New York
10:30 AM
NYPD Crime Unit

The brightly lit walls of the NYPD Crime Unit looked vastly different to Horatio Caine as he and his team, plus the Las Vegas crew, entered it. He remembered the building as dark, foreboding, with cement walls and dark green paint that were a sharp contrast to the stark white lab that had housed some of the top machinery in forensic technology. Now, enclosed in a high-rise building, the Crime Unit had a friendly, warm atmosphere that threw Horatio off.

"Different, isn't it?" Stella asked him with a smile. Horatio nodded, but stayed silent.

Mac pointed out the different areas of the lab as they toured through it. Ballistics, DNA, Trace, it was all a blur to Grissom. All he wanted to do was lock himself up with the case files and not meet sunlight until he'd solved the murders.

Unfortunately, the fifteen other people around him may have objected to that.

The office Mac led them into was comprised almost entirely of glass, with soft yellow walls and pleasantly crowded shelves. It was significantly more organized than the supervisor of the Graveyard shift's.

"I thought this would be the easiest place to work out of," Mac explained, and indicated for everyone to sit down in the chairs and couches he and Stella had pulled in there earlier.

They did. Sara, Nick, Warrick, and Greg piled themselves onto one of the couches while Speedle and Eric places themselves next to Calleigh on the other, Horatio next to her on the arm. Brass sat himself on one of the chairs out of the way (he was strictly observing, for now), Aiden, Danny, and Flack pulled their own chairs over to the others, while Stella perched herself on Mac's desk. He stood leaning on the piece of furniture beside her. Grissom and Catherine slipped themselves onto the last remaining couch. Grissom pointedly ignored Jim's slight smirk.

"Well, now that we're all comfortable—" Greg grumbled audibly under Mac's comment, mumbling about Sara's sharp elbows—"I thought we'd start with what we know.

"After studying the pattern of our man from last time, we can safely assume that he will continue to kidnap his victims for two days at a time, from Miami, Vegas, and here. He keeps the bodies until the Sunday, dumps them over the following week. Miami on Monday, here on Wednesday, Vegas on Friday. He goes quiet for a week to ditch the bodies. Then he starts again the next week."

"Which means a woman in Miami is being kidnapped as we speak," Horatio said.

"But, hang on, guys—think about it: how is one guy doing this? It seems ridiculously improbable for this guy to run a one-man circus act in three different cities." Sara glanced around the room. "Are you sure this isn't three different men?"

Horatio was the one to answer the young brunette.

"We collected a single fingerprint from every body, Miss Sidle—I myself had asked the same question. We recovered the prints from a laser viewing of the body; the prints were imprinted in the paint. And they all definitely came from the same man."

Quiet muttering broke out amongst the group. Calleigh spoke over it.

"Has the paint been analyzed? Chemical breakdowns?"

"Danny and I ran it," Aiden said, "We also did a comparison with the samples you guys sent to us." Danny nodded, adding,

"They're chemically identical. We haven't been able to track down the manufacturer, yet, though."

Mac levelled his gaze at his team.

"Danny, Aiden, I want you guys to keep chasing the manufacturer. Nationwide search. Analyze the hairs left in the paint, as well. Can't hurt is to know what kind of brush he's using."

"We'll join you," Greg glanced at Sara, "we were in the middle of reviewing to old case breakdowns, anyway."

The four rose, and, chatting to each other, disappeared down the hall.

Now Don Flack spoke up. His accent was New York thick.

"Well, if we're all splitting up, I think I'd better start tracking down some of our old suspects." He turned to Brass. "Want to join in? I can use all the help I can get."

Brass, a little taken aback at being flawlessly included into the investigation without a fuss, simply nodded and joined Flack in leaving the office.

"I guess we'll go back to the crime scene," Calleigh glanced at the men next to and across from her.

"You know your way around?" Mac asked her as Nick, Speedle, Warrick, and Eric stood.

Nick smiled.

"I'm sure we'll be able to find our way around, right guys?"

They left. Now Stella spoke.

"So…that leaves us doing what?" She looked at Mac for the assignment. His face looked stony.

"Dr. Grissom, Ms. Willows, you were there last time," Mac addressed the two Las Vegas CSIs, "I'm concerned about the kidnapping of the CSI. I don't want that this time. What happened?"

Catherine smiled at the New York CSI.

"First thing's first: call me Catherine. Ms. Willows makes me feel old." Stella smiled appreciatively at that. Gil just looked amazed. "And, to answer your question…last time was—hard. Our CSI, Shrina Housen, was processing the last scene while we interrogated our prime suspect. Harold Stillwaiter. Bus driver. Had the means, the motive, and the bus route. Three of the women that were killed were ex-wives of Stillwaiter."

Gil took over, speaking for the first time since entering the office.

"Shrina was kidnapped while Stillwaiter dodged questions. We found her two days late while Stillwaiter was still in police custody. Coke bust."

Horatio sighed.

"It looks like we'll have to watch our backs. Police escorts. Everyone armed at all times."

"Exactly," Stella agreed. "And no one goes anywhere alone. Double-up."

Mac moved from his place next to Stella, making his way around the desk, stopping to pull out a window marker before heading over to one of the glass walls and drawing a large square.

"Here's our time frame."

Using a ruler, the CSI divided the square into seven-by-five rows, filling in the days and dates of August.

"It's the eighth today. That means that a woman in Miami will be kidnapped today. She'll be killed tomorrow. On Wednesday, a woman here. Dead Thursday. Vegas, Friday. Dead Saturday. And we have two days to catch this bastard before our girl goes missing and we have another butterfly on our hands."

Mac filled in the information as he spoke, until the last body dump was predicted. He capped the lid on the marker and looked up at the four before him.

"We're running out of time."

A/N: Again, a huge thank you to my reviewers (I wish I could see who you are, but my internet's being screwy right now!). This chapter was mostly info—boring, but necessary. Hopefully the next part will be along within the week.
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