A/N: Well… thanks for all the kind words. I appreciate all of your reviews. I've been a little out of it for the past week and a half, so please let me know if something doesn't make sense! This one will be Mac/Stella heavy since I feel like I haven't given them their due and they're my favorite pair. Enjoy the next part!

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Stella was mid-way through processing the victim's bedroom carpet when she heard the apartment door slam and hurried steps echo on the hardwood floors. She paid no attention to the noise when she realized it was time for shift change for a few of the officers on the scene. Instead, she continued to swab the sectioned off carpet.

A startled squeak exited her mouth as a hand reached out and gripped her wrist, stopping it from lowering the q-tip to run over the next carpet section. Stella looked up into the frowning face of Mac Taylor as he crouched next to her.

"Jesus Christ, Mac. Give a girl a heart attack, why don't you…" she scolded, brushing her hair away from her face. He didn't say anything, just stood up. His grip on her wrist indicated that she should do the same. When she did, his hand touched the tip of her chin gently and moved her head side to side so he could take a look at the damage himself. Assured that her head was still intact, he dropped his hands and his icy blue eyes stared at her.

"What the hell were you thinking, Stella?" he asked. He already knew, of course. Stella always jumped into situations without really thinking of the consequences. It was what sent her commanding officer at the NYPD into the world of premature gray. She was probably going to do the same to Mac. Stella huffed, putting a hand on her hip.

"I was thinking that my co-worker - and friend - was getting the stuffing choked out of him," she answered. Mac's jaw tightened.

"You aren't NYPD anymore. Let them do their job. You are CSI. Do your job," he said, harsher than he'd intended. Stella bit back the hurt at his unintentional jab. For some reason, Mac's concern always came out biting. And she knew it. So, she tried not to take it personally.

"I am doing my job," she said as diplomatically as possible. With that, she turned to dispose of the no longer sterile q-tip. Mac sighed as he watched her crouch down in front of her kit to grab a new one. There'd been a look on her face. A look he hated.

"Stella," he started. She didn't look up at him.

"I'm fine, Mac," she interrupted. "But I've been here for an hour and I haven't even gotten to the other rooms. I could use a hand…" With that, she looked up at him, her eyes staring into his. Mac nodded and she graced him with a small smile. It was an apology on both their parts.

Mac took over the areas outside the bedroom and it took them another full hour to get the apartment completely processed. The two of them met in the middle of the apartment. They both surveyed the brown bags of evidence with tired eyes.

"Well?" Stella asked. Mack looked at his watch. It was close to seven o'clock.

"We'll get all this back to the lab, process what we can immediately process, then call it a night," he said. Stella nodded.

"Maybe we can get a hit off of AFIS with the prints we found. The husband should be booked by now. We'll have his prints on file to eliminate him," she said. Mac looked over at her but bit his tongue at the reminder of what had happened earlier.

"Don't eliminate a suspect just because of a show of emotion," he chided. Stella gave him a look before closing her kit.

"Give me a little credit, Mac," she said with a laugh. "Flack checked his alibi. He was at work, under the watchful eyes of surveillance cameras at West Side Credit Union at the time of the murder." Mac thought this over.

"One less person to worry about," he said.

"We should get back, though. Mr. Crawford should be released on bail soon if his lawyer is any good. We'll want to talk to him," she said, motioning to an officer for help with the evidence. She picked up and armful of bags and Mac mirrored her actions.

"Hopefully, we'll find something here," he said. Stella looked over her shoulder at him as they made their way down the stairs.

"What did you find at the school?" she asked.

"Whitney Howard's schedule. We'll go back there tomorrow and interview the instructors and take a look at the classrooms," he said. It was the next logical step and Stella nodded her head at it.

"Until then, let's see what we can get from Mr. Crawford," she said.

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Danny let out a sigh as he sat back from the comparison microscope. The bullet from the last gun was a no match. He and Aiden had been through all the guns given to them. Not one matched. They'd hit a dead end. He reached for the pile of papers sitting next to him and was about to look into the leather conditioner lead as Aiden entered the room with a somber look on her face.

"What's up?" he greeted.

"We've got another body," Aiden said. Danny sighed as he set down the lab report he knew wouldn't lead anywhere important.

"Good…" he said. Aiden looked at him strangely and Danny realized how he'd sounded. "I meant that as a 'maybe the killer left behind more clues than the last time' good…" Her eyebrow lifted.

"Let's go, Mr. Morbid," she said. Danny followed her out of the door.

"Can we quit with the nicknames, please?" he asked. Aiden threw a look over her shoulder.

"Sure…" she said. "Daniel…" He rolled his eyes.

"Oh my God. You enjoy being difficult, don't you?" he asked. Aiden shrugged.

"Why fight what I excel at?" she asked. "Plus, it's a bonus that it drives you nuts…" The two of them walked out to the awaiting Suburban. Aiden took the keys out of her pocket and unlocked the doors. Just as she was about to make her way to the driver's side, Danny snatched the keys from her hand.

"You may drive me crazy, but that's the only place you're driving me for a while," he said. Aiden smiled.

"By all means… drive…" she said. The way she said it almost had him handing the keys back to her, but after a second hesitation he caught on to her game. He gave her a look before going to open the driver's side door.

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"Detective Brass from the Las Vegas Police Department questioned Whitney Howard's ex-boyfriend – Paul Urlich. Brass said he bawled like a baby… but the guy had an airtight alibi," Flack said as he approached Mac and Stella outside the interrogation room.

"Another suspect eliminated," Stella muttered. Flack looked through the window at Mr. Crawford.

"Mr. Gold Gloves, here, just made bail. But we figured we'd let him sweat it out a little until you came to question him," the detective said. Stella gave him a smirk.

"I'm shocked at you…" she said. Flack grinned back.

"Yeah, well, just don't tell my mom. She still thinks I'm the 'good cop'…" he said. Stella chuckled, and even Mac cracked a small smile.

"Well…" she said, looking at Mac. "Let's go play good cop…" The two of them walked through the door and into the small interrogation room. Lance Crawford, newly married and newly a widow, sat dejectedly in the chair waiting for his questioning.

"I didn't kill her," the man said, looking up at the two detectives with earnest eyes. Mac and Stella shared a look.

"We never said you did," Stella answered him. Crawford shifted in his chair and put his head in his hands.

"It's what you think. It's why I'm still here," he said miserably, tears filling his eyes. It took a second or two, but the man regained control of his roller coaster emotions and looked back up at them.

"We know you didn't kill your wife, Mr. Crawford," Mac said as he sat down. "You were clocked in at work at the time of her death and we have you on video surveillance." Stella sat down next to her partner in front of the grieving widow.

"And we're even going to be gracious enough to not press charges for attacking our medical examiner," Stella said, brushing her hair back so that the forming bruise could stand out in the harsh interrogation room light. Mr. Crawford's eyes immediately went to the darkening area on her jaw and looked suitably shamed.

"I'm sorry about that," he said, his red-rimmed eyes memorizing the table in front of him. Mac leaned his elbows on the table.

"I understand lashing out in the heat of grief, Mr. Crawford. I've been there," he said, shocking his partner at the reference to his own painful loss. It wasn't often that he used anything personal to get through to the witness. That was usually Stella's tactic. Mac ignored her look. "But we have to move past that and we need to focus on catching the guy that did this…"

"I'm not sure how much help I'll be," the man said miserably. "I have no idea who would be this cruel to Caitlyn… or me…"

"Did your wife know a Whitney Howard at all, Mr. Crawford?" Mac asked. The man shook his head.

"Caitlyn never mentioned a Whitney Howard. I don't know one. We're fairly new to New York. We are… we were still trying to find our circle of friends," he said.

"Do you know what your wife's schedule was this morning?" Stella asked. Crawford shook his head as he leaned his elbows on the table as well.

"Not really. I go into work around 7:00am. She doesn't usually go in to work until 9:00am, or something like that. But she gets up when I get up. She said she liked the time to herself to get some things done around the apartment," he said, his voice going hoarse for a second.

"Where did she work?" Stella asked.

"She worked part-time at Worthington," he said. Stella nodded. She knew the store.

"Were there any co-workers she complained about? Any particular customers?" Stella prodded again. Crawford shook his head.

"No. Nothing that sticks out in my memory," he said. Mac and Stella looked at each other and conveyed their belief that they weren't going to get anything useful out of the man. Stella stood up.

"Thank you for trying, Mr. Crawford," she said. "If you do remember anything, no matter how small, make sure you let someone know so we can look further into it, okay?" Crawford stood as well and nodded at her question.

"Am I free to go?" he asked nervously. Mac nodded. When they were left alone in the small room, Stella turned to look at Mac.

"He certainly didn't know much," he said. Stella smiled.

"Nope. Not one thing to help. Let's go look at the evidence. That always tells us something," she said.

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East bank of the Hudson River

"This is the only thing I hate about the job… it's almost quitting time and, bam… a floater in the Hudson," Aiden complained. Danny parked the SUV and looked over at her.

"A floater?" he asked with a grimace. Blood and dismemberment he could handle. Bodies that washed ashore, regardless of the stage of decomposition, made his stomach rebel. Floaters were never pretty.

"I can take the body by myself if you want," Aiden offered, knowing her partner's weakness. Danny shook his head as he swallowed hard.

"No, that's okay. Thanks. I'll work through the nausea," he said. Aiden chuckled.

"My hero," she said as they got their kits. From where they stood, they could see the tightly wrapped body waiting for them.

"It'd be a career breaker if we found Capone…" Danny grinned. Aiden snorted.

"If this is Capone, dinner's on me," she said. Danny shook his head, smile still on his face.

"See, you've been checking out my butt…" he said. Aiden groaned.

"You're a real Casanova, you know that?" she asked. Danny shrugged.

"It's actually the Messer charm… Casanova was on my mother's side," he told her as they approached the police officers. Aiden rolled her eyes.

"You wish…" she said. The officer in charge stepped up to meet the two CSIs.

"A jogger saw the body from the path. She called it in a half an hour ago. We haven't touched anything," the officer said. Aiden smiled.

"Thanks," she said. She and Danny approached the DB.

"How nice. It's gift-wrapped," Danny drawled, setting his kit down. The two of them pulled on latex gloves and crouched down next to the body.

"How do we want to do this?" he asked her. Aiden took a quick preliminary look over the material that enclosed the victim.

"You want to cut the rope? I can unwrap him," she said. Danny nodded gratefully. He wasn't so sure he wanted to be the one to discover what was under the sheet. He pulled out a box of plastic bags and a knife from his kit and went to what he assumed to be the victim's feet.

Aiden snapped the preliminary pictures and then gave him the nod to continue. Selecting a starting place, he carefully cut the robe that secured the white covering. He selected about two feet of the rope and cut the other section. Danny then marked each end with a letter so he could match them up in the lab later. Then, he put the section of rope in a plastic bag. He continued this process until all the rope had been removed.

The two CSIs stood over the body for a second, planning their next attack.

"Kinda reminds me of a mummy from those cheesy horror flicks," he commented.

"You know, we don't even know how this person was killed yet," Aiden noted. "This may be a wild goose chase…" Danny shrugged.

"If it is, we'll sign off on it. But the first body was a mistake. A failed execution. You find bodies like this, minus the Christmas bow, and we can assume it's connected until we prove otherwise," he said. Aiden shook her head.

"Imagine how many more bodies are at the bottom of that river…" she muttered.

"I'd prefer not to," he said.

"Was their a weight for the body?" Aiden asked the officer on scene.

"No, ma'am. We haven't found anything like that yet," he said. She nodded.

"Keep looking… this body wasn't meant to be found. So there's a reason it was," she said, kneeling down to find a place to start unraveling the sheet.

"Here goes," she said, finding a corner and starting to pull it back.

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Trace lab…

"So… we've gone through the fingerprints. Nothing. We've gone through the blood and trace. Nothing. We're going through the personal items and so far… zippo," Stella growled, digging through the papers in front of her. Mac knew she was ranting in frustration and let her do it without saying anything. He'd rather let her run out of steam than to step in the middle and get run over.

Instead, he continued running the ALS over the clothes he had laid out. He was hoping that the alternate lighting system would pull up something the killer left behind in his haste.

"Wait… a… minute…" Stella's voice caused him to look up. She was slowly pulling a single piece of paper from the box she had been going through.

"Hey, Mac. Look at this," Stella called, looking at the piece of paper closer. "We have a tie to our first vic…" Mac looked over her shoulder. He let out a breath at what he saw.

"A Pratt Institute class list," he said. Stella smiled.

"I'll bet if we find a schedule for her, we'll find something in common with Whitney Howard," she said.

"It looks like we'll have some more questions to ask tomorrow," Mac commented. Stella smiled.

"I think I may actually sleep well tonight," she said. A lab tech knocked on the door and interrupted them.

"I have the analysis on the piece of plastic you sent me, Detective Taylor," he said. Mac took the piece of paper from him and looked over it. His shoulders dropped in disappointment.

"What is it?" Stella asked, stepping next to him to look at the sheet.

"Nothing, really. The blood on the plastic was the victims. And the plastic was a piece from a standard Quality Park windowed envelope. Used by millions of businesses across the world, not to mention personal use. Nothing to trace at all," he said. Stella frowned.

"Do you think it was part of the primary scene, or do you think it was just coincidence?" she asked. Mac shrugged.

"We have no way to prove either," he said. Stella gave him the point.

"It's just that the piece you found was too small to be coincidental," she said.

"But it was found in the trash, Stella. It's circumstantial, at best. There's no way to connect it," he said. Stella shook her head.

"No way, Mac. We combed that garbage. I don't remember finding any envelopes, or pieces of envelopes," she said. "It may have to float around on the peripheral for now, but it's got to mean something." Mac gave her a doubtful look but didn't say anything.

"Besides," she said, turning to him with a smile. "You're the one that's always saying that everything's connected…" Mac rolled his eyes.

"There are always exceptions. Especially in miniscule details," he said. Stella snorted.

"You just don't want to admit I'm right," she smirked. Mac angled her a look from where he stood.

"When you're right, you'll know it," he said as he slipped off the lab coat. Stella mirrored his actions with a chuckle as they made their way out of the lab.

"I cannot wait to close my eyes…" Stella commented as they made their way to the locker rooms.

"The overtime gets its revenge," Mac said. Stella went to her locker and opened it.

"I think I have a love-hate relationship with overtime…" she said, looking at her watch. It was almost nine-thirty. Another fourteen hour day in the books.

"Most people do. When they want the extra hours, they love it. When they don't, they hate it," Mac said.

"You insight never ceases to amaze me… I may have to write that one down, Mac," she said with a smirk as she shut her locker. Mac just shook his head at her. Stella, ever the smart-ass.

"See ya tomorrow, Mac," she said.

"Goodnight," he called to her before she was out of earshot.

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Early the next morning…

The ringing of her cell phone woke her from a deep sleep. When she opened her eyes, Stella saw that the clock read just after seven o'clock. With a heavy hand, she reached to the bedside table and picked up the object making such an offending noise. The caller ID told her it was her boss.

"Mac… it's twenty minutes before I have to get up. Is this going to be habit?" she greeted.

"You mean you don't like hearing my voice this early in the morning?" he asked on a chuckle. Stella laughed in return.

"Mac, you're my boss, my partner, and my friend… you know I love you. But I don't want to hear anyone's voice this early in the morning. Well… maybe Brad Pitt's," she said. Mac chuckled again.

"That's what dreams are for. Anyway… how soon can you get here?" he asked. Stella sat up in bed.

"What happened?" she asked.

"Nothing serious. Mr. Crawford has just been brought in, though. I figured you'd want to be here for the questioning," he said.

"Crawford? Hell yeah. I'll be there in… well… give me a half an hour to get there," she said, jumping out of the bed and going to her closet.

"I can give you fifteen. Flack will have to start without us, then," he said.

"Great. See you in a few," she said before she hung up.

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A half an hour later…

"What's going on?" Mac asked as he and Stella approached Detective Flack. Flack nodded to the glass that Mr. Crawford sat behind.

"The department sent a few officers to the Crawford's apartment to return a few things and they found the antsy widow loading his car for an extended trip. They asked him if he wouldn't mind coming in for a few more questions and he volunteered his time." he told them. Mac frowned.

"Just as well. We've come across some new information last night that we'd like to talk to him about," he said.

"Have at it," Flack invited. Stella took the initiative and went to the door. Crawford looked up at the new arrivals with wary eyes.

"You do think I killed her," he said suddenly. "It's why you brought me in, isn't it?"

"No, Mr. Crawford. We don't think you killed her," Mac said. The other man sat back in his chair.

"So, where were you off to, Mr. Crawford?" Stella asked. She pulled out a chair and sat directly across from him. His fingers tapped slightly against the table.

"I was… I was going to see my sister, Renee. She lives in Fort Ann. I needed to get away from the city for a while. I needed to get away from the apartment," he said, his eyes on his hands.

"Why didn't you tell us that your wife took classes at the Pratt Institute?" Mac asked. Crawford frowned at the sudden change of subjects.

"I forgot. She wasn't taking classes regularly. She'd take one every now and then just for fun. She always liked to learn new things," he said folding his hands on the table and then thinking better of it and put them back in his lap.

"We need you to think, Mr. Crawford. Was there a person she would talk about at all? A fellow student? A professor?" Stella asked. Crawford shook his head.

"No. She rarely mentioned her class. We'd talk about it every now and then, but interior design wasn't something I really liked to talk at length about. That was her interest," he said. His eyes flicked between Mac and Stella, and then to Flack standing by the door. Then his face took on a pained expression. "I'm sorry. I really wish I could be more help… I feel like I'm wasting your time." Mac sat back in his chair. He observed the younger man in the silence for a moment. Crawford looked uncomfortably between the three people in front of him and the officer standing at the door. Mac tossed the manila folder he'd been holding onto the table, his eyes never leaving Crawford.

"Well, that's all the questions we have for you right now," he said. "Thanks for coming in and clearing this up for us…" Crawford nodded as he stood. Before he made it to the door, Stella stopped him.

"Could you give us the number of your sister's so that we can get a hold of you in case we have any more questions?" she asked with a smile. The man stopped.

"You can get a hold of me on my cell phone," he said.

"We'd appreciate it if you left that number for us," Mac said, nodding to the officer standing near the table. The officer took out a pad of paper and set in on the table. Crawford doubled back. The other three left the room as the man wrote down the information.

"Did he look nervous to you?" Stella asked the two men as they walked out into the hallway.

"He's looked nervous from the start," Flack said. "Not to mention the love tap could have been a boil over of nervous energy…" The detective looked to Mac, but the CSI was lost in thought as they continued down the hall.

"He says he is going upstate to see his sister…" Mac trailed off. Flack and Stella looked at each other then back at him.

"You don't believe him?" Stella asked. Mac didn't say one way or the other.

"Check into the sister. Then check bank accounts," he told Flack. The detective nodded but still had a frown.

"He had an alibi. He was not there when his wife died. Your forensics proved it," Flack pointed out. Mac nodded.

"I know. But that doesn't mean he didn't spend good money to get rid of a wife," he said. Flack shook his head.

"Ah, New York…" he muttered. Stella frowned.

"But the victim was raped, tortured and killed. That's a little personal to be a hired gun, don't you think?" she asked. Mac shrugged.

"It takes all kinds, Stell. Plus… we can't completely disregard Crawford's reaction. From all ends, it doesn't come off as an act. But it could simply be because the plan didn't go the way he wanted it to," he said. Stella's eyes lit up as she caught on to her partner's way of thinking.

"Simple kill. No mess," she concluded, starting off to the lab. "I'll check into debt and life insurance policies…"

"We've got Pratt. How is this connecting into the first case and the school?" Flack asked, genuinely confused at the new way of thinking. Stella stopped in her tracks and looked to Mac, her exuberance at the new path deflating slightly.

"We'll cross that bridge if and when we get to it. Until then, let's work this until we prove or disprove it," he said. Stella threw him a departing smile before the three separated to do their jobs.

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Sheldon Hawkes leaned over the body with a look of interest. The body that Danny and Aiden had brought in had been killed with a single gunshot wound to the head. But that wasn't what interested him as he stood back and looked at the crime scene photos Aiden had taken of the body.

"What's the story, Doc?" Danny asked as he ventured into the morgue. Sheldon frowned as he looked back down at the body.

"Well… you're missing something," he said. Danny frowned.

"What do you mean?" he asked. The doctor set the photo down in front of Danny.

"Take a look at the rope that was around the body. It was tight enough to leave post-mortem bruising," he said. Danny nodded. The doctor then indicated for him to step closer to the body. His gloved hand hovered over a line of bruising that ran across the dead man's upper torso.

"See that? That is the same sort of bruising the rope left on the rest of the body," he said. Then he pointed to the photo. "But there is no rope in that area to cause bruising…" Danny frowned again.

"The rope could have moved over time," he said. Sheldon shook his head.

"No. The rope was simply too tight for that to happen," he said.

"Could it have been from a weight? To keep the body from floating away?" Danny asked. Sheldon shrugged.

"That would be a reasonable explanation," he said.

"But we didn't find any trace of what weighed the body down. Could the rope have broke?" he asked.

"It would leave the weight at the bottom of the river and cause the body to float downstream with the current…" Sheldon noted. "But from what I can tell… that rope is heavy duty nylon. It would take a lot of wear for it to simply break. Even under water." Danny nodded, knowing that this warranted further investigation.

"How long ago was he killed?" he asked. Sheldon smiled.

"My next order of business," he said, leaning back over the body. "State of decomp tells me that he's been dead for just under a month…"

"Cause of death?" Danny asked.

"Shot in the head. Died immediately," the doctor told him. And before Danny could say another word, Sheldon held up a hand to ward him off. Then, he held up a small bag containing the bullet. Danny grinned.

"You read my mind," he said.

"It's my second talent," Sheldon said back before Danny headed off to the ballistics lab.

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A/N: You know what's frustrating? Losing your entire update… plus the update AND ending of another story because your computer is stupid. I almost pulled out all of my hair the other night when I realized that I couldn't get in to the update document. Talk about murderous rage… Thank god I was by myself! I think I'm going to boycott computers – except for posting – from here on out. Paper and pen… you are my God… :) N-E way… let me know how you like this update. It went down a completely different path in the re-write than what I originally had saved (it's also a lot longer!). I liked the other better, but if you all like this, it could grow on me… :)