The Puzzle-Master

Prologue:

It was on what had started out as a perfectly normal night, for the graveyard shift, that the worlds of seven people came crashing down around them. Each received a phone call that would be the start of a long and terrible ordeal. The start of something that would scar all of them, and their loved ones, for ever.

And it was all as the man who called himself "The Puzzle master" had planned.

Chapter One: Phone Calls and Crime Scenes

Gil Grissom sat at his desk, flipping through pointless paper after pointless paper. He wasn't reading them though... He wasn't even looking at them. He was watching Sara Sidle. Even after so long of having a concealed relationship, she still captivated him. Not to mention, the rather revealing dress she had worn for Nick's birthday party... She still hadn't changed out of it yet.
He tore his eyes away from the woman, and checked his watch, almost at the exact same time as Sara looked at hers. They were both expecting a phone call. And both from the same person. Their daughter. Eight-year-old Summer Sidle Grissom. But that wasn't what anyone in the lab knew her as. They all knew her as Summer Sidle, Sara's daughter, who's father was still unknown.

Well, to some it was unknown... Grissom was sure that some of them had guessed. She had her mother's brown hair, and gap-toothed grin, but she had her father's curly hair, blue eyes, and love of bugs.Grissom felt that the bugs was the major give away, rather than anything looks-wise. One thing she got from both was her seriousness. Neither had ever seen a little girl as determined, and serious, as Summer was. Being summer time, the girl stayed at home alone at night. She called both of her parents every night at nine-thirty sharp, right before she went to bed.

Grissom watched as the time switched from nine-twenty-nine, to nine-thirty. And not ten seconds had passed before both of their cell phones rang. Before answering hers, Sara slipped into Grissom's office, and shut the door behind her.

"Hey Kiddo," said Grissom, answering his phone.

"Hi Sweetie," said Sara, answering her's.

The vioce that answered was that of their daughter, but it wasn't the same sleepy yet cheerful tone they normally got. No, the voice that spoke was confused, and terrifed... And she was crying. "Mama, Daddy!" she sobbed, "T-there wa- was a man i-in the closet an-and he g-got me... He's sc-scaring me, Daddy..." Even when she was in danger, Summer still looked to her father to get rid of the boogey men

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Catherine Willows Brown sat next to her husband, Warrick Brown, as they went over evidence from a robbery case. They'd been married two years now. Warrick had divorced his wife, after he'd discovered that she was cheating on him. Not long after, he'd started dating Catherine. When they'd gotten married Lindsay had already accepted Warrick as part of the family, thank goodness. And now, she went so far as to call him dad. When she was mad, she went used his first name, but then, and only then. And Warrick returned the favor, by referring to Lindsay as his daughter. Now, she was just about ready to leave home, for college, and had spent most of what summer had passed fretting over what would happen if she didn't get accepted into any of the schools she's applied in.

It was Catherine's phone that rang. "Willows," she said, automatically when she answered it. Using her old name when answering her phone was a habit she'd never gotten out of.

"Mom?" said a shaky voice, "Is dad there?"

"Yeah he is, honey, what's wrong?" Warrick's head snapped up, and he looked at his wife, silently asking what was up.

"Will you put the phone on speaker, please?" Lindsay's voice was threatening to turn into sobs with every word. But Catherine did as she asked. "Okay, Lindsay, what's wrong?"

"He told me to tell you that you have- Ow! I'm listening!- that you have forty eight hours before he moves us... Mom, Dad... I'm scared..."

With that, the line went dead, leaving husband and wife with rising feelings of panic.

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Greg Sanders, a CSI who was still more at home in his lab than in the field, could barely hear anything over his music, and that was the way he wanted it. Lets see anyone be able to get his attention over the music of Marilyn Manson playing at full blast. His reason for not wanting to be bothered: Her. "Her" was Elizabeth Markay, his girlfriend. They'd had a fight that morning, that Greg didn't even want to remember. She wasn't happy with him always being home (and asleep) during the day, and gone at night. But there was no way he was changing shedules. That meant leaving his friends in the graveyard shift. Sure, he'd see them now and then, but they were the group that he enjoyed working with. Beth had known that when they'd started dating.

Yet somehow, over hs music, he heard his phone ring. Maybe because he'd been secretly hoping Elizabeth would call.

"Sanders,"

"Hello Mr. Sanders," said a strange voice, "I have one thing to tell you: If you want to see Elizabeth alive again, I suggest you hurry home, and start following the evidence."

"Who is this?" Greg asked, worry already creeping into his voice.

"Someone who has no problems killing people Mr. Sanders. Hurry. Elizabeth only has so much time."

The line went dead, leaving Greg confused.

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Nick Stokes leaned against a wall, talking with his long-time girlfriend, Susan Goldsmith, on the phone. He laughed at her overly apologetic speech for not making it to the party his friends had thrown for him, and waved at Brass, as he walked by and went into his office.

"Who's there?" Nick heard Susan ask.

"Sue? You alright?" Nick asked.

But Susan didn't hear him. "Who are you? What're you doing here?" Susan's voice was getting more and more frightened sounding by the second, "Stay away from me... Get back!" There was a loud clatter that Nick assumed was the phone falling to the floor, "Leave me alone!" Susan screamed, "Nicky, help me!"

Thuds and crashes ensued, accompanied by the sound of breaking glass, then all was silent. Then came the sounds of footsteps, and someone picked up the phone, as Nick listened, frozen in shock.

"Yes Nicky," said a man's voice, "Help dear little Susan. Better hurry."

The phone went dead, and Nick would only stand there, still trying to process what he had just heard. His mind was refusing to believe it.

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Jim Brass slumped back in his chair, rubbing the sides of his head. He had one hell of a headache, and was tired to boot. Sighing, he reached over his desk, and hit the playback buttonon the phone to listen to the messages that had been left on it. The first several were pointless, not worth remembering. But the last. That one got his attention.

"Dad?" said a frightened, and confused voice, "It's Ellie... please pick up... I.. I need help. I don't know where I am... There's a little girl here, who says her name is Summer... She's hurt-" Ellie was interupted by a gruff male voice.

"Alright, time's up!"

There were sounds of a brief struggle, before Brass heard a little girl's scream, and Ellie manage a last "Dad, hurry!"

Then the message ended.

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All of them tried to leave the building at almost the same time, which ended in several collisions, and several unintentional rude remarks. But they were quick to get back on their way, none stopped to give any sort of explanation to the people who tried to ask them what was going on.

There was too much at stake to let themselves be slowed down.

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The scene that greeted Sara and Grissom when they arrived at their home wasn't a good one. Not a good one at all. The front door hung open, and the living room was a mess. There were small bloody foot prints on the floor, most of them stopped briefly under things, like the coffee table, or behind a chair. Summer had tried to hide from her attacker. All CSI instincts went out the window, for Sara. She ran down the hall towards her daughter's bedroom, not caring what evidence she destroyed in the process. The CSI in Grissom held him back for only a split second. Then he was running after Sara.

Their daughter's room was was worse than the living room. Things were knocked over, broken, or torn. And there was a small pool of blood on the floor. The little foot prints led away from that. The closet door was also thrown open, and many of Summer's clothes had been taken off their hangers, and tossed in the floor, probably to make room for whoever had taken her.

Sara turned to Grissom, lips trembling, eyes clouding over with tears. She crossed the small distance between them, and hugged him tightly. "Why Summer?" she sobbed into his chest, "Why our little girl?"

"I don't know, Honey," said Grissom, returning the hug, "But we're damn sure going to find out."

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Warrick gripped a pen so tightly that it snapped in half. While he was trying to keep his anger in check, Catherine was panicking.

"Someone's got my-...Our daughter!" she repeated," slamming clenched fist down onto the table, "She could be hurt... or dead... Or someone could be... Oh, god... Lindsay..."

Warrick embraced her, hoping to calm her down, "We'll find her Cath," He said, planting a kiss on top of her head, "We'll find her."

They had found the inside of their home in shambles. Broken glass everywhere, and various objects looked like they had been thrown. Lindsay had fought back at least. Kitchen knives had been thrown as well, and one had managed to stab into the wall, and stay there. There was the barest amount of blood there, which meant that she had nicked her attacker. The CSI in Warrick was taking over again, as he took a close look at the area... His mind played out possible ways the perp. had gotten in. And also the whys...

The whys that he could think of weren't comforting...

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Brass knew Ellie had a place she stayed in when she was in Vegas, and also knew that she had been in Vegas, just the day before. She had graced him with a brief visit, to tell him she would be there for two weeks. Her place was where he had headed. The place was a mess. That was expected. This was Ellie, after all. But the blood wasn't expected. A blood smear on the wall, and a handprint. A broken bottle lay on the floor, the sharp ends were bloodied. Probably the thing that had done the damage. Years of police work meant he knew better than to touch anything. But that didn't stop him from checking every room for Ellie. But she wasn't there.

Brass took a deep breath, and told himself to keep calm... There was only one thing he could do. Get back to the lab, and get the CSIs. They were the best, they'd find Ellie.

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Greg walked out of his trashed apartment, feeling as if someone had just shot him full of a rather powerful numbing agent. Bedroom and kitchen, torn up. Elizabeth, gone. No other sign of her than the mess that had been left in the place. He barely knew he was climbing back into his car, and going back to the PD, and his lab. All he was remembering the last things he and Beth had said to eachother that morning.

"Greg, I love you, but I'm getting tired of never seeing you anymore! You're gone all night, you sleep all day, I'm practically living by myself here!"

"I'm not changing shifts, Elizabeth. Graveyard's the shift I started on, practically the only friends I have work it, and day shift just doesn't feel right."

"You said four months ago that you would think about switching, Greg... What happened to that?"

"The serial killer that started going after cops, Beth. That's what. And you know what, we still haven't solved that one."

"I don't give a damn about what cases you've solved, or haven't solved. I want you to start being around for me!"

"I have to go... Need some sleep, otherwise, I'll wake up late for work..."

He had left her standing in the living room after that. When he'd gotten up for work, she was asleep on the couch, a book held in her hand, that had been on the verge of falling.

"Hey, Greg!" Greg turned to see a panicked looking Brass heading for him, "Where's Grissom? We've got a case."

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"Susan!" Nick shouted, skidding into his apartment, "Susan, answer me, please!" He came to a halt in the kitchen "Susan, baby, where are you!"

A search of the place told him only one thing. Susan was gone, and it wasn't by choice. He knew better than to touch anything, so he went back to the lab, both hands balled up into fists. He was a Texas boy with a temper, and who ever had Susan was going to find that out the hard way. The painful way.

"Grissom!" He shouted, when he got to the CSI lab, "I'm gonna need some help!"

"What for?" a sad voice asked behind him, and Nick spun around, "We've already got a problem of our own."

Grissom stood there, an arm around Sara. Were Nick not angry, and worried, he would have noticed that. Sara's eyes were red, and her cheeks were tear-stained. Grissom's eyes were rather red as well, and filled with worry as well, "Summer's gone, Nick."

"So is Susan."

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