A/N: Sorry for the lateness of this chapter. A combination of factors, including craziness at work (literaly: I have a kid who was hearing voices at my foster home) and a muse who was aparently mad at me. I didn't originally intend to spend any time with Lindsey, but when the muse finally struck, this is where she lead me.

Chapter 13 The Ransom

She was torn out of the temporary reprieve sleep had granted her by bright lights and gruff voices. Before her eyes had a chance to adjust to the shock something was thrust into her hands and one of the voices ordered her to 'say cheese' as she was temporarily blinded again. A pair of bright squares danced in front of her. As they faded, Lindsey could see another of the men approaching her. Without

thinking, she backed farther into the corner, trying to maintain as much distance as possible.

"Stay still, little girl." Four words, but she understood the implied 'or else' tagged on at the end. Against every instinct she had, Lindsey stopped moving. She didn't even flinch when a rough hand yanked strands of hair from her head. The sting made her eyes smart, and she blinked furiously to keep the tears from falling. She refused to let these men see her cry.

"DNA," the first man spoke. "Mommy and her friends will appreciate that." He said it sarcastically, but the words gave Lindsey hope. Her mom and Uncle Gil, along with the rest of the guys at the lab, were working to find out where she was. They were CSIs, it was what they did. They would find her.

"Hair for the scientist, ransom letter for the millionaire. Kind of poetic, don't you think?" A third man stood in the doorway, manila envelope in one hand. He was taller then the other two, his voice smoother. Lindsey would bet anything that he was the one in charge, a fact quickly confirmed when the other two men handed him the hair and picture, one of them muttering "boss."

As quickly as they came, they left again and Lindsey was once again thrust into darkness. She shifted slightly, wincing in pain when her shoulder knocked against the wall. She must have hit it when they had tossed her in the room after dragging her from the van.

Now in the silence, as Lindsey went over the few words she had heard spoken, one particular phrase stuck out. Ransom for the millionaire. There was only one person who fit that description. Sam. Her grandfather. Until recently he had simply been a friend of her moms, and his sole attraction was the fact that he had a stable full of horses. This summer, though, her

mom had sat her down and given her the truth. She was old enough now to understand, her mom had said. Unbeknownst to her mom, she had been to visit Sam a handful of times since then. She would show up at one of his casinos after a bus ride. He always insisted on having his limo drop her off at home afterwards. She still called him Sam. He was more then an acquaintance but not yet a grandparent. Morbidly, Lindsey wondered if he would ever have the chance to be one. No. She couldn't let herself think like that. Sam had a lot of money. He would pay whatever they asked.

Her words weren't enough to reassure herself, and Lindsey felt the tingle of fear travel up her spine. Closing her eyes against the darkness, Lindsey tried to turn off her thoughts. Maybe if she concentrated real hard, she could pretend that the fear she felt was from watching a horror film. Yeah, she was at a slumber party with Hailey, and they had just watched the Silence of the Lambs trilogy. Hailey was just down the hall, using the bathroom. Any moment she would be back, and Lindsey would no longer be alone.

Focusing on her fantasy, Lindsey fell into a fitful slumber.

xxx

It was so light. That was the first thought to cross his mind. The single envelope, on which so much depended, was barely a weight in his hand. Grissom walked to the layout room, all too aware of the eyes that followed him. Everyone watched him, their hopes rest heavily on his shoulders. He donned a pair of latex gloves, more carefully then he ever had before. He couldn't risk destroying any evidence the kidnapper might have left. With a razor blade he cut a thin line above the flap and angled the envelope downward so the contents spilled onto the table. Two pieces of paper; one plain white with words typed on it, the other smaller and thicker. Grasping the corner with his first two fingers he turned it over. A photograph. Lindsey.

The first thing he noticed was her eyes. Dull and tinged with fear, they were not the eyes he was used to seeing. Lindsey's eyes were bright and full of energy. He had seen them shine with humor, narrow in anger, filled with tears, glowing with happiness, but never empty of emotion. The expression frightened him, and he had to force himself to look at the rest of the picture.

She was wearing the same outfit. The purple shirt was torn, held up by only one of the original straps. Her hair was matted and tangled, her face pale with smudges of makeup under her eyes. There was no way to tell what kind of room she was being held in, just Lindsey sitting in front of a white wall, holding a copy of today's newspaper. It was like a scene from a bad

movie, and Grissom was tempted to pinch himself to make sure it wasn't a dream.

"Grissom?" He was so intent on the picture that Sara had to call him three times before he turned his head in her direction. She held her gloved hand out, and he reluctantly handed her the picture.

"Shit." It only took her a moment to come to the same conclusion that Grissom had. There were no visual clues to Lindsey's location to be gained from the photo. "What does the letter say?"

"What?" Grissom spoke as if in a daze, his attention still held by the picture.

"The letter, Griss." She made a move to pick it up, but he snapped out of his fog and picked it up first. The first thing he saw, before focusing on the words, were the strands of hair taped to the bottom. Reaching for a pair of tweezers he removed the tape, the hair coming up at the same time.

"Greg." His voice was soft, his hand motion slight, but Greg understood immediately and entered the room. "Take these to DNA, get a comparison."

"Right away." Greg didn't ask any questions, simply retrieved the hairs and left the room once more. He didn't make any of his usual jokes, but walked with haste into the DNA lab. As much as he wanted out of the lab and into the field, he was glad today that he was here. If anyone could find DNA from a sample, it was him. He was not cocky, but sure of his competence.

xxx

"This is a good sign, right?" Hailey whispered to her uncle, her eyes never leaving the man in front of her holding a single sheet of paper. "I mean, if they want ransom, that means Lindsey is okay. They'll give her back, right?"

Brass closed his eyes briefly, remembering a woman's body found in a well, a little boy by the side of the road. Botched ransoms happened too often, but he couldn't tell Hailey that. Nor could he tell her of the times that the ransom went off smoothly, but the kidnapper decided to get ride of the victim anyway. Instead he nodded, and gave her a noncommittal "I hope so."

Catherine, who had been hovering in the doorway, could restrain herself no longer. "What does it say, Gil? What are they asking for?" She might have stormed into the room and snatched the letter out of his hand, evidence or no evidence, if not for Warrick's hand on her shoulder.

Grissom opened his mouth to answer, and then closed it again. Sara looked him in the eyes and silently offered to help him carry the burden. He blinked once and it was enough for her to rest her hand on his forearm and slip the paper out of his hand. Turning slightly, Sara met Catherine's expectant stare.

"They're asking for five million dollars in unmarked bill to be dropped off tomorrow at midnight. It's to be dropped off in the desert, in the shelter Tony Braun stored his gold in." As she said this last bit, Sara's gaze shifted from Catherine to Sam Braun. From the way he got suddenly paler, Sara was certain he didn't know anything about the ransom. She hadn't thought so, but now she was sure.

"I'll have it ready by noon," Sam spoke, looking at Grissom but reaching his hand out to Catherine.

"Thank you," Catherine voiced, her head reeling. Five million dollars. That's all Lindsey was to these bastards.

"Catherine," Grissom cleared his throat. "You know as well as I do that paying a ransom doesn't..."

"I don't want to hear it. They want money, they'll get money. Statistics be damned."

Grissom nodded, knowing any further argument would be pointless. Catherine was stubborn under normal circumstances, and this was anything but.

"I'm going to get this analyzed." He picked up the letter and the picture at the same time, hoping Catherine hadn't noticed the second piece of evidence. She didn't need to see her daughter like that.

"I'll come with you," Sara offered. She remained silent as they walked down the hall, stopping first at questioned documents, and then the A/V lab. It wasn't until they stepped into the break room for coffee that she spoke.

"How are you doing?"

"Fine." He poured himself some coffee, draining half the cup before he realized that it had scalded his tongue. Sara gave him a stare that was eerily similar to his own familiar 'yeah right' looks.

"When's the last time you slept?" she questioned.

"When's the last time you did?" he shot back, avoiding giving her the answer she already had.

"You're talking to me, the woman who doesn't sleep, remember? Why don't you go lay down for a little bit? I'll come get you as soon as Archie or Ronnie have any results."

Grissom started to shake his head, but the motioned triggered a wave of pain and he realized that he was on the verge of a migraine.

"The minute we know anything," Grissom gave in, "You come get me."

"I promise." Sara pulled the mug out of Grissom's hand and watched as he walked down the hall to his office. Pouring the remains down the drain, she left the room to go check on the evidence.

To be continued...