be a horrible way to die, and as the edges of his vision tinged black, he could hear someone screaming.

It had to be the lack of oxygen, because it sounded like Grissom.

TBC…