As soon as Detective Henderson left the building, Catherine stormed into Grissom's office. "You want to tell me what that was all about?" she asked him indignantly. "You hijacked my interrogation, and you might have cost us valuable information."

Gil looked up from the file he was studying and stared at her calmly. "I need to see Nick's condo," he said, completely ignoring her outburst.

"No!" she yelled. "Gil, you are not working this case."

"I might not be on the case," he said, "but I am certainly the only person here who has spent much time there. I'll be able to tell if anything is missing or out of place. Things that Sara and Warrick might have missed, because they didn't know to look for them."

"You're right," she said with a sigh, dropping wearily into a chair. "Of course you're right. But you really blew it in there, you know? I think I might have been able to get more out of Detective Henderson if we had played the angle that he was a witness, rather than a suspect."

"I'm sorry," he said sincerely. "It got out of hand. Were you able to get anything more out of him after I left?"

"Not really. He told me that he had misdirected the original investigation in order to give Nick more time to get away from...whatever it is that he's running from." She frowned slightly, and hesitated before continuing. "He hinted that Nick might be in some sort of legal trouble."

"I can't believe that," Gil said automatically.

"I don't want to either," Catherine said. "But we have to consider all the possibilities. If Nick had gotten mixed up in something illegal, it would explain why he didn't come to any of us for help."

Gil inclined his head slightly in assent. "Of course. Now, will you be coming with me to Nick's condo, or should I have Warrick accompany me?"

"I'll come," she said, holding up her hands in surrender. "But let me at least get a cup of coffee first, this has been a long day."


They made the drive to Nick's condo in silence. The crime scene was deserted when they arrived, but yellow tape still stretched across the door. Somehow, the unnatural darkness inside didn't seem as ominous now that night had fallen. Gil surveyed the living area with an implacable expression.

"Nick started leaving the drapes closed about two weeks ago," he said. "It seemed strange at the time, but with everything else that was going on, I didn't question it."

"Do you think he was hiding something?" Catherine asked.

"Or hiding from something," he agreed.

"Is anything missing, that you can see?"

"No," he said, shaking his head. "But I doubt that this had anything to do with a robbery. If Nick left of his own accord, the things he would take wouldn't be from in here." Walking over to the bedroom door, he pushed it open and turned on the lights.

Aside from black smudges of fingerprint powder, the room looked just as it had the last time he had seen it. The bed was neatly made and the few items atop the dresser were arranged just as Nick had always left them. Sara and Warrick had obviously been careful to disturb as little as possible during their search, and Gil was grateful for that. Nick would hate to see his personal belongings disarrayed.

Catherine hovered in the doorway, not wanting to intrude, as he opened the closet door and ran the tips of his fingers lightly over the clothes inside. He closed his eyes, steadying himself against a gut deep wave of pain. The clothes smelled like Nick. It didn't seem right that his smell should linger when he was absent.

"If Detective Henderson's story is true," Catherine said carefully, as though reading his thoughts, "then Nick was definitely still alive this morning."

"He's not dead," Gil said firmly. He stared into the closet for another long moment, before carefully shutting the door. "His clothes all seem to be there, and the bag he always takes when he travels is still here. If he left on his own, he didn't take time to pack."

Walking into the bathroom, he stared blankly at the empty toothbrush holder, until he remembered that the toothbrushes had been taken to the lab for testing. Gil felt an irrational surge of anger at their absence. Somehow, the sight of his toothbrush resting next to Nick's had signified a kind of permanence to their relationship. To have and to hold, until dentures do we part.

He fought back the somewhat hysterical laugh that was threatening to overtake him. He needed to stay calm and focused, or he would be of no help here. More from the need to move, than from the thought that he might find anything of importance, he pulled open the medicine cabinet. It shifted slightly in the wall as he opened it.

Had it always done that? He was fairly certain that it hadn't. Frowning, he gave it an experimental shake, and it moved again. It was definitely loose. Looking more closely, he realised that the contents had been moved around. Nick usually kept his spare tubes of toothpaste standing upright on the lower shelf, and now they were stacked on their side on the top shelf. Other items seemed slightly out of place as well.

Someone had rearranged it, and somehow he doubted that it had been Nick. A closer inspection revealed that a screw was missing in the lower right hand corner of the cabinet. After a brief search, he found the screw on the floor, behind the commode.

"Catherine?" he called. "Did Sara or Warrick remove the medicine cabinet when they were here?"

"No, they didn't," she said, coming to the door and peering in. "Why?"

"I think you should get your kit," he said calmly.

"Okay," she said, uncomprehendingly. "I left it in the car, I'll be right back." A few minutes later she returned with her field kit and raised her eyebrows inquiringly. "What did they miss?"

"The medicine cabinet has been taken out of the wall," he explained. "One of the screws is missing. I found it behind the toilet."

"You think Nick hid something behind there?"

"Or someone did."

Gil retreated from the bathroom to give her room to work. As reluctant as he had been to step away from this case, he knew that officially he could have nothing to do with it, and didn't want to risk contaminating any evidence she might find. He watched as she snapped a few quick pictures of the contents of the cabinet, before unloading it and pulling out a screwdriver to remove the remaining screws.

The cabinet slid easily from the wall, and she placed it carefully onto the floor before turning to examine the hole where it had sat previously. Resting inside the opening was a box, about ten inches by twelve, and perhaps an inch deep. It was the type of box documents are stored in. "What the hell is that?" Catherine murmured.

"It's evidence," Gil said evenly.

After photographing the box from several angles, Catherine pulled it from the wall and placed it carefully on the sink, removing the lid. Inside the box was a folder. Flipping it open, Catherine frowned. "This is a case file," she said, her voice tinged with confusion. "A murder investigation. Not one of ours, Dallas PD. Why would Nick have this?"

She lifted out the file, revealing a stack of crime scene photos that had been hidden beneath it. Pushing aside procedure, Gil grabbed a pair of latex gloves from Catherine's kit and pulled them on. While she flipped through the case file, Gil examined the photographs. Some of them showed a woman's body, lying in a pool of blood, but most were photographs of a bloodstained knife, taken from several angles. As he stared at the knife, a cold chill ran down his spine.

"The file is a copy," Catherine said, as she studied it. "Nick didn't work this case, his name isn't on it. I can't see any reason for him to have it here."

"These photographs aren't copies," Gil said. "They're the originals. The negatives are here too."

"But that would mean--"

"Catherine," he said, cutting her off, "where did the murder happen?"

"The courthouse in Dallas," she said, checking the file. "A cleaning woman, Martha Haggart, was found stabbed to death in one of the corridors after hours. Why?"

"Because I believe that I've seen this knife before," he said, still staring at the photograph.

She looked at him sharply. "Where?"

"In a picture," he said vaguely, placing the photos back into the box. "Wait here."

He disappeared into the living room, and returned a moment later, clutching a large, leather-bound picture album. Catherine watched him warily, but said nothing, as he flipped quickly through the pages. Finally he came to the photograph he was searching for, and closed his eyes briefly as though in defeat, as he handed the book to Catherine.

The picture was of a smiling man, who bore a strong resemblance to Nick, sitting behind a large mahogany desk. The nameplate on the desk read: Judge William Stokes, and lying on the desk, at the very edge of the photograph, was a long silver letter opener. The knife, from the crime scene photos.

Catherine compared the two photographs for a moment. "Shit," she breathed. "You think Nick covered up evidence in a murder investigation to protect his father?"

"Right now, Catherine," he said, "I don't know what I think."

"His father's on the Texas Supreme Court?" She shook her head slowly in disbelief and let out a long breath. "God, Gil, this is big." Closing the photo album, she gave Gil a long look. "Do you think this is related to Nick's disappearance?"

"I think it has everything to do with Nick's disappearance. I just don't know how, yet." He frowned, and glanced towards the case file. "Who was in charge of the investigation?"

She picked up the file and flipped through it. "A familiar name," she said finally. "Fredrick Henderson."


"Nick's fingerprints were all over the file and the box," Catherine said, dropping into the chair across from Gil's desk.

Gil sighed and shook his head. "I just can't believe that Nick would do something like that."

"I don't want to believe it either, Gil, but the evidence doesn't lie."

"You don't have to tell me that," he said grimly. "What about the prints from the medicine cabinet?"

"Yours and Nick's," she said with a shrug. "On the front, and inside, at least. There weren't any on the back."

Gil looked at her sharply. "None on the back? Are you sure? There would have to be, if he put the files back there."

"Maybe he wore gloves."

"If he was just looking for a place to hide the file, he wouldn't have any reason to wear gloves. It was his own house."

"Gil, you're reaching," she said with a tired sigh. "If the files were planted, how would Nick's fingerprints have gotten on them?"

"You're right," he said wearily, rubbing his hand over his eyes. Sunlight was already pouring through the windows. He had been awake for more than twenty-four hours, and it was beginning to take it's toll. When his cell phone rang, he reached for it automatically. "Grissom," he snapped irritably as he answered it.

"Gil, it's me," an all too familiar voice said. "If you're not alone, don't let anyone know it's me. This is important."

Gil froze, his mind racing. "Ah, George," he said stiltedly. "Thanks for getting back to me so quickly, can you hold on for a moment?" Lowering the phone slightly, he looked at Catherine. "If you'll excuse me," he told her, "I need to take this."

"Yeah, no problem," she said. "I should really be getting back to the case."

As soon as the door shut behind her, he yanked the phone back to his ear. "Nick!" he hissed, trying to keep his voice down. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine, Gil, but you've got to listen to me. I'm in trouble."

"I know, we found the files."

"Files?" Nick was silent for so long that he was afraid they had been cut off. "Shit!" Nick said finally. "He actually did it, the bastard," he broke off into a long string of profanities.

"Who, Nick? You've got to tell me what's going on."

"I will," he said. "But not over the phone."

"Then come to the station," Gil pleaded. "Just come back, and we'll get this whole thing straightened out, somehow."

"I can't do that, Gil," Nick said. "If I come back now, he'll win. You've got to believe me, my father didn't kill that woman, and I can prove it."

"If you know he's innocent, then why did you steal the evidence?"

"I didn't! I'm being set up for this too."

"Nick, your fingerprints--"

"Do you trust me?"

"God, Nick, of course I trust you."

"Then come meet me, and I'll explain everything." He quickly gave Gil directions to a seedy motel on the outskirts of the city. "Meet me here in an hour, and for the love of god, make sure you're not followed."

"Okay, an hour," Gil said. "Whatever you do, don't leave. I'll be there in an hour."

"I'll be here," he paused for a moment. "And Gil? Bring your gun."

The line went dead.

TBC