Disclaimer: Still not mine, though I'm working on it.

A/N: Beta-ed again by LibraryLady61. I couldn't have done it without you.

Summary: Sara and Brass follow Warrick's trace while Grissom and Greg investigate a murder where evidence seem to lead in the wrong direction.

Rating: PG

Spoilers: Come on, you know them probably better than I do.


CHAPTER THREE

Back at Warrick's apartment Brass and Sara didn't find much more clues except some maps and travel guides. Brass also found the book from Colin Fletcher which he had loaned Warrick.

"At least we can guess which roads he must have taken. Looks like he wanted to take a ride through Monument Valley afterwards, then drive up to Page probably for water-skiing. It's a very nice trip. Did it already twice myself." Brass stated.

"What is this thing you guys have with the Grand Canyon anyway? It's not that either Warrick or yourself look like nature people." Sara wanted to know. Brass cocked his head refraining from answering.

"Come on Sar. Let's ride. We start with the place where his car has been found and work our way backwards." Brass simply left and went back to the Tahoe and climbed into the passenger seat waiting for Sara to lock the front door of Warrick's apartment.

When they entered the southeast bound highway he tried to explain to her how he felt the connection between man and nature.

"It's ironic, isn't it? We live surrounded by desert, yet all amenities present. Water, energy, everything taken away from mother nature, without giving it a second thought. And still humans are drawn back to nature, to its purity." He got excited. "You know, you have to do the Grand Canyon some time. As a geological feature the canyon is still very young, but for human beings its been like there forever. You know, all the layers that lends through time are visible here and that's what makes it so fascinating for me."

"Brass, stop it. You sound like a tourist guide!" Sara laughed. "Didn't actually realize that you are so into it. You should take me sometime. I mean, on a hike." She added slyly.

Jim side glanced at her, not that sure how to handle Sara teasing him that way. He always considered himself immune against her charm, he was just the guardian looking out for her when nobody else did. Nothing more. But still, she was striking a chord inside him which he thought he'd lost long time ago. Something which made his heartbeat faster, when she smiled her special Sidle smile. Something which made him feel human, or coming to the point, actually made him feel like a man. Stop, old fart, you're losing it. Anyway, Grissom is the man she obviously wants more than anybody else. I mean, look at Nick. He's a hunk of a guy and couldn't get a hit on her. And even not taking the age difference into consideration, compared to me, well, everybody looks better than me, anyway. No even a slight chance here.

"Sara." Jim let out a deep sigh. "I certainly didn't want to bore you." He tried not to sound too piqued.

She looked at him surprised and slightly confused about him changing his mood. "Sorry, Jim. Certainly no offence meant here."

They didn't speak for a while.

"Turn on the radio, will you?" Brass asked in the awkward silence pulling back his thoughts to safer ground.

"How about some jazz?" she asked.

"Sounds good. You mind if I take a quick nap while you're driving?" Brass asked.

"Well, if you trust me that much." Sara said. "Sure."


"That's an easy one." The officer told Grissom when they arrived at the crime scene. "We already got that son of a bitch."

Grissom figured that Highway patrol didn't even bother to tape up the scene because everything seemed obvious. All evidence which could have lead to other conclusions, like skid marks, foot prints in the desert sand, fibres, hairs not belonging to victim or possible suspect would be contaminated. Grissom cursed and shouted "Stop spoiling my crime scene, guys. Just step away, tape it up."

The lead officer whistled at his colleagues. "Hey, dudes. Nerd squad on site. Be nice, do what the boss says."

Greg and Grissom pulled on some latex gloves and started processing the scene. The black Toyota SUV with Arizona licence plate had stood in the sun for hours. Emanating waves of heat, flared the air.

"Grissom, can we do this quickly?" Greg asked. "I mean, look it's darn hot…"

Gil interrupted. "Greg, we need to do this even more thoroughly. Sometimes it's more than meets the eye and from what we have learned today there might be an unknown factor leading to something else. So go, process the interior of the car!"

"I knew it." Greg murmured in slight protest but started collecting dirt, hairs and fibres from inside the car and bagged it, while Grissom took a closer look at the female body.

"She's young, a twenty something, her knapsack on the back seat, probably hitchhiking. Close shot in the right temple, GSR in the entrance wound. Any ID?"

"Paula Drake." Greg answered, flipping though her belongings, then continuing to take pictures of everything that Grissom pointed at.

"Hi, Grissom." Somebody called from behind.

"Hi, David. Get her out of here. We are done." Grissom answered and helped the coroner to put her on the gurney. "Call me when you having her prepared for further processing."

"Where's the suspect?" Grissom asked the waiting chief officer.

"Already in custody at LVPD." He said.

"Greg, let's go for a walk." Grissom ordered. "I wanna have a closer look at the area."

"What are we looking for?" Greg wanted to know.

"Hidden evidence, Greg. Signs of a second car on scene perhaps. Tire profiles not contaminated by these dorks." Gil nodded to certain officers.

So they started circling the car, round after round enhancing the distance, eyes on the ground, flash lights wandering in arches, despite the fact they still had full daylight.

A hot breeze started twirling the dust.

"Damn." Grissom cursed, pushing his ball cap in the neck, wiping sweat from his forehead. His eyes started hurting from the sun rays reflected by the desert sand.

"Gris, found something, I guess." Greg shouted over pointing on some immaculate tire prints on the opposite side of the road.

Just in time. Gil thought. Before we both get a heat stroke. He watched Greg who wasn't wearing his base cap and already got a serious sun burn on his face and neck.

Grissom pulled out a cloth from his kit, took a bottle of water, made it wet and handed it to Greg.

Greg looked at him, question marks in his eyes. "Huh?"

"Just to stay cool in the matter of speaking, Greg. Pull the cloth around your head." Gil made a gesture. "You know like pirates are wearing it and do drink some water." He handed him the bottle. "Make sure next time you're working in the desert you have appropriate protection, sun blocker and enough water with you."

"Yes, sir!" Greg saluted, gladly taking the refreshment and rather surprised that his supervisor really seemed to care for him.

Than Greg explained what he had found. "I'll go make a mould of the tire prints and swab the black drops from over there. It's probably motor oil."

"Not too bad, Greg." Grissom said satisfied with Greg's processing. "Make it so. It's all we've got. Than let's head back to the lab. The suspect has already been brought in for questioning."


In the break room Catherine, Nick and Sam were going through the interrogation transcripts analysing it against what pure evidence had told them. In the meantime Detective Vega had joined them bringing some additional files on the other similar cases.

"Evidence is nailing suspect and crime scene together. In every case." Nick said. "But look at the transcripts. They all claim innocence. Talked about some guy with a breakdown or flat tire who they wanted to help. Then – blackout – and waking up in the stranger's car sitting next to a dead girl."

"This is definitely some kind of a signature." Catherine said.

"We, I mean PD, didn't even bother to cross-check the car ownership. Every time officers arrested the person on scene, CSIs found enough blood and fibre evidence connecting him with to vic and slam-dunked the case." Vega admitted. "I mean perps always claim their innocence. Nothing new here. We didn't really listen to that crap." Vega shrugged. "Well, finally, I have cross-checked ownership and licence plates. If this mystery guy really exists, he seem to travel between Arizona and Nevada with the cars acquired on his crime scenes after he had arranged it properly. So Mystery Man kills a girl after picking her up hitchhiking. Than, smart idea, why not let someone else go down instead of him."

"Dammit! PD and CSI will be so screwed if this turns out to be true." Catherine cursed. "I'm not going to take the blame for it."

"Cath, calm down. We don't know anything yet. And we are obliged to find the truth, even if we have to put ourselves on the line." Nick said.

"Oh, Please Stokes. Don't go Grissom on me." She scoffed.

Nick frowned at her but continued talking. "Somehow Mystery Man's M.O. is faking a car breakdown, waiting for help, knock off – maybe drug – the helper, placing him in his car, probably pulling the dead girl out of the trunk placing her on the passenger seat and just drive away, leaving it for the carnivores or highway patrol. Whatever comes first. What are we supposed to do now?" He looked expectantly at the blonde profiler.

"We need to interview the men convicted for theses murders." Sam looked at Vega. "Now! It may well be that we have put the wrong guys behind bars this time."

"I have already set up the interviews. For the Arizona guys we can do it via video conference, the Nevada perp is already at the station waiting for us." Vega told Sam. "Let's go find out about our Mystery Man." They left for the interrogation room.

Catherine and Nick stared at each other. "We are so screwed, Nicky."

"I don't think so. Look, we find out what really happened and nail the guy who did it." Nick touched her shoulder.

"I wish Warrick was here. Um, no offence meant, Nicky. But we could need another hand on the case, don't you think?"

"Yeah." Nick answered grimly. "You're going to tell me that we are pulling a double or triple, right?"

"You got that right." Catherine sighed.


Warrick awoke feeling sore. He found himself lying on a hard bench in a small dark cell. At least it was cooler in here. He stumbled over to the wash basin and refreshed himself a bit, washing away the blood from his face. The bleeding had stopped and somebody must have put a band aid over it.

"Hey, somebody?" He shouted.

Gus, the fat police officer, came over, hitting his nightstick against the bars. "Shut up, pal. So you're finally ready to talk?"

"Yes." Warrick said. "Did you call my supervisor? She will confirm who I am."

"She? Come on don't gimme that crap. You work for a woman? Is this why you had to kill an innocent girl? Do I smell motive?"

"Sir." Warrick tried to calm himself down. "Please listen. I'm innocent. There was that guy. He had a flat tire. I was helpful, even loaned him my tools. Then I felt something stinging me, I got dizzy and everything went black. Felt like a bug bite. Next thing I remember is that I was waking up in that car with an officer pointing a gun in my face and a dead girl beside me."

"That's a nice song you're singing, my friend. And I don't believe a word of it. I rather prefer you to stay put, I mean, not that you are going anywhere." Gus said.

"Dammit. What else can I do?" Warrick hit the bars in pure frustration.

"How about a confession?" Gus asked, turned around and left him alone.