A/N: Before anyone corrects me, I know that the Bible actually says the love of money is the root of all evil (not money itself), but I figure none of the CSI characters is really a Biblical scholar. Except maybe Grissom. And he's not around. :)

Spoilers: "Revenge is Best Served Cold"

Disclaimer: See chapter 1. Also, I don't own Bank of America – unfortunately for me! :) Oh, and I have to credit Bad Boys 2 for one of Catherine's lines. I just thought it was really funny. :)

Chapter 2

Muttering "excuse me" as politely as she could, Sara made her way through the small crowd of horror-stricken neighbors who had gathered near the crime scene tape. Smiling in gratitude at the young officer who held it for her, she ducked under the strip of shiny yellow plastic and looked enquiringly at him. He gave her a shy grin of his own and pointed to where Brass stood waiting for her at the entrance to the house. She walked in the general direction of the detective, carefully assessing her surroundings as she went.

The two-story Cape Cod could have been a model home for Better Homes and Gardens. The lower level was brick, and white vinyl siding framed the upper portion of the house, the flashing lights from the police cruisers bathing the entire scene in an eerie glow. The front porch, which was small but large enough to hold a swing on its right-hand side, was slightly off-center, with the bulk of it extending towards the garage on the right. The front door was slightly to the left of the center of the residence and stood directly in front of brick stairs that led up to the iron-railed porch. The beam from her flashlight fell on colorful flowers interspersed between bushes on either side of the brick porch and, while the landscaping was minimal, it was tastefully done. The two-car garage on the right side of the home had both doors closed, and a bicycle leaned against the leftmost of the two. Shining the light through the garage door window, Sara noticed a BMW parked on that side and a minivan on the right.

Turning around to head for the front door, she was surprised to see Catherine strolling up the driveway. "What are you doing here? I thought you were tied up at the Bellagio," she called to the older woman.

"I was. But we were almost finished when Brass called, and it's not that far away. So here I am."

"Not that far away, huh? It's a good half an hour, and that doesn't take traffic into account," Sara grinned.

Catherine snorted. "I know a shortcut."

"No, you just drive like a bat out of hell. Nicky told me about that race car case a while back. Said you blew him away."

"Don't hate the player, Sara. Hate the game," Catherine retorted with a smirk. "You know, I could teach you a trick or two about how to handle the uniforms that pull you over. A PD badge and a well-placed hair flip can work wonders."

"Ladies?" Brass interrupted. "If you're finished discussing the merits of abusing the system," he said with a sideways glance at Catherine, "I'd be happy to tell you about our 419." He did his dead-level best to maintain a stern demeanor, but the upward curvature at the sides of his mouth gave him away.

Sara gave him a bemused look, but Catherine shot her eyes to Sara's in feigned surprise. "You mean you haven't gotten the scoop yet?" she grinned.

"Well, I figured you'd want me to check out the perimeter, since I've recently become an expert in that field," she replied, with an airy tone that almost covered the trace bitterness in her words. Almost.

Catherine picked up on it and chose a humorous path that, she hoped, would maintain her rapport with one colleague without betraying another. She had no real desire to be caught in the middle of their issues. "Do I look like a stodgy, middle-aged guy with a bug fetish?" she snorted.

The joke had its desired effect as Brass laughed out loud, and Sara cocked her head sideways. "Well, now that you mention it,..." she began.

Catherine rounded on her with a mock glare that cut off the remainder of the sentence. "If you answer that question in the affirmative, you'll find out just how much like him I can be!" That comment elicited another laugh from Brass and a full-blown grin from Sara, who held up her hands in surrender.

"In that case, no comment," she smiled at her blonde coworker.

"That's what I thought," Catherine replied. Turning on her heel with a backwards glance at Brass, she started up the sidewalk towards the house. "What have we got?"

"Vic is Marilyn Ellis, 48," he responded. "Her husband,..." he flipped through his memo pad, "...um, John Ellis...had been in New York on business for the last few days. He took a cab home from the airport and found the little missus... well,... a little the worse for wear." The dark humor belied his grim expression.

"Why didn't she pick him up at the airport?" Catherine inquired.

"His connection in Atlanta was delayed. Severe weather," he supplied quickly, upon seeing her skeptical look. "He was supposed to get in at 8 pm. Wound up landing at 12:30. Said he called the wife and told her he'd get a cab. Should be easy enough to verify."

"What kind of business?" asked Sara.

"The high-dollar kind. Executive vice president for Bank of America. He was closing the deal on some merger."

Catherine let out a low whistle. "High finance. You know, money is the root of all evil."

"Maybe so, but I wouldn't argue with a little more evil in my life," Brass chuckled. Nodding at the burly officer who stood at the front door, he led the way into the house.

Stepping into the foyer, Sara observed her surroundings with a practiced eye. Dining room on the left, kitchen directly ahead through a darkened hallway, what was probably the master bedroom to the right. Her eyes flickered across the staircase on that side, and she asked a question she already knew the answer to. "They got kids?"

"Yeah," he replied, flipping to another page in his notebook. "Three. 14-year-old son and two daughters, 12 and 7. Jack, Rachel, and Madeline."

"Where were they?" Catherine asked with more than a little concern. No child should have to witness something as awful as a parent's murder.

"Jack left for football camp up at Lake Tahoe this morning. The girls are in Phoenix with their grandmother. The vic drove them down and just came back today. Mr. Ellis has this week off, and they were supposed to start their second honeymoon. Too bad," Brass said sincerely. Wiping a tired hand across his face, he sighed. These sorts of cases were the worst. Usually, he suspected the husband first but, for some reason, he really believed this guy was telling the truth. Mr. Ellis' grief had just struck him as real. The safe haven he'd tried to create for his family had been shattered, and he now had to pick up the pieces and be strong for his kids. Life would never be the same for them again.

"Yeah," Catherine agreed. "Where's the body?"

"Master bedroom," Brass replied, jerking a thumb to the right.

Catherine was feeling generous tonight and didn't mind allowing Sara to be primary on this case. She'd be fine walking around the kids' rooms seeing if there was any evidence there. She eyed the younger CSI with a wicked grin, knowing before she asked the question what the answer would be. "Body or perimeter?"

But Sara wasn't listening. Her eyes remained focused on the staircase or, to be more precise, the wall above it. Pictures lined every square inch of it. Mrs. Ellis must have driven her family crazy with her sentimentality. It seemed that every milestone event in their history was catalogued in photographic form on that wall leading to the upper level. A teenaged boy looking uncomfortable in a suit and holding the hand of an equally uncomfortable-looking teenaged girl in a dress. An adorable little girl in a tutu at a ballet recital. A man on a picnic blanket surrounded by three children who all looked adoringly at him while he gazed lovingly at the photographer, and Sara could only assume Mrs. Ellis had been behind that camera.

But it was the photograph in the middle that really demanded her attention. A professionally done family portrait showed the adult Ellises seated in the center surrounded by their children. Jack stood behind them, with Madeline seated on her father's lap and Rachel standing next to her mother. Everyone was smiling genuinely, and Sara could see the love for each other portrayed in their facial expressions. She gasped quietly as a nearly crippling wave of loss washed over her. This shouldn't have happened. This was a happy home, the kind of childhood you could only hope to have and, suddenly, brutally, senselessly, it's torn apart. All of a sudden, she didn't want to see this woman's body. She didn't want to see anyone's body. Not right now.

"Sara?" Catherine asked gently, concerned at the grief that suddenly clouded her face.

"Perimeter," she answered the earlier question. Turning abruptly, she moved into the dining room to get away from the piercing stares of the family in the portrait, missing the stunned glances her colleagues exchanged in her wake. With a worried sigh, Catherine turned towards the master bedroom, Brass following closely at her heels.

TBC...