Chapter Five

The neighborhood looked like something out of Desperate Housewives. The perfectly manicured lawns and gardens, the fancy cars in each driveway. It was Las Vegas's version of Wisteria Lane.

Meg watched the houses flash by as she and Catherine drove out to the vic's home. Catherine pulled her SUV into the driveway next to Brass's car and the two women stepped out into the hot sunshine.

"Hey, Brass." Catherine greeted the older man as he stepped out of his own car to greet them.

"Catherine." He nodded in greeting. "The house is all clear, so you can go ahead and get started."

"Always lookin' out for us, Jim." Catherine smiled as she unlocked the SUV's trunk and pulled out her and Meg's forensic kits. Handing Meg hers, the two women entered the house.

Catherine was instantly struck by the order of the house. The furniture was all set at right angles, the books on the bookshelves that lined one wall of the living room were all set up straight with their titles facing out and set in alphabetical order. Papers, which on closer inspection showed to be lists about everything from the grocery list to a To Do list, were lined up neatly on the granite counter separating the kitchen and living room.

"Ten bucks says this guy was OC." Meg said as she pulled on her latex gloves.

"Everything in here does seem to suggest some form of OCD." Catherine nodded, taking in the room. She turned towards Meg.

"You take the upstairs and I'll take the downstairs."

>>>>>

Meg carried her kit up the stairs, her footsteps silenced by the plush carpeting. Pushing open the door closest to the landing, she found herself in the bedroom. Closing her eyes, she breathed in the definite scent of a man.

It had been so long since she'd had a boyfriend that the simplest reminder of a man made her heart ache.

You're going out with Greg on Friday.

The thought brought a smile to her face. Meg still couldn't believe she'd said yes to him. Greg was not the type of guy she usually went for. Meg liked those guys who could, literally, sweep her off her feet. Strong, blonde, surfer-good looks. That was more Meg's type. Hey, a California girl had to go for that type, it was in her blood. But Greg didn't fit that mold. He was different from any other guy Meg had dated. She wasn't used to going out with guys who could potentially be smarter than her. In her relationships she was always the smarter one. But Greg challenged all that. He challenged her typical way of life. He challenged her.

You're digressing from your work. The small voice in her head brought Meg back down to earth.

"Alright." She said to the empty room, "time to get down to business."

>>>>>

Catherine picked up a framed photo of the vic with a young woman. Both were laughing and had their arms wrapped around the other.

A girlfriend maybe? She thought. Definitely something worth looking into.

She moved on from the living room to a small study that was just as meticulously set up as the rest of the house. A rolodex sat proudly atop the oak desk and Catherine made a beeline for it. She flipped through the cards quickly, searching for any that might have little notes beside the names, before bagging it so that Brass could run the names later.

Moving through the rest of the house, Catherine gathered what little evidence she could find. There wasn't much to find, the vic's meticulous nature kept the house clean of any hairs or fibers that might have gotten onto the furniture or in the carpet.

"Any luck?" Catherine asked Meg when the two met by the car a few hours later.

"I found some women's clothes in the closet, but that was about it. This guy kept everything too clean though, even the pillows didn't have any hairs on them." Meg said with a shake of her head.

"Great." Catherine sighed and placed the kits and evidence in the back of her car. "I guess we should get back and process what we could find then."

>>>>>

Sara went over the clothing that Meg had brought from the vic's house with a fine toothed comb. She was not about to let one single strand of hair go unnoticed.

Maliciously she moved over every inch of designer fabric, until her eyes began to hurt. But still, not one hair could be found.

Bagging up the last of the clothes, Sara cursed and shook her head. She had gone over every bit of the vic's clothing and that of his girlfriend's, and not one bit of trace could be found.

Straightening from her stooped position, Sara stretched out the kinks in her back. Turning her head to the side, she could see Meg in the hall, talking animatedly to Nick.

A wave of hot emotions rolled over the CSI. She couldn't explain it, but something about Meg did not sit right with her. She was too nice, too eager to please and to help out. Her smile was always turned on full power and she always was willing to lend a hand.

It all grated on Sara's nerves. Nobody could be that happy. It was impossible. Meg had to be hiding something behind that sunshiny exterior. But what?

>>>>>

A knock sounded on his office door, catching Grissom's attention. He looked up to see Brass standing there, a file in his hand.

"I tracked down everyone in the vic's address book." Brass said, coming further into the office when Grissom motioned him in. He placed the file on the desk.

"I sure hope one of those people can give you guys some leads."

"I hope that too." Grissom said with a nod. Brass said a quick good-bye and left the CSI to look over the file.

Grissom wasted no time in opening the file and flipping through the numerous pages. Each person associated with the vic had an address beside their name, followed by a list of criminal acts- if they had committed any that is- and other personal information. The list of people went on for at least twenty pages, the names blurring together until Grissom didn't think that he could read anymore. Then something jumped out at him.

Clarissa Donaldson: No information provided.

>>>>>

"I want you to dig up every bit of information you can about this woman." Grissom said, "I want to know why she doesn't come up in the computers."

"This might take awhile, but I'll see what I can find." Warrick said, taking the file containing Clarissa Donaldson's blank information sheet.

He had no clue how he was going to find a person whose file gave him no information to go on, but Warrick had worked on harder things and knew that if he persisted it would pay off.

>>>>>

Meg sat in front of her mirror, carefully applying her lipstick so as not to get any on her teeth.

It was Friday night and Greg was due to pick her up at any moment.

For two days she had waited anxiously for this night, and, finally, it was here. And Meg was a nervous wreck. It had been forever since she'd been on a date, and she was nervous about whether or not she and Greg could carry on a conversation that didn't include the case.

Taking a deep breath, she tried to calm her nerves. It was going to be alright. She was going to do fine, and she and Greg would have plenty to talk about.

You're just nervous 'cause you like the guy, that's all, she told herself. You are gonna do great.

As if sensing that the end of her little pep talk had come, the doorbell rang. Meg stood and, after checking to make sure that her dress wasn't wrinkled, strode into the living room to open the door.

Greg stood there, dressed in black pants and a blue button down shirt. A bouquet of flowers in his hand.

"Well, well, well, don't you clean up nicely." Meg teased as she took in his outfit and his hair, which he had left unspiked. Meg had to admit, he looked good.

"Why thank you." Greg smirked. "I gotta say, you look pretty hot yourself."

Meg blushed, absently mindedly running a hand over the nonexistent wrinkles in her ruby red cocktail dress.

"These are for you." He said, gallantly presenting the flowers he held.

"Ahh, tulips, my favorite." Meg smiled as she accepted the flowers. "How did you know?"

"I'm all knowing." He replied, a teasing glint in his eye. Meg chuckled and shook her head.

"C'mon on in while I put these in some water." She stepped out of the doorway and allowed Greg to enter.

"Nice place." He said, surveying the apartment. Meg walked into the kitchen and pulled down a vase from one of the cupboards.

"It's small," she said, filling the vase with water, "but it's home."

Setting the vase on the kitchen counter, Meg grabbed her small handbag and turned toward Greg.

"Well I'm ready."

Greg offered her his arm and said, "Then let's go."

>>>>>

The restaurant that Greg chose for their date was a small Italian place with dim lighting and candles on the every table. The mood was romantic, with light classical music playing in the background. Couples sat at small tables, perfect for two, talking to one another in hushed tones so as not to disturb the other couples around them.

Greg pulled out Meg's chair for her before sitting down in his own. With her face lit up by the glow of two candles, Greg couldn't help but think how beautiful she looked. Her hair was loose around her shoulders and curled into loose corkscrew curls, which framed her face perfectly. Behind her glasses, her olive green eyes stared back at Greg with quiet intensity. A smile graced her lips, lighting up her whole face.

He hadn't realized he was staring until Meg shifted uncomfortably in her seat. Quickly, Greg dropped his gaze down to the menu that sat before him.

As Greg tried to decipher what the Italian dishes were so that he could figure out something other than pasta to order, Meg cleared her throat.

"Do you maybe want to go some place else?" She asked when Greg turned his attention back to her. "I mean," she continued hastily, "this place is amazing and all, but it's not really my kinda scene."

Greg could have sighed in relief. The stuffy restaurant, despite it's romantic atmosphere, was not the first place Greg would have chosen for a date. But he had thought that Meg would like it, so that was where he'd decided to take her. He himself, though, would have been more comfortable at a bar or some obscure diner.

"How about we go grab some burgers." He suggested.

"Sounds great." Meg replied with a smile.

>>>>>

"Being in the FBI is kinda like a family tradition." Meg said between bites of her burger.

After leaving the restaurant, Greg had led Meg to an out of the way diner where he had ordered them both chili cheese burgers with the works, claiming that they were "the best burgers on the planet." Though they were a bit overdressed for the diner, Meg felt much more at ease than in the restaurant.

"Ever since the FBI was created the oldest male in my family became an agent. Unfortunately for my dad, he didn't have any sons. So, being the oldest I decided that I would join the FBI." Meg continued.

"Didn't you ever want to be anything else?" Greg asked. He just couldn't seem to wrap his mind around the fact that people would choose a career only because it was expected of them.

"I did, but being an agent was something that my family always thought was important." Meg shrugged off Greg's question as if it were no big deal.

"What did you want to be?"

"Promise not to laugh if I tell you?"

Greg nodded. "Scout's honor."

"Okay," Meg leaned forward, as if what she had to tell him was a big secret, "I wanted to be that lady in the circus who twirls by her hair."

Despite his promise, Greg couldn't help the laugh that bubbled up from his throat.

"Hey!" Meg slapped his arm playfully, "you promised not to laugh."

"I'm sorry," Greg shook his head, his sides beginning to ache from laughing so hard. "I can't help it. That's really what you wanted to be?"

Meg nodded.

"Well what about you?" She said, turning his question around on him. "What did you want to be before you chose to work as a CSI?"

"To be honest, I don't really remember." Greg said after gaining control of his laughing. "I just always knew I wanted to do something with science."

"Yeah, science is cool. Though I have to admit, I didn't always like it." She said. "But, being an agent, you learn to appreciate science and all that it allows you to do."

Greg bit into his burger and studied Meg carefully. She seemed so happy and carefree, yet something lingered beneath the surface. Something lay hidden behind her eyes, a deep and heavy burden that seemed to hold her in a silent prison.

"So," Meg pushed her empty plate away from her and leaned back against the vinyl seat of the booth. "What now?"

>>>>>

A bit longer of a chapter. I hope you guys are enjoying this and I hope that you'll review, 'cause I really need reviews you guys. They are my lifeblood and the thing that keep the ideas flowinginside this pretty little head of mine.

cheggly: Thank you for reviewing this story. It really means a lot that people share their opinions with me about what I write.