Disclaimer: CSI no belong to ICRep.

A/N: ICRep Fanfiction: Now with added GSR! Whee!

Grissom walked through the corridors of the police station, his head down, a folder under one arm. He was puzzling through what he knew of the case so far.

Tina Evelyn was missing. Marcus Vincent had admitted to the drugs being his, and had admitted to having a drug problem. But the manager's admission was the only half-decent piece of information anyone had gotten from the group. The models were still being uncooperative. Aside from snide comments about each others' deficiencies and character traits, all but two of the models weren't talking. The other two hadn't been interviewed yet - Tina's roommates, Dana and Jackie.

And Grissom was on his way to interview Dana now.

He looked up and saw Sara waiting for him. She stood up as she saw him approach.

"Hey, Grissom."

Grissom frowned. "Sara, what are you doing here?"

She met his gaze, her own expression blank. "I'm part of this case, aren't I?"

Grissom sighed. "After your outburst," he said gently, "I'm not so sure."

Sara stared at him. "What outburst?"

Grissom shook his head and steered Sara out of the way of the officers patrolling the halls. "Your bursting into an interview with the manager, just as he's lawyering up…"

"He doesn't care a damn thing about Tina missing," Sara cut in, almost scowling, "And you know it. He was coming out into the open about the drugs, but that's it. And if you talk to him, you'll see. He's not going to say anything about why Tina is gone."

"Of course not," Grissom said, calmly, "Because he'll be waiting for you to burst in an accuse him of…" he paused, and frowned, "Whatever it is you were shouting at him."

"Have you talked to Jackie yet?" Sara said, her voice icy. Grissom shook his head. Sara smiled a smile just as cold as her voice. "Then maybe you should ask her why she's got these bruises all over her."

Grissom frowned. "What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about what that scum-bag weasel is doing to those girls!" Sara snapped. Grissom motioned for her to lower her voice. She did so, and spoke in a hiss. "Maybe instead of figuring out where Tina is gone, maybe you should look at why."

"Sara," Grissom began, "Maybe it would be better if you weren't on this case."

"Why?" Sara said, her voice rising again, "Because I'm getting 'involved'?" She shook her head. "Catherine gets 'involved' whenever there's a case with a young kid. Warrick gets 'involved' whenever someone he knows is in trouble. You get 'involved' whenever…"

"Sara, that's enough!" Grissom frowned at her. "What's gotten into you?"

"You know what I think?" She said, ignoring the question, "I think Tina ran away because she was tired of being beat up by her manager." Grissom's face went stony, and he said nothing. Sara looked down and away, sensing she'd gone too far. "I'm off the case, aren't I?"

Grissom sighed and put a hand on her shoulder. "Listen, Sara, if something's bothering you, you should tell someone."

Sara just shrugged, but not so severely that she would dislodge Grissom's hand. "I'm fine. Really, I am. I just want to see justice done. That's all."

Grissom nodded, seeming to understand, then he turned and opened the door to the interrogation room. He motioned for Sara to follow him. Sara smiled for the first time in a long time.

"I was wondering when you'd get to talk to me," a model with blonde hair looked up at Sara and Grissom. "Just for the record, I'm glad you brought me here."

"Why's that?" Grissom asked, as he and Sara sat down.

The model smiled delicately, but her eyes were dark and unreadable. "Because Marcus would have killed me if I told you what I want to tell you now."

Sara sucked in breath sharply. The model looked at her.

"I guess you saw Jackie, huh?" The girl stood up, and slid her jacket off one arm. An ugly yellow bruise covered most of her shoulder. "Yeah. Jackie's got a few battlescars. Me too." She sat down again. "If I tried to talk to you at Caesar's, I wouldn't be walking for a while." She rolled her eyes and scoffed. "At least, until the three days were up. Then I'd have to walk. Or I'd be in worse shape."

Grissom and Sara exchanged glances.

"But let's start at the beginning," Dana said calmly. "You ask questions, I'll answer."

Grissom collected himself, and opened the folder. "Your name is Dana McCormick, and you've worked with Marcus for four years. Correct?"

"Yeah." Dana nodded. "And if you've got my file there, you'll know where I went to college, my birthday, my height, my weight, and my measurements." She smiled. "My whole life on paper. No secrets from scientists."

Sara cleared her throat. "You were Tina's friend, and you shared a trailer with her. Could you tell us about her?"

Dana smiled. "Be glad to. Tina was smart, she was pretty, and she had her whole life in front of her."

"Was?" Grissom frowned. "You mean, she doesn't now?"

Dana's smile faded, and she looked down. "Working for Marcus… It was the greatest mistake either of us ever made." She looked up at Sara and Grissom, her eyes burning. "Like most every other girl in this country, I wanted to be an actress. And one way of becoming one was to get 'discovered' in the fashion industry. At least, that was the theory." She traced a circle on the table with her finger. "I met Tina when she was modelling for Marcus. We became close friends, all three of us: Tina, Jackie and I." She smiled wryly. "I guess by now, you've heard that we're the Blondes."

"I've heard," Sara said, not wanting to interrupt.

"Well, like I said before," Dana continued, "Tina had her life in front of her. But Marcus exploited her. He beat her down, not just physically, but mentally. He broke that girl's spirit til she was nothing but a pretty-looking shell."

"He abused her?" Sara practically leapt forward.

Dana looked faintly amused. "You didn't work that out from the badge of courage I'm wearing? Yeah, he abused her. Tina more than me or Jackie."

"Why?"

"Marcus Vincent doesn't need a reason for anything he does," Dana scoffed. "Whether he's on drugs or whether he's in a bad mood, he takes it out of our hides." Dana looked up at Grissom, who hadn't batted an eyelid. "You're agreeing with her," she motioned to Sara, "Marcus is a jerk who doesn't deserve to live. So why aren't you saying anything?"

Sara turned to look at Grissom. But Grissom kept a straight face.

The supermodel shrugged again. "Ah, never mind. You need more evidence than just bruises to convince you." She frowned. "How about blood? You guys saw that, right?"

"Blood? On the catwalk?" Sara exchanged another glance with Grissom. "Whose is it?"

"Tina's," the model said simply. She met Sara's gaze evenly. "She gained a quarter of a pound when we were travelling. Marcus didn't like that."

Sara swore. Grissom looked over at Sara, shocked by her language.

"It sounds to me like you're investigating two cases at once," Dana commented. "Tina's disappearance and Marcus' behaviour." She looked up at the glass wall. "There's no-one behind there, right?"

"No-one," Grissom assured the model.

Dana nodded. "Well, good, coz I'm about to spill the dirt on the whole operation."

Sara and Grissom stared. Dana took a deep breath and began.

"Marcus was hooked since the beginning. He's always been a crack-head. I don't know what he told you, but he got the habit from his former boss, Jock Jones. When Marcus set up his own fashion show, he brought the drugs with him. The Bitches - Ayumi, Sam and Monica - they're all in it too. He hasn't trapped us Blondes yet, and he wont - ever. So he controls us by force. And we can't get out because of contracts… and because of his underground contacts. We're not safe in or out." She paused, and looked to Grissom and Sara. "That's it in a nutshell. Any questions?"

There was a long pause. Grissom closed the folder and folded his hands over it. "How do you know this, Ms McCormick?"

"I see a lot of things." Dana shrugged, "I'm always there. I people-watch." She nodded at Grissom, seeing his miniscule smile. "You too? Figures. You're a scientist." Dana sighed, then got back on topic. "You wouldn't believe the things I've seen. But yeah, I knew Marc was into drugs. We all knew." Dana looked down at her fingernails. "He's got the Bitches on crack too, but they'll deny it. He's been trying to get all of us girls hooked." She looked bitter. "Easier for him to control us. I guess that's why…" But the woman shrugged. "Ah, what does it matter? Until we get picked up by the big time, we're stuck here with a two-bit con-man who uses other people's looks to rake in the dough."

"Why haven't you told anyone?" Sara asked, "Police, family..."

"Because I don't have anyone." Dana said simply, her face blank. "My family's gone, and I'm just trying to take care of myself." She snorted. "I'm doing a great job, aren't I. And I can't call the police either - believe me, I've tried. They can't help." She looked down again. "Personally, I think Tina stuck around for far too long." She sighed, then looked up, smiling with a memory. "She was a great girl. A real Southern Belle. But to Marcus, she'd be nothing more than the farmer's daughter for the rest of her life - even though she's the only one of us who's a Vegas local." She shook her head.

Grissom bit his lip, thoughtful, then asked, "Your locker was the only one in the trailer we couldn't open. With your permission, could we look inside?"

Dana nodded, "Sure. The key's inside Jackie's locker, in Zeus the Moose's left antler."

"Zeus the Moose?"

Dana grinned. "One of her Beanie Babies." She smiled conspiratorially. "But I'm not the only one who trusts stuff with Jackie, if you know what I mean."

"Should we talk to her?" Sara asked.

Dana shook her head. "I don't think that would be a good idea. I mean, Jackie is a great girl and everything but… she has the mental capacity of a ten-year-old. She doesn't want to remember anything. She won't be much help in your investigation."

"We'll still talk to her," Grissom said, "You never know who might know something."

Dana smiled at him. "Of course." Her smile faded a little, and she continued, "I don't know what you're expecting to find in my locker, but let me just say that Tina kept some of her more important things in there. Photos and stuff that she didn't want the Bitches to steal. And in return, she let me keep my books in her locker." She smiled sheepishly. "Not all of them fit in mine."

"Those were your books?" Grissom raised an eyebrow.

Dana smiled back sweetly. "If you want to borrow them, all you have to do is ask."

"What about other possessions?"

Dana shrugged. "Yeah, I keep some of my things in her locker. Things I don't mind getting stolen. Makeup and stuff." Grissom frowned. Makeup, sanitary items, and books were all he found in Tina's locker. Perhaps some things were missing.

"So Tina knew where the key to your locker was," Sara said, "Would anyone else?"

"Just us three Blondes." Dana said darkly. "Some things shouldn't be common knowledge." She smirked. "Like Mon's snack habits, Sam's allergies, and Marcus's fear of the dark." She put on a pious expression.

"You seem to have a lot of knowledge yourself," Grissom said. "Aside from people-watching, how is it that you know so much?"

Dana hid a smile. "You wouldn't believe what people say around me. They think I'm deaf or something, just because I'm blonde. But of course," Dana sat back, looking a trifle smug, "No-one cares much what I think anyway. After all, I am Canadian."

The model smiled indulgently as Grissom and Sara exchanged raised eyebrows.

"Well, thankyou for your time, Ms McCormick."

Dana shrugged and stood. "Anytime. And if you have any other questions, feel free to ask. As long as Marcus isn't around, I'd be happy to help you guys put him behind bars." The officer escorted her out, and, after a few moments of silence, Grissom also stood, and made for the door.

"We need to get this bastard." Sara said softly, staring at the opposite wall. "We need to get him for what he's doing to these girls." Grissom turned back from the door and frowned at Sara.

"Sara," he started, awkwardly, then plunged in, "Why do you react this way every time there's a case where some young woman gets abused?"

Sara eyes grew distant, but remained focused on the wall, as though she were looking at something else. A different place, a different time, that only Sara could see.

"Sara?"

For a moment, Sara slumped. She opened her mouth, trying for form words. But then, as Grissom watched, the wall she had pulled down for a moment was put back up, brick by brick, until Sara was just Sara - a CSI with a blank face and dedicated to her job. She straightened her posture and turned to face her boss.

"No reason." She rose to her feet and stepped out. Grissom sighed, then followed behind her.

-

Warrick and Val poured over the case files, looking through each case one at a time. Both CSI's were sifting through evidence bags and files from the final case. A whiteboard had been wheeled into the layout room, and brief notes about the cases were written in quick shorthand.

Val sighed, put down another bag of evidence, and made another note on the board. Victim's name, cause of death, and now, the murder weapon.

"I don't believe this," Val muttered, "This could take forever." She capped the whiteboard marker savagely. "No link between victims, different murder weapons each time. But it's the same guy - the DNA doesn't lie."

"Take a chill pill, Val," Warrick said, briefly looking up from the piles of papers on the table, "They'll be something."

Val sighed, then took a deep breath and read out what she'd written. "Hattie Birch, 67, lived alone. Beaten to death with a brass lamp. Jeffery Pine, 23, lived with his room-mate Sid Knight, who was out at the time of Jeff's murder. Jeff was drowned in his fish tank." She frowned, again, at that, then continued, "Freddie Palmer, 43, lived alone, forced to swallow rat-poison. Karen and Penny Kirkwood, 17 and 21, sisters. Raped, then killed with fire pokers. Henry Woodworth, 33, divorced and living alone, shot with his hunting rifle which he kept in den. And finally, Julia Westwood, 23, lived alone, raped then garrotted with guitar strings." Val stood back and frowned. "I don't see any connection between any of these people."

"Aside from all the murder weapons being weapons of opportunity, I don't think there is." Warrick packed away the evidence, then stared at the board as well.

Val tilted her head and murmured the names under her breath. A second later, her eyes widened. "I think I may have found something."

"What?"

"Birch, Pine, Palmer, Kirkwood, Woodworth, Westwood." She turned to Warrick. "Names of trees and types of wood."

Warrick raised an eyebrow. "You think this guy's killing people just because they have names that have something to do with trees?"

"Who do you think's next?" She grinned, raising an eyebrow.

Warrick rolled his eyes. "Catherine Willows." He replied, in the same joking tone of voice.

"Well, aren't we lucky she's not here." Val said, then shrugged. "It was just a thought. There's probably no link at all." She sighed, and turned back to the board.

"Weapons of opportunity." Warrick wondered aloud. "All houses showed no sign of forced entry."

"Digging under the house can do that." Val said darkly.

"You think all of them were dug under?" Warrick looked at his own notes.

Val looked over at Warrick and frowned. "Well, why not? There might not be another link." She sighed. "But I doubt there's a 'was there a suspicious tunnel under the house?' section in police forms, so it may have gone unnoticed." She put a hand to her chin and frowned. "But I guess it could be possible…"

Detective Vega walked in, a manila folder in his hand, "Hey guys, here's the blueprints you wanted." He handed them to Warrick, then smiled at Valerie. "I'm Detective Vega. Welcome to Vegas, Ms Wilks."

Val smiled up at the detective, "Thanks. And thanks."

"No problem." He smiled back, then the smile vanished as he became brisk and businesslike. "So, is it true you're looking at a serial killer?"

"DNA at every crime scene is from the same guy." Warrick affirmed.

"Word going around is that he digs under houses." Vega added.

Val nodded, a little dispirited. "Other than that, no leads. And he's not on file, aside from being anonymous." She took the blueprints from Warrick and started spreading them out on the layout table.

"Man, you guys are going to be at it for a while." Vega frowned sympathetically, then grinned. "I just hope he's not part of that secret society. I mean, they have enough trouble with the Mole Men in New York."

"Oh, I wouldn't worry too much," Warrick quipped. "All the lowlifes with zero social skills don't go underground here. They don't need to. This is Vegas."

"Warrick?" Val frowned, "Do you have the list of where the victims lived?" Warrick fished around in his notes, then gave the list he'd made to Val. The Seattleite took it, and scanned it. "Is there a map of the outer suburbs we could use, somewhere?" She said, her eyes smouldering. She'd found something.

"Not here," Warrick said, "But I could print one out. Why? What is it?"

Val pointed out the blueprints for the house of Julia Westwood. "This house was mass-produced by a construction company in the 90's for an area of outer suburbia." She held up the list of addresses. "Could all these victims have lived in the same area? Could they've all lived in the same kind of house?" She held up one of the blueprints. "This kind of house?"

Vega frowned. "You could be on to something there."

Val crossed her fingers. "Here's hoping. All we have is dead-ends so far." She stifled a sudden yawn with the back of her hand. "Sorry. Still used to working Days." She shook herself.

"You go take a break," Warrick said, taking the list from her. "I'll get started on this."

"Thanks." She headed for the break room, pausing only to wish Warrick good luck before she shut the door behind her.

Vega folded his arms as he scanned the notes Valerie had made on the whiteboard. "I remember some of these cases, Warrick. Not pretty. And no-one has any answers. If you nail the scumbag, kudos to you and Ms Wilks."

"We have to find out if our hunch is correct first," Warrick reminded the detective. But he didn't argue - he just headed for the computer and looked for a map of the area that would help them.

A/N: Lots of fluff everywhere. -wince- okay, okay, I will try not to kill anyone in the lab. … Yet. … I lub my fans, I hate my flamers, come on now, entertain us! Hit review, don't be shy, happy things make my life awri'!... okay, I suck at spontaneous poetry. Just review already.