A/N: After the Holidays I am back with another chapter, thanks to those who reviewed the previous ones, and to my great beta TangledPencils.

Fire and Water

by Nicol Leoraine

Chapter 19

"Have you slept at all?" Warrick Brown asked when he saw the barely suppressedyawn and Grissom's tired look. The other man nodded, not caring about giving a more elaborate reply simply because it would take too much effort. He'd managed to leave the scene at the Canyon in the early morning hours, just after the dogs had led them to the hut.Grissom, along with Catherine and Warrick who had joined them earlier, checked it out being extra careful about the prints on the ground. After they were done, Grissom let Catherine handle the rest of the work and was taken home by one of the cops at the scene.

He'd taken a quick shower, only then feeling some of his bruises and the stinging of the water on the tiny cuts on his face from where the window in the car was shattered by the bullet. He was still lucky to be alive and with that thought he'd crawled into bed and fallenasleep. Just like had Nick thought, he was woken up by the call from Brass who informed him about the progress they'd made. Grissom, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, grumbled a reply and ended the call, already halfway towards the kitchen and some coffee. Ten minutes later he'd felt almost human when he called Warrick, asking to meet him at the place of the first victim – Jamie Collins.

Now he stood in the centre of the living room, idly and distractedly wondering why Jamie hadn't taken her husband's name after they'd married but then he realized that it was now 'in' for women to keep their own names. Shaking off the thought, Grissom tried to concentrate on the task at hand. They weren't sure what they were looking for. Maybe some notes, a letter, or newspaper clippings. They only knew that if Jamie was on a lead, she would keep some kind of notes. Every journalist did. The only question was where, and how to find it.

The work was made a little easier by the fact that the CSI's didn't have to treat the house as a crime scene. Sure they had gloves and were paying careful attention to the surroundings, trying to leave the rooms as intact as possible, but they weren't looking for fingerprints, hair, DNA or other hardly visible evidence.

"I'll take the rooms upstairs," Grissom told Warrick and left the downstairs for the younger man.

"Anything in particular we're looking for?" Warrick asked standing in the hall, while Grissom made his way up the stairs.

"Anything mentioning Howard Jerry or the Fedderson case from last year. She was in the jury."

Warrick's eyebrows rose upon hearing the name and he grimaced.

"Well, no wonder someone wanted her dead then. That case was a mess," he muttered, already out of Grissom's hearing range. With a shake of his head, Warrick decided that the best place to start the search would definitely be the study and he headed for it.

Half an hour later, Grissom's phone rang. It was Jim Brass. Grissom was in the middle of the bedroom, looking under the mattress on the bed on the off chance that Jamie may have hidden something, perhaps a diary, there. No luck.

"Grissom," he took the call as he straightened up, frowning as he gazed around the room, hoping for inspiration as to where to look next.

"Hey Gil, we checked the telephone records and guess who called Jamie three times during the last month?"

"Howard Jerry," Grissom said and imagined the nod in reply from Brass.

"Right on first time. Now, the last call came three days before Jamie was killed and she called him back that same day. Guess they had more than just one talk."

"Check out the names on the list, see if any of them attended the trial. They will either be the next victims or they'll know what's going on."

"I'm already on it, Griss. How are you doing?"

"We haven'tfound anything interesting, yet." Grissom sighed and rubbed at his eyes. The few hours of sleep he'd had just weren't enough and he had to shake his head when for a second all he heard was static. He blinked and just caught the end of the sentence coming from the phone.

"-I left him at the lab," Brass said and Grissom frowned.

"Sorry Jim, I missed that. Who?"

"Nick. When we finished at the hospital, we stopped at the station. He gave quite a good description of that Master guy to our sketch artist. I already sent it out to all the patrols. Then I left him at the lab. He wasn't very happy about it, I tell you."

"Well, it's not our fault the doctor hasn't cleared him for the field," Grissom said with a frustrated sigh, although secretly he was glad the younger CSI was out of harm'sway, for the moment at least. What happened last night was a little too close for Grissom's liking.

"Somehow I have a feeling not even a clear bill would've made you bring him into that house," Brass said in amused voice and Grissom could only agree in silence.

"He'll have to leave this to…" He stopped when he heard Warrick's voice coming from downstairs.

"Grissom!"

"I have to go, Jim." Without waiting for a reply, Grissom disconnected the call and headed down the stairs, Warrick already standing at the bottom, his gloved hands holding a small diary, eyes glowing with excitement.

"I've found it, man. And it explains everything!"

-xXxXx-

Nick paced the small room like a caged tiger. The rest of the night shift were out working, but he was excluded from it. All he could do was sit there and help out in the lab, while Grissom and Warrick were out in Travis' home, going through his wife's things, while Catherine and Sara were at Jerry's place, doing the same. Now that there was a connection between the two victims, they logically tried to find some evidence. Maybe Jamie had made some notes maybe Howard Jerry called her before she was killed. Nick knew only that he wanted to be there, needed it.

But the damn doctor had barely cleared him for lab duty. Field work was out of question until his stitches came out, as the doctor had strictly forbidden him any bending, crawling or other 'strenuous' activity that could pull some of the stitches. But working on the field meant just that...it was all about bending, kneeling in the most uncomfortable positions just so the CSI could reach the tiniest bit of evidence hidden somewhere under the couch: something that Nick wasn't allowed to do.

So after arriving at the office and facing several curious stares from other coworkers, Nick literally holed up in his Supervisor's office. Now with every step toward the wall, he was facing some species of a bug or other critter. It took him about ten minutes of pacing to realize that he didn't need to be at Jamie's house to come up with answers. All he needed was his computer and the time to do some digging…and he currently had a lot of time.A little while later, Nick was sitting on the couch in the break room, wincing as he tried to find the best position that didn't hurt his side, while also allowing him easy access to the files he'd brought there. They were all concerning the Fedderson case and Nick prepared himself for a long read.

Louis Fedderson had been a man in his mid thirties and already a millionaire. He was born in Vegas and he'd once said that with all probability he'd die there too, not realizing how prophetic his words really were. He wasn't into the hazard of gambling, nor did he find any interest in the big world of Casinos, Hotels and Clubs. His specialty of choice was drugs.

Nick didn't have to read through the man's history to know he started out a small time dealer, gradually expanding his business to the point where he didn't have to risk selling the stuff himself. And the only time he came in contact with it was when he shook hands with someone down in Mexico who sold the ingredients. The risk was on his men who took care of everything. Louis Fedderson was smart, as were the men he worked with. The DEA had only pieces of information, none of which was enough to put Fedderson behind bars. Not for drugs.

But life could be weird and it caught up with Louis Fedderson in an unexpected way. On one very hot night, almost two years ago, he found his girlfriend in bed with another man and killed them both. It should've been an easy case and finally a chance to get Fedderson off the streets, but something went wrong. The key witness suddenly changed his statement, evidence was lost somewhere on its way to the court. The jury had no choice but to find Fedderson not guilty.

Of course most people knew that something went wrong. There was really no doubt that Fedderson killed those two in cold blood and deserved to be put in jail. But the prosecutor couldn't convince the witness to retract his second statement, and the evidence had been lost. Fedderson was freed. It didn't matter that almost six months later he was killed when a bomb went off in his car. The cops never found the culprit for that either.

Nick stirred, feeling the muscles in his leg cramp. He put down the files and stretched, mindful of his sidewhich had started aching once again.

He understood that the case was a mess, it was quite clear that someone was paid to sabotage it. But the question was, who? And what did that have to do with Jamie and Howard Jerry?

The jury wasn't important in this case. The prosecutor practically had to drop the case. There was no sense in threatening or paying off some members of the jury, thus there was no reason to kill them now. Could it be some angry relative of one of the two victims? But why kill the jury, if Fedderson was already dead? It wasn't making any sense.

The only thing Nick could come up with was that Jamie and Howard Jerry witnessed something they weren't supposed to, but that wasn't making any sense at this time. If that was the case though, something had happened not so long ago, something that started the killings.

Nick shook his head with frustration and looked at his watch, realizing with surprise that he'd been sitting there more than two hours. No wonder he was so stiff. But that also meant that the others should be coming back soon, if they already hadn't. Putting all the files together and taking them with him, Nick left the break room in search of the other CSI's.

-xXxXx-

"Maybe I won't have to kill you after all."

Jonah shuddered when he remembered those words and for a moment he wondered if the Master meant them. Was his life in danger?

He threw a glance at the man whowas now sitting behind the desk, the white bandage around his arm stained by blood from where the cop's bullet had hit him. The only thing that made the Master a little satisfied was the fact that the cop was hit too, however minor that injury might be.

Jonah watched as the Master pulled on his shirt. When he looked up at him though Jonah's eyes turned away.

"There are some things we should make clear, Jonah," the Master spoke sternly and Jonah heard the movement of the chair only a second before the hand landed on the back of his head with a resounding slap. Jonah looked up, startled, and Master tightly smiled.

"I want you to look at me when I speak, understood?"

Jonah nodded, then quickly added: "Yes, Master."

"Good. Now that I have your 'attention'..." the Master's eyes locked with Jonah's and suddenly he had the urge to swallow the big rock that appeared in his throat. That look was deep and threatening, more than the words could ever be.

"I promise you, Jonah... you lie to me, or go against my orders once more, and it will be the last thing you do. You will wish for the kind of death our victims had. Is that clear?"

"Y-yeah," Jonah stuttered and took a step back. The Master smiled and cocked his head, as if thinking. He opened his mouth to say something, but stopped and frowned. Jonah blinked, when the man pulled out a cell phone from his pocket. It hadn't rung; he must've had it set on vibrate.

The Master looked at the display and his face turned into a scary frown.

It was a text message and the master quickly read through it, then automatically erased it, looking slightly disgusted.

"Change of plans. Get some sleep. You'll need to be prepared."

"For what?" Jonah asked carefully, the feeling of dread stronger than ever.

"The cops are too close on our trail. We'll have to finish it, before they figure out who our next target is. We have to make a move tonight."

TBC

A/N: For not much longer. Maybe two or three more chapters, but it's coming to a conclusion soon, I promise lol.

By the way, reviews are a really nice thing -BG-