Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognize. The characters from CSI: Miami belong to CBS and Jerry Bruckheimer productions, and probably a few other people I've forgotten to mention. Lily Montalvo, however, is my creation and I'd like to be consulted before she's used in anything else.

Dedications: To my tireless Beta-reader, Ithil-Valon, who gave me the courage to branch out past the Lord of the Rings fandom I've been writing in for a while now. She also occasionally gives me the necessary kick in the pants to keep me going. Thanks for that, hon. Also for Evendim, who gave me the courage to post that first LOTR story, and has graciously invited me to play in her playground anytime I like. Thank you so much. And last, but certainly not least, my partner AJ who is my strength and my rock, and provides interference when I'm writing so I can concentrate on plotlines… and helps me brainstorm when I run out of them. Usually with chocolate and late night movie-fests to, you know, research. Lots of eye candy.

THIS STORY IS SET IN AN ALTERNATE UNIVERSE. This means that some features, places, and faces from canon won't fit. It is set sometime after the season 2 ender, 10-7, so Tim Speedle is no longer in the picture… but it is also set after Calleigh's return to Ballistics, so sometime during Season 3… I hope. I just can't see her anywhere else.

All that said, enjoy! If you like it, leave a review! If you don't like it, Leave a review! If you hate it and think I should be shot, leave a review! Get the hint? Just be certain and leave me an email address so I can answer you… because doesn't like individual reviewer responses any more. pout

Chapter One

Lily Montalvo waited in the Reception area, trying to conceal her disquiet and distress. The police weren't apt to take her seriously; she'd learned that the hard way. The unusual or unexplainable wasn't often regarded as worthy of notice, much less action. But she had to try.

She noticed the man when he came in; he had such a presence it was hard not to. Tall, slender, but with an unmistakable air of strength about him. His hair was a little windblown, but otherwise he was very well ordered, right down to the sunglasses he wore.

He seemed to sense her eyes on him and turned quickly, removing his sunglasses as he came toward her. "Can I help you, ma'am?" he asked quietly.

The intensity of his blue eyes surprised her. "If you're Lieutenant Caine, then perhaps you may," she responded as she held out her hand. "I am Lily Montalvo. Please, is there somewhere we might talk? It is quite important, monsieur."

Caine's eyebrow raised a fraction as he took her hand. The soft lilt of her Cajun accent wasn't enough to cover the distress she was obviously feeling. He steered her into one of the interview rooms nearby and handed her into the waiting chair, and then hitched his hip on the table. "What exactly is it you want to discuss, Miss Montalvo?" he asked quietly. His curiosity was piqued; he had never seen this woman before though she seemed to recognize his face.

Lily faced him fearlessly, meeting his eyes with quiet determination. "I 'ave perhaps some information for you. You 'ave a case you are collecting evidence on, a murder. The victim's name was Busfield, no?" She waited for a moment, but Caine didn't speak. She pushed on. "You 'ave no suspects. I can give you one. 'is name is Eduardo Dominguez." She felt almost nauseas as she spoke the name, but continued nonetheless. It had to be said, that was part of her gift. It had to be shared or it would torment her nearly to madness. "'e shot Monsieur Busfield from an apartment across the alleyway, that's why you 'ave no evidence in the crime scene. You must check the apartment, you will find the shell casings there. Behind a chest of drawers in the bedroom, three of them." She was shaking by the time she finished and tore her eyes away reluctantly.

Caine regarded her steadily for a moment. She certainly knew the details of the case; what was bothering him now was how she had come by the information. Nothing more than the victim's name had been released yet, much less that they had no leads, no suspects, not much evidence at all. A couple of footprint castings from the backyard, but nothing more. And so far, they hadn't been able to match the castings. Moccasins were difficult to match since they were so often custom crafted. He rose from his perch. "Miss Montalvo, that is an incredible revelation. May I ask where you acquired this information?" His expression was hooded; she had even known the number of shots the victim had taken. He was starting to suspect there had been more than one shooter. Or that she had at least been present at the scene.

Lily sighed. This was the hard part. Somehow she had to convince him to at least check the scene. And judging from their discussion so far, and her previous experiences, it wasn't going to be easy. "I 'ave seen it, but not the way you think. It was shown to me. I 'ave suffered from the occasional vision since I was very young, Lieutenant Caine, and they 'ave yet to be proven false. Please, just check the apartment. The casings can be found be'ind the bureau. Monsieur Dominguez paid in advance and the landlord 'as yet to realize 'e is gone."

"Then you won't mind waiting here while we do some checking on your story." Caine nearly shook his head in disbelief, but managed to control the impulse. He kept his expression closed until he was out of the room with the door shut behind him. He motioned over one of the uniforms. "Let's keep Miss Montalvo under close watch for a while," he said softly. "We may need to take her into custody."

The uniform nodded and positioned himself at the door, and Caine headed off down the hallway toward the labs. "Eric, tell me you have something from those moccasins."

"Not yet, H, but Wolfe and I found something else." He gestured toward the younger man, who was pulling up a schematic of the scene. "We had originally positioned the shooter in the tree outside the window from the angle; but when we ran it here, the angle was off slightly." He pointed out the trajectory from the tree and then from the perspective in the house.

Wolfe took over the narrative. "They don't match if you use the tree, you can see that here. But if we widen the focus…" He traced the line that now overlapped the trajectory. "… it had to come from here." He used his light pen to circle the building the lines converged on. "This is an apartment building right across the alley."

Caine studied the image closely. "Very good, gentlemen. I'll get the warrant." He stopped on his way out the door. "Get Calleigh, I want her in on this one too. Meet me at the scene."

Wolfe looked over at Delko. "Why doesn't he seem surprised?"

"That's H," Eric responded dryly. "He's always one step ahead of us, you know that. Let's get moving."

She stood, intending to track down a drink of water at the least, only to be stopped by the officer at the door. "I'm sorry, ma'am, I have to keep an eye on you."

"Then would you be so kind as to bring me some water, Officer? I am dreadfully thirsty." Lily wasn't afraid of being held in custody; she had known she would be from the moment she had mentioned her vision. She was getting used to it. She only wondered how long it would be before Caine believed her, if he ever did.

The man nodded and stepped across the hall to the machine and brought her back a bottle of purified water, which she accepted gratefully and swallowed almost half of immediately while she paced the room. Something was bothering her, but she couldn't put her finger on it yet.

Detective Tripp met the CSIs in front of the apartment house half an hour later. Caine held out the warrant to the building super, but he barely glanced at it. "Never had a tenant in trouble before," he said amiably. "You want Two C, right? He's my latest rental and I don't see him much."

There was no answer to the repeated knock, nor to the calls for "Mr. Delgado" to answer the door. The super shrugged and unlocked the door. "Like I said, I barely see him."

"Thank you, sir, now if you would just wait in the hallway, we'll let you know when we're through," Caine answered courteously. "Okay, people, let's get to work."

They quickly ruled out the living area of the small apartment as the point of origin; neither of the small windows faced Busfield's home. Nonetheless, they gathered what trace evidence they could before moving into the bedroom.

"Watch your step," Calleigh called out. "Someone really tore this place up before leaving." She moved farther into the room, giving a practiced sweep of her eyes over the destruction.

Wolfe gave a low groan. "Man, I don't think anything's left," he murmured. "What'd he do, decide to swing from the rafters and they fell on him or something?"

The only item in the room that seemed relatively unharmed was the window, and that was debatable. Delko swept the frame for prints, but found none. Then he raised the sill and approximated the shooter's stance. "If I were the shooter, I'd have found an easier shot," he said caustically. "He would've had to time it perfectly to miss hitting one of those branches if there was any wind at all. It's a one in a million shot."

"Which means we are looking for a professional," Caine mused as he picked over the clothing that had been tossed seemingly everywhere. "Let's bag everything and get it back to the lab. Pay special attention to trace, people, we don't know if he was alone in this room." He gave a moment's thought to Lily, still in the interview room. "Calleigh, find anything?"

"Not yet. Not even the floor. Still picking through all the debris over here." Calleigh's voice was somewhat muffled since she was behind the ruins of a chest of drawers. "Hold up a sec; got a shell casing here." She held up the object in question. "Two more. That's it, at least here." She swept the area again, then shook her head. "Nothing else in this spot anyway." She turned the casing over and examined it closely. "Horatio… these casings are from standard military rounds. I'll have to run it to be certain, but I think it's a .308."

"Very good, very good indeed." Caine scanned the room carefully. His gut was telling him he was missing something. A professional shooter with that kind of skill would be a high-priced individual; unexpected for the murder of a small businessman. Usually there was far more involved. He stepped back into the living area to speak to Tripp. "Frank, why would someone hire a high-end hitter for someone like Busfield?" he asked simply.

"Good question. I'm guessing you have a theory." Tripp was used to rhetorical questions from Caine; they had worked a lot of cases together. "Has to be something more to it. Busfield's got no record, checked out all across the board. Not even a print on file."

"Not a theory, exactly." Caine was peering out the side window of the loft, his expression again perfectly composed. "More like a gut feeling. Something about this is very off." He turned back to Tripp as he slid his sunglasses into place, as if he were uncertain how to proceed.

Tripp almost did a double take. In all the years he'd known the man, he could count on the fingers of one hand the times he'd seen Caine hesitant. "What's on your mind, Horatio?" he asked bluntly.

"A young lady who came in this morning, Frank, and she's waiting in Interview now. A young lady with an incredible story and a rather unsettling knowledge of this case, considering we've yet to release any details." He gave another glance out of the window and started to walk away. "I think it's time to talk to her again."