A/N: As always, thanks to those who reviewed and to my great beta TangledPencils without whom this would be a much harder reading, lol.

Kate: The summary was edited, your advice taken - BG -

Fire and Water

by Nicol Leoraine

Chapter 8

They were too late. Nick could tell by the open window in Jonah's room and the loose board thrown aside, revealing the hidden box.

"You're sure you didn't come into the room?" Brass asked the surprised looking mother.

"No, not for some time. You saw that I had to unlock the door... this room isn't used anymore."

"What about the open window?" Nick asked, half leaning out of it, trying to see if someone might've been hiding on the fire escape. No one was there, but he spotted some cars pulling out from the side street and frowned. That black Landrover looked familiar, but he couldn't remember where he'd seen it before.

"I know for sure it was closed," the mother said, nervously rubbing at her left palm.

"What are all those questions for?" boomed the voice of Jack Webster who'd been startled awake by the appearance of the police in his living room, and hadn't found his voice until now.

"We are looking for your son, Mr. Webster," Jim Brass spoke with the authority he knew was needed to be able to talk with the man.

Jack Webster only snorted and shook his head in disgust.

"Well, he isn't here, so you can take your…" A warning glare from Brass made him pause in mid sentence. With a grimace, Jack Webster nodded his head towards the front door, "Just leave now."

"I am sorry, but that isn't possible," Jim said in a sweat voice which clearly stated that he wasn't sorry at all. "We have a warrant from the judge to search Jonah's room." Jack Webster eyed the paper then handed it back to Brass with a uncaring shrug.

"Whatever. Just don't make a big mess. And don't touch anything outside the brat's room." With that the man resumed his position on the couch, turned the volume on the TV up and ignored the presence of the cops altogether. Mrs. Webster though wasn't so easy to deter and for some reason, she choose Grissom as the most probable source of information, which made Nick smirk and the older criminalist cringe.

"Why are you looking for Jonah? Did something happen to him? Please, tell me what did he do-" Grissom who felt his head would explode even without the added noise, raised his hand to silence the questions. With a weary sigh, he rubbed at his temple and looked at the woman. He saw the fear in her eyes, fear for her son's wellbeing, but maybe there was also the fear of what the boy could've caused.

"I'm sorry, I can't tell you any details of the case, just that your son is probably involved in two murder cases."

'Real smooth, Grissom,' Nick thought and shook his head at his boss' reply, when the mother yelped, eyes wide and unbelieving.

"No, you must be mistaken! My boy would never hurt anyone. You're wrong," she declared in a high-pitched voice that even drew the attention of Mr. Webster. Grissom winced, once again reaching for his head as the oncoming migraine let him know of its presence and Nick felt a sudden surge of sympathy towards his boss.

"Mrs. Webster, we are not sure if Jonah is the killer, but we are sure there's someone else with him who might be. It would be best if you could help us find your son. He could be in danger too," Nick explained, his voice low and understanding. The woman held his eyes for a moment, then slowly nodded, the anger about her son's possible involvement with murder replaced by fear for his safety.

"How can I help you?" she asked and Grissom's eyebrows twitched in surprise, while Brass simply gave Nick his nod of approval.

"Why don't we go to the kitchen, so I can ask you a few questions about Jonah, while my colleagues look at his room?"

Mrs. Webster looked shyly at her husband, who was already back to watching the TV and pointedly ignored everyone around. So she just shrugged and led the way to the kitchen, while Nick nodded at Grissom. He could start processing the room without any unneeded attention.

"What do you want to know about Jonah?" Mrs. Webster asked, once they were sitting in the kitchen. She had her back turned to Nick, trying to save the lunch she was making before they knocked on the door. Nick smelled some broth and roasted chicken Well, it might've been a little burned by now, his nose told him, but Mrs Webster obviously didn't think so as she still left it in the oven to finish.

"Do you know where Jonah lives?" Nick finally asked, trying not to grimace at the sour tasting coffee the woman served him.

"No, I don't." Mrs. Webster said with a uneasy shrug. "I... maybe I am not the best mother, but I took good care of him when he was small. I wanted him to study, so he could earn a scholarship to a better school, get a good job and get out of this neighbourhood." Her voice trembled a little and when she started slicing the onions forthe salad Nick had a feeling it was only so she could hide her puffy eyes.

"What happened?" he asked gently.

"I don't know," Mrs Webster stopped slicing for a moment, knife poised in mid air, shrugging. "When he was fourteen, his grades were lower for almost the whole year, but then Jack and I had a serious talk with him about his studies. The next week he brought home an A for Maths and History. In a month he became the top student in his class and I was really happy. But then he started acting weird. He was moody. Sometimes he was bouncing off the walls, just to get suddenly too tired to move a finger. I thought it was puberty, but..." she sniffed and Nick had to rub at his eyes too, because the onions were strong and he had to blink away the tears.

"He turned to drugs," Nick added when Mrs Webster stayed silent. "And the school found out, right?"

"They let him finish the year, then he had to leave. They put my son into a drug rehab centre, but... he ran away."

"Did he ever contact you after that?"

"Oh, yes. Sometimes he came home for a sleepover, some food... or to ask for money."

"You hadn't tried to take him back to rehab?" Nick wondered and this time the mother looked at him, her eyes angry.

"Of course I tried! But he always took off and I wouldn't call the cops on my own son."

"But you must to know that he has a juvenile record."

The woman snorted.

"For stealing a car, and other minor offenses. He hadn't done anything stupid for almost a year now."

"From the time he turned eighteen, you mean," Nick added and the woman nodded, giving a half-hearted sigh.

"My son isn't a bad person, Mr. Stokes." The woman turned to him, the knife held limply in her hand. "He just lost his way."

He was back in the conference room once again, even though he should've been at home, getting some much-needed sleep. But they all felt that they were getting closer and that the killer may get more nervous. So they spread out all the evidence, listed it on the white board and allowed themselves a few minutes of silence, before Nick started relaying his conversation with Mrs Webster. Detective Brass and Grissom were both listening, each fighting their own tiredness, Jim with another cup of strong coffee, while Grissom tried not to think about his building migraine and how an aspirin wasn't nearly as good at combating it as his meds. But then there wouldn't be much keeping him awake and he didn't needthat right now.

"What about his friends, Nicky? Did you ask her?" Brass asked with a frown.

"She didn't know about anyone. I still think the other guy would be older than Jonah," Nick mused.

"He's a professional," Grissom said suddenly and both men looked at him in surprise.

"Who, Jonah?"

"No, the other one. Did you notice that every piece of the evidence is leading to Jonah, but there is nothing about the other man? Only a few footprints that tell us nothing. No prints, no DNA. He had gloves and a good knowledge of police work."

"You think he's killed before?"

"Yes, and I think he will again. If he didn't intend to kill again, he would get rid of Jonah," Grissom stated calmly, which brought him two doubtful looks.

"Care to tell us why you think so?" Brass asked after a second, seeing that Grissom wasn't about to elaborate on the subject without a push.

"Just think about it, Jim. We've got one professional who doesn't leave any evidence, but drags a kid with a record along, and doesn't even make sure he wears gloves."

"Maybe he didn't know Jonah had a juvie record," Nick pointed out and Grissom shrugged.

"It's not important, Nicky. If he wanted to work with him for a longer time , he would make sure there's absolutely nothing left on the scene that would point to Jonah, because if we catch Jonah, we will have the other one too. He plans to get rid of him, most probably kill him so it would look like a suicide, with a pretty confession written up just for us... and for the news. The case will be closed and he could just walk away."

"But this doesn't make much sense if the other guy is a fanatic too," Nick objected.

"I told you this is a copy-cat work, Nicky. And right now I think it's all just a fool play, to lead us off the trail. We should concentrate on the victims. There has to be something that's connecting them."

"Which makes me wonder, do you know who the second victim is?" Grissom turned at Brass.

"Sorry, no. I'm still waiting for a positive identification, but if I have to say, we won't get it until twenty-four hours have passed. So probably tomorrow morning."

"What if no one reports him missing?" Nick asked wearily.

"Then we will use the Media, though I would really like to evade them. Once we set them off, it would be impossible to get rid of them and the last thing we need is another serial killer panic brought on by news."

Nick had to agree with that statement.

He didn't know what to do. He was on the verge of an adrenaline rush, but he knew it would wear off before the Master came back. That wasn't what troubled him though. The presence of the police at his parent's house did. How did they know it was him? And more importantly – did they come to arrest him?

Once he returned to his apartment, he couldn't stop but ask the same question again and again. Should he tell his Master?

The man asked him, before this all started, if he had any records with the police, if someone had his fingerprints or DNA. He'd said no. And he'd lied.

Jonah knew his fingerprints were recorded when they brought him in for stealing that damn car, but he also knew that it was all in his juvie records, which should've been closed some six months ago, when he turned eighteen. But obviously, the records weren't as sealed as Jonah hoped for and the cops had found his prints on one of the bodies.

He growled in frustration and hit the wall with his open palm. If they knew who he was it was just a matter of time till they put his photo into the news and started to look for him. Once that happened, the Master wouldlearn about his lie and punish him. Jonah didn't even want to think about what kind of punishment the Master would give him. He'd seen what the man was capable of and suddenly his stomach churned as the fear hit him. Would the Master send him away? Or would he decide his lie was deserving of a more serious punishment?

Jonah swallowed and shook his head, trying to steer off the panic. No, his Master was good. He'd pulled him from the street, stopped him from doing something foolish. He wouldn't hurt him. The police didn't know where he was now; there was no way they could know. Slowly, Jonah started to relax. He must think positively. Maybe the police hadn't come after him. Hell, he hadn't been home for three years, if he didn't count the few nights he'd spent in his room sleeping, mostly when he hadn'tfound any place to crash for the night and it was too cold to stay outside. Maybe something happened in the neighbourhood, some burglary and the cops came to investigate, look for any witnesses. Yes, that was it. Jonah sighed in relief and sagged into the couch, suddenly feeling spent. His hand slid into his pants pocket and pulled out one of the small packages of crystal meth. Jonah's face lit up in a smile. He'd escaped the police and he'd got what he went looking for. It was a good day, and a reason for a good trip.

The ringing of the cell phone was making him nervous. He knew who was on the other end and he contemplated whether to pick up and talk to him several times, but then he realised where the conversation would lead. So he turned off the cell and stayed still, waiting and watching. He knew the boy was somehow connected with the murder, why otherwise would he run away when the CSI's entered the building?

He'd been following the criminalists the whole day and even though he didn't know what they talked about or who were they looking for, once he spotted the young man jumping off the fire escape and almost running toward the car, he knew he had to follow him. So he did. The kid stopped paying attention the second he realised the cops weren't behind him so he hadn't had to be extra careful. Once they both parked before a three-storey apartment building, he'd pulled out his binoculars and watched, thankful that he had bought a car with darkened glass.

Once or twice in the last two hours he saw the young man looking out of the window, as if waiting at someone. That was the only reason he wasn't already up at his door and beating the crap out of the kid. He just knew there must be someone else involved.

His waiting paid off when another car pulled up before the apartment building and a well-built man in his mid forties got out. The man warily looked around him, scanning his surroundings, then risked a look at the window the other one had been looking out from before.

The man in the black Landrover allowed himself a small grin, before he turned on his cell phone and dialled the number.

After two rings, a weary voice answered.

"Stokes," the criminalist grumbled, as if he was just pulled out of sleep.

"Nick, it's me, Travis. I think you should come."

TBC