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Chapter 4: The Hockey Rink

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Pulling into the rink's parking lot a few minutes before Vartann, Sara grabbed her kit and headed inside. Reaching the front desk, she tried to get the attention of the young man behind the counter.

"Excuse me, I'm Sara Sidle with the Las Vegas Crime Lab, and I need to ask you a few questions."

"Sure," he said, a polite smile gracing his features.

"How long have you worked here?"

He shrugged. "A few years. At least five."

"A woman by the name of Sara has been reported missing. Do you remember anybody who might have been a regular here going by that name?"

He shook his head. "No. Really the only regulars are the hockey teams and coaches, and around this time of year, it's hard to remember all the faces that come through, let alone the names."

She smiled. "Thanks. Mind ifI look around?"

"Nope, go ahead. We're getting ready to close anyways."

Kit in hand, she began to head toward the rink when she was stopped by a little girl. The girl smiled up at her with sparkling eyes and held out her hand.

"Merry Christmas."

Sara looked down to see a single red rose in the girl's hand. A little startled, she squatted to the girl's height and accepted the gift with a smile.

"Thank you," she said.

The girl giggled and nearly knocked her over with a quick hug before skittering away.

"What was that all about?" came a voice from behind her. She rose to see Vartann standing there with a raised eyebrow.

"I'm not sure," she answered, holding up the rose as if it offered the key to the day's strange events. "Let's go check out the rink."

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Standing at the entrance to the top seats, Sara looked around at the huge expanse of work ahead of her. Sighing, she decided to dive right in with a search of the stands.

An hour later, after searching the entire rink, stands and ice, she sunk into a seat in the stands to think. Vartann had found a comfortable position by the door and had remained there, waiting for her to complete her search, but she'd found nothing; no leads, no clues, not even so much as a thread of fabric.

As she sat, her mind drifted back to the case that she and Grissom had investigated here four years ago when a young player had been killed during a hockey game. It was her first case after requesting her leave of absence and receiving his apology by way of a plant. They'd sat in this very spot, overlooking the game stats, when they'd had one of their stranger conversations. Sitting back, she thought back on their words.

"Two minutes for elbowing. Four minutes for high sticking. Ten minutes, unsportsmanlike conduct."

"Boys will be boys."

"Yeah, sounds like these boys went to a fight and a hockey game broke out."

"You just don't like sports."

"That's not true-- I've been a baseball fan my whole life."

"Baseball. Well, that figures… All those stats."

"It's a beautiful game."

"Since when are you interested in beauty?"

"Since I met you."

His words had startled her into silence, and confused her to this day. At the time, she wasn't sure that he had meant it sincerely, but now she wasn't so sure. Could he really have had feelings for her that long ago?

"What's goin' on?"

Vartann's voice startled her from her thoughts.

"Nothing," she said, shaking the memories away. "Just thinking… I've got nothing. I went around the entire rink, and I've got nothing."

"Well, what's that?" He pointed to a crumpled piece of paper by her feet.

Her brows furrowed. Was that there when she sat down?

"I don't know," she answered honestly. Picking it up with a gloved hand, she unwrinkled the paper to read its contents. " 'Butterfly Gardens, East Las Vegas'… That's all I can read. The rest is all faded."

"Hey, you know, that guy did mention something about butterflies. Something about how they kind of freaked her out, but he loves 'em."

"Okay, well, looks like we got a lead," she said, getting up from her seat. "Let's go."

Vartann followed her out of the rink, an amused smile crossing his face.

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