Okay, kinda long chapter this time, but you people don't mind... anyways, and this one comes with a warning. If you watch CSI then this warning doesn't really apply to you, but the "violence" begins in this chapter, so beware if you are one that does not like it.

Anyways, I love all of my reviewers! You guys make me happy! Anyways, sorry I dind't respond to your reviews like I usually do, I was too lazy, so I'll put a big THANK YOU, in this A/N.

Chapter 6

Gil Grissom parked across the street from the house and looked down at his watch wearily. It was almost 11:00. He'd meant to get there earlier, but one of his tarantulas didn't want to go back in its cage. He smiled inwardly as he got out his kit and waited for a black van to pass before he crossed the street to the house. Wondering if they'd found anything, he ducked under the tape. They must have missed something the last time. Warrick was right. She must have done something to identify her killer. Sure, she might not have been thinking straight, but what would you do if you had fifteen minutes before you died to do something?

The house was dark when he stepped inside. He didn't expect anything else though. They usually left the house how it would have been at the time of the crime, but something didn't feel right. It seemed quiet, unusually quiet. Were they both upstairs? "Nick? Catherine?" He called. There was no answer. They were probably upstairs. It was a big house. They probably just didn't hear him. He briefly wondered at his paranoia, but it made sense. Ever since Nick's kidnapping, the whole team had been paranoid.

He climbed the stairs, taking out his flashlight and shining it before him, sweeping it across the steps. Maybe there was evidence they missed on the steps. This had to be one of the creepiest houses he'd been in. However, perhaps not, he'd seen many things in his life. This house was so quiet, though. The whole neighborhood was quiet. It was unusual for no one to have heard the girl's screams, but not unheard of. He could easily have silenced her. They'd found no bruising around her mouth, so she was not gagged, but there were other ways. There was nothing on the stairs, not that he expected there to be. If there was any missed evidence, it was probably in the bedroom.

He had come to the top of the stairs and shone his flashlight into the hall. Everything was still, and the door to the girl's room was open. It was too quiet, and something was definitely up. What he saw next almost made his heart stop.

There was something dark written on the wall. He stared at the red liquid, horrified. No… He thought. Stokes and Willows were here…no… Not Nick… Not again. He fumbled in his pocket for his cell phone and dialed speed dial 8. They aren't dead, They aren't dead, he chanted to himself firmly while he waited, almost numb with fear for his team.

"Brass…"

"Jim, I need backup right away! Call Sara and get her over here!" Grissom said, trying to keep panic out of his voice.

"Where are you?" Brass sounded concerned.

"The Harrison's, hurry!" he went to the girl's doorway and shone his flashlight in with his free hand. "Nick and Catherine are missing,"

"Point taken, see you in a bit," Grissom barely heard Brass hang up, his phone was already in his pocket.

The room was dark, but Grissom could tell nobody was there. He fought to slow his racing heart and suppress rising panic. He took out his cell and hit speed dial 2. Warrick did not take long to answer. "Warrick," He answered.

"Warrick, I need you and Greg over here right away," Grissom said, keeping his voice as level as possible.

"What's up?" Warrick sounded worried.

"Nick and Catherine are missing," Grissom replied, still surveying the bedroom.

Warrick was silent at first. "Be there in a bit," he finally replied in a rough voice.

They aren't dead, they aren't dead. This can't be happening, Grissom thought. Last time was bad enough; I don't want to have to do this again. He stared into the bedroom, mind laboring under the pressure of his feelings and fear. The CSI in him told him to start processing, but he wanted time to absorb what had happened. It barely registered in his mind that there might be someone there still. He didn't care though. In a daze, he looked around, pulling on gloves. Nothing seemed disturbed. The room was almost exactly as it was the first time he was there. But wait; there was something on the bedside table that hadn't been there before. He hurried over, dread sinking in slowly. It was a tape recorder. Grissom had seen enough of these in his career, and the sight almost made him sick. Was it a ransom note? Or something worse? He picked it up and turned it over. It was still recording. Odd. Kidnappers usually pressed stop. He turned around sharply and shone his flashlight around the room. It was still empty and the closet was open, also empty. He was getting paranoid. No, he corrected himself. He was paranoid.

He rewound the tape and pressed play, a little afraid of what he would hear. It sounded like a woman's whimper and a scared female voice asking "Who are you?" Grissom's mind immediately jumped to Catherine, but the voice sounded nothing like her.

There was a gasp, the sound of tearing fabric and a scream that was quickly cut off by a slap. Suddenly, the tape clicked and went silent. A moment later, it clicked again and a strange male voice said. "Very good, now, turn around."

The voice that came next was definitely Catherine. "Someone else is here, and people are coming." She sounded scared.

The man laughed coldly. "Oh we'll take care of your friend, but we'll be out of here long before anyone else can get here."

Grissom heard Catherine gasp and it sounded as if there was a short struggle. The man's voice came again, this time in a frightening hiss. "I advise you not to struggle when there is a gun to your head. Besides, it's in your best interest to cooperate with me. Or, I should say, your daughter's best interest."

"Lindsey…" Catherine whispered, in a fearful voice. "Let her go!" She said in a frantic whisper.

The man laughed. "Oh there's no need to do that. Let's just say if you don't cooperate, I'm not sure how long your house will be there."

Oh god…Grissom thought as he dashed out of the room and down the stairs. Brass and his team were there, and he could see Warrick pulling up in his Tahoe. He ignored Brass and went straight to Warrick's window. The man looked concerned and worried. "You know where Catherine's house is right, Warrick?" Grissom asked without preamble.

"Yeah, why?" Warrick asked, looking shaken.

"Go there and get Lindsey. I don't care how; just get her out of there!" Grissom said. He turned and searched the scene for Brass. He didn't have to look far seeing as Jim Brass was standing almost directly behind him. "Jim, send some guys with him. I've reason to believe there's a bomb at her house." He spun back to the car. "Greg, stay here with me,"

Greg nodded and got out of the car. Warrick looked disturbed. "Grissom?" he started.

"No time, just go! Get Lindsey and take her to the office. If she's not there… then…"

"We have another crime scene." Warrick replied as he pulled out of the driveway and drove away, two cop cars following.

Greg looked frightened and not quite sure what to do. "Greg," Grissom said, trying to get his feelings under control. Why Nick? He thought. Hasn't he suffered enough? He felt guilty thinking it. Nick wasn't the only one this time, but Grissom knew it would be harder on him than it would be on Catherine. He had memories to deal with. Then again, Catherine had the threat of something happening to her daughter hanging over her. Grissom shoved his thoughts to the back of his mind for the moment. He realized the tape was still playing and stopped it. He wondered how much was on the tape. From what he'd heard, it sounded as if Catherine started it without her kidnapper knowing it.

"Grissom?" Greg said, sounding unsure.

Grissom brought himself back to the present. "Greg, you're all I have right now, you got that? Sara will be here in a bit, but for now, it's up to us to process the house. When she gets here, I'm going to ask you to take a sample of blood back to DNA." He was trying to stay calm, but the thought of that writing made him worry. It was bad news for whoever's it was. Somebody had lost a lot of blood tonight, and Grissom hoped it wasn't Nick or Catherine.

"Blood?" Greg questioned, looking up at the house as they made their way up the driveway.

"We found a message on the wall," Grissom said.

"Written in blood?" Greg asked, looking sick.

"I haven't tested it yet, but I'm pretty sure," Grissom said, hoping he wasn't.

"Are you sure it's human?" Greg asked as they made their way up the stairs to the hallway.

Grissom didn't reply. He seriously hoped it wasn't. He was tempted to cross his fingers as he took as sample and tested it for blood. The Q-tip turned pink. He looked at Greg as he tested it to see if it was human. It was.

They exchanged horrified glances. Finally, Grissom broke the silence. "Greg, can you take the perimeter? I've got the room. Let me know when Sara gets here."

Greg nodded, at loss for words. "Take this sample," Grissom said, taking another Q-tip and swabbing the blood on the wall. "When Sara gets here, take it back to the lab please."

Greg nodded again and left. Grissom watched his retreating back, a little apprehensive. Greg wasn't that new, but he hadn't been in the field for long. Grissom knew how hard it had been on the young CSI to see Nick in that glass coffin. It had been hard on all of them, but Grissom guessed that it would have been hardest on Greg and Warrick. Why couldn't people just leave his CSIs alone?

TBC... Reviews?