A/N: I do not own CSI. What a travesty!

"Sara?"

Grissom could hardly believe his ears. She sounded exhausted and scared, but there was a hint of something else in her voice. Was it regret?

"It's me, Gil. Oh…I'm so sorry, Gil. I never should have left. I'm so, so sorry," she said. He could tell she was crying.

"It's ok, Sara," he said gently. "I understand. I understood everything when I read your letter. Please, hang on just a little bit longer. I'm going to find you. All of you. I love you so much, Sara."

"I love you too, Gil. Keep looking. I know if anyone can find us, it's you."

Grissom felt his heart swell in his chest. He glanced over at Brass with his eyebrows raised, hoping that the trace had finally come through. The detective caught Grissom's eye and nodded then took out his own cell phone and called Search and Rescue. Grissom pulled his attention back to the phone just as Reichman spoke again.

"How heartwarming," the former CSI taunted. "I daresay you'll be seeing, Miss Sidle again in person…perhaps. For now, though, you'll just have to be content with the pictures I took the liberty of e-mailing you. Mr. Sanders was kind enough to give me your email address. I'll have to thank him somehow."

"Why are you doing this, Joseph? What is there to be gained by holding my CSI's hostage?"

" Plenty," Reichman said savagely. "Now, I have work to do. Until next time, Gil, I bid you adieu." Reichman laughed again and the line went dead. Grissom snapped the phone shut and glanced over at Brass who was just finishing up a call to the sheriff. Grissom looked at the detective, an unspoken question in his eyes.

"Search and Rescue is just getting into the air. The sheriff is briefing his officers now and then they'll be hitting the road. Ecklie has been briefed and he's sending a team of five CSI's with us to the location. They'll be ready to go in about 15 minutes."

"Where did the trace come from?"

"A remote location about 15 miles to the west of Vegas. Mostly unpopulated, but he used a land line phone." Brass looked up thoughtfully. " You know...for a person who was able to get away with murder, he's not being very smart about this."

Grissom smiled grimly. "And there lies Joseph Reichman's greatest mistake. He was the best CSI we had in LA…nearly twenty years ago. A lot has changed since Reichman was a CSI and he's been out of the loop for a long time now. He may not be aware of some of the newer technologies we have."

Brass nodded thoughtfully.

Grissom turned his laptop around so it was facing him. He pulled up his e-mail program and found that he had a new e-mail from someone called, "LasaninvJore." Grissom clicked on the link and brought up the e-mail in a new window. There was no message just a prompt telling him how to download the attachment. Grissom clicked on the attachment and waited while the computer scanned and downloaded the files. When it was finished, he took a deep breath and opened them.

There were very few things that could make Gil Grissom feel such rage, but the pictures in front of him…he felt bile rise up in his throat.

The first picture was of Greg Sanders, the youngest CSI on Grissom's team. Greg was dressed in his CSI vest and a pair of jeans. He was blindfolded and his hands were bound behind his back. Greg was lying on his side on a non-descript dirt floor. There was another person partially in the picture, back to back with Greg, but he couldn't tell which of his team it was. A block wall provided the backdrop. From what Grissom could see, Greg was unharmed.

The next picture was of Nick Stokes. Nick had a nasty gash above his right eye, but the wound wasn't bleeding and it looked as though it had been cleaned and stitched up. Nicky was dressed much in the same way that Greg was and he was also bound in the same way. The only difference was that Nick's mouth was duck taped shut. Grissom mulled over that. He would have thought that Joseph would have to shut Greg up before Nick. The younger CSI was notorious for running his mouth, especially when he was scared or nervous. Grissom almost smiled at the thought.

Warrick Brown was next in line. He looked a little worse for the wear. He had a cut on his left cheek, possibly a broken nose, and the leg of his jeans were ripped and slightly bloody. Warrick looked as though he had been cared for just as well as Nick had been. His cheek had been cleaned and his nose looked like it had been set. Warrick, like Nick and Greg, was wearing his CSI vest, but he had forgone the jeans and was wearing a pair of dark slacks. Warrick was blindfolded, his hands tied behind his back, and his legs had also been tied together at the ankles. Grissom was sure that Warrick had fought hard against his captor and he felt a sudden surge of pride for the tall CSI.

Catherine Willows' picture came up next. Her picture made Grissom's eyes sting with tears. Catherine was laying flat on her back with her hands tied in front of her. She was blindfolded, like the others and she, like Nicky, had duct tape covering her mouth. A nasty gash marred her beautiful face from the top of her eyebrow down to her chin. It did not look like it had been cared for in any way. Catherine was only partially dressed, however. Her CSI vest was the only top she was wearing and it was partially open revealing Catherine's bare stomach and the space in between her breasts. She had a pair of dark brown slacks gathered around her ankles and a thin pair of red panties covering up her unmentionables. Grissom felt rage boiling in him at the atrocities he imagined that Joseph had performed on her. Tears stung at his eyes the longer he looked at her picture. He lingered, however, because he was afraid of what he would see in the next picture. Each picture was progressively worse than the last and the final picture...He took a deep breath and clicked the mouse.

Gil Grissom was not a man given to tears, but, for the first time all evening, he could not hold the tears back. The moisture felt hot and angry against his cheeks, but he made no move to wipe the tears away. He was too shocked and angry at the image that was assaulting his eyes. He ran a hand through his hair.

There was his Sara, his beautiful, perfect Sara, the only woman who had ever been able to capture his wayward heart. She was lying on her side, on the dirt floor, completely nude. Her body was covered with all manner of cuts and abrasions and bruises, making it look like she had been to hell and back. Sara had not been blindfolded as the others had, but Grissom thought this had less to do with mercy and more to do with torture. Sara was free to look around and see where she was, but having no blindfold also meant she was forced to see her friends suffer…and she was forced to watch as her captor performed all manner of horrible acts on her and Catherine. Grissom could see it in Sara's eyes, which were looking straight into the camera: She had been used and abused mercilessly. The suffering in the brown eyes he had come to love was too much for him. He put his head in his hands, feeling hot, angry tears drip through his fingers. He sat that way for some time, until a hand on his shoulder startled him. He turned and saw Brass staring at the picture of Sara, whom he had always held a soft spot for, revulsion and rage written on every line of the detective's face.

"That bastard," Brass whispered, his voice constricted. "That damn bastard."

Grissom nodded and wiped his tears away with his sleeve. Brass squeezed the supervisor's shoulder.

"Come on, Gil," he said, a new edge in his voice. "Let's go. We're going to find this sick bastard and take him down. Nobody does that my Sara. Nobody."

Awws! I love sentimental Brass. :). TBS. Please R&R. That makes me happy!