In the thirty seconds too long it took for the social worker to finish her sentence, Greg's heart was beating furiously, hanging on to every word the woman had to say.

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Behind the one-way glass, two of the CSI team observed a long-awaited conversation: where they caught the perp.

"We've got him nailed," Catherine said proudly as Brass presented their newfound evidence to Jaron. She and Warrick watched in unconcealed glee as the suspect's face turned pallid, then purpled with ire, a betraying sign of guilt. His icy crystal eyes kept straying to the items strewn in front of him, mocking him of his crime.

The bloody knife, the letter, numerous odds and ends covered in blood, and his ring lay on the table, taped securely in evidence bags. Even if he asked for a lawyer, there was no doubt in anybody's mind that he would end up with a life sentence.

Jaron's hands clenched, knuckles turning white as he gripped the edges of the chair. There was nothing left to save himself, so he let it all loose. "Fucking whore. I lost my job because of her."

The detective merely raised one of his eyebrows, giving the younger man a curious look. "And how's that, Mr. Evans?"

Glaring furiously, the blonde man threw his fist hard into the metal table, creating a small dent. Brass noticed the strength, but didn't comment. "Well, Mr. Evans?"

Sighing to relieve some frustration, Jaron ran a hand through his hair and frowned. "That bitch had the nerve to come into the shop where I work. And you know what she did? Bitch picked a fight about the pay I gave her the night before, got rough. My boss fired my ass on the spot. Said he didn't want any psycho girlfriends ruinin' the rep of his shop. Asshole. But Brit's dead, and the world's better without her." He finished triumphantly, a wicked smirk gracing his lips.

Brass slammed the palms of his hands against the table, causing Jaron to wince. "Her daughter is not better without her. But guess what," the detective snarled. "The world's definitely better without you. Take him away, boys."

Catherine and Warrick watched smugly as their suspect was dragged away in handcuffs before entering the interrogation room. "That son of a bitch killed her just because of his job?" the Afro-American exhaled a noise of disgust. "Now that's what I call stupidity."

His colleague only shook her head somewhat ruefully. "His stupidity cost Robyn's mother."

Warrick nodded, Catherine's words ringing all-too-true. "So where are the others? I thought they would've watched the interview with us."

Shrugging, the blonde brushed a stray strand of hair from her face. "Nick got called to a scene and Greg and Sara ran into that Torqa woman."

"The really rude one?"

"That's the one."

Eyebrows knitting together, Warrick gazed down the hallway where the woman in question was standing. "What does she need with the two of them?"

Following his stare, Catherine replied, "Something about Greg's evaluation."

"Ah. Think he'll get Robyn?"

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He lost her.

Those three words were a nightmare mantra in his head-Greg just stared blindly at the social worker, trying not to believe that he had been turned down.

"You're not qualified to be her legal guardian. I'm sorry, Mr. Sanders." The tone in Anya's voice said anything but-it rang loud and clear that the older woman was delighted with this arrangement.

Moving her eyes between the two, Sara cleared her throat. "So where is Robyn going to live now, Ms. Torqa?" she feebly attempted to appear professional, but the fire in her eyes showed otherwise.

Smirk playing across her painted lips, the dark-skinned woman rifled through her papers, clearly for show. "Well…she'll be staying with you, Ms. Sidle," she paused for a dramatic effect. "But only for a short time. Until we can find better parents for her."

Sara quirked a dark eyebrow, an annoyed expression on her face. "Who else would be better than me? I've got a good paycheck, a good home, and she can see her father whenever she wants."

A skeptical laugh escaped Anya's smirk. "Sorry, but the system looks for married couples who work like the average human being."

"Are you saying I'm not a normal human being?"

"You do the state of Nevada justice, Ms. Sidle. I'm merely stating the facts that you aren't wholly suited for this position."

"Like hell I am."

"Forget it." Sara looked beside her; the brunette had forgotten that Greg was with them. "It's no use," the usually upbeat CSI added dejectedly. Pulling sadly on Sara's elbow, he nodded his head towards the interrogation room.

"We can't give up, Greg." Turning back to Anya, Sara yanked her arm from her friend's grasp. "Robyn is rightfully his!"

"Not to the state." A haughty expression crossed the woman's face, an expression that Sara was dying to slap right off.

As Greg yanked her away with amazing strength, her chocolate eyes met with Anya's frosty mocha ones.

It wasn't over yet.

Not by a long shot.

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