Note: I wanted to get the next chapter up before Christmas...working kinda late on it tonight...but i'm just in time for CSI on Spike TV at midnight! Whoohoo! I hope you all enjoy this chap! Thanks for all the reviews on chapter two...this has been a tricky story to get right, and it's only gonna get trickier...i have a lot planned for these guys!
We're still in the house for this chapter...there's a lot to cover...so here ya go! Merry Christmas to y'all...and I'll see ya next week!

Nick set the evidence from the bedroom in the hallway as he squeezed past Warrick. The whiskey bottles, the bed sheets, the bloody clothes felt like fifty pound weights in his hands, weighing him down.

"Hey guys," Grissom called from the girl's bedroom. "Check this out." He was over by the one window in the room. The lime green curtains were pulled back from their original position concealing the view from the window. It wasn't much of a view, the house across the street was all that the window revealed. But to a nine year old girl in this house, that could be the world, Nick thought crossing the room to join Grissom and Warrick. Something on the window pane had caught their boss's attention.

"The window's nailed shut," Warrick said his voice weight.

Nick had seen this before, window's being nailed shut. Only it was four years ago, and it wasn't a nine year old girl. Those windows were nailed to keep someone out. This window was nailed to keep a little girl in. He shuddered at the thought.

Warrick had caught a glimpse of his partner's reaction, but knew if he'd played into his friend's emotions it would only serve to worsen the situation. The last thing he wanted was to be the reason Nick shut off completely. They'd worked too hard in the past months to ward off just that.

"I'm gonna get started on the living room," Nick said with a sigh. He left the room allowing Grissom to continue with the ALS. There was no way he wanted to know what was on the little girl's bed. He had his own ideas and his gut was telling him that his imagination wasn't far from reality. It made him sick just thinking about it.

The living room had the same dingy look. It was a small room, as was the house. A couch took up one wall and faced a decent sized entertainment center. Considering the condition of the house itself the entertainment system was in prime condition.

Nick started with the couch. He'd make his way around the room as he'd done before with the bedroom. He really shouldn't have been surprised by the five or so whiskey bottles he found under the couch. Most of them were empty. There was one bottle left in the open on top of the end table. It was clear the man had his own priorities, and Susan wasn't number one. It was another stomach churning realization.

Sometimes he wished he didn't feel as much. Feelings could get a man in trouble. Then again, he thought his feelings were what made him the CSI that he was. He honestly didn't want to lose that part, that connection to the job. Though, life would be easier if he could shut them off; especially for a case like this.

"What have you got?" Warrick asked snapping his partner back to the reality in front of them. He was standing in front of the coffee table shuffling through a pile of magazines.

Nick placed the bagged whiskey on the table. He didn't feel like talking, even if it was a simple question.

"The man sure liked to drink," the tall CSI gave a low whistle.

Nick only nodded while he continued his search.

"I see you bagged some more bottles from the bedroom," Warrick tried again.

"Yeah," he guessed the man deserved a verbalized response, as short as it was.

"You been in the kitchen yet?"

Nick shook his head in the negative. "Saving that for you," he said rifling through the end table drawer now.

"I'm on it," Warrick nodded heading over to the small alcove of a kitchen. It had an open doorway connecting it to the living room. He began weeding through the drawers and cabinets, not quite sure what he was looking for, hoping he'd find something or nothing, he wasn't sure which.

Grissom was still busy in the girl's room; the door now closed casting the hallway in darkness. The supervisor would process the bathroom when he finished. No telling what he'd find in there.

Nick had made his way to the opposite side of the room, now looking through a quite extensive movie collection. Lethal Weapon, Patriot Games, Scarface, The Godfather, and Casino were just a few of the titles Nick read through. What the man hadn't spent on booze, he'd spent on movies. His second rate DVD player sat atop a 37 inch television with a crappy five-point-one surround sound system.

"Good to see the man knows what's important in life," Warrick said from the kitchen. He'd seen Nick take his time at the movie collection. He'd seen the same collection as he walked in from processing the perimeter.

"Yeah," Nick said with a nod. He turned on the TV and powered up the DVD and sound system. It was time to see what the man had been watching last. Within seconds the room was filled with the sounds of gunfire and yelling. Obscenity after obscenity filled the room. It was a Vietnam War movie, Apocalypse Now.

"Good movie," Warrick said from the doorway. Grissom entered the room to see what the commotion was just as Nick was shutting things off.

"You losing your hearing now, too?" Brass asked as he came in from outside. He'd been busy canvassing the neighbors, asking questions.

"Hey Jim," Nick said setting down the three remotes it took to control the cheap system.

"Anything from the neighbors?" Grissom asked entering the living room. He must have finished with the bedroom.

"A lot of character witnesses, but nothing concrete about the missing girl. No one saw anything suspicious. But, I got a lot of people telling me what a great guy he was," Jim said sarcastically.

"Could get that just by scoping the house," Warrick said with a nod. He was now leaning against the door frame.

"The guy was a lousy drunk. Neighbors say he couldn't care less about his daughter. From what they told me, he kept the girl inside all the time. They never saw her out playing with other kids. She'd go to school, come home, that's all they'd see of her. It's weird," Brass said.

"How long have they lived in this neighborhood?"

"Just a few years," the detective shrugged. "Moved in back in two thousand," he said glancing at his notepad. "They moved here not long after the man lost his wife."

"Lost?" Grissom asked.

"She had cancer," Brass nodded. "Died summer of 99. They moved in early January of 2000. I hear the father was a class act until about two years ago."

"Are you guys finding anything?" Grissom turned his attention to Nick and Warrick.

"Well, Nicky found, looks like a dozen, whiskey bottles," Warrick pointed.

"Mostly empty," Nick added from his same position in front of the TV unit. He'd been quietly listening to Brass's account from the neighbors. What he heard didn't surprise him. He'd gotten the same story from the evidence he'd found around the dump Warrick kept calling a house.

"How much longer you scientists gonna be?" Brass asked.

"You know how it is Jim," Warrick smiled.

"Actually, can you guys finish up?" Grissom asked collecting his field kit and evidence. "I think I'll ride with Brass back to the lab and get this stuff processing."

"Damn, man, you're leaving us with that nasty ass bathroom?" Warrick asked.

"Alas, poor Warrick," Grissom shook his head, a sparkle in his eye. He quickly shuffled out of the house leaving Nick and Warrick to finish processing the scene.

Warrick had moved to the stove and was now shining his Maglite into the dark interior of the oven. The bulb had long since burned out. It was no surprise that it hadn't been replaced. A thick, nearly black, film covered the bottom of the oven. Warrick grimaced as he ran his gloved finger over the black gooey coating. Caked up grease and…

"What the hell?" he asked, mainly to himself, though loud enough to catch Nick's attention. "Hey, Nicky come check this out. What do you make of this?" he asked showing his partner his index finger. It was stained a rust color.

That feeling returned to the pit of Nick's stomach. The longing to turn it off returned as he began to mentally process the stain. He pulled a cotton swab from Warrick's kit and swabbed his partner's finger.

He'd done this test at least a thousand times before. It was second nature. First the swab, then the chemicals. One drop should do the trick.

"It's blood," Nick nodded solemnly. He hated this part.

"Hand me the fluorescein," Warrick sighed reaching out his hand. Nick did as his partner asked then headed down the hallway for the ALS. "Light her up," Warrick said taking a pair of orange safety glasses and standing back to observe.

There as clear as day shone what both men dreaded. Blood stains covered the inside of the oven. Warrick began snapping photos. They'd need a sample for DNA comparison.

Nick's eyes widened as he flipped on the light source and swept it over the cooking device. He wasn't prepared to deal with what he saw. The churning in his stomach was back, stronger than ever. Before he could gather his senses, he was out the front door ridding his stomach of all he'd eaten earlier that day.

"Damn it," he said shaking his head as he bent over, stabilizing himself with his hands on his knees, trying to get control of his breathing. He wasn't supposed to be weak like this. He was glad Grissom wasn't around. The worried look on Warrick's face as he turned back toward the house was enough to make him cringe. He really didn't feel like explaining himself.

"I'm fine," he shrugged it off trying his hardest to sound believable. "I'll get goin' on the bathroom," he said pushing past his partner and re-entering the home. He needed to get out of there for good. The sooner the better.

"Nick…"Warrick started, stopping Nick in his tracks in the middle of the living room.

"Not now, Rick," he shook his head, his back toward his partner. He couldn't look at him, was afraid he'd break if he did. He'd seen that look in his partner's eyes too often to count, that scared, worried look. He wasn't sure he could handle it right now. He didn't want to try to handle it. "Just…"he trailed off, a catch in his throat, "Not now," he shook his head and headed toward the bathroom.

He shut the door behind him as he turned on the bathroom light. He leaned back against the hard wood and closed his eyes. His breathing was coming in gasps now. His head was splitting. Everything about this house spelled out trouble for Susan Tedesco. It gave him a cold feeling all the way to his core, despite the indoor temperature. A ghost filled this house and it would be up to him to find it and put it to rest. It was that thought that weighed him down the most.