Author's Note: We're coming closer and closer to the end...! Thanks to everyone who has stuck with me so far, YOU ROCK! Hugs to all.

Here's to chapter eleven! Hurrah!

"Gil," Catherine called softly, stepping into the darkened office. At first, she was met with silence, but then it was quickly filled with Grissom's ragged breaths. Finding her way towards him in the dark, she could see his shaking profile outlined by the small sliver of light seeping through the bottom of the door.

"Catherine, I just want to find her. I want her back, I need her back. Catherine, you've got to help me." This last bit was said as a desperate whisper.

"Shh," she soothed gently, her hands smoothing small circles on his back. "Gil, we'll find her. Don't worry. I promise you, we will find Sara, she'll be alive, and you can let her know just how much you really do care." Grissom nodded slowly, not being able to form full and coherent thoughts, never mind sentences.

OoOoOoOoO

Brass's cell phone rang, jarring him from his thoughts. "Yes?" he answered gruffly.

"Captain Brass? This is Officer Moralez. You know that man that you had in custody earlier? The guy you questioned in connection to your missing CSI?"

"Max Aldwell?"

"Yeah, him."

"What about him?"

"He says he knows where she is."

Brass found Sofia and with her help, he managed to round up the whole graveyard shift, herding them into his office. "We've had a development," he said, looking around the room with a grim expression on his face.

OoOoOoOoO

Max grinned at Sara as he hung up the phone. "Well, I've just called Gil and his friends. They should be here soon. And when they arrive, we're going to have some real fun."

Sara paled as icy cold fear gripped her heart, plunging her into a self-made darkness.

OoOoOoOoO

"What kind of development, Brass?" Grissom asked slowly, trying to keep his anger in check. If this was another inane lead to finding Sara, he was not in the mood.

"Max Aldwell, the man we had in custody earlier, just phoned in to say that he knows where Sara is," Brass started to explain.

"WHAT?" Grissom exploded, bringing his hand down on the wood of his friend's desk. "He knows where she is? He knew all along, and you just let him go!?"

"Gil," Brass said gruffly, leveling him with a steely glare. "We had no reason to hold him, and he just called now."

"Does he have her? Does that stupid son of a bitch have her?"

"Gil, we don't know. We really don't. He said to meet him at the hotel."

"The Luxor?" Catherine asked, finally speaking.

"Yes."

"Then let's go," Warrick said, standing up.

"Wait," Nick said, looking up at his friend. "What did you get from the rag in Trace?"

Warrick looked at the sheet in his hand. "Straight up halothane," he answered solemnly. "Just like Grissom said."

Greg spoke up the first time in recent hours. "Great! Okay, we have halothane and a supposedly solid lead. Where does that leave us now?! We've talked, we've yelled, and hell, we've even threatened to cause bodily harm to one another. It's becoming glaringly obvious that none of this is helping us find Sara, so can we all please just shut the hell up!" This outburst marked the first time that the youngest CSI had spoken since he had first learned of Sara's disappearance. His tone and anger had effectively shocked the others into a complacent silence. "Can we please go find Sara now?" he continued softly, "I really miss her."

"You all heard Greg. Let's go," Grissom said after a minute. He shakily pushed himself to his feet, and made his way to the hall.

OoOoOoOoO

The graveyard CSIs quickly made their way to the Luxor; they'd been there so often in the past twenty-four hours that Brass was thinking of calling himself a loyal client. Coming to a halt at the front desk once again, they were greeted by yet another desk clerk, this one an elderly man named Joe.

"Joe," Brass said, glancing quickly at his nameplate and holding up a picture, "have you seen this man here today?"

"Yep. Sure have."

"Does he have a room?"

"Well, I'd have to check…"

"Please, do."

"Okay." He pulled his computer mouse towards him, looking for room records. After a few minutes of clicking and typing, he looked back at Brass and smiled. "Here we go… Ryan Belittle, room 703, floor seven."

Greg looked up, confusion written all over his young face. Their suspect's name was Max Aldwell, not Ryan Belittle, and he started to point out as much when Catherine stepped in front of him. "Thank you for your help, Joe. We'll go see him now." Catherine pulled on Greg's arm, leading him away from the small group. "Greg, I know he said that our guy's name was different than the one he gave us, but remember that criminals assume identities all the time. Don't get confused."

"Yeah, okay," Greg said, pulling away from her gently. "I get it."

"Sorry Greggo, I just didn't want you to let anything slip without realizing. You never know who has what connections."

"I wouldn't have, you know."

"I just want to find Sara for Gil, alive, and I didn't mean any disrespect for your abilities. I just really want to find her."

"I get it Cath, it's okay." He smiled softly, conveying his understanding in silence.

"Good. Let's go."

They quickly followed Brass and Sofia to the elevator, where the tired group rode to the seventh floor, no on making a sound. Upon reaching their destination, the two detectives drew their weapons and motioned for everyone behind them to stay quiet and to be at the ready should anything go badly.

Slowly moving his way down the hall, Brass looked for room 703. Halfway down, he found what he was looking for and stepped to the side, gun in hand. Sofia moved to the opposite side, and the uniformed officer, who had come as back up, rapped briskly on the door.

"Las Vegas Police. Open up!"

to be continued...