A/N: Thank you all so much for your continued encouragement and reviews and I apologize once more for the lack of updates. I've been busy :)

"What do you mean he got away?" Grissom angrily demanded from his cell phone, listening to Brass on the other line. "Warrick said there were uniforms at the club."

"Yeah well it turns out our guy is a drug dealer," Brass let out a heavy sigh. "We caught the cops who let him loose a few miles out of Vegas trying to skip town."

"You can't be serious," Grissom asked, his tone dripping with incredulity.

"There hasn't been any sign of the guy since, and they claim they don't know where he ran off to," Brass continued. "We've been interrogating them for hours now."

"Well keep trying," Grissom told him, "Because this guy isn't going loose."

"I'm on it, Gil." The phone clicked off as Brass hung up.

"What's up, Gris?" Nick asked his boss, a bit intimidated at the fierce look on his face.

"Brass said the guy bribed the cops who arrested him with drugs and they set him loose," he replied in a mere mumble.

"What the hell?" Nick immediately asked. "That's bullshit, I'm telling you. Pure bullshit. Have they talked?"

"Brass has been trying to make them talk for hours now and they haven't given him a location yet," Grissom sighed. "I hate to admit it but they really may not know where he ran off to."

Nick turned away to look out the Denali's passenger side window with a scowl on his face. "Well the idiot probably left something behind at the club."

"Let's hope they haven't cleaned everything up yet," Grissom nodded as he slowed the car to a stop in front of the club, putting the gears in park. He opened his door and stepped outside, closing the door behind him and walking around to the back of the car to retrieve their kits.

"This place looks… sleazy," Nick grimaced as he got a good look at the place—flickering neon lights (the club was now only technically called 'ight', those three letters being the only ones that weren't burnt out), the world's worst paint job and cigarette butts- one of which was still burning- thrown on the pavement in front of the door, a Vegas resident's ash tray. "Why would Sara…"

"Let's just focus on what we know right now," Grissom interrupted him as he heaved their kits out of the trunk. It's my fault this happened. I was the one who told her to get a diversion. "And if this place is the same inside as it is outside the employees here should know how to deal with cops."

"Right," Nick agreed, stooping down to pick us hit kit before following Grissom to the front entrance of the club. The inside of the club was barely visible behind the cloud of cigarette and cigar smoke that assaulted their eyes as they entered.

"What can I do for you two?" asked a voice- clearly male- coming from behind the counter.

Grissom waved away more smoke from his line of sight and determined the man as the bartender. "I'm Gil Grissom and this is Nick Stokes," he motioned behind him to Nick who was trying not to cough up a lung, "and we're with the crime lab. We're here about a Trey Wolfe."

"Michael Stravinski, but you can call me Mike," he introduced himself. "What do you need to know about Trey?"

"Have you seen him around lately?" Nick spoke up, coming up from behind Grissom. "We need to speak with him and it's urgent."

"I haven't seen him in about two weeks now," Mike shook his head, wiping off the bar space with a damp towel. "Is this in regards to the incident with Miss Sidle?" he then asked.

"Yes, it is," Grissom replied, pursing his lips.

"It's a real shame, what happened," he sighed, setting his towel aside. "She was a nice woman. Real pretty too. How is she doing, speaking of which?"

"She's in the hospital," Nick informed him, narrowing his eyes, "Which is why we're here. Trey Wolfe has a warrant out for his arrest."

Mike simply shook his head again with a sigh. "What can I do to help you folks?"

"I was wondering if we could have a look around," Grissom told him. "Where's Mr. Wolfe's office?"

"Back of the building to your left," Mike answered. "You can't miss it." Just as Grissom was about to open his mouth again, Mike beat him to it, "Don't worry, we didn't clean anything up yet. We've dealt with cops quite a bit here."

"Oh really?" Nick asked, raising an eyebrow. "Is that true?"

"Yeah," Mike nodded. "Trey's got himself into trouble before, that ain't no mystery."

"I'm going to go process," Grissom told Nick who nodded and decided to stay at the bar to talk with Mike a little more.

"What kind of trouble?" he pressed on.

"Trey's got himself busted for drug paraphernalia a few times," Mike told him, "And we've caught him using in his office before a show a few times."

"Did you inform the police?" Nick asked.

Mike bit his lip, leaning toward Nick. "You see, we would've but Trey's the best act we've got here," he discreetly informed him, "Without him the place would be out of business and I'd have no job."

Nick nodded his understanding. "What can you tell me about the incident with Sara—" he caught himself, "Miss Sidle?"

"I was here at the bar all night," Mike told him, "Working my shift. Miss Sidle came in on time with another man… Warrick Brown if I remember his name correctly. She went backstage to get ready."

"Was Trey here when she came in?" Nick asked.

"No, he was running a little late I guess," Mike shrugged. "She went up stage and started with that friend of hers—though I can tell you they were getting pretty friendly—as Trey arrived. He wasn't too happy about that."

"Did you see where he went?" Nick continued.

"I saw him heading backstage but I couldn't follow him, it was a busy night," Mike told him. "Friday nights are always busy for us. The bar's swamped. They put on a real nice performance though, I can tell you that much."

"Do you know what happened, exactly?" Nick asked.

"No, I don't have all the details," Mike said, "But I knew something must've happened when the cops showed up. I never liked the way Trey looked at Miss Sidle."

Grissom had maneuvered his way through the club to the back where he found Trey's office, the door marked with his name and hanging ajar. After slapping on a pair of gloves he ventured inside and took out his maglite, shining it inside the room.

It was chaos—one of the chairs was turned over, papers were strewn all over the floor, there was some sort of liquid staining the carpet followed by a few drops of red next to a torn piece of clothing material. Grissom clenched his jaw as he walked further inside.

There was a bottle of champagne open on the desk and one full glass, the other tipped over and laying empty on the floor. Signs of a struggle were definitely there. Everything was here. There was no way in hell they weren't going to be able to get Trey.

"Here, I brought you some coffee," Catherine's voice once again freed Warrick of his trance as he finally tore his eyes away from Sara to look over at her.

"Thanks," he told her, taking the steaming cup from her hands with a sigh.

"She still hasn't woken up yet?" Catherine questioned, sitting down beside him and glancing over at the sleeping Sara on the bed.

"No," Warrick shook his head. "I'm hoping it's still just the drugs. I just… I need to see her wake up, Cath," he whispered. "I need to see that she's alright."

"Just give her some time, 'Rick," Catherine assured him, placing a friendly hand on his shoulder. "I'm sure she must be exhausted. Just give it some time." Hearing her pager beeping, both Catherine and Warrick turned to look at the small black box clipped onto her belt. Catherine clipped it off and looked at it.

"What is it? News?" Warrick anxiously asked.

"The results from the rape kit are in," Catherine softly told him, letting out a sigh.

"…Do I even want to know what they say?" Warrick asked, tearing his gaze away from the pager to the floor, the wall, anything but Sara.

"Epotheloles from under Sara's nails came back to Trey, he has a record," Catherine started.

"The bastard- serves him right. I hope Sara scratched the crap out of him." Warrick hissed under his breath.

"The blood sample was a match to Sara," Catherine then said, looking over at Warrick- and then down at his fist that was quickly turning white as he sat with it clenched. "That's it."

"That's it?" Warrick asked, quickly looking back at Catherine. "How can that be it? The son of a bitch was so stupid, he must've—"

"That's all that came back from the rape kit, that doesn't mean that's all we're going to find, Warrick," Catherine assured him. "Have faith in Nick and Gil. They'll find out more."

Warrick finally sighed in defeat, nodding his head slowly as he looked back down at the floor. "You're right. I just hope they find the guy soon."

"I can't believe he was able to skip town," Nick continued as Grissom drove them back to the lab. "How does that happen? How stupid can the cops—"

"Nick, being pissed off isn't going to solve anything," Grissom interrupted him keeping his eyes glued to the road his fists clenching the steering wheel. "We all want the guy dead but being angry about it isn't going to find the guy. We just need to get this stuff from the scene processed and we'll have a strong case against him. He couldn't have gone far- I'm sure Brass will track him down soon."

Nick let out a heavy sigh, nodding his head in agreement. "I know Gris, but god, man. I mean this is Sara we're talking about. Our Sara Sidle- do you know how hard it is to stay partial to something like this?"

"Yes I do, Nick," Grissom truthfully told him with a frown as they pulled into the lab parking lot. "Yes I do."

---

After another few hours, Warrick had fallen asleep in Sara's hospital room. Catherine had left the room to go use her cell phone outside to try and get more information from Grissom on the case. Sara started to stir, finally breaking out of her drug-induced slumber.

The second Warrick felt a movement coming from the bed he snapped awake, his eyes looking around wildly. They automatically latched themselves onto Sara who was trying to move her stiff body. "Sara?" he asked.

Sara let out a painful-sounding moan, forcing both eyes open and squinting at the harsh overhead lights in the room. "Warrick?" she managed to get out. "Wha… what happened?"

Warrick let out a heavy sigh of relief as he pushed him chair closer to her bed, grabbing a hold of her hand. "You passed out, Sara," he told her. "Do you remember? I called Catherine over and we tried to wake you up but you had already passed out."

Sara licked her dry lips, grimacing as her tongue felt like sandpaper. "Cath's here?" she whispered.

"I think she's just outside using her cell phone," Warrick informed her, getting to his feet and heading over to the sink to get Sara some water. Grabbing a paper cup, he filled it with some tap water before hastily returning to Sara's side and holding the cup up to her lips. "Open your mouth," he instructed her.

Sara did as he said, greedily gulping down the entire cup but only succeeding in swallowing about a fourth of the cup before she coughed up the rest of it.

"I'm sorry," Warrick sighed. "I forgot. The doctor said you were dehydrated. You may not be able to keep any liquids down. Why didn't you tell me anything, girl? I was worried sick about you…"

Sara reached up and wiped her mouth off with the sleeve of her hospital gown, looking over at Warrick. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I didn't mean to make you worry. I just… I couldn't stop playing everything over in my head… it was just too much."

Warrick nodded his understanding, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze. "I understand," he told her. "But when we get out of here, I'm taking you out to a nice dinner, got it?" he asked her. "I'm talking five-star, candlelit on a balcony overlooking the Strip."

"I'd like that," Sara whispered, shooting him the smallest of smiles.

"Good," Warrick smiled back. Her smile was small, but it was a start.

---

"It's a good thing Sara didn't drink the champagne," Hodges' voice interrupted Grissom's meditation and made Nick jump from his place on the break room couch.

"Tox came back?" Nick asked, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

"Yeah, with strong traces of Rohypnol," Hodges informed them, handing Grissom the results. "He drugged it."

"He had it planned all along," Grissom said, staring at the results in disbelief. "She was right. She knew exactly what he was going to do."

"He must've freaked out," Hodges gave his two cents.

"Sara caught him off-guard," Nick said, "And after she pissed him off he must've drugged the champagne and then called her into his office."

Grissom turned to look at Nick and Nick returned the look, fire in his eyes. "We have to find him, Gris."