AN: Another update. I hope you guys like it. Now things are getting more interesting. Please review. I like knowing what you guys think.

Disclaimer: I do not own CSI. I wish I did, cuz I have a lot of ideas that I wish that they'd put in the show.

In A Plexiglas Prison With You

Chapter Nine: Great White Sharks

"There is no gun in this house," Warrick announced, "At least, not one that has been fired recently."

"And there is no shark fin tattoo on either Lester or Haynes," Greg added, "They did not take the pictures of Grissom and Catherine or knock Chris Bezich out."

"But is it safe to say that they'd involved?" Annie asked, putting her gun in her holster.

"I think so," Sofia answered, "It was their vehicle that we caught in the surveillance tapes. Warrick, Greg, care to do your thing?" she asked. Both men stepped up and unclasped their kits.

"Matt," Annie motioned to the LA CSI, who received a friendly nod from Warrick. He too helped process the scene.

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"I'm leaving," Gil announced, not even waiting for Doug to say a word. He had seen the woman walk through the crowd after she had finished her dance. Without a word, she had slipped out the doors. He followed her. He had to meet her.

The cool air of the Las Vegas night felt refreshing after being in that stuffy club. A slight breeze caressed his face as he looked for her. Then he saw her.

"How 'bout a ride?" a slurred, husky voice goaded her. She put on a fake smile.

"I'm sure you're a nice guy, but no," she snapped, turning away from him. The man stumbled after her.

"Come on, you, me, and a good time," he slurred. It made both her and Gil cringe. Without properly thinking it through, Gil stepped forwards.

"Hey!" he called. She raised an eyebrow, a bit wary of him.

"Hi…" she dragged the word out as she appraised him. Great, he thought, now she probably thinks she has two creeps to fend off.

"I'm sorry I'm late," he said on a whim, "I know that we were supposed to meet…uh…five minutes ago," he invented, hoping that she got the meaningful glance. Comprehension dawned on her beautiful features.

"You had better be sorry," she shot at him, playing along, "Hope you had a good time," she said scathingly.

"I…no…it was a bit lame really. Bachelor parties at a strip club are…too stereotypical," he replied. The drunk man stared between them.

"You're with 'im?" he questioned, backing up slightly.

"Do you mind?" she asked crossly, then she turned back to Gil, "Come on, Honey," she ordered, grabbing his hand and dragging him along, "Thank you, by the way," she said once they were out of earshot, letting his hand go.

"No problem," he shrugged, "I'm Gil, by the way."

"Catherine," she replied, "Have a good time in there?" she asked. He panicked. He didn't know how to answer that.

"Uh…it was uh…"

"Not your thing?" she finished. He chuckled lamely.

"Not especially," he answered, putting his hands in his pockets. They stayed in an awkward silence for a moment before she turned.

"I guess I'm going to go," she said, "Thanks again."

He didn't know why he stepped up, but he did, "Can I walk you to your car?" he asked. She turned and considered him for a moment.

"I suppose so," she accepted, "I guess chivalry isn't dead."

"It's dark out. And you never know," he shrugged.

"You're a cop, aren't you?" she questioned.

"Why would you think that?" he asked, frowning. She shook her head.

"The way you said that," she answered, "You looked down. You know what can happen in the dark."

"I do," he sighed, "And I'm a CSI, actually. More scientist then cop."

"Nice," she appraised, "You wouldn't happen to be good at Chemistry, would you?"

"Depends," he said, "Why?"

"I'm a student at Western UNLV," she answered, "I find atoms and ions to be more painful than strutting around in six-inch heels."

"I could help you, if you want," he offered, again, not thinking, "Would you like a coffee?" he asked. She chuckled.

"Funny. My car just so happens to be parked outside the coffee place down the street," she explained. He smiled at her as they walked down the street together. Needless to say, Gil was sleeping on the plane to the conference.

"I actually thought you were trying to hit on me," she admitted, smiling as she reminisced, "If you were, you weren't very good at it."

"Was I that bad?" he asked. She laughed.

"Look at how the night ended, Gil," she told him, "I got a free cup of coffee and finished my Chemistry, while you didn't get anything."

"Correction: That night got me company in our little Plexiglas prison," he laughed, "I think I came out of it pretty good."

"Good to…AHHH!" she screamed as a curious shark swam up to her side of the box. She jumped on top pf him, her eyes tightly clenched.

"Cath, it's okay," he told her, stroking her hair, "It can't hurt you in here," he said as soothingly as possible. The shark disappeared.

"God, I hate this!" she cried through clenched teeth, resting her head on his chest.

"I know," he sighed, "So do I. Bright-side, though, this is probably the closest we're going to get to see a live shark without winding up in its mouth."

She lifted her head up and glared at him, "Some bright-side."

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"Was that because of a shark?" Lindsey asked as she watched her mother jump on Gil.

"I would believe so," Nick answered, "That's how she reacted last time."

"At least he's nice about it," Lindsey continued, "Usually he hates when people hug him."

Nick had to chuckle at that. He sobered when he saw Sara's face. She looked so conflicted.

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"This looks a little dangerous," Greg commented, producing a rifle from the back seat of the truck. Sofia took it from the young CSI and bagged it for him.

"With any luck, it'll match the bullet that we found in Kitchner, and possibly the bullets in the Kallum family," she said, reaching out for the several bags of .308 cartridges, "There's enough ammo here to take out a whole police squad."

"That's all that's up here-" Greg paused, "Hold it," he said, leaning down to pick up a white business card. The familiar logo of a shark chasing a fish greeted him. 'Feeding Frenzy.'

"It's just a business card, Greg. They were both employees," she shrugged. Greg turned it over and they saw that someone had written an address on the back of the card. He gave her a significant look.

"That's the address of Grissom and Catherine's scene," he said.

"It doesn't make sense. If they took the call, they'd have to speed to get to Vegas in time. Catherine and Grissom were abducted within five minutes," Sofia frowned. Something clicked for Greg.

"Not if they were on their way to the Acid Drop," Greg explained, "Then they got the call from Shark Guy and responded to the crime scene, and then they went and knocked Bezich out," he theorized, walking to the back of the truck and undoing the end-gate.

"How would that work?" Sofia asked, "The picture of Grissom and Catherine in the box was included in the pictures you recovered from Bezich's car."

"Because," Greg grunted, getting into the box, "They had the coffin ready to go and in the back here, so they could get Cath and Griss in it without attracting too much attention. They also had their shipment back here," he added, producing several white pails similar to that at the crime scene. Then he was silent as he picked something up off of the truck floor.

"What?" she asked craning to look. He held up two zip-ties in response. Her expression mirrored his.

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"I know that you're feeling it, Jimmy," Annie said beside him, "You must be very close."

"I've worked with both of them for years," Brass sighed, "We have to find them. Gil- Gil didn't pull the plug on me. I'm not going to pull the plug on him."

"This isn't human blood," Warrick grabbed their attention, holding a swab in one hand and a tester in the other, "It's animal. Smells like the smell out in the alley way."

Glazer took a whiff and frowned, explaining, "That's fish blood. Chum, actually," he said, "It could be what was used to lure the sharks to the box holding your friends."

"That would imply that the kidnappers are using a boat," Warrick said, "Maybe a fishing boat, if they're chumming. Jim, didn't you say that 'Feeding Frenzy' bought their fish off of local fishermen?" he asked.

With raised eyebrows, Jim looked over at Annie, "Shall we find out which fishermen?" he questioned, looking at her expectantly.

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"What do you mean by that?" Annie shot at the manager of 'Feeding Frenzy' fish market. The man shot her an annoyed look.

"Mark left for home an hour ago, like he does every Friday," he explained. Brass stepped up.

"Maybe you can help us then," he said, "We need a list of all of your suppliers," he demanded. The manager sighed and ran a hand through his dark hair.

"Look, I'd love to help you, but I need a warrant to show you that information," he countered. Annie smiled and produced a piece of paper from her pocket.

"This do?" she asked, handing it to him. He looked it over and led Brass, Annie, and Sofia to the back office. He handed over a list. One name jumped off of the page.

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"I got a hit!" Greg shouted, startling everyone in the vicinity. Sara tore away from the computer screen and rushed with Nick and Warrick over to where Greg and Jack Toll, LAPD's fingerprint analyst, were examining a print they pulled off of the rifle.

"Let me guess: Lester?" Warrick ventured. Nick shook his head.

"More like Haynes?" he asked. Greg shook his head and opened his mouth.

"Spit it out!" Sara ordered, but instantly felt bad for snapping at him. It had been such a trying day. It was bad enough that she was watching her boyfriend struggle for life in a glass coffin, but the fact that he seemed so at ease with Catherine nagged in Sara's mind. All night, she had been telling herself that now was not the time to play the jealous girlfriend, but all the same, she couldn't shake the fact that she felt Catherine had always been her most serious competition for Grissom's heart.

"Karl White," he announced, "He was in AFIS for obstruction of justice. Guess who arrested him."

"Griss and Cath," Warrick breathed the answer everyone knew was coming.

"There's something else," Greg continued, reading from the computer screen, "He has the same last name as 'Feeding Frenzy' owner, Markus White."

"Coincidence?" Sara asked.

"A coincidence is a scientific anomaly," Greg responded, shaking his head. They all started at his Grissom-ness.

"Hold on," Warrick muttered, sitting in a chair alongside Greg and did a background check on Markus White, "Markus White, no criminal record, one of three boys born to Frank and Ellen White. Brothers names are: Karl and Charles. Karl has a record for obstruction of justice for misdirecting the cops when they came asking for his brother, Charles, for burglary and three counts of murder in 1991. After his release, Karl became a reporter for a tabloid magazine based in Las Vegas, though in the past two years, he's taken a side job as a fisherman."

"What happened to Charles?" Nick asked. Warrick looked up from the screen.

"Capitol punishment. Lethal injection," he answered, "CSIs Gil Grissom and Catherine Willows provided evidence at his trial."

"We have a name we want you to check out," Brass called from the doorway, holding a list. Annie and Sofia were on either side of him.

"Karl White?" all four CSIs said together. All three detectives started.

"Alright," Brass shrugged, "I'm not even going to ask. Now, what do we know?"

"Look at this!" Lindsey screamed from behind her laptop. She turned the screen do that the adults could see the message scrawled on the bottom of the screen:

'Two lives are hanging by an air-hose. Start hoping.'

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"Alright, bro?" Karl White called from the helm of his fishing boat. He turned to look back at his brother. The sleeves of Mark's business shirt were rolled passed his elbows and his tie was draped over his shoulder. The business man looked out of place as he scooped bloody fish-heads into the ocean, however, there was a large grin on his face.

"Never better!" Mark shouted over the engines, "For Charlie!" he exclaimed, pumping a fist in the air. All of their careful planning and years of circling their prey had finally paid off.

"For Charlie!" Karl echoed, pumping his fist in the air like his older brother, the grey fin on his hand, looking more sinister against the background of the ocean.

TBC