Note: Special thanks to those who took time to review! Enjoy this next chapter! I won't be able to update until next Tuesday since I'm headed out of town for the weekend. Hopefully this will scratch the itch until then! Peace!

Chapter Fourteen – Split Hairs
It was nearly mid shift, the three o'clock hour laughed mockingly at the graveyard supervisor as he refilled his cup of coffee. The ceramic object had recently seemed a permanent extension of his left hand. Idly he flexed the sore muscles in his hand, of which seemed fixed in the perpetual shape of a clenched fist. The tendons were sore and stiff. The combination of continuous computer time, paperwork, and the mass quantities of coffee consumption were resulting in the onslaught of carpal tunnel and tendonitis. Damn, it was hard getting old.

Turning his back to the coffee maker, he let his eyes fall back on the table and the array of papers covering it. He'd thought moving to the break room, from his office, would have be a good choice, a way of jumpstarting his mental processes. It had only worked, thus far, to accentuate the dull throbbing of his head and to feed his coffee addiction.

"How'd it go?" Catherine raised the question as she found the entomologist gazing over his spread of papers. She'd yet to catch up with him since his visit with Jesse Overton. He'd been back in the lab for nearly an hour, but she'd been holed up in her office reviewing blood patterns and comparing DNA results.

Grissom, himself, looked uncharacteristically tired, his black attire looking slightly rumpled, as he took a seat at the table, an apple hanging in the grip of the thumb and forefinger of his right hand. When had been the last time the man had showered or even seen daylight?

"Where have you been?" he lifted his gaze taking in the woman's disturbingly refreshed appearance.

"Well, in my office for the past half hour. You weren't around, and most of us were just playing a waiting game around here. So, I took a few, went home, took a shower, caught up with Lindsey," she shrugged taking a seat across the table. "So…"

"Jesse Overton has no idea how his DNA got onto our crime scene," he sighed leaning back in his chair. Taking a bite of his apple he cringed. "Damn," he grabbed feverishly for something to spit in. Taking a napkin offered by the woman across from him, he quickly spit out the mealy piece of fruit.

"Rotten?" Catherine asked with a slightly amused look on her face.

Taking little heed of her question he reached for his still steaming mug of coffee. The semi-sweet bitterness of the black concoction may not have been his first choice, but anything to get the taste from his mouth.

"So what is all of this?" Catherine stifled a grin, her eyes scanning the collection of information before her.

"Prison sign in sheets. I got the visitor's log from the last three months. Jesse Overton has been incarcerated for the past four and a half, almost five years."

"So, someone had to put his DNA at the scene," Catherine nodded picking up on the man's trail of thinking.

"It's not like he's had the opportunity. I was hoping maybe to find a name, maybe someone to connect all the pieces."

"Makes sense," she nodded taking a few pages in her hand. "The only way to get DNA is to go to the source. If he didn't give it to someone, then someone took it. The question now is; how?"

"There are ashtrays all over the place in the public areas," Grissom nodded, "on every table in the visitation room, in the rec. areas."

"Nice little advertisement for the tobacco companies. I'm sure they make a pretty penny from the prison system. You can destroy your own health; just don't want to destroy the pleasant environment of our state penitentiary. The government hates a litter bugs. So, all someone had to do was wait for him to put out his butt," Catherine shook her head.

"If they didn't know him and just take it from him," Grissom nodded.

Silently they resumed their search through the lists of names and signatures. Minutes ticked away, the list of names becoming more blurred as the man battled a fatigue driven migraine. Damn he was tired.

"Hang on a second," Catherine sat up a little straighter, her attention drawn hard to the paper in her hands.

"Hmm?"

"You looked over the adoption files, right?" she asked her eyes narrowing in further concentration.

"Yeah," he nodded keeping his eyes on the list in front of him. "I handed them off to Nick."

"Who was the social worker?"

"Goggle…uh…Ted Goggle," he shook his head.

"Why would the Harris's social worker need to visit the men's correctional facility?" she asked handing the papers over to the supervisor. "Two weeks ago, Ted Goggle signed in at ten o'clock in the morning. Guess who he signed in to visit?"

"Hey guys," Nick entered the room. "I've got something. Wendy finished analyzing the blood I collected from Emily Harris' bedroom. It's a mixture of Frank and Diane Harris."

"That doesn't make any sense," Catherine shook her head.

"It does if the killer went into her room…" Nick shrugged taking a seat at the end of the table at which the co-supervisors sat. "Emily hid in the closet. The killer went in looking for her after he killed the rest of the family. She told me he came in.

"I also got the results back on the hairs I collected. Got a hit off CODIS, a Ted Goggle. I had Wendy compare the hair samples to the DNA collected from the mother and daughter? They were a match," he handed the reports to Grissom.

"This guy has a record?" Catherine asked craning her neck to see the results.

"Well, every social worker in Vegas is required to have their fingerprints and DNA on file," Nick shrugged. "Child Services does extensive background checks on all their employees."

"Wait…so this guy what…rapes the females and then just kills the entire family? Wait, hold on a second," Catherine raised a hand remembering what she was trying to tell Grissom when Nick had entered the room derailing her train of thought. "Wait, Gil, I know this guy. Back during the Collins case, he was assigned to my case."

"What case?" Grissom furrowed his brow in confusion. "Catherine, we were all on the same case for the Collins murders."

"No," she hesitated. "He was assigned to…investigate me," she sighed. "Eddie filed a complaint when I was late picking Lindsay up from dance class," she shook her head. "Ted Goggle was the worker assigned to my case."

She'd been working the blood drops from the Collins case, trying to get a read on what had happened that night. The man entering the garage behind her had taken her by surprise.

"Catherine Willows?"

"Who's asking?" she turned abruptly, taking in the sight of the man before her. He was rather gangly. The glasses he wore did little to assuage his nerdy appearance. The comb over he'd attempted did even less to hide the fact that his hair was thinning. His rather meek appearance would have been humorous had it been under any other circumstances.

"Ted Goggle. I'm with Family Services," he stammered, fidgeting with his glasses as he shifted his weight from foot to foot. "Were…are you working the Collins case?" he asked intrigued by the photos behind the CSI.

"You know, your department can't seem to get things straight. If you're looking for the little girl, she's already got a caseworker."

"Actually, I'm inquiring about your little girl."

"My Lindsay? Why? What are you talking about?"

"Your husband, Eddie, filed a report. Says you neglected to pick your daughter up after dance class last night. That you routinely neglect her for your job."

What the hell was this guy talking about?

"Is this Eddie's idea of a joke?" she asked, her hands on her hips. "What, are you in one of his bands?"

"I already made a field visit to your house. Here's the form," he handed over a file folder. "Lindsay seems okay but there is going to be an investigation as to whether there was parental neglect. You're on notice."

Silently, stunned, she watched as the man turned and left the garage.

It had been the worst day of her life, the worst three weeks of her life. The fear of losing her daughter, the thought of not seeing her everyday ripped at her insides. And now this turn in the case was only aiding in her reliving of that hell.

"So, Goggle knew of the Collins case?" Grissom asked laying his glasses on the table. The Excedrin he'd taken hours ago was beginning to wear off.

"Come on Griss, everyone knew about the Collins case," Nick sighed leaning back in his chair. "The story hit the news before we even finished processing the scene."

"Yes, but not everyone who knew about the Collins case has their DNA on file matching DNA from our crime scene," Grissom raised a brow.

"A crime scene damn near identical to that of the Collins murders," Catherine nodded.

"Still, the question begs to be asked. What was Ted Goggle doing at the prison?" Nick shrugged.

"Getting a sample of Jesse Overton's DNA," Catherine smirked. "Was there any other sample lifted from the cigarette?" she directed her question toward Nick.
"No," he shook his head. "The rain had nearly decimated it. We were lucky to get what we got."

"Hey, Grissom," Archie Johnson stopped in the doorway of the break room. "You got a second?"

"What is it Archie?"

"I think I've got something on the videos you brought in," he turned leading the small parade of CSIs to the A/V Lab. "It's not much, but I've gone through most of the footage and there's something you need to see."

"Cue it up," Nick said standing next to the computer whiz.

"Okay, first this is video of Emily's school play," he cued the video freezing the frame. "Now, this is video of Hannah's dance recital," he froze the image, "and this is of Nathan's last baseball game. All were filmed within two weeks of each other all within the last month and a half."

"What are we looking at?" Catherine asked.

"The audience," Grissom smiled.

Archie nodded. "The same guy shows up in each frame."

"And look at that, he's got brown hair," Nick smiled taking in the sight of the wiry looking man. If he'd have blinked he would have missed the man sitting five rows behind the Harris family. The balding man shrunk back into his chair, obviously working to blend in.

"I froze his image, ran it through the DMV database," Archie picked up. "He came back Ted Goggle."

"Good work, Archie," Grissom nodded turning to leave the viewing room.

"Gil," Catherine turned quickly, trying to keep up with the man's pace.

"We need a warrant for Ted Goggle's house," he said quickly entering his office. Fumbling for his phone, he quickly put in a call to Brass.

"Jim, its Gil. We need a warrant for Ted Goggle's residence."

"What'd you all get?"

"Among other things, his DNA on the victims," Grissom ended the call as Warrick entered the office, Nick, Sara, and Greg were quickly on his tail.

"Hey, Griss we've got a new case," Warrick informed. "Remember that case I told you about, the missing girl from Reno?"

"The one the Harris's were being investigated for," he nodded in response.

"Yeah, well, a witness just found the body of a little girl just off I-15."

"Yeah, but what are the chances it's the same missing girl?" Nick asked from the doorway. "I mean she's been missing what, almost a year?"

"Six months. That's what we need to find out," Warrick nodded. "I'm meeting Vartann at the scene."

"Okay, here's what we're going to do," Grissom took charge of the situation. "Warrick stay with this new case. Put a rush on DNA…everything. Brass is working up a warrant for Ted Goggle's house. Catherine, Nick, Sara and Greg you're with me. We have a house to process."

"Hey, Griss," Warrick stopped in the flurry of activity. "I've got a meeting with Chandler and Kao in…four hours," he looked at his watch.

"Who are they again?" Greg asked.

"They're the law firm that handled the Harris investigation."

"Okay," the supervisor nodded. "Let Vartann tag along. You may need him."

"You got it."

Nick easily pulled the Denali alongside the curb, killing the headlights and shutting off the ignition. Casting a gaze toward the dark house of interest and then toward Grissom in the passenger seat, he unhooked his seatbelt and climbed down from his seat into the cool night air. Sara, Greg and Catherine joined him quickly as they exited the vehicle they'd brought.

"You guys needed two cars?" Brass asked joining the CSIs outside the home of Ted Goggle. "I've had a couple uniforms sitting on the house for the past half hour." It was half past four. There was already a slight lightening of the sky off to the east. "They say it's been quiet. Nothing coming from the house."

The sprawling ranch style home was dark as it sat on its slightly less than lush lawn. The neighborhood in Henderson was quiet, still sleeping and seemingly unaware of the police presence, or simply numbed to it. Ted Goggle's house, like every other house on the street, was a one story white stucco structure. The red tile roof, a style taken by the majority of Las Vegas homes, looked worn, in need of some extensive repair. Paint was chipping from the house; evidence enough that it hadn't seen a fresh coat of lacquer within the past few years.

"It looks like nobody's home," the detective shook his head as the group congregated on the far side of the street. "I was waiting for you guys to find a way in."

"Uh…color me stupid but…have you tried the front door?" Greg asked with his hands buried deep in the pockets of his jeans.

"Gee, Greg, why didn't I think of that one?" Brass glared at the young CSI. "I checked the side window, there's no car in the garage. Where's Warrick?" he asked looking around as if just noticing the man's absence.

"Following a new case," Grissom said, his eyes on the dark form of a house across the street. "Body of a young girl was found off I-15. He's meeting Vartann at the scene."

"You thinking these cases are connected?"

"I don't know what to think," the man sighed leaning his tired body against the passenger side of the Denali that had brought them to the scene.

"So, how do we want to do this?" Nick asked.

Brass grinned slyly, "What the hell, let's try Greg's way. Let's go knock on the front door. I'm feeling a little frisky tonight."

"Thatta way boss," Nick grinned patting the detective on the shoulder as they headed toward the house. "Oh, hey just in case we need to do this the old fashioned way, did you, uh, bring the battering ram with you?"

"Damn, left it in my other pants," Brass shook his head as he and Nick crossed the road with the two uniformed officers. Catherine, Grissom, Sara and Greg waited at their vehicles. There was no need to overwhelm the man should he answer the door in his underwear. Five CSIs and a detective weren't exactly the keenest of wake-up calls.

The sidewalk leading to the front door was narrow, causing Nick to give Brass the lead to the front door, and it was the door that held their attention. The door, painted red to match the tile roofing, was slightly ajar clearly splintered at the lock. The darkness from inside did little to comfort the uneasy feeling slowly creeping over the CSI and detective.

"You got a pair of gloves?" Nick asked keeping his voice barely above a whisper. He was already pulling on a pair of his own.

The detective silently shook his head, a hand deftly reaching over his shoulder to receive the pair offered by the CSI. He quickly pulled on the pair of latex protectors subsequently reaching for his holstered weapon. Nick silently followed suit.

"You stay out here. We'll clear the scene," the detective kept his voice down.

Reaching the front stoop he rapped on the heavy wood barrier pushing it further open in the process.

"Mr. Goggle, Ted Goggle, Las Vegas Police," he called out taking a hesitant step inside the door. Nick stood just outside the house. He could feel the cold of the wall as he leaned his back against the white stucco. He watched the officers as they inched their way inside. Slowly he made his way through the entryway, keeping a careful eye on Brass as he moved deeper into the darkness, his flashlight raised to illuminate a path.

With a remarkable stealth the detective moved from room to room, clearing them as he went.

"He's not here," he let out a seemingly long sigh of relief as he returned to the CSI.

"Someone's been here," Nick shook his head his Maglite scanning the chaos that engulfed the living quarters. The image of the room before them was a scene of total mayhem.

Slowly, he exited the room, joining the detective on the front stoop. He watched as Grissom and the others walked up the foot path to join them.

"Well, the house is empty," Brass informed, the tension in his shoulders clearly lessening as he talked with the group. "I'll put out a BOLO for Goggle's car while you guys start processing the mess inside," he thrust a thumb toward the open front door.

The group of criminalists turned toward the home.

"Well, Greg, I guess you were right," Grissom said, his eyes narrowed at the sight of the splintered wood. "We can use the front door."

"Yeah," Greg nodded, an uncustomary response from the usually nerve ridden CSI, "but it looks like someone beat us to it."

"Yeah," Sara nodded, "but whom?"

"And what were they after?" Catherine added to the chorus of words.

"Ah," the supervisor furrowed his brow, "now that's the real question, isn't it?"