Chapter 4: Hiding From Hostile Light

"Oh, stars, and dreams, and gentle night;

Oh, night and stars, return!

And hide me from the hostile light

That does not warm, but burn;"- Emily Brontë, Stars.

"She was so weird. Really, if her mother hadn't come over, I would've gone myself. Trying to pick apart the poor animal…" Nick nodded, motioning for the woman to continue. She was one of the many witnesses he had to interview, but so far, no one had seen anything important.

Nick doubted this woman had seen anything either.

"It's not natural! She's a little girl, she's supposed to be playing with dollies and having tea parties. Why, when my Michelle was that young, she used to love dressing up and having tea parties with her stuffed animals. Now that's what little girls are supposed to do- not play with dead animals. That's just morbid. And that girl's mother!" Nick had kept a smile on his face, albeit it being very strained. But now he suddenly began to frown as the woman continued. "It doesn't surprise me at all that the girl's gone, not when her mother is so negligent. She should have spanked the child, not allowed her to play. I dare say she deserves-"

"Thank you, ma'am." Nick cut in, clenching his teeth. "But regardless of anyone's parenting skills, no one deserves to have their child stolen. Did you see anything pertinent to the kidnapping?"

"Oh no," the woman said, looking flustered at being interrupted. "I just saw the young girl stomp off to the play ground, before I turned back to my Adam." She patted the little boy by her side on the head- causing him to wince.

"I see…that will be all." Nick turned away, shaking his head. That woman had not only talked his ear off, but she had also insulted one of his close friends and his surrogate niece as well. Who needed dollies, anyway? Sighing, he surveyed the park. Grissom was no where to be seen, and other officers were interviewing the rest of the witnesses.

He set off towards the swings, where Lissy was purported to have been. Getting prints would be a nightmare, but at least they could identify if she had actually been there or not.

"Hey!" Looking up, he smiled.

"Rick." Warrick was striding towards him, evidence kit in hand. Then it dawned on him that the man was looking a bit too…composed for the scene. "You learn anything about the vic yet?" He hated using such an distant word for Lissy- to think of her as well as Greg and Sara as victims.

They were too strong for that.

And yet, just like millions of families across the country, they had lost a child.

Victim was the very word that described them at the moment. No matter how painful it might be.

"No." Setting down his kit, he straightened up. "What's up, man? And where's Grissom?"

"No clue where Grissom is. As for what's up…" He trailed off, shaking his head. "You ready for this?"

"Of course. It's a kidnapping. Not pretty, but-" Warrick shrugged. "It's not that unusual either. Mom and kids are at park, girl goes to play, disappears. If we're lucky, we have a witness, evidence, something that lets us move forwards. If we're not…" He let the sentence hang.

"Yeah, well, for how normal this case looks, it isn't." Nick's voice rose. "It's anything but, no matter how Grissom wants to treat it."

"Whoa." Holding up his hands, the man frowned. "What's wrong? As far as I can see, this is a regular kidnapping case."

"It's the victim that makes it different, Warrick." Nick sounded deflated and Warrick looked worried. "Brass went to interview the mother, because she was sent off without being interviewed. The father-"

"Wait a second, you released the mom without even getting her name? Because when I got the call, the mom was still unidentified and unconscious. And you let her go?"

"We know where to find them. We know everything about them, actually. Believe me, it's not a case where one of the parents knows more than they're letting on. And I know that once it gets out, this case is not only going to be watched by the department, but by the media as well. This case is big and we're all involved."

Now Warrick was worried. "What, some friend of the sheriff's kid got kidnapped? Or someone in the department? Who has kids?" He thought for a second.

"It's not 'official', but the victim's name is Rosalind," Nick continued, watching Warrick's expression carefully. Still no recognition was on his face- which wasn't all that surprising. Ever since Lissy had been an infant, she had been called Lissy. It was easy to forget her true first name. "Rosalind Elisabeth," he continued, and watched Warrick's face fall.

"Damn." He looked around the scene. "Lissy? Lissy is missing? So the mother- that was Sara?"

Nick nodded gravely.

"Whoa." He bent down and picked up his kit. "How'd Greg take it?" He asked, as he began to walk towards the concrete structure labeled 'bathroom'.

"How do you think?" Nick questioned, following. "Badly. If you think it was bad not knowing anything, when we arrived, Greg was the first one to notice her. Not a pretty scene."

"Lissy," Warrick shook his head. "Totally not what I was expecting. Anyone see anything?"

"Not so far." They reached the bathroom and Nick sighed. "I'm going to print the swings. Have fun."

"Yeah. Will do." Warrick replied dryly as he entered, preparing to look for evidence. "It's going to be a fucking walk in the park."

Sara wasn't cooperating.

In a way, he couldn't blame her. He remembered well the way he acted when Ellie got in trouble, and he was very glad she had finally taken him up on his offer to pay for a trip to get clean. It took a lot of weight off of his shoulders.

The truth was that children were the one weakness of parents.

And it was now playing hell on Sara.

She just sat there, holding Eirik in her lap. Gone was the serious, dedicated CSI he had known for years. Even in times of duress, she had always kept a clear head. From the lab explosion to Nick's kidnapping to his own shooting to Warrick's accident a few years ago and everything in between- she had always been calm and collected.

Now she was broken.

"Sara, start at the beginning. You went to the park. Why?"

Nothing. She just sat there staring at the opposite wall, her son curled up against her.

"Sara." He moved closer, bent down. "Sara." He snapped his fingers in her face. She blinked.

"You have to work with me. Why did you go to the park? Did anyone know beforehand that you were going? Was it planned? When did you go? What did you do when you got there?"

She stayed reticent.

Brass had interviewed heaps of witnesses and victims and criminals in his time as a detective and he knew there were different kinds. Some wouldn't shut up, some required prodding and some wouldn't talk if you set them on fire. The latter was usually reserved for suspects, criminals and those who 'saw nothing' or had gone temporarily blind and deaf during the execution of the crime. The first two, however, also pertained to victims and witnesses. And he was excellent at getting information out of unwilling victims and witnesses.

You just had to know how to play them. Sometimes a taunt, sometimes condolence, sometimes sympathy, sometimes apathy, sometimes just treating them like a normal person when no one else would- it all depended on the person. He enjoyed the challenge of figuring out what would fit each person. It was a bit like gambling in a way- you only had so many chances before you struck out and the person called for a lawyer.

Facing Sara, however, was different. For one thing, she knew his tactics- she was skilled at interviewing herself. And for another, none of them really fit. And she was also semi-immune to them all, being in law enforcement herself. Getting information out of her was going to be a challenge.

And not a very pleasant one either.

"Sara, you need to talk to me about this."

Still no response.

By now the other two officers in the room were watching him. It was a bit embarrassing, he had to admit. A seasoned police captain and he couldn't get information out of a friend. Of course, this friend happened to be traumatized, but that wasn't the point.

Sighing, he leaned down and ran a hand over Eirik's sleeping form. "It'll be all right, Sara. We will find her. We're going to try our damn hardest to find the bastard and save Lissy."

"I know." Her voice was faint. "I know."

"Then you have to tell me what happened," he reasoned with her.

"It's my fault." She whispered it. "Greg was right- I am a horrible mother." She began to raise her voice. "It's my fault- I lost my daughter! What kind of a mother does that? And Catherine- I could see the disgust on her face when she saw me. I've just given her the proof she needed that I was a negligent mother. And everyone else- what will they think? My God, I let my six year-old get kidnapped. I might as well hang a sign on my forehead; warn kids and their parents away from me. I went from a drunk with inappropriate feelings for her boss to an atrocious wife and mother and now I'm just paying for it."

She started to stand, becoming more and more agitated every moment. The slight problem with this was that Eirik was still sleeping in her lap. And as she stood, there wasn't any lap left for him to be in. Ergo, he started to fall.

Without thinking, Brass dropped his pad and practically lunged to catch the child. It was a miracle that he didn't wake up, but he had been compared to his father- who could sleep like a log through the loudest parts of any Marilyn Manson song. Something that definitely made Brass glad- he didn't need a crying child to go along with the hysterical mother.

And just where was Sanders?

He had heard the door open and shut, which must have been Catherine. And since officers were posted to keep unwanted people out and the residents in (Gil had suggested that measure- knowing the two of them, it wasn't all that unlikely that they'd try to sneak out and go to the lab to work on the case), Greg still had to be in the house. Somewhere. It was a big house.

Holding Eirik carefully, he still reached out to steady Sara, who was wavering where she stood. He was not a paramedic or doctor, but he could guess that she was not doing well physically, as well as emotionally.

"Hang on there, Sara." He held her shoulder. "Are you all right?" One arm still clamped around Eirik, he guided her back to sitting with the other hand. "You should stay sitting for a minute."

She nodded, her cheeks wet with tears.

He really hated women crying. Like any man, it made him uncomfortable. And for it to be her was worse. "Um, here." He fished out a handkerchief from his pocket. Where the hell was Greg?

She took it wordlessly, but did not use it. Instead, she sat wringing it in her hands. Finally, she looked up.

And spoke.

"Now that I'm on Days, we've been trying to figure out a schedule that works for the four of us. Since I had the day off, it was decided that I would take them from nine till two- five hours, from when Nora- the sitter-left and Greg could get off or Nora could take them again. So…I did." Shaking her head, she sighed.

"I admit that I'm not good at all this 'mom' stuff, and I didn't know what to do with them. So I asked Lissy what she wanted to do and she said she wanted to go to the park- so we did. No one knew before hand, no one could have known. It wasn't planned, we arrived there about ten. Eirik wanted to swing at first, so I pushed him some, and then I sat in the sand with him, until we moved to the blanket. Lissy…just played everywhere. Slides, jungle gym, swings, teeter totter, everything. Played with some other kids occasionally. Then they found that bird and she was starting to mess with it and I told her not to and sent her off to swing." Her voice lost the monotone nature when she choked. "I sent her off- and didn't see her again."

"Explain what happened to me exactly. From the time you sent her off to the swings."

She closed her eyes and Brass bounced Eirik a bit. He didn't want to force the kid back on her, but his arms were getting tired. "I…" She shook her head. "I don't really remember. I started to get lunch ready. I had packed food and drinks. I passed a sandwich to Eirik and then I looked for Lissy- and that's when I realized she was gone."

"Did you see anyone near her?" He fell into the normal routine for questioning, drawing information out of her slowly. "Did you notice anyone suspicious at all during your time in the park?"

"No." She shook her head. "I- I didn't see anyone. Mothers, children, a few teenagers, baby-sitters, a few fathers- nothing suspicious. It was peaceful and we were actually having fun before Lissy went missing…" She seemed surprised to admit that they had had fun and Brass wondered about her relationship with the kids. He tried to stay out of her personal life and marriage on a normal day, but there was lab and police gossip, plus with Lissy missing, her life- private or not- now became his business.

All of it.

With such a high statistic for estranged or non-custodial parents as the suspects of kidnappings, he had to delve into her marriage and life. Not that Greg would do such a thing- plus he couldn't have a better alibi than an entire crime lab full of acclaimed expert witnesses. And that if he and Sara did split, he'd get custody anyway. At least that's what the rumors said. In other words, there was no motive at all. But protocol demanded a closer look at the family. Not just the husband, but the grandparents and siblings and former relationships and oh, just about every part of their lives.

"Sara, do you have any idea of who might want to hurt you or your family? Or who would have motive to kidnap Lissy?"

Someone snorted behind him and Brass turned to look at Greg. The man was looking…perkier. At least, he didn't look so damn exhausted or pallid as he had before. Then again, his eyes were still red and belied his appearance. Brass was betting on a quick shot or a lot of caffeine- and decided to go with the caffeine. Greg wasn't the type to drink at such a time.

"Who doesn't?" He asked, walking towards him and holding his arms out for Eirik. Brass gladly handed him over. The two year-old was big. "I'd say about half the prison population in Clark County as well as a good number of 'ex'-cons, disgruntled family members, disgruntled witnesses or victims or pretty much anyone we ever had to investigate would be on that list."

"Point." Brass pulled out his pad again. The man was right- with both her parents CSIs, the list of people with grudges was enormous. "Any spring to mind?"

"No…" Greg shook his head and bounced Eirik a little. "Obviously those currently in prison are out. But otherwise? None stand out."

"Yeah, well, I'll have someone pull all your old case files, see if there's anything there."

"Good luck with that." Greg glanced towards his wife? Ex-wife? Brass still wasn't sure. "You're going to need it- we've worked hundreds of cases when you combine both of ours together."

"Thanks," he answered dryly. "And- for the media- do you have a recent picture of Lissy, as well as a description of what she was wearing?"

"She was wearing jeans and an orange jacket," Sara spoke up, startling both men. "Sneakers, I think."

"She was wearing Gap blue jeans with embroidery of flowers on the cuffs, a Gap orange sweat jacket, a pink and orange stripped shirt, also from Gap, her golden locket and her Scooby Doo watch." Greg corrected. At Brass's stare, he shrugged. "Practically her entire wardrobe is from Gap. It's her favorite store. And she rarely takes off her watch or locket."

"And a recent photo?"

Greg shifted Eirik around. "You need one of her alone, right? Then I might have one- I took it the other day." He handed his son back to his wife- who took him gingerly- and picked up his cell phone from the table by the living room door. He flicked through the menu, and finally chose something, holding the phone out. Brass took it and examined the picture.

Lissy was in pajamas, clutching a stuffed Scooby Doo plush (the girl was in love with the cartoon mystery-solving dog) and her blanket as she smiled largely at the camera. A TV in the background showed a still from some animated movie and Brass recognized the counter and coffee maker of the crime lab break room in there as well. This must have been taken at the 'famous' sleep-over. When he had walked in the crime lab a few nights ago, he had known it was a slow night. But that it was so slow for five CSIs to be watching a Disney movie with a six year-old and a two year-old- that he hadn't expected. He still had been roped into watching a bit, though.

Lissy could be quite convincing.

"That was a nice night." He commented. "Can you print out the picture or send it to me?"

"Sending it to you now," Greg said as he took the phone back. "And yeah," he said, smiling wistfully, "It was nice. Unexpected, but nice."

"We'll get her back," he found himself saying. He felt like he should make some attempt to reassure Greg and Sara, even though he knew they'd see right through it. Lying to a CSI was never easy. Or recommended. Suddenly, his own cell rang and he frowned. This wasn't the picture- this was the ring signaling a call. He opened it up.

"Brass."

"Jim, it's Gil. We've got a witness."