Hooray, only two exams left! Officially that means I should still be working, but everything feels a little less urgent now, so I can devote a little more time to writing. That is until July when I go on holiday- it's a hard life! Don't worry, I will have this finished by then!

Enjoy (hopefully),

Em xxx

"Have you seen Sara today?" Catherine asked Grissom.

"Hopefully she's at home," Grissom replied. "I told her to take a night off."

"If she is, this would be the first time she has ever listened to that advice. Did she tell you everything?"

"I think so."

Catherine sighed. "Poor girl."

"She hadn't seen that woman for more than twenty years."

"So I gathered," Catherine replied. "Some family reunion."

"Did you go back to the scene?" Grissom queried.

"Yeah, it's processed. To be frank, there wasn't much to be done. Laura Sidle is in the morgue."

The sound of the woman's name sent a shiver down Grissom's spine, the reality of this victim's identity hitting him. "Any ideas what we're looking at?"

"No clue," Catherine replied. "To all intents and purposes it seems random, but…"

"Who randomly gets shot through the toilet door?" Grissom completed the question. "We're going to have to speak to Sara."

"You said yourself she hadn't seen her mother for more than twenty years."

"She's the best lead we've got, Catherine. If this was any other person, we'd be right on it. Just because this is Sara, we can't treat the whole case differently." Grissom was the last person who wanted to upset Sara but he knew his words made sense, even if he had not entirely convinced himself.

Catherine nodded. "Shall I give her a call?"

"No," Grissom replied. "I'll do it."

I.I.I.I.I

Nick had been searching for Catherine for a few minutes when he stumbled upon her in a side room studying some photographs.

"Hey, Nick," she greeted, looking up at him. "How can I help you?"

"You working the Laura Sidle case?"

Catherine presumed Nick had been briefed on the personal link to the case. Either that or he was extremely slow on the uptake and the victim's surname had not registered with him. She decided the first option was more likely. "Amongst other things. These," she gestured to the photographs spread out on the table. "Are of a man destined to be John Doe #04 for the rest of his life." She smiled sadly. "But yeah, I am on the Laura Sidle case."

"We registered the numbers on her cell phone. The only number she had called or received a call from at all, as far as we can tell, is this one." Nick handed Catherine a piece of paper with a cell phone number written on it. "She had been calling it every few minutes the afternoon before she died. And, she received a call only ten minutes before her murder."

"Interesting," Catherine mused. "I suppose I better give our mystery caller a call of his own. Thanks, Nick."

The CSI turned to leave, but had a change of heart. "Have you spoken to Sara?"

"Not since yesterday."

"Oh," Nick replied. "Well, that's better than me. How was she?"

"Shocked. But you know Sara. She was holding up."

"It's not right." Nick shook his head sadly. "I know it's a job, but no one should have to see someone they know…not like that."

"There's no need to tell me that, Nick." Catherine smiled at the young man sadly.

"Well, I suppose I better be going. I'm supposedly working on John Doe numbers 1 to 3. They're all deserving of my time, but-"

"It's time you don't have. I know, Nick. We can only do our best."

Nick looked Catherine in the eye. "But our best isn't always good enough, is it?"

I.I.I.I.I

The sound of the doorbell awoke Sara from a deep sleep; far deeper than any she had had recently despite the fact she was curled up uncomfortably on a sofa. As she sat up, pain shot through her head. She spotted the empty bottle of whisky sitting on the table and groaned. As she stood up, pain filled her entire body; her muscles were stiff and aching.

The doorbell sounded again. "I'm coming, I'm coming," she muttered. Pulling the door open, she was surprised to find Grissom standing on the doorstep. He looked surprised at her appearance and it suddenly occurred to her that she must not be looking at her best. Without a word from either of them, she stepped aside to let him in and then shut the door behind him. When she turned around he was studying the whisky bottle as though it was a piece of evidence. "This is good stuff."

"I suppose I must have thought so last night," Sara replied.

Grissom placed the bottle back on the table. "This is not the answer, you know," he commented gently.

Sara rolled her eyes. "Do you think I don't know that? It was a bad night, that's all."

"A whole bottle of whisky, Sara? That's more than a bad night."

"I realise that now," Sara replied, massaging her temples.

"'First you take a drink, then the drink takes a drink, then the drink takes you.'"

"F Scott Fitzgerald," Sara replied, but only out of habit of their little 'I quote, you quote' game. "I was upset, Grissom. It won't happen again. But for now, I do not need a lecture or an aphorism. All I need is a glass of water and some aspirin."

"I thought you said she was a stranger to you?"

"Huh?"

"People do not drink whole bottles of whisky when strangers die, Sara. At least I hope you don't. That's an expensive habit to fund."

Sara shook her head exasperatedly but quickly regretted it as it exacerbated her killer headache. "You said I could have the day off."

"You can. As long as you promise me you'll stick to water."

"I have no plans for another bottle of whisky, let me assure you."

"I'll be back again later, Sara. I need to ask you some questions."

Sara sighed. "I knew there must be an ulterior motive. You didn't just come round here to check up on me."

"I wouldn't dream of it. You're not a child."

"No." Sara shook her head and added quietly, "I never really was."

Grissom turned and headed for the door but stopped just as he went to pull it open. "One raw egg, some orange juice and a pinch of salt. Always did the trick for me." And then he was gone. Sara never ceased to be amazed by that man.

I.I.I.I.I

"My name is Catherine Willows," the senior CSI explained into the phone. "I'm a CSI with the Las Vegas Police Department." She hesitated for a moment as the person on the other end of the line asked her why she was calling. "I wonder if I can ask who I am talking to?" Now the man expressed complete confusion. "Please, sir, this is an important matter."

At that moment, Grissom entered the room. Catherine held up a hand, indicating to him to stay put but to keep quiet. Grissom listened in on the conversation, or at least the side he could hear, unable to pick up anything useful. When Catherine hung up, he began to talk. "Your John Doe – number four, not two. Greg thinks he may have an ID. James Baird, aged thirty seven, missing since last week." He began to rattle off details from the sheet he had in front of him, before he realised Catherine was not really listening. "Hey, Cath? Are you alright?"

Catherine seemed to be jolted back to reality with his question. "Huh – yeah, I'm fine. I- did Sara ever tell you whether she had any siblings?"

"Yeah, she has a foster brother. But I don't think they've spoken for quite a while. He moved to Europe. They lost touch. Why?" Grissom looked confused. "Who were you on the phone too?"

"That's what I was ringing to find out." Grissom still did not seem to comprehend. "I rang the number that called Laura Sidle's cell phone just before she died. I was just speaking to one Adam Sidle. He says he's Laura's son."