Sorry for the typos in the last chapter. I've noticed some in other chapters as well, after the fact. My apologies. I write, then do a too-quick proofread, and then post, lol. I 'know' what its supposed to say, and you know how the mind can trick us, so instead of seeing what's there, I see what is 'supposed' to be there. As always, thank you for the readership and for any reviews. Cathy

Chapter 40

Gil left Nick and Warrick in his office with Catherine, while the two men tried to absorb everything that Grissom had just told them about the case. He wasn't even sure how to refer to it. The old Juneau case? The Martens/Keeth/Takei case? The Brass case? The unidentified serial killer in California/Washington/Illinois case? There were so many layers, each seemingly separate and distinct, but all tied into a string of murders beginning here in Las Vegas nine years ago.

Both Nick and Warrick had shown up for shift early as requested, curious about the call, guessing that they were finally going to be privy to whatever Grissom and Catherine had been working. Gil had dropped revelation after revelation, until finally the pair had just sat in stunned silence. He had instructed them that the most important thing was to find a connection, any connection, between the murdered women. They knew what the connection was between the dead detectives, and how the killer had selected them. But why had he chosen the women he had raped and killed? How had he chosen them? The first step to finding him was to find the commonality between the dead women.

He left them with that task, then headed for the Trace lab, to see if the techs had been able to get anything substantive from the letter or the envelope. As he walked the halls, Gil recalled the phone call he had received earlier that day, from the FBI in Quantico. Seeking his opinion on CSI Level Two Sara Sidle who had applied for a job with them, and was currently in phase three of the interview process. Gil knew that if Sara had made it to phase three, she was doing outstanding. He had felt a flush of pride, mingled with a pang at the thought of losing her to the Feds.

Grissom still found it hard to accept that even after he had gone to Sara, and opened himself up to her that way, exposing his feelings, that she had rejected him. He had always believed, somewhere in the back of his mind, that the connection between he and the lovely brunette was unbreakable, even if it could never come to fruition. That even though he hadn't been able to take that final step, that Sara would be there when and if he ever did. Waiting for him. Her resignation had been the catalyst for him to finally admit to himself that he cared about the young woman as more than a co-worker, that he cared for her as a woman. And he had finally put five decades of fear behind him, and taken the ultimate risk.

Yet somehow, Sara had slipped through his fingers, tauntingly. Ephemeral as he had finally dared to reach for her. She hadn't come to him, grateful for the knowledge of his feelings for her, holding him in an embrace, assuaging his final reservations. She had looked him straight in the face, knowing what he was offering, and this time it had been Sara who had decided that what was between them just wasn't enough, and couldn't or shouldn't be pursued.

Grissom had thought for a while, after taking the rumbling elevator down from her apartment, that perhaps Sara was only making him wait as a lesson. Payback for the times he had turned her away. For the duration that he had made her wait. It surprised him. He wouldn't have expected those kinds of games from Sara. But Gil could understand, nursing his bruised ego and battered heart, why she might want him to feel some of what she must have been feeling over the years. He would do his penance, and wait for Sara to make the next move.

Except that her next move had been to take a few days time that she had coming, and get on a plane to Quantico. And so, reluctantly, Gil had offered Sara's job to Paul Tennyson. And it was done.

Gil had felt oddly disembodied when he had taken the call for references. It had seemed that each glowing word of praise that he had uttered, had taken Sara that little bit farther away. But if this was what she truly wanted, he couldn't stand in her way. And so Gil had answered each question honestly, telling the agent on the other end of the line all of the wonderful things about Sara that he had never been able to share with her. And when the call had concluded, and he had hung up, Gil finally felt the true import of her loss.

"I was just going to page you, Boss," Hodges smiled, as Grissom entered the room. He had been working studiously on the results of the suction on that letter that had been addressed to Captain Brass. Hodges had been so busy, in fact, that he hadn't even stopped for a single break, although it was now past what would normally have been his dinner hour.

"You've got something off that letter?" Grissom asked, careful not to allow himself to get too hopeful.

"Yes. Say, that's interesting, that weird letter being addressed to Detective Brass and all. I mean, it was talking about our Captain Brass, right?" Hodges said conversationally, trying to appear only casually interested.

"What did you find?" Gil asked shortly, ignoring the technician's question.

Hodges frowned. Considering how diligently he had been following up on what his initial tests had shown, he thought that the night shift supervisor was being less than appreciative.

"No prints. Nothing remarkable about the ink or the parchment. The paper is the same as that from other evidence on file, in the Martens case. There were, however, traces of a fine, white powder," Hodges began. "On the letter itself, not from the envelope."

"Cocaine?" Grissom queried.

Hodges shook his head. "Empiric formula is ten parts carbon, twelve parts hydrogen, four parts nitrogen, three parts oxygen. Molecular weight two three six point two." He gave a small smile. "I anticipated your needs, and pursued it further. It's a drug, ATC code J05A02."

ATC refered to the Anatomical Therapeutic Chemical Classification System, used by the World Health Organization to classify drugs. Each drug was divided into a different group, according to the organ or system on which they acted, and on their therapeutic and chemical characteristics. And there were five levels that comprised the total code. Grissom furrowed his brow for a moment. "J stands for anti-infectives for systemic use," he recalled. The other digits and letters would be used to classify the drug into its therapeutic main group, its pharmacalogical subgroup, and finally its chemical substance subgroup. "Good work, Hodges," he commended. With the ATC code, Gil could determine exactly what drug had somehow been transfered to the letter Brass had received. Information that may or may not help them in the investigation.

"I know how busy you are, working this new case," Hodges continued, standing with his hands clasped behind his back. "So I took the liberty of researching the drug." He was satisfied by the deferential way Grissom inclined his head. "It's called didanosine. Brand name Videx, buffered powder for oral solution."

Grissom was clearly surprised. "Videx is an antiviral drug, used in the management of HIV."

Hodges nodded. "It's a nucleoside reverse transcriptase inhibitor, or NRTI. It helps keep HIV from reproducing and appears to slow down the destruction of the immune system. It's generally prescribed in conjunction with other anti-HIV drugs, with the aim that combination therapy can potentially block replication of the HIV virus in a person's blood."

"Videx is a pediatric powder," Gil mused. "So whoever wrote the letter had come into contact with the powder at some point. Possibly during administration to an HIV positive child?" Who could that mean? Someone involved in the production or distribution of the drug? A physician or nurse, or other health care professional attending a patient? A parent of an ill child?

"Actually," Hodges corrected, "while Videx powder is primarily used in pediatric patients, there is a buffered powder for oral solution for adults. These traces I suctioned are not the pediatric variety. Videx for adults is commonly prescribed as chewable, dispensible buffered tablets for oral administration. But there is a less commonly prescribed oral powder for use by adults. That's what was on the letter."

Hodges looked curiously at Grissom. "I know the letter had been opened before it arrived at the lab. That it was sent to Captain Brass' home. Is it possible the trace was picked up there...I mean...Captain Brass isn't HIV positive, is he?" Now that would be a bombshell, Hodges knew.

"No!" Grissom asserted quickly. At least, I'm pretty sure he isn't. As much as he and the detective were friends though, Gil knew that there was a lot they didn't know about one another.

"Okay," Hodges said, raising his hands in supplication, "I was just asking. Being thorough. You know." He quickly changed the topic back to the drug itself, in an effort to ingratiate himself again. "There is no generic didanosine buffered powder for oral solution yet available, so we can say with certainty that what we have here is Videx. And it's only manufactured by Bristol-Myers Squibb, and only available by physician prescription."

"This is good work," Gil complimented sincerely. The technician had shown initiative, going beyond determing the base elements of the trace powder that had been found on the letter, and doing research on his own that would save the CSIs valuable time. "I know I can count on you to keep all of this just between us?"

Hodges smiled. He liked the sound of that. Being on the inside of an important case, with Grissom depending on his confidentiality. He was glad now that he hadn't had time to take a break, and hadn't shared any of these details. He was a team player, and as long as they wanted and needed his help, David was glad to give it. "Absolutely, Boss." Hodges sighed, crossing his arms and rubbing his chin. "You know, it's too bad you can't just subpoena every physician in Vegas to see who's being prescribed Videx."

"That would be a gross invasion of people's privacy," Grissom said reluctantly. They couldn't just demand to know the identities of every person in Clark County being treated for HIV on the off chance that one of them might be pivotal in their case. It was frustrating though, to know that Hodges was right...if they could it might save them a lot of time and point them right in the direction of a murderer. But at least it was a potential lead, one possible step closer to the identity of their elusive killer. And when their investigations eventually gave them enough to narrow down a suspect, to perhaps get a warrant, this bit of information might become crucial. It might even be a factor now, dependent on Gil and his team to interpret it correctly.

Despite the fact that the lab technician's self-important smile was irksome to him, and that he found Hodges personally off-putting, Grissom knew that the man deserved kudos for the information he had compiled. "I'll remember this at review time, David," he promised.

"I'm just glad that I could be of assistance," Hodges said with false modesty, shrugging his shoulders. "You can buy me dinner one night," he joked, though the gleam in his eyes was nakedly hopeful.

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Brass had received Grissom's call just after nine o'clock, as he'd been kicking off his shoes and sitting back on the sofa, settling in to spend part of the evening watching CNN. Hoping that being a voyeur to the problems faced by others elsewhere in the nation, elsewhere in the world, would help take his mind off of his own. Gil had informed him that Trace had recovered something from the letter, without going into details, and Brass had responded briskly that he would meet the scientist at the lab shortly.

The detective had arrived to find Warrick Brown and Nick Stokes in one of the computer labs, going through the boxes of files. Both men had looked at him wordlessly, the serious expressions on their faces...mingled with something that Brass tried not to think was pity...letting him know that they were working the case now as well. That was good, the more the merrier, five heads were better than three, and all that jazz. The cliches danced through his head. The truth was that they were both top notch CSIs, and he was glad to know they were contributing their unique talents.

Grissom was in his office, standing behind his desk, paging through a thick, hardcover volume. Catherine was walking the room in slow, unhurried steps, talking to Cecilia who sat in a chair to the left of Gil's desk. Brass heard Catherine saying something about the supermarket, and discerned that the blonde criminalist was conjecturing whether or not that might still have been the link between the women, even if Juneau had not been the killer.

Brass rapped on the opened door to announce his prescence, then strolled into the room. "So, did we get something interesting off the letter?" his deep voice asked hopefully. A print would be too much to hope for, especially one that had turned up in AFIS, their perp wouldn't be that careless. But maybe they had found the remnants of a rare pipe tobacco or scent from an unusual, imported cologne. Some kind of badly needed jumping off point.

Gil looked at him, blue eyes piercing behind gold, wire-rimmed glasses. "I have to ask this," Grissom began apologetically. "Before we pursue this as a lead." The supervisor looked uncomfortable. "You're not taking any kind of meds for...for HIV infection?"

Brass crossed his arms and raised a bushy brow, thinking the scientist must be joking. "Uh, no."

Grissom nodded. "There were traces of an anti-viral drug, didanosine, on the letter. It's prescribed to HIV patients." He held the detective's dark gaze. "Because the letter wasn't opened in a sterile environment, we can't make any assumptions, before we pursue this as a lead."

It hit Brass then that the criminalist's question had been serious. At first, he was angry that Grissom could think he would ever put any of his co-workers in that kind of situation, either the CSIs or fellow cops. That he wouldn't warn them of a health concern that could put them in danger. He wasn't mortified that they might think he could have AIDS, they all had enough education as part of their professions, to not attach any of the old societal stigmas to the disease. Almost anyone could get the HIV virus, from a number of different ways. He was no saint, there had been one night stands in his past, with women he'd only just met. And he'd had a blood transfusion, back in Jersey, after the shooting. Back in the days when they were just learning about the virus and how it was transmitted, before the country's blood supply underwent the rigorous testing that it did nowadays.

Brass wasn't upset that Grissom would think it possible he might have contracted the virus at some point in his life. But he was hurt that the other man might think he would keep that kind of a secret from the co-workers...from the friends...that he had almost daily contact with. Not allowing them the knowledge that could influence their own actions one day, and protect their own lives. He tried to understand though, that Gil had to ask. Had their situations been reversed, he would have, he knew.

Then Brass realized the possible ramifications of his response to the question, and his dark eyes sought Cecilia. There was only caring, and trust in the chocolate depths of her eyes. No concern. No worry. He could see that she did not believe he would ever have endangered her that way. And for a moment the gratitude for that trust coursed through him with heart-breaking poignancy. "No!" he said again more emphatically, his features twisting, wanting to give reassurance even though there was nothing to indicate she needed any.

"Okay," Gil continued. "Then at some point before the killer put the letter into the envelope, it came into contact with didanosine. Videx powder."

"Are you saying the guy is HIV positive?" Brass asked in wonder.

"I don't have any evidence to support that conclusion," Grissom cautioned. "There might be another explanation for why and how he was around trace amounts of Videx."

"So where do we go from here?" Catherine asked, one hand on a slim hip. She hadn't really thought that the didanosine contamination had come from Brass' residence, but she was relieved to know that it hadn't. She had been surprised...when Gil had first mentioned Hodges' findings, and informed her that they couldn't proceed until they'd ruled out whether or not it was possible for the trace to have been transfered from Brass or his residence...that Cecilia had seemed to immediately reject that theory.

She would not have been quite so trusting, Catherine knew. Though she had been gladdened by Cecilia's surety, and the strength of her belief in Jim Brass. Catherine hadn't fully relaxed however, until she had heard from the detective himself that his health was not compromised, and that the Videx powder must have come from elsewhere.

"Al Robbins does some volunteer work at a free clinic, with HIV patients," Grissom informed them. Brass and Catherine shared a surprised look. Neither knew that this was something the coroner did on his own time. "I suggest we go talk to him, and see what more, if anything, he can tell us about the drug or its use, or how it might have ended up on the letter."

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"Sure, I guess I can take a break, and talk some things through with you," Doc Robbins said to Gil. He glanced at the corpse on the stainless steel table, covered to its waist with a blue sheet. The pale, white chest not yet carved into the familiar Y incision by his scalpel."This guy's not going anywhere." He looked sheepishly at Cecilia. "A little morgue humour."

The writer nodded her understanding. While it had been difficult to accept initially, she had come to learn that in some professions gallows humour was a coping mechanism for the men and women who had to deal routinely with often horrific, often grotesque events. That the only way they could do their jobs was to distance themselves, or risk drowning in their own compassion. Laughter was often one way to work through the tension, and not an indicator of irreverence.

The four of them followed the coroner to his office...Grissom, Brass, Catherine and Cecilia. Robbins seated himself at his desk and logged onto the computer. "So you found traces of didanoisine," he mused, his fingers hunting and pecking at the keyboard. "And you know that it's an NRTI, nucleoside reverse transcriptase inhibitor, used in the fight against HIV. Didanosine may reduce the amount of HIV in the blood, and increase the number of CD4 cells...T cells...in the blood."

His intelligent blue eyes were vivid against his fair skin, and his silvered beard and greying hair. "It's estimated that there are almost one million people in the U.S. living with HIV, almost half of them dealing with full blown AIDS. AIDs has killed almost half a million Americans since it was first identified here in the early eighties. That would equal the number killed in ten Viet Nam wars." He looked at Gil. "How can I help you?"

"Who would be around trace amounds of Videx powder, the adult variety?" Grissom asked. "Someone involved in its manufacturing? Distibrution? A doctor or other health care provider? A patient?"

"Most likely, whoever was ingesting the drug," Doc Robbins said. He looked at his computer screen for a moment. "Videx buffered powder for oral solution is supplied in single dose packs, containing one hundred, one hundred sixty-seven, or two hundred milligrams of didanosine. It's taken orally. The patient would open a packet of the powder, and pour the contents into a glass with about four ounces of water. It would be stirred for a few minutes until completely dissolved. Once dissolved, it can be kept at room temperature, but must be used within four hours.

"It's not something that's difficult to use, that would require a demonstration first. It's also not the kind of thing that someone would prepare at work. I would say that it was probably prepared at home, by the patient, or a family member or caregiver who was assisting them. And likely microscopic amounts that spilled from the packet onto a counter or table, were then transfered to your letter."

"Since the powdered form isn't that common," Catherine wanted to know, "why would someone be prescribed that over the tablet form?"

"Probably patient preference," Al replied. "Maybe the person doesn't like pills. And it happens to be a drug that's offered in powdered form. HIV patients are prescribed a combination therapy of drugs, each with different properties, that can potentially block the replication of HIV in a person's blood. They include NRTIs, like Videx, protease inhibitors, such as Viread or Aptivus, and entry inhibitors such as Rescriptor. Some can be taken through subcutaneous injection under the skin, but most are in pill form. If someone is taking a regime of pills, once or twice a day, every day for the rest of their life, and they have or develop an aversion to them, Videx powder is an alternative."

"What are some of the possible side effects someone taking didanosine could experience?" Grissom asked.

"Less serious side effects might be stomache upset; gas, diarrhea, heartburn. Muscle and joint ache. Dry mouth or eyes. Headache." The coroner consulted the screen. "More unusual and potentially severe side effects could be unusual fatigue or weakness. Weight gain or loss, particularly in the face or at the waist. Unusual bleeding or bruising. Problems with vision. Unexplained rash. Fever. Any of those would be reason to contact a physician immediately.

"Particularly associated with Videx are peripheral neuropathy...a kind of nerve damage that shows up as tingling or burning pain in the hands and feet...and pancreatitis." Robbins looked at Cecilia and Brass, explaining further. "Pancreatitis is a pain in the stomache area that goes through to your back. If not caught soon enough, pancreatitis can be very serious. A physician will monitor blood enzymes called amylase and lipase which can provide early warning of pancreatitis. Someone taking Videx, should avoid alcohol, which can increase the risk.

"Another set of rare but serious side effects of nucleoside analog anti-HIV drugs is lactic acidosis and severe hepatomegaly with steatosis. In laymans terms, an enlarged fatty liver. Such a side effect likely results from mitochondrial toxicity. Mitochondria are the cell's power organs, supplying energy for normal cell growth. NRTIs impair mitochondrial function. Subsequently the patient could suffer from an enlarged fatty liver, caused by increased acid levels in the blood. That would then be evidenced by nausea, shortness of breath and vomiting.

"And of course, didanosine can interact with other drugs. There are specific instructions for using it with other drugs, one hour before some, two hours after hours, co-ordinating it not only with eating, but with the other anti-HIV drugs the patient is taking as well." Robbins sighed. "They're all powerful drugs with potentially serious side effects, but then it's better than the alternative of AIDS."

"I'd imagine all those drugs could be fairly pricey. So if someone is under the care of a physician, and taking these drugs, that would indicate that they're fairly well off, with some kind of private health care coverage?" Brass made the supposition.

Robbins shook his head. "Not necessarily. AIDS medication is very expensive. But if a person lacks private health insurance, there are other options," he explained. "Medicare or Medicaid. They do have limitations though, and different eligibility criteria. There is also ADAP, the AIDS Drug Assistance Program, that enables some people with HIV to purchase scripts.

"Through a combination of state and federal funding, ADAP provides drugs to about thrity percent of the Americans who are currently on AIDS medications. ADAP does help a great number of people who have no other recourse. But there is a waiting list." Dr. Robbins grew sombre. "Not many people realize that there are Americans dying because of a lack of access to AIDS medications. Because drugs are lengthening the potential lifespan of an HIV infected individual, the waiting list continues to grow, as new cases are diagnosed. It's not only people in the poorest parts of Africa who are dying because of a lack of access to AIDS drugs, but people right in our own backyards too.

"I could off on a political tangent here," the coroner sighed bleakly, "about what the current government and former administrations are or aren't doing, but I'll spare you that. Suffice it to say that this is an issue close to my heart."

"That's why you volunteer at the clinic," Catherine said with admiration.

"Because HIV is primarily a sexually transmitted disease, there is a faction that sees this as a moral issue. But the bottom line is that it's a medical problem. While it still primarily affects gay men, we're seeing an increase in the instances of infection in minorities, and in women. With a disproportionate rise in the number of African American women being affected. Poverty seems to be a dominating factor.

"It's estimated that one quarter of African Americans are living below poverty level. Poverty indicates increased vulnerability to HIV. Individuals are more likely to experience discrimination, illiteracy, addiction and sexual exploitation. Many of the people we see at the clinic fit this demographic group.

"I believe that Americans, including our young people, need to have easy access to condoms, cheaply and without moral judgement. The same goes for clean needles for drug users. I know there is some controversy in that especially, but I am convinced that first and foremost we need to keep people alive, to help protect them and those they come into contact with. And once we've done our best to ensure that, then we can work on helping them beat their addiction and getting them clean.

"At the clinic we help people cope with the fact that they are HIV positive. We give them factual information and assist them in understanding about the nature of HIV and AIDS. We do everything to help ensure that they take control of making sure the infection is not being passed on to others, by explaining the various ways that could occur and how to safeguard against that. We give them to tools and in some cases the desire to fight the disease and to live full, healthy lives. We help them gain access to health care and the medicines they need. We empower them to fight discrimination, if that occurs. We even discuss ways that they can have an active, safe sex life if they wish to, with an informed, consenting partner.

"Look," the coroner said with an apologetic smile, "I know you didn't come down here to listen to me pontificate."

"I think it's great, Doc, what you're doing," Catherine told him fondly.

Robbins smiled appreciatively. Then his vivid blue eyes took on a distant look. "I had a favourite uncle growing up, my mother's brother, Uncle Jack. The bachelor uncle. I was in college, when he was diagnosed with AIDS. He lost his job, he was a teacher. I watched lifelong friends and even family, turn their backs on him. Shunning him. There were even self-righteous whispers that the disease was a plague sent by God against the sinners. He had a partner. No one even knew, even though they'd been together for fifteen years. Uncle Jack never felt he could share that part of his life. When he was in the hospital, at the end, my grandfather, who was making the medical decisions, wouldn't even allow Ken to visit.

"I watched my uncle die, ravaged as much by the hostile attitudes of society, as by the inexorable march of the disease. I was too young, too scared to stand up to my family, too lacking in knowledge about the disease, to do anything more than visit from time to time and hold his hand," Al reminisced. "But I made it a point to learn everything I could over the years since he died. And I try to do for people now, what I wasn't able to do for Uncle Jack back then."

Cecilia felt her eyes mist with emotion. How many people were there like Dr. Robbins, people privately driven to give back, to help those who needed them, who went about working for causes they believed in, without any fanfare? She felt humbled by his revelation.

"Well," the coroner said awkwardly, "that's more than you ever wanted to know, I'm sure. Anyhow, is there anything more you want me to tell you about didanosine, or about someone who might be taking it?"

Brass looked at him consideringly. "I guess there's no legal way to determine who in or around Vegas might currently be taking Videx."

Robbins shook his head. "Sorry, detective. Information like that is confidential. And rightly so."

Brass nodded his understanding. So they might have another piece of the puzzle, but it wasn't a corner or an outside edge they could build with. It was an inside piece, nothing on its own, likely worthless unless it had other pieces to link to. The killer they sought might be HIV positive, or might simply have recently been in the home of someone who was. In addition to other information about a potential suspect, that might be meaningful. It might have given him some direction. But on its own, with no way to track the didanosine any further, it was evidence without context.

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After the visit to the morgue and the discussion with Doc Robbins, as Brass was preparing to head home again, Gil told Catherine and Cecilia to go ahead, and that he would meet them back at his office. "There's something I think we have to consider," he said slowly to the detective.

"What's that, Gil?" Brass asked.

"Right now, you are our only link to the killer. If he stays true to his MO, now that you've received that letter, then eventually he's going to come after you. I think maybe we should have men guarding you round the clock. For your safety, as much as for the sake of the investigation." Grissom waited expectantly. "And when he makes a move, we've got him."

Brass gave a hollow grin. "You know, I considered that. Not because I want a babysitter. But because in theory, you're right. That's what I'd do. Put a couple of men on the next target. But I rejected the idea. You wanna know why?" He didn't wait for Gil to ask. "Because this guy is too smart for that. Odds are, he's been watching me, probably way before I even began to suspect he existed. Maybe even before he drove that SUV into Denny Martens.

"And he's going to notice, if suddenly there are cops on my ass twenty-four seven. And he's likely to get spooked. To forgo the game. He's not going to walk into a trap. He might decide to drop me as a target altogether. Move onto someone else. Move away from Vegas altogether. He might just decide that three detectives are trophy enough, and it's not worth the risk or the aggravation to get the last one.

"And then he might just go back to killing innocent women. Following whatever criteria he's using to select them, that so far completely eludes us. Maybe he'll go back to California. Or Illinois. Or maybe he'll decide that Nebraska is nice this time of year, or that he's always wanted to see Maine. And then he'll just disappear into the wind again.

"Any chance we have of catching him, of keeping him here and focused on me, instead of on someone's mother, or sister, or wife, will be gone. We make me look impossible to get at, and he might decide not to bother. And we might never get this close to him again." Brass stared resignedly at the scientist. "Either we get some break in identifying him before he makes a move on me...and right now that's not looking so promising...or we hope that he does strike, and that when he does, I can get him first."

"He's killed three career detectives, Jim, and there's still nothing to prove that those deaths weren't accidents, no matter what we know. He didn't make a single mistake. Three cops. And they never even saw him coming. And we're supposed to use you to draw him out?" Grissom asked quietly. "Human bait?"

"I've got an advantage they didn't have. I know he's coming and that he means business. Look, I'm no altruistic martyr. The thought of being one of Doc Robbins' stiffs in the near future kind of messes with my beauty sleep, truth be told. But do you honestly think we have any other choice?" Brass queried wearily. He left Gil standing there; the other man's silence answer enough.