The entire team was gathered in the break room, watching the news. The third missing girl was Isabella Henley, aged ten. Catherine shook her head in disbelief.

"He's taking kids from school… it's three, they'll be roaming the streets," she thought out loud. The rest winced at the notion that whoever responsible was without a doubt out there right now. The only hope they had now were the traffic tapes. Thankfully, they narrowed down the possible streets to two, which significantly narrowed down the amount of surveillance-tape-watching they had to do. It was only a matter of time before a fourth went missing, then a fifth. They had to work fast. Plus, the children's parents were coming in for questioning and to provide samples of clothing for scent dogs.

Sara, Greg, Warrick and Brass were in the family room, with a full house of anguished parents. Brass collected the clothing for the scent dogs and left to take care of that matter. Which left Sara, Warrick and Greg with… a half-dozen parents who… really were in no shape for questioning.

Grissom, Catherine, and Nick were starting to go over the videos. Each person had their own TV screen and were tediously watching the surveillance.

"We're probably looking for a van… no windows for people to see in or out…" Catherine said, as she scanned each frame.

"Here…" Nick said. He zoomed in on a blue truck with no back windows, usually the kind plumbers or electricians drive. He couldn't really get a good shot of the driver. Grissom and Catherine rushed over and looked. Frowning, Catherine pointed to the passenger window.

"Someone's hand… on the window… there, you see it?" Catherine said. Nick zoomed in on the passenger. It could be a little girl, possibly with blonde hair, but the resolution was terrible. "I'd never let my daughter touch the window like that…" she added.

"Yeah, lemme enhance this…" Nick said. When he did, it looked like the girl was trying to escape.

"Print out this picture, get the license number… we need to find this truck." Grissom instructed.

Grissom interrupted the interrogation. He looked at the worried parents. Sara, who had been talking, looked eager to hear the news, as did everybody else.

"We may have a lead," Grissom said, breaking the silence. He held up the picture of the little girl, which was cropped to just her face, so that the parents didn't have to see the context of the picture, the hand desperately groping the window in failed escape efforts, until they had to. "Does anyone recognize this girl?" He asked.

"That's Sammy!" someone yelled. The CSI's spun around to see a desperate-looking blonde woman sitting at the back of the room, alone. "That's my daughter!" she exclaimed.

It was the right truck. Catherine rushed away to report the vehicle was definitely the one they needed to find.

"Yeah Brass? I've got an ID on the vehicle. It's a dark blue truck. License plate is XJR 313. A blue truck. Probably a Ford. Yeah, and it has no windows in the back. One of the mothers confirmed a picture we got of the passenger, it's her daughter Sam," she checked the sheet, "Samantha Stein," Catherine said. Her phone beeped. "Hey, Jim? I've gotta go, got a call on the other line," she said, quickly checking the caller ID, she answered it, "Hey mom…" she said nonchalantly. She half-listened to her mother babbling as she approached the front desk. Judy handed her a file, and she mouthed a 'thank you' as she continued on her way to her office. Suddenly she stopped. "WHAT?" she yelled, as people stopped and stared, wondering if she was okay. "No, mom… I'm working… of COURSE I DIDN'T!" Catherine explained feverishly, and nervously forgetting where she was heading. She stopped, turned around, and stopped again. She listened for a long time, then continued, "God, mom. You scared me shitless. She has a phone, you know. Okay… see you tonight," she said. Seeing the flustered looks of the hall occupants, she smiled and continued, opening the file Judy had handed her. She stopped.

The rest of the team was still in the family room, speaking with the parents. Catherine tried to edge in unnoticed, but was unsuccessful.

"Do you have an update? More news? Anything!" Cried someone's father when he saw her enter. Catherine's eyes met Grissom's as he looked over, like she was trying to tell him something. The parents were all waiting for her to say something.

"Tell us, what is it? Is it bad?" Someone else pleaded.

"A fourth girl has been reported missing," She announced. "Guys?" She said to the team, asking them to follow her. They left the parents alone, in shock and went into the layout room where they'd marked the disappearance of the previous girls on a map. She took a marker and put an X where the latest girl was last seen. The shape formed a jagged line, leading from a private school where Samantha Stein was taken to another school, a public one, where the other two were confirmed to have attended. "Her name is Joelle Shaw. She's eleven. A fourth grader at this school here…" Catherine pointed to another school, away from the other two. "He's changing direction, probably heard the broadcast for his truck." She observed. Nobody really knew what to do.

"I think we should get all the parents to just go home and wait. If this guy wants a ransom, he'll call them," Nick suggested. "Otherwise we have no leads…" which was true, because the rest of the team couldn't think of what else to possibly do until the guy made another move. Time was precious, but they had no leads.

"This whole thing seems just… so completely illogical. He's in the middle of the city, with police convoys everywhere, just snatching girls. He must have a house… or a business, perhaps a warehouse he's going to take them and hide his car…" Sara said. "Did anyone run his license plate?" She wondered. Everyone looked at each other.

"Nobody ran the license number?" Grissom asked in bewilderment.

"That was my job…" Catherine said, fuming at herself, realizing; "I was talking to Brass… then my mother called… she freaked me out about Lindsey… I completely forgot!" she said, ashamed.

"Catherine… " Grissom started. Everyone listened to see what he'd say. He opened his mouth to say something, then chose to say something else; "Do it now," he told her, and she left.

"The license doesn't exist… I'm thinking it's a fake plate… but I looked up owners of dark blue vans like that, I got 970 hits, 133 have rap sheets… who's gonna help me?" Catherine announced two minutes later, when she arrived, holding a thick stack of paper. They all sat down, and started comparing drivers license photos to the blurry cut-off picture they got of the driver from the surveillance tape.