A/N: I made a few little changes in dialogue between Grissom and the OC in this chapter. Someone gave me some very good constructive criticism and, after I reconsidered it, I decided they were right. Ch. 5 will be up by Friday.

Chapter 4

December 22nd, Rockville, MD

Brian Nichols was losing his mind and his temper. "What do you mean you have no leads? She's been missing since yesterday! What have you people been doing to find her?"

Sitting across from Colleen's husband in his lab office, Joe Franklin tried to calm him down. "Brian, I didn't say we have no leads. We have a few good clues that we're analyzing very carefully. We have the postmarked note and picture, which we're dusting for prints and checking for DNA. We're questioning postal personnel from the area where it was mailed. We're going through her files to see if anyone she's helped put away would have the means and opportunity to take her. The people in Vegas are doing the same. We'll find her; it's just going to take a little time."

"Tell that to her two year old son, who doesn't understand why Mommy didn't come home last night and who will wonder why she isn't there on Christmas morning!" Joe felt the sting of Brian's tirade and took it personally. Two years ago, after William Nichols was born, Colleen had wanted to quit the MCPD Crime Lab in order to raise her son. Now, despite all of the incredible work she'd performed during that time, Joe was desperately wishing he had let her go.

"I know you're upset, Brian. We all are; Colleen is one of our own, and we're taking this very personally. We're doing everything we can to have her home in time for Christmas. Please, go home, play with your son. He needs you to keep his environment as normal as possible right now."

Knowing that the scientist was right about his child's welfare, Brian stood to leave, but not before glaring and pointing his finger at the older man. "Promise me, you'll call the minute you know something. Promise me, Joe." Franklin nodded his agreement, and then sighed exasperatedly once the office door closed. Brian Nichols was a nice enough man, Colleen certainly loved him, but there was something about the guy that irritated him. Undoubtedly, this situation merely exacerbated it. Now, Joe had another possibly unpleasant task before him, one which might hold the utmost importance.

December 22nd, Las Vegas Crime Lab

"Dr. Grissom, does the phrase, 'She will know my pain,' mean anything to you?"

"No, should it?"

"We were hoping that it would. Colleen's kidnapper sent us a note today, from a small town on the Eastern Shore, which included that statement and a photo of her. No one here recalls anyone ever making a statement similar to that and nothing has turned up in any of her case files. I was hoping someone on your team may have heard a suspect or convict say it to her or send her something to that effect." CSI Franklin failed to mention the details of the photo of his subordinate and hoped this Dr. Grissom wouldn't detect any hints of his omission.

Grissom scratched his scalp through his graying wavy hair and pinched his eyes closed. Something in his long-term memory was trying to claw its way to the surface, but to no avail. If he could just grasp it in the forefront of his mind, caress it with his thoughts, speak it with his lips…but the event or moment remained elusive.

"My team is still sifting through Colleen's old files and compiling a list of potential suspects. I'll check in with them and get back to you soon." Gil cradled the handset on his shoulder for a moment, hoping to coax forward the memory that seemed to be digging a fresh grave in his mind. As he stared at the butterfly that was mounted and framed on the opposite wall, he silently encouraged the file cabinet inside his mind to open and retrieve the missing link he instinctively knew they desperately needed. For Colleen's sake, and for his own.

Suddenly, a knock on his door revealed a lovely young intern, with long dark hair, in possession of a note. Grissom's focus immediately blurred and readjusted in another room, another time, when his life was less confusing, less gut-wrenching, and more predictable.

Kenneth Crimm sat at the black table in the interrogation room, his hands cuffed and lying before him. Slouching belayed his height and size, both of which were considerably more substantial than one would assume. Not that anyone would ever make an assumption in Grissom's presence.

"So you see, Mr. Crimm, with your fingerprints at the scene and your DNA on the victim and in fresh condition at the time of her discovery, we can place you at her apartment on the day she died. Now, considering that neighbors heard Ms. Hayes arguing with a man in her apartment that night and saw a man of your description leaving within the timeframe the coroner pinpointed as her time of death, that pretty much makes you our number one suspect. Wanna tell us what happened that night?" Brass looked expectantly at the suspect, knowing deep inside that this gentleman, for want of a better term, was definitely the perpetrator.

"Nothing happened. She was alive and smiling when I left her, happy as a clam. How many times do I have to tell you? Would you like me to spell it out for you? N-O-T-H-I-N-G H-A-P-P-E-N-E-D! Did that get it through your dense skull, officer? Where the hell is my lawyer, anyway?"

Grissom decided to take over for Brass and pushed the crime scene shots that Colleen Patterson had captured upon her arrival. Five photos of the victim, naked and lying spread-eagled on her bedroom floor, jumped from their pages. The gloss merely highlighted the blood splattered on her pale body, the carpet, bed, and walls. This was a brutal attack, a crime of passion committed by someone with an axe to grind. Two problems remained; the murder weapon had yet to be recovered and a witness saw another stranger, whose whereabouts could not be accounted, on the floor of the deceased's apartment that same night.

"What do you want me to say? I didn't do her. Well I did, but not the way you think. It's a shame she's dead; we had fun together. But look, man, I gotta wife and kid, and I wouldn't do anything to screw that up. I was careful not to get caught. Do you really think I would kill Sasha and risk my life with them?"

Grissom observed the suspect carefully, noting that not a bead of sweat or a flush of color disturbed Kenneth Crimm's calm confidence. Either this guy didn't commit the crime, which the evidence did not suggest, or he wasn't going to break. Doubting that he misinterpreted the evidence, Gil felt his ire rising. With the missing knife, no bloody clothes, and the presence of the unknown visitor, there was a possibility that this scumbag might get off…

A tap on the door shook Grissom out of his reverie and propelled him across the room. Brass followed suit, curious about the interruption. In the anteroom on the other side, CSI1 Nichols sported a broad "cat that ate the canary" smile.

"You'll never guess what I found in the suspect's car! There was a secret compartment below the floorboard under the driver's seat. The seat was stuck earlier and we couldn't see anything, so we let it go. It kept gnawing at me, though, so I took the seat out completely and noticed a pull in the carpet." Her excitement considerable, Colleen took a deep breath while Grissom shifted impatiently and Brass raised a tired eyebrow.

"Spill it, kid. I'm on my third shift and this perp is pissing me off."

"Sorry. Anyhow, under the carpet was a piece of ply wood, which was concealing a knife. A bloody knife with the suspect's fingerprints on it, to be precise. Warrick is checking with Doc Robbins about the wound pattern and DNA is already replicating the sample to see if it belongs to Sasha Hayes."

Grissom finally smiled at his blossoming protégé. Damn, she's good. Tenacious. Brilliant.

"So, has he cracked, yet? Do we have him?"

"We do now, kid. Only he won't talk to us and he's lawyering up; however, it couldn't hurt if one of us kept him company until his paid bulldog arrives." Brass raised his eyebrows again, this time at Grissom, who nodded in return. "You want the honors, Patterson?"

Colleen looked like she'd just won that coveted, all expenses paid trip to a tropical paradise. "Sure. What do I do?"

"Make small talk with him. Remind him of his Mirandas, then be the sweet, charming, girl next door that you are and see where he leads you." Grissom ushered her to the door, but placed a hand on her shoulder before opening the door. "We'll be right here, watching. If you feel like you're in over your head, look at the two way mirror. If he tries anything, we'll be on him before he even gets to you, okay?"

Looking confident and assured, like the professional Grissom knew her to be, Colleen nodded and walked into the interrogation room. As she approached the table, Kenneth Crimm sized her up and smiled.

"They send you to babysit me until my lawyer shows up?"

"Something like that, Mr. Crimm. You've been made aware of your rights, sir? You realize that you don't have to speak to me if you don't care to do so?"

"Yes, I have, miss…"

"Patterson. Colleen Patterson. Actually, I'm kind of new here. I just graduated from college last spring. It's a real shame about Ms. Hayes. She was a pretty woman and all of her neighbors said she was really sweet. Did you know her very long?"

"You could say that."

"Oh, I'm so sorry for your loss! And to be sitting here when you should be grieving…" Smart, Grissom thought, be respectful, play to his sympathies…win his trust…

"Tell that to those creeps who were just in here with me. They don't seem to get the message."

"Don't take it personally, sir; they're just trying to do right by Sasha. If they can give her justice, it kind of makes up for the horrible things that were done to her. As her friend, surely you want that, too." Placing her hands on the table, ever so close to Crimm's, Colleen plastered an innocent look on her face and gazed into his eyes.

Somewhere, the dam on his resolve began to crack under the pressure of his actions and started to leak. Brass must have known all along that her attractive face, comforting voice, and soft touch would bring this suspect down.

Before they knew it, Crimm was opening himself up to CSI Patterson and describing how he stabbed and strangled his mistress in her apartment on the night she died. As soon as he finished his portrayal of the events that night and Grissom had completed the litany in writing, Brass charged into the room and informed the confessor that he was being formally charged with homicide. Crimm looked at Colleen, his face morphing from that of the betrayed to that of the enraged.

"You little bitch! You trapped me! I swear to God, if I lose my family, if I lose my life, you will know my pain!" Brass started dragging him out of the room, other officers coming in to assist with his removal. "You will know my pain! Do you hear me!"

Shaken but proud, Colleen looked at Grissom for his approval. Its importance surprised her, but she needed to know that he felt the same pride in her performance that she did.

"Are you alright? That got a bit intense toward the end…" Grissom rested his hands on his student's shoulders and peered into her eyes, noting the mixture of emotions in her expression. At a loss for words, due to recent events and her superior's closeness and touch, she merely nodded and softly smiled.

That night, Gil Grissom broke one of his steadfast rules: never date a co-worker. He collected Colleen at her apartment at seven o'clock, both of them taking a well-deserved night off to celebrate. She looked amazing and he was completely under her spell, unbeknownst to the young woman. He drove her to one of his favorite restaurants on Lake Meade, where they ate and drank overlooking the water on this warm late-autumn night. Another rule was broken that night as well: don't fall in love with one of your co-workers. It's dangerous on so many levels, as he would later learn.

"Dr. Grissom? Sir? Are you alright?" The young intern waved her hand and a file in front of his face, hoping to gain his attention and bring him back to the real world. It worked.

"Leave it on my desk," he barked, rushing from his office toward the conference room. The files were still in the conference room, being perused by Catherine and Warrick. Sara and Greg were using laptops they brought into the room and connected to the network, tracking down a list of possible suspects that they had all collected thus far through prison, parole and DMV records.

"There's only one file you need," Grissom blurted as he charged through the doorway. His eyes wild, his breath short, Sara felt her temperature rising as she absorbed his appearance. Something about his reactions in regard to this missing CSI struck her as, well, odd. Nick had been missing just last spring, and while the esteemed entomologist had been noticeably affected by that abduction, his response then was no where near as perturbed as compared to his behavior now. Actually, this conduct was usually reserved for cases involving crimes against children, and yet there was something in his eyes that said this was so much more deeply personal. For Sara, she had never seen him so fierce and zealous. It rattled her, professionally and privately. What did this mean for her?

"1995, suspicious circumstances, charge was second degree murder. Kenneth Crimm. He was convicted of killing his girlfriend during an argument. CSI Nichols' broke him down after Jim and I struck out in interrogation. He blamed her for his conviction. Find him. I don't care what you have to do. If we can find him, and I think we'll find her."