A/N: I do not own CSI...darny!

Grissom stared blankly at the near empty room in front of him. Where he had expected to find Sara there was only a plain, white envelope, bearing his name. Grissom pulled a pair of latex gloves out of his pocket, stooped down, and opened the envelope carefully and peered inside. There was a piece of paper and a picture in the envelope. Grissom passed the paper to Brass, who had also donned latex gloves, and extracted the picture. He felt his heart break when he looked at it.

It was of Sara, as he had expected. She was, again, completely nude and just as battered and bruised as she had been before. The difference between this picture and the first picture was the position Sara was in. She was kneeling and attempting the cover herself up with her hands and preserve what little dignity she had left. That alone was enough to break Grissom's heart. She just looked so…defeat. It made him nauseous to see her posed in such a way. He was further sickened by the position Sara was in. Her neck was exposed and Joseph Reichman was standing next to her, grinning widely and pressing a knife to her throat. A note at the bottom of the Polaroid said, "Tick-tock, Grissom. The first 48 hours after a kidnapping are the most crucial. Find her if you can."

Hot anger burned in the pit of Grissom's stomach as he looked at the picture of Sara. He turned to look at Brass who was looking at the paper, a shocked expression on his face. Brass looked up at Grissom apparently at a loss for words.

"What does it say, Jim?" Grissom asked him bluntly.

Brass took a deep breath. "Gil…I…I..."

"What does it say?"

Silently Brass held the letter out to Grissom. Grissom steeled himself and began to read.

Gil,

Reichman gave me the opportunity to write this letter to you. I don't know why he's letting me do this, but in any event, I'm grateful and I'm going to capitalize on the moment. It's difficult to hold this pen because I think my wrist is fractured, but I'll do the best I can.

I don't know where we are. We moved during the night and, though I'm not blindfolded any other time, he put a sheet over my head to keep me from seeing where we were. I wish I could tell you more, but that's all I know. I'm sorry, Gil.

He's been keeping me drugged. I'm not exactly sure what he's using because I am generally aware of my surroundings, but I don't have the strength or the ability to fight him. He's a cruel, cold person. I see why he made such a good CSI. He has no regret, no sympathy, no…nothing. He scares me, Gil. Even when I thought you were emotionless, back in the old days, I knew that you at least had some feeling for the victim's we saw every day. Reichman has none of that. An emotionless man is the most dangerous kind.

I don't know if I'm going to come out of this one alive, Gil. I know you don't want to read that, but I am merely stating what the evidence tells me. As you have always said, "The evidence never lies." If I die, know that I do not blame you. I know that you have been doing everything in your power to find us...to find me.

I'm sure, that by the time you get this letter, you will have recovered the others. I hope you find them quickly, especially Catherine. Reichman was methodically mutilating her face the last time I saw her. Her screams, Gil…they still haunt my dreams whenever Reichman lets me catch a few minutes of sleep.

I miss you, Gil, and I know that you will not rest until you find me. I take comfort in knowing that you are out there, using every ounce of your strength to find me. I love you, Gil. I always will.

Sara

Grissom finished reading the letter and stared at the paper as if he could somehow reach into it and pull Sara out. Brass had taken over the picture that Grissom had laid aside and was clutching it, white knuckled, apparently trying to resist the urge to rip it to shreds. Grissom stood and put a hand on the detective's shoulder. The two men exited the room the same way they had come, taking the envelope and its contents with them. Catherine, Warrick, Nick, and Greg were all gone out of their respective rooms, as were the EMT's that had been attending them. Brass and Grissom met the five CSI's who had come with them entering the house to process the scene. Grissom cleared his throat to get their attention. The five investigator's turned to look at him.

"Look…" he began. "I know I'm not your supervisor, but…you have to be quick, but thorough on this one. Any evidence we find could potentially be the key to finding Sara. One of you needs to pay special to the final room. That's the room that Sara should have been in." He paused meeting each of the investigator's eyes. "Good luck."

The five CSI's nodded, a new fire in their eyes, and headed into the house. Grissom turned to Brass.

"There's something bothering me here, Jim," he said, his expression troubled. "I don't understand how Reichman got my team into that house. There were no footprints or tire prints leading to or away from the house. Not anywhere. I didn't think much of it at the time because I was too worried about finding the team, but now…there's just something not right about this scene."

Brass looked around thoughtfully. "You want to go back inside and check out the scene?"

Grissom thought for a moment then nodded. "But I need to go talk to the sheriff and Ecklie first. They need to hear a firsthand account of what happened in that house. I need to give Ecklie the envelope too so he can get it back to Trace and see if there is anything useful on it."

Brass nodded and he and Grissom walked back to the semi-circle of police cruisers where Ecklie and the sheriff were standing. The sheriff watched Grissom approach, his expression grim.

"Gil," he said immediately. "You'll be happy to know that Sanders, Stokes, and Brown are going to be just fine. They're all in stable condition at Desert Palms and it's expected that they should be out of the hospital in just a few days. We have guards posted outside their respective doors, just in case Reichman comes back for them."

Grissom raised an eyebrow. "And Catherine?"

The sheriff's expression grew even grimmer. "She's still listed as serious. The doctors say that she lost a lot of blood from the wounds on her face. They're also saying there is evidence that she was sexually abused several times during her captivity. Evidence also suggests that she fought…hard. She's expected to make a full recovery, but it's going to be touch and go for a while."

Grissom felt a mixture of anger and pride at Catherine's prognosis. She was a survivor and he knew that she would be fine eventually, but he was disgusted to learn of the violation she had suffered. The sheriff watched Grissom carefully for a moment before he spoke again.

"What happened in there, Gil?"

Grissom took a deep breath and then told the sheriff everything he had seen. When he was finished, the sheriff frowned and looked at Ecklie. Ecklie shifted uncomfortably.

"Gil, I know that this is going to make you mad, but…I don't think you should be working this case anymore. You're too involved."

Grissom looked at Ecklie as though he was an interesting new bug that Grissom wanted to study. Ecklie shifted uncomfortably again. Brass watched the exchange with a barely concealed smile on his face. After a second, Grissom merely turned away and headed back towards the house. Ecklie made to go after him, but stopped at the look Brass threw his way. Brass caught up to Grissom, still barely concealing his glee.

"That may have been the funniest thing I've seen since I joined the police force,"

Grissom smiled tightly, but didn't say anything. Grissom walked briskly through the door of the house and past the CSI's who were diligently photographing the rooms and collecting what little evidence there was to collect. They looked up as Grissom and Brass passed, but did not comment on the CSI and detective walking through their respective crime scenes. When Grissom walked into the final room he cleared his throat to announce his presence to the CSI processing the room.

The CSI turned around and Grissom saw that it was Jonathon Kohler from swing. Kohler had been at the Vegas Crime Lab almost as long as Grissom himself. The man had a great reputation around the lab and was considered to be the most dependable person to have at a crime scene. His specialty was trace analysis, though it was said that Kohler had even less people skills than Grissom did.

"Is there something I can do for you, Mr. Grissom?" Kohler asked.

Grissom almost smiled at the man's formalities. "Please, call me Gil. And no, there isn't anything you can do for me, Jonathon."

Kohler raised an eyebrow. "I'm already processing the room."

Grissom, too, raised an eyebrow. "Then, please, continue to do so. I just need to look for something."

Kohler's eyebrows nearly disappeared into his hairline, but he said nothing more. The CSI went back to photographing the room, though he glanced over at Grissom occasionally. Brass, who had watched the exchange without comment, looked at the swing shift CSI distastefully. Grissom nearly smiled again, but was quickly sobered when he remembered why they were there in the first place.

Avoiding Kohler as much as possible, Grissom kept close to the walls of the small, empty room. He paid special attention to the baseboards, looking for anything that was suspicious or out of place. He made two complete circuits and then put his hands on his hips and sighed heavily, thinking. He stood there like that for a long time.

Brass watched the supervisor carefully. Years of dealing with Gil Grissom, had taught the detective that Grissom liked to be left alone when he was considering a crime scene. It was all part of Grissom's reasoning process and Brass had come to respect that in the CSI. The detective waited patiently and was rewarded a few minutes later when Grissom walked to the nearest wall, the one with the door, pressed his ear against it, and tapped on it with his knuckles. When that test yielded undesirable results, he moved over a few inches and tried again.

Grissom worked his way around the room, leaving no inch of wall untouched. Brass had a feeling he knew what Grissom was looking for. Finally, on the back wall, opposite the door, Grissom's labor paid off. He turned to Brass.

"A hollow spot," he said gravely.

"Could just be an architectural flaw,"

"I don't think so," Grissom said thoughtfully. "If it was just a flaw, it would only be present in this one tiny area. The hollow spot stretches three feet lengthwise, from here to here." He indicated the locations.

Brass was impressed. "Three feet, huh? That's about the right width for a door." Brass turned to Grissom, a grave smile on his face. "Hammer time?"

Grissom nodded, smiling tightly. "Hammer time."

Hate me yet? hehe. Please, R&R. Reviews are teh love!