A/N: So, so sorry for the long wait on the update. My computer came down with a cold and wouldn't even turn on. I had to re-write the whole chapter and have it done by today because I leave for New York tomorrow at 3:30 in the morning –shudders- and I didn't have time to have it beta'd this go around, so once again, all mistakes, errors and anything that makes no sense is all my fault. Hope you enjoy the chap, though I have feeling you won't like me much by the end of this one…

Chapter Thirteen: Sara the Super Sleuth

Sara arrived early for shift, though that was normal for her. Aside from Grissom, though, nobody else generally followed that trend, which was why she was surprised to find Nick in the locker room straddling a bench, one foot propped on the wood in front of him as he tied his shoe.

"Nick, what're you doing here?"

"Uh, I work here, Sara. Have for a while now," he answered, glancing up from his laces.

She cracked a smile. "You know what I meant. You're early."

"That a crime now?" he asked, glancing at her again as he switched feet and set to work on his other boot.

She shook her head slightly. "No. Just unusual for you...Got something on your mind?" She asked, her overly innocent tone a dead give-a-way that she was not referring to just any something.

He pulled the laces tight then dropped his foot to the floor, looking up at her. "Come on Sar', give me some credit. That wouldn't work on a six year old." He shook his head and scoffed. "I'm not telling you anything, Sara. You can forget it. Besides, I don't know anything to tell." He shrugged and stood, turning to his locker, his back now to her.

She bore a hole in the back of his head, lips pursed, eyes slightly narrowed. "I don't believe you, but you already know that."

He glanced at her over his shoulder and shook his head again. "Don't matter whether you believe me, Sar'." He turned back to his locker. "Nothin' I can do to change that."

"Drop the bull, Nick. The way you were talking the other day at the Bellagio-"

"Sara, I was just making conversation. Stop reading everything into nothing."

She glared at him before coming to stand behind him, arms crossed. "Nick, I know you know something." He turned to her, crossing his arms across his chest, unconsciously mirroring her stance. "It's just a matter of me finding out what it is."

Nick's eyebrows rose. "And what makes you so sure that-if I knew something-you could get it out of me?"

Sara gave him a grin. "Oh, I have ways of making people talk. I almost always find out what it is I want to know."

Nick's brows inched a little higher and he forced his attention from just how close she was standing to the matter at hand. "Oh, really? And what would these 'ways' be?"

Sara's grin just grew a little wider in response and Nick grew slightly uneasy under her unflinching gaze.

He was about to say something, anything, to redirect the conversation, when the locker room door swung open.

Grissom poked his head in saying, "I thought I heard voices..." His voice trailed off as he caught sight of the pair. "Nick you're here early. Something up?"

"Can't a man a just come to work a little early without people saying something must be wrong?" he asked, a little more heated than necessary, dropping his arms to his sides in frustration.

Sara did a half job of stifling a laugh, causing his nerves to rankle and he wondered just when Sara had gained the ability to affect him like this.

Grissom, looking mildly surprised by Nick's outburst, raised a single brow. "Of course he can, Nick. It's just unusual to see you this early."

Sara didn't bother trying to hide her laugh this time or have the decency to at least avert her gaze and Nick sighed.

Grissom's eyebrow went up another mild notch as he wondered just what was so funny. Dismissing it as not thoroughly important, he said, "But if you two are done chatting, I'm sure there are some cases in backlog with your names on them."

Both Nick and Sara nodded, though Sara looked decidedly more perky than Nick.

Grissom eyed them both for a few more seconds before turning to leave. Pausing when he was only a few feet from the doorway and without turning back he raised a finger and said, "And Nick? I suggest you tell her whatever it is she wants to know. Otherwise, there will be no peace for you."

Sara's grin grew tenfold and she her face positively glowed with triumph.

Nick's expression grew downright sour. He muttered, "Wipe that grin off your face. I'm not telling you anything."

Sara managed to lower her megawatt grin to a simple smirk. "I wouldn't bet on that. But right now, I do have a rape kit to see Wendy about. I'll see you later, Nick."

She was gone before he had the chance to say anything. Not that he had anything to say anyway. The lilting, slightly teasing way she had said his name had caused unease to settle in his stomach once again.

Ironically, it had nothing to do with her 'I wouldn't bet on that' comment. She cold hound him all she liked, there wasn't a chance in hell of him telling her what he knew. No, the unease had to do with something else entirely. But he'd be damned if he could place his finger on just what that something was.

Nick exited the locker room and headed for the A/V lab, wondering for the second time in less than an hour just when Sara had started affecting him so much.

x

Catherine arrived early for shift as well, using a cold case she'd been working as an excuse to leave the house over an hour earlier than usual.

She looked like something the cat had pounced on a few time before dragging in. She was tired, tense, and it showed. The fiasco with Lindsey had left her emotionally drained but physically wired.

She'd gotten a few minutes rest when she'd dozed off on the couch, but that tease of sleep proved more of a hindrance than a help, leaving her irritable and with a pounding headache she could do nothing to abate.

Her already sour mood worsened when her locker refused to open. She uttered a few choice words that would've made a sailor blush, tugging at the locker handle to no avail. She muttered another curse and placed a hefty kick to the base of the new object of her discontent, leaving a dint in the inanimate offender and an ache in her toe.

She growled in frustration, hopping a bit, and having learned nothing from the fact that the big toe of her left foot was now throbbing, she delivered another blow to the locker's face with her palm.

"Having a little trouble there, Cath?"

The joking tone grated her nerves and she visibly tensed.

Greg, not having made it to a being CSI from a lack of observance, sensed the storm brewing beneath Catherine's exterior and quickly back-peddled. "What I meant was… I, uh…Do you, uh, want some help?"

Catherine quelled the urge to lash out at her younger, well meaning co-worker and not trusting herself to speak, simply stepped aside, gesturing for him to go ahead.

Greg eased past Catherine with care, mindful not to set off the bomb in a Dona Karen suit. He jiggled the handle, testing it, then rapped lightly on the metal just below the catch. There was a click….and the door swung open.

Catherine wanted to scream.

Instead, she managed a "Thank you, Greg" and smirked as the young man nodded and all but ran from the locker room.

She was sure that the entire lab would soon know she was in a foul mood, which was for the best. She knew her colleagues would give her plenty of space, only talking to her if completely necessary.

She chuckled slightly as she pulled off her black peacoat, revealing the black pinstripe of her cream suit, amused with the mental image of everyone in the lab running in the other direction as she walked down the hall. She hung the coat and her purse on a hook and headed off to see Hodges.

An hour later, her nerves had evened out and her mood had improved but you wouldn't have known it, judging by the way her colleagues avoided her like the plague. At that moment, Greg and Nick were as far away as possible from where she sat on the break room couch. They leaned against the counter talking quietly and sipping their coffee, trying to avoid her wrath.

Catherine smiled slightly. Even Grissom was regarding her warily after their brief encounter that night. He'd walked into her office, asking her something about taking his place a charity benefit that involved some major political figures. She'd shot him a look, didn't speak a syllable, and he'd stopped mid-sentence, mumbled an apology and beat a hasty retreat. She hadn't seen him since.

Sara, however, didn't seem at all concerned that Catherine was in one of "her moods," as Catherine had heard Hodges describing it to Archie when she'd gone to Trace earlier. She sat leaning forward a little, intent on the forensic journal someone had left lying on the break room table, absently brushing the tendrils of brown hair that fell into her face ever so often, obstructing her view.

Catherine studied the brunette's profile. Sara had never really been afraid of her, whether Catherine was in one of her moods or not. Sara had never been afraid of anybody really, at least, not that she let on.

Catherine's thoughts were interrupted as Grissom made his entrance, assignment slips in hand. All eyes were on him as his gaze swept the room, taking in everyone's presence.

"Where's Warrick?" he asked, his gaze resting on Nick.

"He's got the night off, remember, Gris?" Nick asked, eyebrows raised in question.

Grissom nodded. "Right". He paused and flipped through the slips. "Nick, Greg, you guys got a 419 out in Henderson. Domestic dispute gone bad."

"What's a domestic dispute gone good?" Greg piped up with a slight smirk.

Grissom shot him a look that said he hadn't appreciated his attempt at humor and Greg quickly dropped the smirk and took a sip of coffee.

Nick grinned and shook his head as Greg muttered something about Grissom needing to "lighten up a little," as they left the room.

"We've also got a decomp off Freemont. Catherine, I want you to…"

Grissom's voice was immediately replaced with Roz's, "You know morning sickness occurs at times other than daybreak, so you do best to avoid things that can trigger it….strong odors, especially unpleasant ones…"

Catherine thought that a decomp definitely qualified in the 'strong, unpleasant odor,' category and shook her head. Grissom paused, raising an eyebrow. Catherine, meeting his gaze head on, cocked her head and raised one in return; she was more than willing to engage in this battle of wills.

She won.

"Uh, you know what, I'll take the decomp. Catherine, you and Sara are headed out to Henderson, too. Missing person case. A Melissa Ethers. Her mother called when Ethers didn't show up for a visit. She last heard from her the week before last. Sofia is meeting you there." He handed Catherine the slip and left the room.

Sara raised an eyebrow, finding the entire wordless exchange she'd just witnessed interesting but she said nothing. She nodded and flipped the journal closed and stood, turning to Catherine. "You wanna drive?"

Catherine shook her head. "No, you go head."

Sara nodded and the two women left the room.

x

Warrick stared absently at the windows of the townhouse, not seeing the blue shutters turned a dark storm cloud gray with night or the warm glow of lights radiating from behind drawn drapes.

He wasn't quite sure what he was doing there. He certainly hadn't intended on parking across the street from the cookie-cutter home. He'd just had to get out to clear his head, to drive simply for the sake of driving, of doing something.

He'd been right in thinking that he wouldn't get much rest. He'd slept two hours purely because his body refused to stay active for a moment longer. He'd awakened to find that he had nothing to do to occupy his time. He couldn't go back to sleep, the apartment was clean, and internet and TV hadn't held much interest.

Though it was his night off, the first in a long while, he could have gone into the lab. They'd have been glad for the extra body, he knew, but for some reason he hadn't wanted to go in, and it had nothing to do with the fact that he'd s spent a measureless amount of time there over the past month.

So he'd gotten in his car and drove and before long he'd found himself here, in front of this house, staring at those windows. And he hadn't moved since.

It struck him suddenly that a neighbor, neighborhoods like this one were always full of busybody old ladies, might get suspicious and call the cops. The prospect was not one he wanted to see actualized and the thought was enough to spur him to action.

It wasn't until he was already up the two steps leading to the door and pressing the doorbell that he realized he not only didn't know what he was doing there but also that he hadn't a clue what he was going to say when the door swung open.

He didn't have much time to think of something before he heard the distinctive sound of feet padding across carpet through the white front door. A shape appeared, brown and pink and blue blurred by the texture and frost of the glass. A lock clicked and the door opened.

"You shouldn't open the door without knowing who it is. Especially at night."

Tina eyed him for a moment, one hand resting on the inside knob, the other on the edge of the doorway, effectively blocking the entrance. "I knew who it was," she said, breaking the silence and stepping aside, allowing him entrance. "I saw you when you pulled up."

Warrick nodded and stepped inside.

x

Catherine and Sara pulled to the curb of the middle class Henderson neighborhood. Old fashioned gaslight style lanterns at the end of every driveway illuminated the night with a soft ethereal glow. The air was cool and Catherine could see her breath as she climbed from the Tahoe's warm interior.

She raised the collar of her peacoat, wishing she had grabbed her down jacket instead as Sara slid the camera from the back of the SUV and slipped the strap around her neck.

Sofia's department issue Taurus was parked in the drive, a black and white cruiser, lights off, sat parked beside it.

"Looks like the gang's all here," Sara commented as they walked up to the front door, field kits in hand.

Sara knocked and an officer whose nameplate read Stravinsky let them inside.

"Detective Curtis is in the back bedroom. Down the hall, to the left."

They nodded their thanks and headed back, Catherine picking up a faint trace of something in the air. It was a familiar odor, but one she couldn't put her finger on and she dismissed it.

Sofia looked up from where she was poking around amongst the items littering Ether's dresser, a hint of surprise showing on her face and in her greeting. "Hey." She turned to face them completely. "I was expecting Gil."

"I just bet you were," Catherine said with a raised eyebrow and knowing smirk. It was no secret that her long time friend and the former CSI were interested in each other, except maybe to them. "But you got us. Hope you're not too disappointed."

Sara suppressed a grin as a hint of color seeped into Sofia's cheeks.

The blonde detective took the teasing in stride, knowing there was no ill meaning behind the words. "Uh, no. You two'll do fine. Why don't we start with the kitchen? Looks like that's where all the action took place."

Sofia led the way back down the hall and towards the kitchen. The hint of odor Catherine had picked up on earlier grew stronger as they drew closer to the kitchen and she was able to pinpoint the smell. Garbage. And it had been there for a while.

Her stomach flipped and she reminded herself that she could be working a decomp right that second. Decomp versus garbage was no real contest in her mind, but her body didn't seem to appreciate the difference. The scent stuck in her nostrils and her insides felt like they were on tumble dry.

Suck it up, she told herself. There was no way she'd throw up at a scene.

Her body almost proved her a liar as they finally entered the kitchen and the smell augmented.

Sofia was right about the action having taken place in the kitchen. The source of the stench was spread all over the floor. Egg shells, an empty Pepsi bottle, a molded pack of cream cheese, what looked like Chinese leftovers and something that had probably started out life as a cow or pig or possibly a chicken lay covered in maggots, the white of the insects a stark contrast to the gray cast of the meat, and other kitchen debris spread over the tile.

A few plates, broken into predominately large pieces, littered the floor as well. A basket of molded fruit and vegetables sat on the counter next to a knife crusted with dried blood, though whether the blood was from what appeared to be a partially dissected chicken laying on a cutting board or something more sinister would be left up to the lab to determine.

"Whoa," Sara said, taking in the mess. "Definite signs of struggle." She lifted a finger to her nose in an attempt to block the smell. "I'll, uh, get started taking some photos. Cath, you wanna, uh, start dusting for prints or…?" She trailed of leaving Catherine to fill in what 'or' entailed.

She nodded. "Yeah. I'll start in the living room, dust for prints. Give you some alone time with this mess."

Sara simply nodded, setting down her kit just outside the kitchen's threshold and lifting the camera's sight to her eye.

Catherine and Sofia made their way back through the dining room to the living room. "I'll go back in the bedroom. See if I can find anything." Sofia hooked a thumb over her shoulder.

"Ok. I'll holler if I find anything worthwhile."

Sofia nodded and headed back down the hallway.

As it stood, none of them found anything that immediately qualified as probative. Aside from the blood covered knife from the kitchen and the other signs of struggle they really didn't have much to go on. But like good little CSI's (and Detective), they collected every print and fiber and hair and bit and piece of trash they came across. In their line of work, you didn't know what was important, until you knew what wasn't.

By the time all the evidence was collected it was close to six a.m. and all three women were tired. Sofia headed back to PD to file an official report saying that foul play was suspected in the disappearance of Melissa Ethers before heading out to help out with a gang shooting that had left three dead and 5 injured.

Sara and Catherine headed back to the lab to log their evidence and fill out their own reports. Their night was far from over as well. Catherine wasn't sure how she was going to make it through the rest of shift, but Sara, the experience work-a-holic, seemed to know just what would keep her from passing out on the job.

They pulled into a parking lot, the familiar green and white sign glowed like a beacon, and Catherine could feel her body perk up simply at the thought of the goodies that were supplied here.

Dear God, am I droolingshe asked herself, reaching up to check.

Sara pulled up to the drive-thru and let down her window.

"Good morning, welcome to Starbucks. What can I do for you today?" came the discombobulated voice from the box. Even with the distortion, though, the girl sounded entirely too perky for Catherine's taste.

"Uh, yeah. Can I get a double shot of espresso with soymilk? And…" She looked over to Catherine to see what she wanted.

Catherine quickly considered her options. She glanced at the clock, it was 6:15, which meant that she could technically enjoy another three hundred milligrams of caffeine, but hindsight taught her a valuable lesson about how easily she could kill those three hundred mills in a single act of indulgence. She sighed and it physically pained her to say the next three words: "Just some water."

Sara raised an eyebrow at her. "You sure?"

No. "Yes."

"Um, ok." She gave Catherine a look that clearly said she doubted her sanity and turned back to the speaker. "And a water." The girl gave Sara the total and she thanked her before pulling to the window to pay and pick up their order.

They were back on the road, Sara happily sipping her drink, making Catherine sick as she sipped her water trying her best to imagine it as a low fat, soymilk latte with whipped cream. It wasn't working.

Sara glanced at her passenger before flicking her gaze back to the road. She wondered whether she should voice her suspicions. It wouldn't hurt and if she was wrong she could just say it was a rumor Hodges had started. Besides, Nick wasn't budging an inch and it would put an end to her speculations.

It didn't take long to make a decision.

"Hey, Cath?"

"Hmmm?" Catherine tilted the bottle to her lips.

"How far are you?"

A/N2: So, how much do you hate me right now? A lot? A little? You want to chop off my head and feed it to your dog? Well, hopefully, it's not that bad but I promise, everything works out in the end. Promise. And in an act of good will, I will tell you this much: within the next few chapters Warrick will find out. Can't tell you when exactly, there has to be some element of surprise. No teaser this time, but come on this chap is 3,622 words not counting the authors notes. That's twice what I usually give ya and I'm tapped for brainpower ya'll, maybe the Big Apple will get those creative juices flowing. Until next time, adios, mi amigos.