Disclaimer: Oh i wish i wish i owned this… um… dish? CSI is not mine.

Warrick knocked on the door and stepped back. Val was on the lawn, aiming a small digital camera at the sky.

"Val, what are you doing?"

She looked over and smiled. "I take photos of clouds and sky-scapes. This sunrise was just too beautiful to pass up!" She turned her attention back to the camera and clicked off a few more shots.

"Hey," Warrick grinned, "At least you got a hobby."

"What, and you don't?" She put her camera back into its bag and slung it over her shoulder.

Warrick grinned. "No, but Sara doesn't. Maybe you could get her hooked on taking pictures of the sky as well. Give her something to spend her time on." He knocked on the door again.

Val rolled her eyes. "Warrick, a hobby has to be something you enjoy. I like looking at the sky - seeing as I come from Seattle, it's a paradox at best." She shook her head. "Those 55 days of sunshine a year, I pull a sickie just to get some clear shots."

"You're obsessed."

"I like sunshine." She looked up at Warrick. "What does Sara like? I mean, aside from work? Does she even have any hobbies?"

Warrick shrugged. "I have no idea. Maybe you'll have to ask her." He knocked again. "Y'know," he said, "Maybe Mr and Mrs Westwood aren't home."

"Or they aren't awake yet…" Val mused, and looked over her shoulder at the sky again. "It is early."

There was the sound of locks turning, and a small man in a bathrobe answered the door. "Can I help you?"

Warrick cleared his throat and made the introductions. "Sir, I'm Warrick Brown, and this is Valerie Wilks. We're from the crime lab, and we were investigating your daughter's murder."

The man grabbed the collar of his robe and pulled it tight. "You… did you… did you…" The hope in his eyes was almost pitiful. He smiled feebly. "My wife's not up yet, but would you like to come in?"

"Ah…" Val exchanged looks with Warrick, "Ah, no, no thankyou, Mr Westwood, we wouldn't want to take up too much of your time. Besides, we have to get to the lab and finish some paperwork."

"Just for ten minutes," Mr Westwood pleaded, "Please."

Warrick and Val exchanged glances again, then Warrick nodded. "But only for a short time, sir."

The man stood aside to let them in, then shut the door.

"Can I get you something?" He said, leading them through the house. "Coffee? Please don't say no, because I insist."

Warrick looked at Val. Way to send us on a guilt-trip, girl, He thought bleakly. Val looked at Warrick and winced, clearly thinking the same thing. Sorry, she mouthed.

"Coffee would be great," Warrick said, feeling the fatigue of an all-night work shift coming crashing down on him.

"I'll just have tea, thanks," Val put in.

The man smiled. "Sure, I'll just put the kettle on." He went through a door that separated the kitchen from the living room.

The house was spacious, covered in plush white carpet. The wooden furniture gleamed from constant polishing. There was a grand piano in one corner - similar to the one Julia had owned. The shelves and bookcases were filled with books written by well-known authors, and the room was decorated tastefully with knickknacks from all over the globe. Snapshots documenting the Westwoods' life were. Framed and hanging on every wall. The Westwoods were obviously well-off… but money wouldn't bring Julia back. Warrick heard Val sigh heavily, and silently agreed.

Mr Westwood reappeared. He sat down on the couch, and motioned for Warrick and Val to do the same. But they remained standing.

"So, you were investigating my daughter's case," Mr Westwood twisted the sash of his robe in his fingers.

"Yes," Val said, "It's been a difficult case."

"Did you find the man who raped and strangled her?"

Val had to look away. Warrick fielded the question. "No, sir. We didn't. We couldn't. He's gotten away clean."

The man's face creased in anguish. "No… No! You… you have to keep looking! You have to find him!"

"We've done our best, sir," Warrick said, looking to Val for support. This was her idea from the beginning… and all she was doing was looking at the photos on the wall.

"So you're just giving up?" Mr Westwood pleaded, "Isn't there something you can do?"

"We've done all that we can do, sir." Warrick said grimly. "But next time, we'll get him. Considering this is one of many serial killings, he's sure to strike again. And we'll get him for sure."

"But there's nothing you can do to…"

Val turned around, and pointed to one of the photos on the wall. "How long ago was this taken, Mr Wormwood?"

The man blinked. "Excuse me?"

Warrick frowned - the man's name was Westwood, not Wormwood. Back at the lab, Valerie was really getting into the case, and now she couldn't even remember the name of the victim's father.

"How long ago?" Val turned back to the photo. "I've always wanted to go to Maui. This is a view from the Marriot hotel, right? The view is amazing." She sounded awed. "That's gotta be summer, sometime."

The man smiled weakly. "Oh, yes, I took the family there last year."

"Your wife take the photo?"

Mr Westwood smiled and nodded. "Yes she… she's the one who takes the photos. I don't exactly have steady hands - all the shots I take come out blurry."

Warrick frowned at the red-head. But she continued to make small-talk.

"You were there last year, you said? Maybe you saw my brother. He works in a restaurant on the main street, just outside the hotel. Jim's Tiki Tiki Room? You been there?"

The man laughed, recalling. "Of course! How could I forget a place with a name like Tiki Tiki room?"

"My brother worked the drinks bar."

"Of course!" The man nodded, "I remember now!"

Val smiled, "Yeah, he was, what, a blonde surfer dude at that time? Johnny Wilson." She paused, looking worried. "You didn't tip him, did you?"

"Only a little." Mr Westwood admitted.

Val smirked. "Then he gave you free top-ups, I suppose." She rolled her eyes at the man's grin. "Oh, I'm so telling Mom on him. He should not be this susceptible to bribes."

In the kitchen, a high -pitched whistle announced that the water had boiled. Mr Westwood's shoulders sagged as the sound brought him back to the present.

"I'll get your tea," he smiled sadly at Val, then turned to Warrick. "And your coffee. I won't be a minute." He walked through to the kitchen and shut the door behind him. The screaming kettle died away.

"Alright, what was that about?" Warrick demanded.

Val's smile was gone, and her face was stony. "You have your radio with you, right?"

Warrick frowned, "Val, what was that?" He threw a hand to the photo. "What was with the conversation about Maui?"

"Okay," she said calmly, "I'll start from the beginning. The man I was just talking to didn't react when I told him his name was 'Wormwood' when three minutes ago I called him 'Westwood'. I've been to Hawaii - there is no Marriot hotel on Maui. There is no Jim's Tiki Tiki room. There is no bar where my brother works. My last name is Wilks, not Wilson… and I don't even have a brother." She glowered at the kitchen door. "Warrick… this isn't his house. And that man is not Julia's father."

"How can you be so sure?"

Val pointed to a photo on the wall behind Warrick. He turned to stare at Julia, her mother, and her father, smiling, posed together in a hug. Julia's mother was a fresh-faced brunette, and Julia's father had a head full of hair the same colour as his wife and daughter's. Judging from the photo, he had to be about six foot.

The man who'd just gone for Warrick and Val's drinks was balding and was five-foot-four.

"How else do you think he knew 'his daughter' had been raped and strangled?" Val added in a hiss, "Unless the police here give out every single detail about the murder to everyone who asks?" She looked around, then lifted her voice. "Mr Westwood?" Val called out, "I love this statue. Is it from Bali?" She pushed open the kitchen door and peered inside. After a few seconds, she slowly shut the door and walked back towards Warrick, a strange expression on her face.

"I gather he's not making our drinks anymore." Warrick said darkly.

"They're missing a kitchen knife from their six-set," She said dryly, as she pulled her gun from its holster. Warrick did the same.

"Are you sure?" Adrenaline was replacing the fatigue. Very very quickly.

"Call Brass now," Val said calmly, cocking her pistol. "Suspect is in the building, armed and dangerous." She spared a glance at the photo of Julia and her family. "Cliché as that might sound."

-

Jackie laughed. "Oh, the looks on your faces. Absolute Kodak moment. Pure gold."

"You're Marcus's daughter?" Nick stared, goggle-eyed. "But your last name is Connors!"

She rolled her eyes at him. "Hello? It's a fake name. Like the baby-girl act. All fake." She smirked. "But it was so worth it."

"Was it?" Sara asked quietly. Jackie turned to stare quizzically at her. "Was it?" Sara repeated, "I mean, now that it's out in the open, everyone's going to know that you lied to them. Your friends aren't going to take that well."

Jackie blinked, slowly. "I guess I hadn't thought of that." She shrugged, looking uncomfortable. "They'll get over it. They'll understand."

"No-one ever understands why a friend betrays them."

Jackie looked savagely at Sara. "I didn't do this for Tina or Dana. I didn't even do this for me. I did it so Marcus would be put away, okay? And all the girls got beat up too, so they'll thank me later." She turned to look at Grissom. "I suppose you saw dear old daddy's rap sheet, right?" She slumped down in her chair. "Three domestic disturbances. Three recorded domestic disturbances. Three strikes, you're out. Mom finally got the courage to kick him out. But I guess old habits die hard - and I guess he missed beating up his wife and daughter."

Sara swallowed, and her face went stony, but no-one noticed.

"Tina was abused more often and more violently than the other models," Grissom broke in, "Or so they say. Why was that?"

For an instant, Jackie looked guilty. She had to look down. "Because she reminded Marcus so much of his daughter. The guts she showed. The fact that she stood up every time he knocked her down. The fact that she wouldn't ever let him get to her. But the more Marcus 'disciplined' her, the less she was able to take. But still she kept fighting." Jackie sighed. "She should have just let him think he won."

"Which is what you did," Sara said. "Pretending to be a little kid…"

"Yeah." Jackie examined her fingernails. "I mean, as we came to Vegas, I think he finally broke her. It's like she gave up. And then she left, and she made me - the baby Jackie, anyway - keep it a secret." She looked up, a steely glint in her eyes. "But there aren't any secrets anymore, are there?"

"So," Nick frowned, "Go back a bit. You said you knew where Tina was. Where is she, exactly?"

Jackie sighed melodramatically. "Has anyone contacted her parents yet?" She looked from CSI to CSI. "Judging from the looks on your faces, that would be a 'no'." She sighed, and flapped a hand. "Like Dana told you, Tina's a local girl. Given that we've been touring all over the country, Tina didn't have anywhere else to go. She had to stay on, let Marcus pummel her…"

"So she's with her parents?"

Jackie nodded. "Yeah. They came, picked her up, took her home. I was there. I saw it all." She looked up, her face set and determined. "If you need Tina's testimony to get him behind bars, she'll give it." Jackie looked down at her hands again. "I just need some time to explain… this," she pointed to her face, "to her."

"I'll call Brass," Nick stood up and went outside.

Grissom and Sara were alone in the room with the model.

"You have more questions, don't you?" Jackie said.

Grissom smiled slightly as he sat down next to Sara. "You're a very perceptive young woman."

Jackie rolled her eyes. "Yeah, well, to do a chameleon, you gotta be. One slip, and it's all over."

"I have a question," Sara broke in, "The blood on the catwalk…"

"It's Tina's," Jackie nodded. "But you probably knew that by now."

"How did that happen?"

Jackie bit her lip, then sighed. "It was the day after everything had been set up in the hotel. Tina had been quiet, just letting Marcus vent his spleen. He was just yelling at us this time - mainly Tina, since she gained a quarter-pound. All of a sudden, she snapped. She picked up a broom and tried to smash his face in." Jackie chuckled at the memory. "I nearly dropped by guard and joined in. But Marcus was stronger. He took the broom from her and…" Jackie's throat caught, and she cleared her throat. "Well, after a few minutes, the broom snapped. But he kept hitting her with the broken broomstick. It was sharp, so she was cut all over. And then, if that wasn't enough, he made her get up, stand there listening to him scream again, then he made her walk up and down the catwalk, up and back, over and over again…"

"And she was bleeding."

Jackie nodded. "That was the straw that broke the camel's back. Her dad came in that very night and took his baby girl home." Jackie stared at her hands, then quietly, almost brokenly, added, "I wish I had a father that cared that much." Then, a smirk, and Vincent's daughter was back. "But hey, I turned out alright, didn't I?"

"You're a survivor," Grissom said. "That doesn't mean you turned out 'alright'."

Jackie's smile vanished. "Yeah." She agreed. "I guess you're right."

Sara looked away and shut her eyes.

A/N: I wrote the outline for this fanfic long before season five came out… so if there are parallels between Tunnel Vision and Nesting Dolls, don't blame me. I haven't even seen season four yet. I know about Nesting Dolls because Nerwen throws transcripts at me. You know she ran into a wall and broke a toe when she found out about a certain GSR moment? (Heh, sorry Nerwen, but someone had to share that story around… If it wasn't me, then your sister would have done it. Beat me upside the head or sick Alsatians on me or whatever.)
Please review? No flames please - and if you have questions, email me personally. I lub emails.

Oh yeah, and Val says thanks for the birthday greetings to all the fans who sent them n.n