A/N: Just wanted to say thanks to those who reviewed, some of you more than once, lol. I appreciate it and hope my reply came to you, I'm just not sure. Also thanks to my great beta TangledPencils who managed to edit this chapter in a really short time even if she had plenty of work to do.

Fire and Water

by Nicol Leoraine

Chapter 7

A few hours after the body was recovered from the scene, the two criminalists and the detective assembled in the conference room. The sun was already up in the sky and most of the day shift had already arrived for their shift, but it didn't matter to the three men in the room. They were here because the killer had struck last night and they knew he would strike again if not stopped. Time was of great importance.

"We still don't know the identity of the victim. I looked through the missing person reports, but he doesn't match any of the descriptions," Jim said with a sigh

"David estimated the time of death as only a hour or two before he arrived at the scene," Nick commented, putting the bagel he took from the fridge back on the plate, only half eaten. "That's too soon for anyone to report a missing husband. But I think there will be some wife calling the station later today."

Nobody asked why Nick assumed the man was married. They'd all seen the ring on his finger. They also knew he wasn't a homeless guy, because of his expensive clothing and personal grooming. The coroner's assistant also told them the man was in perfect health, prior to his death of course. Pity there wasn't any wallet or ID on him, not even a set of keys. If the MO was similar to the last victim…Nick inwardly cringed at that thought…then there was a high probability that the man was snatched from his car. Brass had already sent a pair of officers to check out the parking lots in close proximity to the crime scene, but so far they hadn't come up with anything.

"Also we can say that we're definitely dealing with two killers," Nick added, showing Brass the photos taken from the scene. There were two different footprints leading from the wire fence, where they vanished as the terrain changed. Two footprints…deeper than usual. That meant that they were carrying something heavy, most likely the dead man.

"What about the ladder? Have you found any prints?"

"Several, but I think they're all from the men working on the site. I ran them through AFIS, but nothing came up. I was luckier with the prints from the boots," Nick said with a grin and Brass frowned, while Grissom simply raised his eyebrows, waiting.

"What boots?" The detective asked confused.

"The leather cowboy boots the dead guy wore. It's almost impossible to take prints from clothes, but from leather it's quite easy. I thought that if they had to carry him, one of them had to grab his legs, maybe the boots. And I was right," Nick said with a smirk and gave both men a printed list from the computer.

"AFIS came up with a name - Jonah Webster, age nineteen. I can't get into his juvie records because they're sealed. But we have a name."

"Now we only need to get an address," Jim said with a praising nod. "Good thinking, Nick."

The CSI gave a silent nod in reply and looked at Grissom, while Brass pulled out his cell phone and called central to have them pull Jonah Webster's address and anything else known about the youth.

Grissom for his part stayed silent, his eyes half closed, as if he was trying to listen. Nick wondered what was troubling the older man, besides the case of course. As if feeling that he was being watched, Grissom's eyes snapped open and he cleared his throat, looking at the notes on the desk with something close to nervousness.

"So you're convinced that this is a copy cat," Nick stated, trying to start a conversation. Grissom looked up and shrugged.

"I can't be sure, but yeah, I think so. There's something else though..." Grissom fell silent and pursed his lips, thinking. After a moment, he shook his head.

"The timing is wrong," he said suddenly and Nick frowned.

"The killings are too close together," Grissom continued. His statement captured Jim's attention as he finished the call and closed his cell.

"How much closer?" Nick asked. He still hadn't had the time to look at the older files.

"Cornwall killed one victim every three weeks. Three weeks, Nick. Not a day sooner. And every victim was from a different city. Your friend's wife was killed a week ago. It looks... too rushed. I think we should look deeper into the victim's backgrounds. Maybe there is something they had in common."

"Yeah, well, that's not so easy," Brass grumbled from the other side of the room, his eyes set on Nick, almost accusingly. "I've been trying to get hold of your friend Travis for a whole day, Nick. His neighbour told me he hasn't seen him for almost two days. He doesn't answer his phone at home or his cell and he wasn't at work. If I can't get hold of him by noon, I'll have to put out an APB."

"What? Why! Travis isn't a suspect, Jim, he never was."

"What about the hair sample you found in the first victims car?"

"You're kidding, right?" Nick asked, his voice high and unbelieving. "Travis drove that car almost as often as Jamie did. "

"Then where is he now, Nicky?" Jim asked in a low voice and Nick closed his mouth, realising that Brass probably knew all along where Travis was. But if the curious "Nick?" coming from Grissom was anything to go by, his supervisor didn't.

"Maybe he just felt like crashing on one of his friends couch. He could be in a bar, for all I know. Just give him some time, he'll call. He'll want to know what's going on."

Brass gave Nick one of his glares, practically ordering 'you better make sure of that', when the ringing of his cell broke the silence. Nick gave a barely perceptible nod to the detective, before turning to look at Grissom. The older criminalist watched him with arched eyebrows, as if waiting for some explanation. Nick shrugged and looked away, his hands idly playing with the pen and the files, just so he didn't have to look at Grissom.

"I've got an address," Brass said when he finished the call and looked expectantly at the two criminalists. "The kid's still living with his parents. Do you want to join me?" he asked with a grin as Nick was already grabbing for his cap and Grissom stood with a curt nod.

The drug was out of his system and he felt the crash. It was getting hard to think and the walls were closing in on him. The Master left him in the apartment, needing to settle some business and Jonah paced the small room like a caged tiger. The TV didn't attract him, at this time of the day it was mostly full of soap operas and talk shows, nothing worth watching. His attention span was too short to be able just sit around. He needed to take a walk. He needed to move. He needed to feel alive, feel his brain working again. Simply said, he needed another fix.

Instantly, he stopped his pacing and froze in place. His Master had told him to stay here, not leave the apartment. But he'd also told him that he wouldn't be back before dark, and it was only morning now.

What was he risking, really? The master never came sooner than he said. And if Jonah could get the dose quickly, he wouldn't even notice he'd taken something. Now all he needed to do was find a place where he could get some meth. With a grin, Jonah reached for his wallet and the keys for his car. He knew just the right place.

They were in the middle of the parking lot when Nick realised he'd left his cell in the conference room. He slapped his head and looked at Grissom and Brass with an apologetic grimace.

"Sorry guys, it will take only a minute," he said and before either of them could say anything, he was gone. Brass turned to Grissom with an exasperated sigh, but the scientist replied with a simple shrug, as if saying 'what can I do?'

Nick took the stairs two at the time and when he finally found his cell under all the files, he had to take few deep breaths. He rushed back to the elevator and while he waited, he took a quick glance at his phone. No missed calls. Then he remembered his earlier conversation with Brass and decided to find out where Travis was…hopefully not in his apartment anymore.

Surprisingly, even though Brass said that he tried Travis' cell, Nick got through after the second ring.

"Yeah, Nick?" the voice of his buddy asked eagerly and Nick realised he must've seen the caller's ID. So why didn't he pick it up when the detective called?

"Hey, Travis. How are you doing?"

"Okay, I guess. Oh, thanks for letting me crash at your couch, man. I really appreciate it."

"No problem, just... don't mention it. I really shouldn't even talk with you, you know."

Travis laughed bitterly, just as the elevator door opened and Nick stepped in with a frown.

"There we go again," Travis said with a snort. "Come on Nicky, we aren't talking about anything. But if it makes you feel better, I won't mention it. Not that there's anyone interested in what I'm doing right now."

Something in that comment made Nick shiver, even though it was hot and sweaty in the small cabin. Maybe it was the tone in which it was said, or the fact that it wasn't true. Whatever the reason, Nick didn't like it.

"You may be wrong about that, Trav. Look, the detective that is investigating the case would really like to talk with you. He needs to learn more about Jamie and you're the only one who can help him. Will you come and talk with him?"

There was a moment of silence, then a weary sigh.

"Yeah, why not. I'll stop by later today."

"Great," Nick said in a relieved voice and heard Travis chuckle.

"Man, you sound as if I just pulled a thorn from your foot."

"You have no idea," Nick replied in the same tone and by the time the elevator stopped at the underground garages, he'd finished the call. He ran up to Jim's car and leaned in the open window.

"Just to let you know I got a hold of Travis on his cell. Told me he will stop by later today, so you can call off your hound dogs."

"Just as long as he comes," Brass replied with a smirk and nodded at Nick to get in the car.

Jonah hated his room in the big, five-storey apartment building in the downtown area. It wasn't the best neighbourhood to live in and the building looked rusty and old, the elevator wasn't working and the walls were full of graffiti and love messages. What Jonah hated the most was the drunk step-father and uncaring mother that were hidden inside.

He hadn't spent more than a few weeks from the last two years in this apartment, and that was mostly without his parents' knowledge. The door to Jonah's room was permanently closed, the key probably lost the moment he left for the first time. But Jonah didn't mind. He never came through the door anyway.

There was a fire escape just below his window and Jonah had long ago mastered the art of silent entrance. Today it wasn't any different.

The room was dusty when he crawled through the window and he had to stifle a sneeze. He could hear the television playing in the living room and the loud snoring of his stepfather, as well as noises coming from the kitchen. Probably his mother making some lunch. Jonah shrugged, not really caring what they were doing, as long as his secret stash was safe. One look around the room told him that no one had entered it since the last time he was there and he knelt down next to his bed in relief. Pulling at one of the loose boards in the floor, he revealed the hidden box. There, between a stack of rolled up one dollar bills, a few old superman comics and a pack of cigarettes, lay three small packages of crystal meth. His emergency stash, Jonah thought with a smirk. He'd just reached for one of the packages, when a loud rapping startled him.

He froze and waited, watching the door, half afraid it would open, half pissed that someone had heard him come. But then he realised the knocking was on the front door, and he heard his mother's raspy voice mumbling curses, as she shuffled slowly to the door.

"Open up, this is the police!" Jonah heard and his heart skipped a beat.

"I'm coming, I'm coming," his mother shouted and Jonah blinked. With a jerky movement he grabbed all three packages along with the stack of dollars and practically jumped toward the window. He wasn't trying to be silent this time. He knew that the television would most probably muffle any sounds he made from the outside. He just needed to get away, quickly. Scrambling through the window and onto the fire escape, he ran down the stairs, stopping only at the bottom, where the stairs ended three yards above the ground. He didn't waste time and simply jumped, cringing when he felt the bad landing. Still, the threat of the cops helped him push back the pain from a bruised ankle and he took off running toward his car.

Flinging the door open, he threw himself behind the steering wheel, his shaking fingers stabbing the key into the ignition. The car started with a roar, and he quickly dropped it into gear and took off. His breathing didn't ease until he'd made it past the first block, seeing the police car still parked in front of the building, waiting.

Once he was out of sight, he started laughing. The adrenaline was back, the endorphins once again coursing through his body. He didn't even feel the need to take the dose anymore. This just rocked.

Jonah threw a last look into the side mirror and shook his head, chuckling. No cops. He saw only a black Landrover, keeping it's distance and he didn't pay any attention to it. He'd already forgotten about seeing it when he parked before the apartment the Master rented for him. He didn't notice the black Landrover parked on the other side of the street, waiting.

TBC

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