Author's Note: Yay! Sara! I've written chapter six. Nice Catherine/Nick interactions there. Then in chapter seven or eight we get to the really juicy bits, or so goes my plan. I haven't written that far yet. Night Bleeds is over, so I can focus all my attention on this. Feel special, a "long" chapter today. :o) And to think, I almost left out the mistletoe part.

Chapter Five: Her Name Was Sara

Sara frowned at the photographs in front of her before shaking her head. "No…" she said. "No, ours looks like the real deal, I'm sorry."

"Don't be," Catherine said, sounding relieved. "It means you get to deal with the camera-happy press."

"Greg will be disappointed," Sara pointed out, with the hint of a smile.

"He'll live," Catherine replied, not amused. "So I'm not too familiar with this case. Tell me how you're so sure that ours is the copy cat?"

"He stole from your scene, for one," Sara said. "It's not about larceny, it's about control. He lines the family up and always shoots the kids first, so the parents can see."

"Ah…" Catherine said, nodding. "And because of the spatter and positioning of the bodies, it seems the kids died after their parents at my scene."

"Exactly," Sara said. "Luckily, that was one tidbit we kept from the press."

Catherine gathered up her crime scene photos. "Well, good luck with your scene. Do you have any leads?"

"We're going through the motions," Sara said. "Talking to friends and neighbors, trying to figure out the habits and social circles of the victims. Odds are they won't correspond with the other crimes, though. The most we've got in common with the others are coincidental acquaintances, and Brass already cleared them all. Funny story about the son, the sweatshirt he was wearing didn't belong to him."

"How do you figure?" Catherine asked.

"It looked a little tight on him, so I checked to see if it had been put on him after he died. Well, it wasn't, but the initials on the tag in the back read D.M. The family name was Denton, and moreover the boy's name was Kyle. Brass asked around the neighborhood, apparently Kyle was a bully, taking kids' lunch money, that sort of thing. I called up the uncle of his favorite victim. A Daniel McCormick. He wasn't home, but the uncle said he'll send him over."

"The kid wasn't home on Christmas Eve?" Catherine asked, looking surprised.

"I know, it sounded fishy to me too," Sara said with a sigh. "But I doubt he's our man. A sixteen-year-old kid plotting the murders of twenty-four different families and not getting caught?"

"Never underestimate the mind of a psychotic teenager," Catherine pointed out.

"Even so, some of the disorders on this guy's psychological profile can't even be properly diagnosed until the subject is at least eighteen," Sara said. "I don't know, I just feel like we're grasping at straws here."

"Grasping at straws is better than grasping at air," Catherine pointed out.

Sara smiled. "That's true."

Nick popped his head in the room. "Hey Cath, you got a minute?"

Catherine gathered her photos. "No problem, Nick, we're all done here."

Brass showed up behind Nick. "Sara, your, ahem, suspect is here."

Sara cocked an eyebrow and she and Catherine exchanged looks. "Good luck with that," Catherine said.

Catherine and Nick left and Sara followed Brass. "What's with the skepticism?"

"When you see him, you'll know," Brass said.

"Sara!" Greg cried out, jumping out in front of her nearly startling her to death.

"What the hell, Greg?!" she breathed.

He laughed at her surprise before shaking a green sprig with white berries above her head. "Care to help me put this up?"

Brass suppressed a snicker and Sara glared at Greg. "No, sorry."

"Come on," Greg pleaded. "In the spirit of the season."

"Grissom doesn't allow mistletoe," Sara said simply. "It's, uh… unprofessional." She glanced at Brass who continued to snicker quietly to himself.

Greg's face fell as he looked at the plant in his hand. "Oh…" he said. He then held it above his own head and grinned again. "Well then how about you give me props for trying?"

Sara had to smile, but she patted him on the shoulder. "Maybe next year, Greggo. I'm on a case?"

"Oh," Greg said, taking the mistletoe down. "Right. Yeah. So am I. I'm gonna go find Catherine. Bye." As he took off, Sara saw the hint of red that was creeping onto his cheeks.

"Why did you do that?" Brass asked, shaking his head in disbelief.

Sara shrugged. "Do what? Don't we have a kid waiting for us?"

"Right," Brass said. "Come on."

He was sitting in a chair in the lobby with his arms folded and his eyes on the floor. He was as pale as glass and looked so small in that chair. He seemed short for his age, just over five feet, and his mop of brown hair was a mess. His arms were bruised and he had a split lip and a bump on his forehead. He looked as though he had just walked out of a vulgar brawl. Upon their entrance, his uncle nudged him and he looked up. His green eyes were piercing and Sara inhaled sharply as their gaze locked.

The uncle rose to his feet, looking a little disheveled himself as he held out a hand to Sara and Brass. "Hi, I'm Ian Baxter, I'm Daniel's guardian, I believe we spoke on the phone?"

Sara tore her eyes away from the boy and nodded at his uncle, taking the proffered hand. "What happened to your nephew? Is he OK?"

"Oh," Ian Baxter laughed. "He just got in a tussle with one of the neighborhood kids. They're always picking on him on account of him being so small. I keep telling him not to slouch. He'll look taller."

Sara knew the lies of men who beat their families as well as she knew her own name. She had even recited a few of them herself to doctors and social workers who had asked her about her mother. But she could lie with the best of them and she forced a smile. "OK, well… We're going to take Daniel into another room now to talk to him about an ongoing investigation."

"Shouldn't I be in there with him?" Ian asked, looking overly concerned. "I mean, for the boy's own good, you know."

"Do you have a law degree?" Sara said, a little too icily.

"No, but I—"

"Don't worry, sir," Brass interrupted, trying to cover Sara's mistake. "He's just a witness, not a suspect yet, he doesn't need legal council or anything like that. He knew the victim, and we just want to know what he can tell us about the family." He looked at Daniel. "Maybe he was the one you got in a fight with earlier today. Kyle Denton?"

Daniel stiffened at the name and Ian took his opening. "Ah, yeah, that's the kid that did it, didn't you say, Danny?"

Daniel looked from his uncle to Brass with wide eyes before he nodded silently.

Sara smiled at him and tried to catch his eye. "Hey," she said, in her most soothing of tones. "My name is Sara. Why don't you step into this room over here with me, hm?" Again he nodded and swallowed. She looked at Brass. "You want to reassure this concerned guardian that we'll take good care of his nephew?"

"Will do," Brass said, taking the hint. As Sara led Daniel into one room, Brass led Ian into another. Sara could already hear the beginning of his questions to the man. "Mr. Baxter, has your nephew ever…"

Sara turned and closed the door before turning back to Daniel and smiling kindly at him. "Have a seat, Daniel."

"Danny," the boy mumbled.

"I'm sorry?" Sara said.

"Everybody calls me Danny," he said, a little louder.

"OK," she said with a nod. "Danny, then."

"So what's this about Kyle getting killed?" Danny asked. "I didn't…"

"Well," Sara said slowly, sitting down opposite Danny at the table. "Earlier tonight, his whole family was murdered by a highly publicized serial killer. I know you don't have anything to offer about that, but maybe you could tell me about the family, like… what kind of enemies Kyle had?"

"Enemies?" Danny said with a laugh. "No, Kyle didn't have enemies. In relation to him, people fell into two categories. They were either his goons, or his victims. He didn't run from anyone, they ran from him."

"You don't run from him, though," Sara said, still using cautious tones. "That's some bump on your forehead, Danny. You wanna tell me about it?"

"What, this?" Danny asked, his fingers flying to his forehead. "Nah, it's nothing…"

"How did that happen?" Sara asked innocently.

"Aw, Kyle slammed my head against a door," Danny said, forcing a laugh. "What a clown, that guy."

"Where were you tonight?" Sara asked. "I know you weren't at home."

And then, Danny grew very quiet as he began to fidget and stare at the floor. "Oh, uh… I went out. With a friend. We had pizza and went bowling."

Sara reached across the table and took Danny's hand. He was so shocked he stopped fidgeting and looked up at her with wide green eyes. Whatever color that was left in his face vanished as she looked at him then, and his fingers tightened around her hand as though holding on for dear life. "Danny, I understand why you wouldn't want to spend Christmas Eve with your uncle. I know what it's like to be scared of a man who's supposed to protect you. Has this happened all your life?"

And then, Danny looked away, his cheeks flushing red. "I'm not six-years-old, you don't have to treat me like I am."

And yet, he didn't let go of her hand. She smiled and put her other hand on top of his, to reassure him that she just wanted to help. "Let me guess," she said. "He gets drunk every night, around the same time. He's OK when he's sober, almost gentle, sometimes he's even nice to you. But when he gets drunk, you get out of the house because you know what he'll do to you if you cross his path. He's had a hard life and he blames it all on you. Am I warm?"

He looked up at her again, startled, but neither confirmed nor denied her theory.

She continued to pursue the truth. "When did your parents die, Danny?"

"My Dad's not dead," Danny said, seeming glad for the change of topic as his grip on Sara's hand slackened. "He's in prison."

"And your mom?" Sara asked.

"She died when I was four," Danny said. "I barely remember her."

"How did she die?" Sara asked.

"Infection," Danny said. "Giving birth to me was a big strain on her. She was hospitalized for weeks afterwards, and she was never really the same. Weak. Frail. But very sweet. I remember that."

"Do you talk to your father?" Sara asked.

"Sometimes, when Ian lets me," Danny replied. "He was on parole when I was ten but he left town and so he was arrested again. The night before he left, he said he'd come back for me and we'd buy a house in Panama. Even though he's in prison, every night I think he's going to come back. Lame, huh?"

Sara smiled at his insecurity. "Not at all," she said, giving his hand an extra squeeze.

He was suddenly wary of her as he pulled his hand away. "Why are you being so nice to me?" he asked suspiciously. "I didn't do anything!"

"I know," Sara said, trying to calm him down. "I know, but I just… If he's hurting you, Danny, I just want to help."

He stopped. "You… you do?"

Sara nodded. "I know what it's like, remember?" she said. "My Dad… he used to beat my Mom. So I know. I know what it's like when you have to lie for someone else. You want to tell me how you really got that bump on your forehead?"

"Your…" He seemed stunned, as if Sara was the first person in the world to ever take an interest in him. Considering his family, that may not have been far from the truth.

Sara nodded. "If you tell me, I can stop it," she said. "We'll call a social-worker, everything—"

"No!" Danny said quickly, jumping to his feet. "You don't understand, I can't leave him, he needs me. If I go somewhere else, he won't have anyone!"

"Your uncle?" Sara said skeptically. "Sweetie…"

Danny seemed to calm down again at the pet name. He frowned at her. "Why do you care so much?"

As this was the second time he doubted her intentions, Sara determined he was in bad need of a friend with no ulterior motives. "Look," she said, tearing a note off of the pad and scribbling something down. "I'm going to give you my number and… if you need anything, anything at all, like you're in a jam and you don't want to go to the police… Just give me a call."

He took the paper cautiously before folding it up and putting it in his pocket. "But… you are the cops. Aren't you?"

She laughed. "I work for the crime lab," she said. "And this will be an off duty thing. Cross my heart."

"Crime lab…" He sampled the phrase and contemplated it a moment before he agreed. "OK. Thanks. Can I go now?"

Sara sighed and leaned back in her chair, all the questions she had wanted to ask him about the Sneaky Santa case circling her brain. It all seemed unimportant now. This kid had nothing to do with that. He was just a scared teen, trying to avoid his abusive uncle. "Sure, honey."

He turned to leave, then paused, looking at his shoes. "About Kyle… What serial killer was it?"

"The media calls him the Sneaky Santa Killer," Sara replied. "We can only hope that, going with the season, tomorrow will be his last hit. Because we have no idea where he'll strike next."

"But… I thought I saw… on the news, it was a family of four," Danny said, his voice trembling. "Kyle… had two sisters… Family of five…"

"Ah, yes, this happened after the first killing," Sara explained. "The first one was a copy cat."

His ears perked up. "Copy… How do you know?"

"The timing is what tipped us off," Sara replied. "The second murder happened minutes after the suspect was seen fleeing the first scene, and there was no way he could have been in two places at once."

"Of course not…" Danny mumbled, sounding almost like he was scolding himself.

"Are you OK, Danny?" Sara asked, standing up.

He turned and smiled at her before nodding, "Yeah," he said. "I'm…" he laughed. "I'm better than I've been all month. Thanks a lot. For… caring." He paused. "The… first scene. The victims. Who were they? I missed their names on the news."

"They didn't say their names on the news," Sara said. "We were alerting their next of kin. Why so curious?"

"Just am," Danny said, a little too quickly. "I mean, I know the Dentons. Kyle beat me up once because I looked at his sister the wrong way. Wow… she's dead too, huh? That's so weird."

Sara nodded. "Hughes," she said. "The family's name was Hughes."

Danny nodded. "Right…" he said. "Thanks."

By the time he returned home, it was 2:00AM, but as he clambered into the tree house, the flashlight clicked on.

"Where have you been?" Mickey asked accusingly.

Danny was exhausted as he crawled into his sleeping bag. "The police wanted to talk to me about Kyle Denton's murder."

"Denton is dead?" Mickey said, sounding surprised.

"Didn't I just say that?" Danny snapped.

"Calm down, there's no need to get defensive," Mickey said.

"If there's no need to get defensive, why are you always on the attack?" Danny retorted, annoyed. "Why do you always think I'm going to do something to sell you out? You're my best friend, Mickey. You have to trust me."

Mickey folded his arms and pouted. "I guess you're right."

"So you wanna tell me about that family, then?" Danny asked.

"The less you know, the better," Mickey said. "If the cops want to talk to you again, you can just honestly say you don't know anything."

Danny decided to give up as he turned around in his sleeping bag to face the wall. "I met a girl," he said.

He heard Mickey's disinterest in his yawn. "That's nice."

"It was, actually," Danny said. "She talked like… she knew me."

"Don't be stupid, Danny, how could she know you?" Mickey said and Danny did have to laugh at how ridiculous he was being. But he couldn't help it. She was the first person other than Mickey to treat him like a human being instead of a punching bag. She was interested in him. And she was beautiful. And something about her made Danny feel dizzy. He smiled, giddily.

"Yeah," he said. "You know, she was a CSI."

Mickey laughed. "Great," he said. "Maybe we can pull something up on her, too. What was her name?"

He remembered her soft brown eyes and his insides melted in a pool of warmth. "Sara," he said. "Her name was Sara."