Warrick pushed through the door to the interrogation room with the power of a hurricane, the door nearly bouncing off the wall behind it. Grissom had moved around to the other side, and was patting the hand of the crying girl. Ginger's head hung, her chin on her chest, until the force behind Warrick's entrance startled her and she looked up with red glistening eyes.

"What kind of problems were you having with your boyfriend?" Warrick didn't sit down; he stood over the girl, hoping he could intimidate her into finally telling the truth.

"What?" Ginger asked, confusion replacing the grief in her eyes.

"Your boyfriend. You said you were having problems. What kind of problems?"

Grissom was fascinated in spite of himself. He glanced back and forth, like watching a tennis match, between the CSI and the girl who seemed to have turned into a suspect. He moved his hand away.

"I ummm.." Ginger began, and Warrick's eyes narrowed at the pause, suspicious she was thinking up another lie. "I'm pregnant. Peter wanted me to stay and marry him, but I didn't want to, and when Aunt Carly offered me a place to stay and have the baby, Peter wasn't very happy."

"What's his last name?"

"Peter?"

"Yes."

"Wellesley. Peter Wellesley."

Reaching for the pad and pen on the table in front of Grissom, Warrick slid it over in front of her. "Write down his address."

Ginger looked over to Grissom, seeming to hope for a reprieve, or maybe just an explanation. Grissom merely shrugged, putting his faith in Warrick. "Please" he said.



"How 'bout some Blue Hawaiian?" Catherine's words stopped Warrick in his tracks, turned half way around, on his way back out of the doorway. He'd walked in, seconds earlier, hoping to find some peace and quiet, and upon seeing Catherine sitting alone at the table, a crime lab mug nestled in between her hands like she was trying to keep them warm, he turned to leave, but not quickly enough. "Come on Warrick, keep me company for a few minutes."

With the sigh of a man who knows he has no choice, Warrick turned back around, and entered the room.

Catherine watched her friend with the trained eyes of a CSI, experienced mother, and concerned friend as he shuffled to the coffee pot and fixed his own cup. He turned toward the table, and set the mug down before he slid into the chair opposite her, then stared into the hot liquid. If he felt her eyes on him, he didn't let on.

"Tell me about her." Catherine said quietly.

Warrick looked up suddenly, his eyes wide, as if he'd gotten so lost in the swirls of coffee; he had forgotten she was in the room with him. "Carly?"

"Yes, Carly." She smiled gently and ran her finger around the rim of the mug. "What was she like?"

"Well, you met her."

Catherine dismissed his comment with a shake of her head. "Not really. Tell me."

"Well…" He gave her a one-shouldered shrug. "I hadn't seen her since…" He added up the years in his head as he spoke "high school. Twenty years." He let out a breath through pursed lips, realizing how long ago high school had been, beginning to feel his own mortality.

Catherine gave him an encouraging smile, knowing how he felt; every birthday Lindsay had caused the same feelings in her.

"She was smart, talented." Warrick continued, finally answering her question. His gaze slipped away from Catherine's eyes as he buried himself deeper in the memories. "Her dad passed away when she was two, her mom raised her alone, working in this dive of a diner." His eyes began to sparkle, and he sat up straighter in the chair, eager to share his thoughts. "Christmas concerts…man, when she sang O Night Divine, it was so sweet, people cried."

"Did she have a crush on you too?"

He blinked, taken aback by the question as much as the interruption of his thoughts. "What?"

"Oh, come on Warrick." She gave him a lop sided grin. "You liked her. Did she like you too?"

"I told you…"

"You told me you didn't date her."

"Yes."

"Doesn't mean you didn't want to" the grin slipped away from her lips.

He shrugged, reluctant to share the memory that had suddenly become so very bitter sweet. "We, ah… went to the prom." Catherine sat slowly back in the chair, knowing not to interrupt this time. "and afterward, I took her home. Her mom was at work." Warrick rubbed his chin, his fingers scratching against the stubble; he paused, hoping he could get out of having to answer the question, or at least find better words to answer it. "Yeah" he finally gave in, and looked away from Catherine's gaze. "We…we…yeah." He shrugged again. "A few weeks later we graduated, and I started working over the summer, we kind of lost touch and by the time I started LVU that fall, I heard she and her mother had moved to Cheyenne. Then, about ten years ago, I saw her CD in the store, bought it, listened to it all night."

"First love." Catherine whispered.

Warrick smiled sadly and let out a breathy snort.

"Hey!" Jim Brass walked in, unaware of the tension threading through the air, and cut off any further trips down memory lane. Warrick breathed a sigh of relief.

"The Cheyenne cops find the boyfriend?"

"Nope." Brass ignored Warrick's narrowing eyes and quick frown as he walked briskly to the coffee pot. Turning around a moment later, a teasing smile on his lips, and he finished his explanation. "They went to the address the niece gave you, no one home." He blew on the coffee,took a sip. "Ah, one good thing about Sanders, good coffee."

"The boyfriend, Brass?"

"Yeah, yeah, just getting to it. We ran his credit cards, he's registered at a flea bag motel couple miles from the strip. Uniforms brought him a few minutes ago." Taking another sip, he watched Warrick over the brim of his cup as the CSI stood from the chair.

Warrick grabbed his own coffee, took a slug and looked quickly at Catherine. "You coming?"

Her pager went off, as if in answer. She grabbed it, checking the screen and shook her head. "You go ahead, got something else I need to check on."

"Let's go." Warrick said to Captain Brass.



Peter Wellesley was sitting in the interrogation room with his hands folded on the tabletop, his forehead resting on the back of his hands, and when Warrick burst into the room, he sat up, bolted up, straight in the chair, and began talking even before Brass crossed the threshold and shut the door.

"Please" he pleaded with Warrick "Please, I don't know why I'm here. I really have to find my girlfriend, she's carrying my baby, please, I just want to find her."

Warrick held up a hand, palm forward, like a policeman directing traffic to stop. Peter stopped talking, falling into a reluctant silence. Brass and Warrick exchanged glances, Warrick's annoyed, Brass' amused. The CSI pulled out the chair opposite Peter and flipped it around before he sat. Brass nestled himself into the next chair, and leaned himself into the table, thinking that he and Warrick made an imposing pair.

Warrick badly wanted to lead the questioning, but knew with no evidence he had to let Brass control the conversation. Peter's eyes slid back and forth, confused and wondering. Finally, after a moment of letting him stew, Brass began.

"Boy or girl?" He asked conversationally.

"What?" Peter's confusion grew.

"The baby. Boy or girl?"

"Ah" he licked his lips. "Don't know yet, to early to tell."

"Bet you hate the idea of your kid being raised in the 'Sin City'" Brass made quote marks in the air with his fingers. "Especially without you around."

"I…" the words he was about to say stopped in his throat, with just a tick of Brass' eyebrow. "I didn't like the idea."

"So you followed Ginger to Vegas, and when you saw her leave the theatre in the limo, you realized Carly would be driving the Camry." He paused for effect. "So you tampered with the car. With no aunt to take care of her and the baby, Ginger was sure to come running back to you."

Peter was shaking his head vigorously. "NO!"

"Oh, ok, so you meant to kill Ginger, Carly was just an…accident."

The head was still shaking, "No, no, no. I didn't do anything!"

Warrick's heart was pounding, and his mouth tasted of iron. He clenched and unclenched his fingers, fighting the urge to reach across the table, grab Peter by his collar and pummel him until he was as broken as Carly's body.

Out of the corner of his eye, Brass saw the rapid movements of Warrick's hands, and knew he had to get one of the two men out of the room in the next few minutes.

"I haven't seen Ginger since day before yesterday, and I haven't seen Carly since Christmas." Peter carried on, oblivious to the possible danger to his health. "I never really knew what I was going to do when I got here, and I had no idea where to find Ginger. I tried to get tickets to the concert, but it was sold out, and I can't afford what the scalpers wanted. I checked into the room."

"You didn't eat? Place like that, even if they did have room service, you wouldn't want to eat it." Brass smirked at his own joke.

Peter's face brightened, not for the joke, but for the idea. "Yes, yes I did." He suddenly became sheepish, "I hadn't been to Vegas before …"

"So you tired your hand at gambling." Brass guessed.

"A little, yeah. Mostly I just walked around, looking at everything."

"For how long?"

"Few hours. Dunno."

"What casino?"

"Mirage. I thought it sounded romantic." Peter looked at the tabletop when he admitted that last part, unable to meet the eyes of the other two men.

"Alright." Brass stood up and pointed to Peter "You. Stay here." Moving his hand toward Warrick, he said "You. Come with me."

Warrick blinked, and glanced at the captain, who gave him a slight tick of his head, "Come on."

In the hall, Warrick had cooled off enough to think. "I'll check with Mirage security, check the surveillance."

Brass nodded "Good idea."