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.

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Chapter Three

The man dropped change into the payphone and dialed deliberately. He waited only until the receiver was picked up on the other end. "First stage is done. I left the shells where they could find be found easily, and trashed the rest of the place." A slight pause. "Right. Instructions?"

He listened for several minutes. "Understood." He replaced the receiver quietly without comment and turned to leave; he had an appointment with his next victim.

"I'm telling you, boss, there wasn't anyone else in that room," Wolfe explained stridently. "Ask Delko. We both processed everything twice. There's absolutely no trace evidence of anyone but the shooter. And all of that is blank. No skin tags, no prints, no unusual fibers, nothing. Whoever it is, he's an expert. He trashed the scene so we'd have to work harder to get any evidence, but he never left any in the first place." Ryan threw up his hands. "We even swabbed the windowpanes. Nothing. No DNA, no prints, no nothing."

"And that, Ryan, is simply impossible," Caine shot back smoothly.

"I would have thought so, too, but the evidence is clear. There isn't any." Wolfe gave Delko a quick glance.

Delko, in turn, gave a slight cough to get Horatio's attention. "H, why the fixation? What makes you so sure there was someone else there? We can't even put the shooter at the scene, except for the shells. And, as Calleigh says, they're the most common make in the country. No help there."

"Eric, I have a young lady in Holding who can describe the scene in perfect detail, right down to the placement of those casings," Caine answered after a moment's hesitation. "She knows the victim's name, the location of the shooter, everything about this case that we have discovered so far, and I don't have to tell you, it's impossible for her to know so much without her being involved."

Delko and Wolfe exchanged another telling glance. "That's how you knew about the angle of the shot," Wolfe began. "She told you."

Eric nodded. "But we still can't place her at the scene, H. There's no evidence to support the shooter was even there, much less a witness. Only thing we got is the casings. We got nothing."

"Busfield was a small businessman with no record, gentlemen, but someone hired a high-end shooter to do the job," Horatio reminded them firmly. "We found nothing in the physical evidence, so now we concentrate on paper. Get me financial records, business associates, everything you can find out about our victim. We need to try another tack." He wasn't about to tell them of the threat Lily had mentioned. "Find me something to link this young woman to our shooter, guys. Or find me the shooter. Right now I'd take either one."

He left the room quickly and tracked down Calleigh Duquesne. "Eric tells me your shell casings are worthless," he said conversationally.

"Unfortunately he's right," she responded as she handed him her report. ".308's are the most common shell in the world right now. Without a reference sample, I can't even identify which of several different weapons fired the rounds."

"Keep trying. No matches in the system?" This was just getting better and better. "Calleigh, I have a DB with no hint of scandal attached to him, and a high-powered hitter did the job. Get me something I can work with."

"I'll do my best." Calleigh always gave him her best, and he knew it. He also knew this one was starting to get under his skin, in a way he wasn't familiar with. He didn't like spinning his wheels, and he absolutely hated having someone he knew was involved and he couldn't prove it. But something else was bothering him now, something he wouldn't quite put his finger on.

He watched Calleigh return to the Ballistics Lab, his mind again cataloging what they knew so far, which was very little. No match on the castings; whoever had been in the backyard had either worn moccasins or some form of cover on his shoes. The shooter had been clever; trashing the scene had prevented them from finding any potential evidence. But how did Lily fit? Something wasn't adding up; logically, she had to have been at the scene or in close contact with the shooter, but there was no evidence, circumstantial or otherwise, to prove it. No, what was concerning him now was the gut feeling that she was telling the truth.

That was impossible. ESP, psychic visions, whatever one wanted to call them simply didn't exist. Yet she seemed so sure of her story. Had she perhaps repeated it so many times she had begun to believe it?

On a hunch, he returned to ballistics. "Calleigh, I have another project for you," he began slowly.

Lily sat alone in the small holding cell, considering her circumstances. Caine was the most stubborn disbeliever she had ever met; he had even had her processed, looking for links to his crime scene. He would find none, but that didn't alleviate the embarrassment of the examination. At least he had shown the courtesy of providing a female CSI to do it.

She was letting her anger simmer, but it was bound to boil over soon. Nowhere in the country had she ever encountered such a closed mind as his. Not that she expected preferential treatment; quite the contrary. She had expected the treatment she had received, just not the severity of it. She had never been in holding more than a couple of hours.

None of the others in the cell had bothered her, which she counted a blessing. She wasn't small, by any means, but neither was she particularly strong. But when the familiar mist began to crawl across her vision, she almost panicked; she would be helpless if they did decide on some mischief.

The warning this time was vague, almost too vague. Voices, a shot… nothing she could identify with any measure of assurance. She could see nothing of the location, no faces came to her, only the voices and a single shot. But one voice in particular began to stand out in her mind. Mellow, not deep but layered with intensity.

The sequence repeated endlessly in her head. Caine's voice, another man's, and a single shot. Endless repetition, with her finding no way to escape the vision. She was beginning to feel trapped and helpless when a touch from without broke the cycle.

Her eyes flew open, the jade of them meeting the surprised eyes of the guard who had come in to check on her. "You all right, lady?" he was asking stridently.

She nodded, but she could feel the blood draining from her face as the import of her vision began to clear. She took a moment to process the information, her brow furrowed slightly, as the guard began to back away. Caine's voice had been different in her vision, sharper, not frightened, but certainly there had been concern. Even perhaps a bit of defiance?

Her hand shot out and grasped the guard's arm with surprising strength. "I need to speak to Lt. Caine," she managed to say evenly. "Immediately."

Leetah: Stay tuned, the best is yet to come! Things are about to start jumping!

Dread Lady Freya: Oh, honey, if you only knew LOL Feed that muse more chocolate! I'm still waiting for your next chapter!