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Chapter 9

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"Hey Griss," Sara called. "How you coming on Greg and Warrick's stuff?"

"In the interest of time, I'll skip the details, but Greg was taken from the locker room as originally thought. Shoeprints and a well-hidden white rag confirmed it. All three rags were doused with the same chemical."

"Let me guess: chloroform."

"Good guess. Confirms that all three disappearances were linked."

"Which we already knew."

"Right." He paused before asking, "Where's Catherine?"

"Direct quote: 'I gotta pee. You're not going to follow me in there, are you?'"

Grissom shook his head.

"For future reference, that was probably more than I needed to know, Sara."

"Hey, you asked." She crossed her arms across her chest, feeling slighted. "Grissom, what did I do to piss you off?"

Grissom blanched. "What are you talking about?"

"You're mad at me. I can always tell when you're mad at me, and right now I'm definitely getting that feeling."

Heaving a sigh, he tried to put his thoughts into words. "I'm not mad at you, I just—"

The buzzing of Nick's pager cut him off, as it skittered across the lab table. Grissom grabbed a glove and read the print out.

"V has C & LW. #4. En route. CW."

Grissom heard a smack as Sara's fist hit her forehead.

"All she could talk about was Lindsey! I shouldn't have let her out of my sight… She tricked me!"

"Get in the Tahoe, now!" Grissom ordered, pulling her by the elbow and grabbing their vests and weapons on the way out to the car.

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When they pulled out onto the road, Grissom asked, "Where was Lindsey? Where did Catherine want to go?"

"Her sister's house. That way," Sara directed him.

He turned on the little flashing light and didn't worry about the speed limit, causing Sara to cling to the seat.

"Do you have the GPS for her beeper chip?"

"Yeah, just a sec." Sara dug in her field kit in the back seat. Finding what she wanted and bringing it forward, she fiddled with the buttons until it displayed the information she needed. "It says she's at her sister's."

Pulling up to Catherine's sister's house a few minutes later, Sara jumped from the car. Using the GPS to guide her, she walked toward the end of the driveway.

"100 feet…" she called. "50 feet… 30 feet… 20 feet… She's right here! 10 feet…" She stopped.

"Damn it! Grissom her pager's laying here in the grass. Wait… There's a message… Jer 2:33-34a, 35b." Looking up, she watched Grissom pull out his mini Bible from his kit and read the verse.

" 'How you plot to win your lovers. The most experienced prostitute could learn from you! Your clothing is stained with the blood of the innocent and the poor. … Now I will punish you severely because you claim you have not sinned.'"

"That's not true! Damn her! God! She took the one thing she knew would make Catherine fold: Lindsey. Then she had her leave her own verse." Sara stood stock still for a moment, staring at the ground in mourning for her friend. Suddenly she took off her ID badge and hurled it at Grissom, shouting "That bitch! She's breaking us apart, and she knows it!"

"Sara, stop!" Grissom picked up her badge and came to calm her. "This is just what she wants. Don't give her the satisfaction. Now, think. Catherine's last message said 'en route.' En route to where?"

As if in answer, Sara's pager went off.

"Cabin 108, Lake Meade. CW," she read. "She likes to be near the water! Duh!"

"Get back in the car!" Grissom called as he dashed for the driver's seat, Sara scrambling after him.

"Follow those treads! Catherine's pulling another 'Finger.'" Sara pointed to the long set of skid marks.

"I know, Sara. I see them. Call Brass. We need him to be there with us. Then call O'Riley and tell him to get some uniforms over to Catherine's sister's house to check on things. Tell him to bring in swing shift to help. Then you get me Catherine's cell phone on that GPS!"

Grissom drove wildly to the other side of town toward Lake Meade, hoping and almost praying that they'd get there in time. Thoughts and pictures of the crew played in his head like a movie reel, but he drove them from his mind, forcing himself to focus on the road. Only one thought remained:

'We're coming, guys. Hang on."

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