Hey Everyone,

So here is my new chapter. I hope you enjoy it. I'm fighting a little with writer's block so I would really appreciate reviews.

Thanks

IronAngel 420.

CSICSICSICSI

Sara Sidle was standing in the unoccupied drying room, going over the blood encrusted clothes of the late Michael Barett. She picked up the once light blue shirt and ran her trained eyes over it. Sara laid it down on the table with the fluorescent globes beneath the glass, she smoothed it out with a latex gloved hand, and then she moved onto the pants and did the same. Next she laid the shoes down next to the pants, then took a step back and surveyed her work.

Taking a deep breath she stepped back to the table and picked up one of the shoes. Sara turned it over so that she exposed the underside of the loafer. She didn't find anything of consequence. Sara replaced the shoe and then she examined the other the same way. Nothing. Sara moved on to the pants. She examined the pants looking through a magnifying glass, other than blood, the pants were clean. Sara put the magnifying glass down on the table then she gingerly went through the pockets. The left pocket was empty, but when she moved on to the right pocket, her fingers brushed up against something hard. Sara carefully grasped the hard object between her latexed fingers and slowly pulled it from the pocket. Sara narrowed her eyes as she peered at the object in her hands. A flash drive. A normal USB; but if it contained something important it could be the key that would unlock their mystery.

Sara finished going over the clothes thoroughly before she made her way down the fluorescent halls and entered into the Audio\Visual room. Archie, their resident video geek, was sitting behind his desk in front of the giant flat screen TV. The lights were off, as usual, to enhance visibility, and Archie sat with his head phones on. Sara came up behind him and gently placed her hand on his shoulder so that she didn't startle the young tech. Archie still, however, jumped and he spun around ripping his headphones off.

"Jeez, Sara! Are you trying to give me a heart attack?" he asked peevishly.

Sara cocked her head to one side slightly and gave him a lopsided smile, "Sorry, Archie. Look I need your help. You heard 'bout the Barett case?"

Archie nodded.

"I just found this little sucker," Sara held up the USB, "in the Vic's pants' pocket. You think you can tell me what's on it?"

Archie looked at the USB eagerly, "For one of Grissom's team, anything."

Before he took it from her hand he asked cautiously, "Is it okay if I touch it free hand?"

Sara nodded and said, "I already dusted it for prints, so no need for gloves."

"Awesome!" said Archie taking the USB from her.

Sara grinned and patted him on the shoulder as he plugged the USB in. Archie dragged his mouse over to the icon where he would find the USB information. He double clicked and opened the file.

"Oh crap," he groaned, propped his elbow on the metal table, and flopped his chin down onto his fist.

"What?" asked Sara; narrowing her eyes.

"It's encrypted. It's gonna take hours to decode," said Archie miserably.

"Well, Michael Barett was a computer programmer...a pretty good one from what I hear," said Sara rubbing the back of her neck.

Archie looked up at her sharply and said sarcastically, "Thanks, Sara. That really inspires me."

"Okay, okay, relax," said Sara taking a breath herself. "Look, do what you can and call me if you get anything. I've got to update Grissom."

Archie sighed and looked back at the screen as Sara pulled out her cell phone and pressed speed dial number one. Grissom's number. Sara had been trying very hard to get over Grissom. She even had a semi-boyfriend, Hank, but the keyword appeared to be trying as she was not succeeding at all. Her heart still seemed to be held hostage by the handsome, emotionally unavailable entomologist.

"Yeah, Sara, what's up?"

"I found something interesting going over the Vic's clothes," Sara said.

"Which is?" asked Grissom.

"A USB. I took it to Archie, but, unfortunately, it's heavily encrypted. So it could take some time. Is there anything else you need me to do?"

"Yes, Griffin is busy following up on the sex offenders; I need you to keep an eye on her."

"You want me to baby sit?"

"Is that a problem?"

"No, I love babysitting," said Sara her voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Good," said Grissom, the sarcasm lost on him, or otherwise he was just ignoring it, "Check back later."

Sara sighed and snapped her phone shut. Wonderful! Now she had to go make sure some rookie didn't mess up a bunch of interviews with a bunch of psychopaths. This ought to be fun, she thought to herself as made her way over to the PD.

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Sara stood with her hands on her hips scanning the PD, searching for Griffin.

What kind of a name is Griffin anyway? She asked herself.

If she was honest with herself, Sara was actually nervous to see the young girl again. She had no idea what had happened when she first met Griffin. That electric shock she had felt when she looked into Griffin's brown eyes had scared Sara shitless. Yet, Sara could still not shake the feeling of profound completeness she felt in the presence of the young CSI. Sara wasn't exactly sure how to explain it, but she was sure it wasn't something romantic or sexual.

Sara found the girl standing outside of one of the interview rooms along with Detective Forbes. Forbes was a good enough guy, for a cop anyway ~ though he tended to be somewhat of a player when it came to women. The two of them stood next to each other looking down at a file that rested in Griffin's hands. The detective looked up and patted his pocket before saying something to Griffin and leaving. Griffin looked up just then and spotted Sara. Griffin's brow furrowed slightly when she saw her. Sara sighed quietly and walked over to the young woman.

"Hey," said Griffin.

"Hi," said Sara.

"Is there something wrong?" asked Griffin glancing back down at the file.

"No, I finished my task and Grissom sent me to help you," said Sara.

Griffin looked up sharply and she studied Sara's face for a few long moments. A spark suddenly flared in Griffin's dark eyes, though her face remained completely impassive. She snapped the file shut, crossed her arms, and said, "You mean he sent you to make sure I don't mess up?"

Sara shrugged. Potato, potahto, she thought. Griffin narrowed her eyes again and said, "Fine, I guess this is the only way he will learn to trust me."

"Grissom doesn't trust people easily," said Sara.

"I can see that."

"You wanna catch me up?" asked Sara.

"Yeah, sure," said Griffin and flipped the file open again. "We identified seven paedophiles in our search radius and of those seven we narrowed it down to three and after that we nailed it down to one suspect." Griffin handed the file to Sara then shoved her hands in her back pocket and said, "Meet Michael Dawson, age 39. Raped and murdered a seven year old girl."

Sara swallowed back her disgust and tried to keep perspective.

"We brought him in. I wanted to be in on the questioning. It is always easier to catch a liar when they're out of their comfort zone," said Griffin turning to the one way mirror through which you could see a man sitting in a metal chair by a metal table that sat in the middle of an empty room.

Sara nodded thoughtfully and said, "Good to know."

Just then Forbes came back and said, "Hey I got my notepad...oh hey, Sara. Are you going to watch from the observation booth?"

Sara closed the file and handed it back to him and said, "No, I'm going to sit in with you."

And with that she turned and entered the interrogation room, not waiting for the others to reply.

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Sara entered the cold interrogation room and took up a spot against the wall as Forbes and Griffin entered behind her and Forbes closed the door behind them. Griffin took a seat in front of Dawson and laid her one arm on the table and the other in her lap. Forbes perched on the table facing Dawson and gave him a cold smile.

"Do you mind telling me why I'm here?" asked Dawson. He was an attractive man with blonde hair, and brown eyes. He had a clean shaven face and you could just see the tattoo he had on his wrist underneath his long sleeved shirt.

"You tell me," said Forbes crossing his arms.

"I'm sure I don't know," said Dawson shrugging and sitting back.

Griffin opened the case file in front of her, picked up a picture of the deceased Mr. Barett lying in a pool of his own blood and laid it out in front of him. Dawson's eyes dropped down to the picture in front of him then sat forward and placed his arms on either side of it.

"Do you know this person?" asked Forbes.

Dawson studied the picture for a few more moments and then shoved it back and said, "Nope."

Griffin pulled out another picture. This time of Kimmy Barett, "What about this one?" she asked.

This time Dawson picked up the photo and studied it longer than the other picture. He then looked up and said, "Got no idea who either of these people are. She's the one from the Amber alert, right? Good looking kid." Dawson looked up at them with a taunting look in his eyes. Sara swallowed back the rage building inside of her and Forbes snatched the photo away. Dawson looked up at the detective and gave a sick smile.

"Where do you work, Mr. Dawson?" asked Griffin, the only one in the room who seemed to be having no problem with her emotions.

Dawson looked back at Griffin. He leaned back and crossed his legs, placing his right foot on his left knee, and said, "I'm a construction worker."

Griffin nodded, looked down and said, "Nice boots."

Dawson glanced down and shrugged. Sara also zeroed in on the shoes and saw they were boots. Probably Dock Martens.

"So you say you don't know this man?" asked Forbes.

Dawson shrugged with his mouth and nodded his head.

"What about the little girl?"

Dawson smiled again and said, "No, sir. I'm a convicted paedophile. That would be a violation of my parole."

Forbes clenched his jaw at Dawson's sarcastic tone. Dawson leaned back again and interlocked his hands behind his head and grinned. As he did his long sleeved shirt pulled up his arms slightly and Griffin spotted something on his arm.

"How did you get that nasty cut, Mr. Dawson?" she asked innocently.

Dawson dropped his arms and shrugged saying, "Cut myself on a piece of piping at work."

"Ah huh," said Griffin, "Where were you last night at 21:30 p.m.?"

Dawson looked Griffin straight in the eye and said, "I was at home."

"Alone?" asked Forbes.

Turning to the detective Dawson said, "Yes."

Forbes folded his arms and said, "Not much of an alibi."

Dawson looked at him and said, "I didn't know I needed one, sir. Are you accusing me of something? Maybe I need a lawyer."

"Maybe you do. Because we're liking you, not just murdering him, but kidnapping his daughter as well."

Dawson sat up straighter and said, "Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold it right there! I didn't do shit, man! I didn't kill anybody, and I didn't kidnap that girl. And you can't prove anything, so either charge me or let me the hell go." Dawson got up, but Forbes placed a hand on his shoulder and shoved him back in his seat.

"Sit down," growled Forbes.

"Mr. Dawson, I want to take a sample of your DNA," said Griffin.

Dawson turned to her and said through his teeth, "And why would I allow you to do that without a warrant?"

"Because if you cooperate and you are innocent like you say, we can exonerate you. But if you are guilty...I'll nail your ass to the wall."

Dawson glared at her for a moment then said, "Fine."

"I'd also like to take your shoes."

"My shoes?"

Griffin nodded and Dawson sighed and said, "Fine, fine, just let's get it over and done with."

Griffin opened her kit and pulled out a DNA swab as Dawson unlaced his boots. When he was done Griffin swabbed the inside of his mouth then placed his boots in an evidence bag.

"Thank-you, Mr Dawson," she said, then left the interrogation room. Sara and Forbes followed her out.

CSICSICSICSI

"Well, what do you think?" asked Forbes.

"He's telling the truth," said Griffin, her brow furrowing.

"And how do you know that?" asked Sara sceptically.

Griffin looked at her and her eyes hardened, "Because that is what I do."

"What evidence do you have, exactly?" asked Sara folding her arms over her chest.

Griffin gave a long-suffering sigh, as if she were trying to explain something to an impatient two year old, and counted off the points, "A) If he was guilty his DNA would have shown up in CODIS when we ran the errant DNA through the database, and B)," Griffin held up the evidence bag that held Dawson's shoes, "his shoes are too small."

"Well, you know what they say about men with small feet," said Forbes placing his hands on his hips.

Griffin ignored him, but spoke directly to Sara, "Look, Michael Dawson may be a sick, psychopathic SOB, but he did not kill Michael Barett, and he didn't kidnap Kimmy."

Sara glared at Griffin for a few more moments before she said, "Fine. I'll meet you back at CSI."

With that Sara turned and walked out the Police Department. It was dark as she walked outside, and the wind had a nasty bite to it as it tugged at Sara's scarf and coat. As she walked to her car she felt a chill roll down her neck and spine. Like someone had breathed down her neck. Sara spun around her heart pounding. Several of the lights were busted outside the PD and Sara was practically alone in the parking lot. Her eyes scanned the parking lot, but all she called see were dark shadows; shadows that seemed to grow darker...and draw closer. Sara's heart began to pound in her chest, an irrational fear gripping her as she hurried to her car; she quickly unlocked the door, jumped inside, and locked the doors. Her heart was still pounding as she started her Denali and pulled out of the PD. What she didn't notice was the shadows that latched themselves onto the bumper of her car...

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