Night...day... It didn't matter. She couldn't tell. The pounding in her head muted the sound of the pounding surf. She could smell the water, taste its saltiness and she wondered how close she was to the ocean's sandy shores. She remembered how much she loved the ocean as a child…chasing seagulls and waves, digging for crabs, finding shells that had not been battered and worn by the eternally churning surf.
She was tied to a chair and her back hurt, not to mention the fact that she was angry. She heard someone come into the room, and she braced herself. The blindfold was jerked from her head and she squinted at the light that streamed into the room through the boards that were nailed to the window. "Hello, detective."
"Nicole Wallace."
"I'm flattered that you remember me."
"How could I forget you? What are you up to, Nicole?"
"Oh, I'm not going to hurt you."
"If you're not going to hurt me, why am I here?"
Wallace smiled, a cold, calculating smile that made a lump form in the pit of her stomach. She moved closer, brushing Eames' hair back from her face. She pulled her head away. Wallace leaned close to her, her lips near her ear. She whispered, "Do you ever wonder...? Or do you already know?"
"What the hell are you talking about?"
Wallace laughed, her laughter as cold and calculating as her smile. "I didn't bring you here to harm a hair on your pretty little head. I brought you here as bait. To catch the fish I'm after you are the only sure bait I could get. After all, what is he without you? His mother's son?"
She laughed again as she left the room. And all that was left was the sound of the crashing surf and a knot of dread in the pit of his partner's stomach.
------------------------------------------------------
Goren opened the door to his apartment, and he and Logan went inside. Nothing had changed in the living room. Both men looked down the hallway toward the bedroom, then they looked at each other.
"Let's go," Goren said.
"It's your bedroom," Logan replied. "You first."
"What are you afraid of?"
"I don't see you running down the hall."
Goren took a deep breath and headed down the hall. He hesitated before turning the knob and opening the door.
Everything seemed to be in order. Goren walked over to the window, which he had closed before leaving the day before. Pulling the drapes aside, he saw that the window was open again. "Uh, Goren?"
"What?"
"Did you move the blanket yesterday after CSU was done?"
"No." He turned toward the bed, where the blanket had been drawn up to cover the pillow. He looked at Logan, who stepped away from the bed. Crossing from the window to the bed, he pulled back the blanket.
"Shit," Logan declared. "You're gonna need a new bed."
There was a dead seagull pinned to the bed with a large knife. Attached to the gull was a note. Goren swallowed, pulling on a pair of gloves. He slid the knife from the poor bird's body and removed the note, which was soiled by the animal's blood.
"She's a vicious bitch, isn't she?"
"You have no idea," Goren replied.
He opened the note, which was written on motel stationery from the Seaside Motel in Seaside Heights, New Jersey. It read: It's not very far, Bobby. A leap of faith, actually. But the line between faith and insanity is ever so thin. Can you save her? You have until the light of the full moon to find out.
Goren handed the note to Logan, who read it and frowned. "What the hell does that mean?"
He didn't answer; he was studying the dead bird. It had a band on its leg. He shook his head. "She had to have seen it," he muttered.
"What? Hello? Remember me?"
He looked at Logan. "The band on the bird's leg. It's an ID band Fish and Wildlife uses to track these birds. They use them on geese, ducks, anything they can catch to study migratory patterns, nesting, things like that. We should be able to find out where this bird came from. It can't be a mistake. She had to have seen this. If nothing else, Nicole is not careless."
"She wants you to go wherever this bird came from."
"A trap…"
"Maybe. You're not going alone."
"Logan, I can't ask you…"
"Forget it, Goren. You are not asking me to do anything. I'm telling you, I'm going with you. Now shut the damn window, grab the bird and let's get the hell out of here."
A/N: I don't know if there's a Seaside Motel in Seaside Heights, but there very well could be.