A/N: I had already written the opening prior to reading the most recent reviews. And some of your responses to the end of last chapter were eerily similar to how our boys responded to our mystery man's self-professed declaration of sainthood. Funny how that works sometimes, eh?

7/10: editted for formatting (at a kind reviewer's suggestion) and a teensy tiny plot point.

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Oooookaaaay, thought Nick. He'd lived below the Bible Belt long enough to have a smattering of religious education, and he was at least pretty sure Francis of Assisi lived a long time ago. A really long time ago. And he was pretty sure that said saint didn't live in the mountains of Nevada. And most importantly, he'd never heard of any saint that carried a rifle. Nice scope on the rifle though. Must've cost a pretty penny. The scope also meant that, had there been any doubt, they'd found their sniper.

It's déjà vu, all over again. Certified nut job? Check. Gun pointed at me? Check. Yup. Same shit, different day.

Nick glanced over at Grissom. The two exchanged raised eyebrows. Nick looked questioningly at his boss.

You wanna take this one?

Grissom looked back at the faux-Saint Francis. Talking to the certifiable was a skill for shrinks and hostage negotiators. Grissom was neither, and his social skills had never been described by anyone- least of all himself- as stellar.

Let's give it a shot…Saint Francis was the patron saint of animals; preached to the sparrows, right?

"Well, Saint Francis. As I explained, we are not here to harm any animals. We are not hunters. As you see, you are the only one here with a gun." He raised his empty hands to illustrate the point and a quick glance at Nick confirmed his hope that the gun was concealed somewhere on his person, not readily seen. It was the one small advantage they had.

"I saw you. Your transport was the same as these others. Your presence disturbs the innocents. Had I not robbed you of your vehicle, you would have entered the forest with guns. That is the only reason your kind enters these woods."

"That's not true!" Nick said vehemently. Grissom darted him a look. Don't piss off the man with the gun. Nick continued, "People come here to revel in the wildlife, not kill it. There are almost three hundred kinds of animals on this refuge. Two hundred of them are birds. In fact, we followed turkey vultures here. I don't know if you've seen the rest of the world lately, but it's getting packed with people, Man. Sometimes you just have to escape to a place where it's quiet and peaceful and it's just you and God and nature. That's why they have places like this."

The armed man lowered his gun slightly in response to Nick's speech. Grissom was looking at Nick with something resembling admiration. Nick was a bit surprised himself at how it had flowed from him; how strongly he felt it.

"These men came with greed and lust in their hearts. Do you carry these sins in your hearts?"

Before Nick could answer Grissom did. "Of course I do."

It was Nick's turn to look at his boss with a face that struggled to maintain its serious façade.

I'm sorry…did Grissom just admit to having lust in his heart? Mr. I am the Bug Man, koo-koo-ka-joo?

A brief image of a gap-toothed smile shot across the bow of his mind and was gone. Just when I thought the surprises were over…

"You surprise me. While He knows all that it is in your heart, it is surprising to find a man who so readily admits it to a fellow mortal."

"He who is without sin shall cast the first stone was Grissom's even response.

"John 8:7. Well, the only one who can truly see your intentions is our Lord. You shall be tested as these men were," and with that he gestured with the gun over to the tree. "They were weighed and measured and found wanting. "

………………………………...

Brass and the rest had arrived at the substation, and, as promised, Sheriff Green was waiting for them. Introductions exchanged, he quickly explained the reason for his original call. "A ranger on patrol found an abandoned SUV. A black Denali, actually, I think. We've had a bit of a problem with poachers lately. There's a big market in Asia for certain animal parts; bear pancreas in particular. They make some kind of aphrodisiac out of it. Whatever. He stumbled upon a couple of dead bodies tied to a tree with bear traps clamped on their legs. The one body looks like a suicide, he said. Anyway, he ran the plates on the SUV and it came back to a rental place in Denio, hired by a Marcus Chang. Corporate account, billed to Red Dragon Imports, LLC. Ranger said one of the men looked Asian. It's probably him. Don't know who the other one is…was."

Brass had raised his eyebrows at the sheriff's mention of the black Denali. Odd coincidence or…?

"All right. Rick, Sara. We'll take the scene. Maybe it'll help us with what happened to our guys."

Warrick was surprised that Brass was accompanying them to the scene. "Brass, don't you think you'd be better off helping with the search?" He looked meaningfully at the sheriff and a rather slack-jawed looking deputy leant up against the patrol truck.

The sheriff caught the look. "Don't you worry, Mr. Brown. You go do what you do best, and we'll do what we do best. We know this refuge and won't leave a stone unturned, I give you my word on that."

That settled, the sheriffgave them directions to the scene and a walkie-talkie. Was only a mile or so into the woods, he said; shouldn't take more than a half hour. The three double-timed it into the woods, hoping that their efforts would help them find their friends.