Cloud-filtered morning sun shone through the police department's high windows, pooling in pale yellow shafts across the floor and upholstered seats. Dust floated lazily through the air, drifting in a faint gypsy gauze. The girl sat there, dark hair haloed in the cool light. She traced her finger absently across the cushion, the stain of sleeplessness and dried tears dimming her youthful face.

"Kristen Thomas, our vic's roommate," Brass said quietly, standing in the hallway facing the room's gridded glass wall. "Last one to have seen Jamie Martin alive, and the one who reported her missing."

Sara gazed at the girl over Brass' shoulder, her eyes grave. "Did she have any family?"

"Parents and a younger sister," Brass replied, glancing back at Sara with a solemn expression that mirrored her own. "They live in Oregon. We've already notified them." He sighed, weary shadows circling his dark blue eyes. "It's always a shame, but . . ."

"I know. When it's someone young and innocent, it always feels worse. People like that aren't meant to suffer." Her forehead creased, eyes at the edge of silent shadow.

"No one is meant to suffer." Brass tilted his head slightly, noticing her darkened expression. Taking a deep breath, he smiled warmly for her sake. "You know, I think we both need a vacation."

Sara met his eyes again, shadow receding with a hint of her old smile. "Yeah. Right after this case."

"That's what all the CSIs say."

As they entered the room, the girl glanced up at then with a mixture of fear and sadness. Sara sat beside her, and Brass stood behind Sara, hand resting against the back of her seat.

"Kristen," Sara began quietly, "my name is Sara Sidle. I'm with the crime lab. You've already met Captain Brass. Thanks for coming in to talk with us."

Kristen Thomas looked up, green eyes round and sad. "I just want to help you. For Jamie."

"Thank you. Can you tell me what happened the last time you saw Jamie? The night you reported her missing?"

The girl nodded, glancing away into memory. "It was Thursday. I was going out to a club with a few of our friends. Girls' night out. We did it once a month, like a tradition. Jamie decided to stay home. She had a test the next day, so she was studying. She was smart, but she always had to study extra hard." Kristen paused for a moment, then went on. "I was out until after 1 A.M., maybe closer to 2. When I got back to the apartment, the door was unlocked and partly open. I went in, everything was dark. I looked everywhere. All her stuff, her purse, cellphone, everything was still there. But Jamie was gone." She took a ragged breath, head in her hands.

"I'm very sorry," Sara said gently, fighting back a tear of her own. Maybe she was not ready to deal with a case like this yet. Each word pounded at her, their force like weights pulling her slowly into a bottomless well. She was trying so hard, but empathy was too close to memory.

"Miss Thomas," Brass began, his low voice breaking into Sara's thoughts. She leaned back slightly, shutting the door in her mind, grasping for strength from his presence. His voice was firm but kind, its simple power calming her. "After you returned to the apartment, did you touch or move anything?"

Kristen shook her head. "No. I was too scared to even stay there. I went to stay with my friends on campus and called the police."

"May we send a team to examine the apartment? It could contain important evidence."

"Yes, that's fine."

"Okay," Brass nodded, then asked, "Did Jamie have any enemies, people she didn't get along with? Like a boyfriend, ex-boyfriend, that kind of thing?"

"Well, she'd been dating this guy Eric for a few weeks. Eric Anderson. He's on the football team. Met Jamie in English class. He seems nice."

Brass jotted down the name in his notebook. "Was she seeing anyone before that?"

Kristen nodded. "Shawn Miller. They'd been dating since sophomore year in high school. We all thought they might end up getting engaged, but they broke up like a month ago."

"How did he take it?"

"Kind of hard, I guess. I mean, they haven't spoken since then."

Sara glanced over her shoulder at Brass, who met her gaze with a knowing nod. It was a start. "Thank you very much for your help, Miss Thomas," he said quietly, sliding his notebook into his dark suit coat.

Sara looked back at the girl, allowing only compassion to peer through her eyes. "Kristen, I promise we'll do everything we can to find the person who did this."

Kristen nodded slowly, eyes lowered. "I can't believe this. Jamie's been my best friend since junior high. We did everything together. I just . . . I never thought this could happen."

Taking a deep breath, Sara said gently, "We never expect a tragedy to happen to us."

"We just have to do our best to get through it," Brass added quietly.

Kristen stood and wiped her eyes, then left without another word.

For a moment, neither of them moved. Brass gazed down at Sara, his forehead creased with concern. She was staring pensively across the room, features washed with pale sun. He thought she was like a lamp of thin porcelain, its weakened flame smoldering as it burned out. Once it had blazed with wildfire's freedom, fierce spirit tinged with joy and anger. The light was dimmed now, leaving behind a shell that could be broken with one breath. Beautiful fragility. Gently he laid his hand on her slender shoulder, as if he feared she would shatter.

Sara looked up at him, the concern in his eyes piercing into her clouded thoughts. "I'm fine," she said softly, in answer to his unspoken question.

"Okay." Brass smiled slightly to reassure her, but their eyes held the silent reality. They both knew it was a lie.

Grissom stepped into the darkened apartment, blinking as his eyes adjusted to the change in light. His mind captured its general state in a single meticulous sweep.

Average student's apartment. Dorm furniture. Notebooks, glass of water, half-empty. Tilted lampshade. No immediately apparent signs of struggle.

He turned his head at a snapping noise to see Sara packing up her kit. "Um, where are you going?" he asked with a raised eyebrow. "We have to process the scene."

Sara glanced up at him, her gaze cool. "I've been here for an hour, Grissom. Everything's done." She noticed his dress pants and sleek leather jacket. "Where have you been?"

"Nowhere," he shrugged, still surveying the room.

Sara's mouth twitched as she returned her attention to her kit. She was not sure where he had been, but she knew exactly who he had been with. Rumors had been buzzing around the lab for weeks.

"So are you going to call it?" Grissom asked, not seeming to notice her reaction.

Turning to face the room, Sara began to visualize what had happened. "The victim was sitting on her couch, studying. No signs of forced entry, so either the door was unlocked or she let him in, suggesting that she knew her attacker. The killer grabbed her, bumped the lamp, broke a vase. Damage indicates she fought back briefly, but there's no blood. Since he had to get her out of here without the neighbors hearing, I'm thinking she was unconscious."

Grissom nodded. "There were no ligature marks or adhesive residue on her body to suggest that she was bound or gagged. Without some kind of restraint, the neighbors would have heard something."

"Right. But there was also no trauma to her head, like if she'd been knocked out. Maybe he strangled her just enough to make her unconscious."

"Well, the tox screen hasn't come back yet. Hemay have restrained her chemically."

"Because he needed to transport her somewhere else, where he raped and murdered her." Sara's forehead creased as she frowned. "Why not just tie or tape her up? Wouldn't duct tape over her mouth be easier than strangulation and drugs?"

Grissom glanced over the room, shaking his head. "I don't know. Maybe it's not about what's easy for this guy. Maybe he wanted her to fight him." He paused for a moment, thinking. "Or, since she was being transported somewhere, maybe he wanted to make sure she wouldn't know where she was. Could be either in case she escaped, or just to terrorize her."

"The killer had everything planned out, from the kidnapping to the murder." Sara shook her head grimly. "I've got nothing, Grissom. No blood, no prints, no tiretreads from a getaway vehicle. All we have on this guy is an M.O."

"No killer is that lucky, This guy knows something about evidence and not leaving it." Grissom shrugged. "Anyway, Brass is bringing in those two guys, so maybe we'll come up with something."

"Maybe." With a sigh, Sara picked up her kit and turned to the door. "Are you coming to P.D. after we drop this evidence off at the lab?"

"Oh, I can't right away," he said, shaking his head. "Sheriff wants to see me about some other case. I'll get there when I can."

Sara nodded silently, then turned to leave. She paused in the doorway and glanced back at Grissom, who was facing the room. Light from the hallway shone on the strong silhouette of his back, casting shadow in a black pool across the floor. She wondered how many times she had watched him, waiting for a word, a touch, a spark in his clear blue eyes.

Pathetic.

She recoiled sharply at the thought, a tremor of emotion twisting her face in a grimace. Taking a deep breath, she turned and left the apartment.