Nick and Greg were not able to remake a video because of how damaged the film was. Instead they laid each frame out on the table and were able create a timeline based on the time stamps. However, during the time where Sara was said to have disappeared, there had been so much damage that a clear image was hard to create. To the two CSI's, they had no doubt that it had been deliberate.

"What does this look like to you?" Greg asked, swiveling his rolling chair closer to Nick ad extending a magnifying glass.

Nick took it and squinted through the lens. "A leg?" he said.

Greg nodded. "I thought so to," he said. "This was taken at the kitchen exit about thirty minutes after D.B had last seen Sara.

Nick raised his eyebrows. "Is it someone going or some coming?"

Greg set the photo down and picked up another. "This one is taken thirty minutes before Sara vanished," he said, pointing to a blurry image. "the exit was used both times."

~0~

When the district attorney was finished with her, Sara did not speak. She turned her head and looked at the wall as he dressed himself. It disgusted her to realize how careful he was with his outward appearance and how his inward self was revolting. When he had slid on his jacket, Sara realized that she did have one question for him.

"Why me?" Sara asked, keeping her face towards the wall.

Sara waited for an answer and for a moment she thought that she wasn't going to get one. Finally she heard him clear his throat.

"Because I have been embarrassed by CSI's," he answered.

Sara rolled over and willed herself to look at the man who had just taken advantage of her. She couldn't believe that his excuse for rape was that her colleagues had knocked his ego around.

"That's a bullshit excuse," she said.

The man shrugged and left the room. "I had a pleasant time," he said.

~0~

D.B Russell heard a knock and his office door and looked up to see Gil Grissom at the door. He looked more rested, but worry could be seen in the form of wrinkles across his forehead. D.B waved the man in and stepped out from behind the desk.

"I believe this was originally yours," he said, motioning for Gil to have a seat.

Gil took one of the seats in front of the long desk. "I am fine here," he said. "anything new?"

D.B shook his head. "Brass was able to get the video footage but it was damaged. Nick and Greg are working on it now. The scene was released so if we want to go back we'll need a warrant."

Gil tented his fingers and rested his chin on the tips. "It's been nearly two days," he said with sadness behind his voice. "Every moment that goes by is a moment she slips further away."

"That isn't going to happen," D.B said, sure of himself. "Sara is tough. She has more guts than I do."

Gil agreed. "She has iron will," he stated "but she can get rattled. I am worried for her."

D.B took this moment to speak frankly. "You still love her," he said. "Long distance is hard. My wife is in Seattle most of the time."

Gil looked up at the man. "So you know," he said. "I thought she needed to live her life. I thought that maybe I wasn't what she needed right now."

D.B understood. "Women can be confusing," he said.

Despite the moment, Gil let himself chuckle. "They are," he agreed.

The two men grew serious again. "We'll find her," D.B said.

~0~

Sara limped back into The Sleeping Room and groaned as she lowered herself to her bed. She had been visited so many times that she lost count. The only thing that kept her sane was the plan and hope of escape. Her brain tried to drift to thoughts of Gil, but she did not want to relate his image to any part of this place. Gil would be her welcomed sight and she did not want to taint his memory by pining for him or hoping he would rescue her. He was here looking for her, but it was her job to stay alive so that she could get away or be found. She looked over at Amber's bed and saw that the young girl was asleep in a ball. There were streaks of blood trickling down from between her legs. Sara rose and put her hand on the girl.

"Amber," She said. "Let's go wash up."

Sara shook the girl, but she did not respond. A sick feeling washed over her and she choked back a sob. She rolled the girl towards her and saw that her eyes were open and staring. Sara put her hand over her mouth and felt burning tears spill over. She put her two fingers to the Amber's carotid artery and felt no pulse. Anger boiled inside of her as she remembered the conversation they had the night before.

"Seventeen," Amber had said.

She looked at the other girls and saw that they too were shaken by Amber's death, but they had more-than-likely seemed to not be disturbed as much as she was. Perhaps they thought that death was a more welcoming possibility than a future in this place. Sara's mind raced as she thought of the multiple reasons that caused the girl's death: overdose, blunt force, shock, asphyxiation, or heart failure. Anything in this house of horrors could have caused her deterioration. Behind her she heard a pair of heavy boots stop in the hall directly in front of the door. Sara looked back to see Thick Beard look in at the dead girl and call for Mustache. He walked to retrieve something to dispose of the body with and Sara knew that she had to act. She had to make sure that Amber was not just a lost, unidentified body in Las Vegas. Looking around she noticed a nail sticking out of one of the boards in the window. She reached over, drew the nail across her pinkie, lifted up the girl's shirt, and wrote a message. In just a few moments Thick Beard and Mustache appeared and heaved the girl off the bed, thumped her onto an unrolled rug in the hallway, trundled her up, and secured it shut with packing tape.

~0~

It hadn't rained since the night Sara disappeared, but the wind had been blowing. Being hopeful that there was still some useable evidence in the dirt, Gil and Nick went back to the hotel to scan the property. Since the outside area was considered 'in plain view' then it did not require a warrant.

"Careful," Gil said. "Take a picture of anything that looks like it could resemble something useful."

The two men separated and looked over the grounds. Gil worked his way back towards the kitchen exit and stopped to examine the rail. He noticed a smear of brown and pulled a swab out of his vest pocket. He rubbed it slightly and dripped solution on the edge. It turned bright purple and for a moment every possible horrible scenario ran through his head. He imagined an unconscious Sara being carried out the door, her head making contact with the rail.

"Nick, I have blood," Gil called.

"Griss," Gil turned around to look at the younger CSI. "You need to see this. We need to call Brass."

Gil did not feel his feet move, but he knew he was running nonetheless. "Is it her?" he asked.

"Griss..I-," Nick started, but Gil could hear it in his voice that he did not know for sure.

Nick led him to a dumpster that was at the far end of the property. Gil hoisted himself up effortlessly and landed in the middle of the piled garbage. On top was a rolled up carpet with a tell-tale bloodstain. It was wrapped tightly with clear boxing tape as to prevent leakage. Outside the dumpster, Gil heard Nick contacting Brass and D.B. Gil could not stop himself. His better judgment told him that he was tampering with evidence, but his heart screamed the possibility that it was Sara.

"Do you have a knife?" Gil asked.

"Griss…" Nick said sympathetically.

Gil grew louder. "Knife, Nick!"

Nick handed his old supervisor a box cutter and pulled himself inside the dumpster to help the older man; it was a sense of desperation that made them want to unwind the carpet. Gil slide the edge of the blade along the tape and it separated. Nick pulled pieces of it away and dropped it outside the dumpster. Together the two men lifted the rug and began to unroll it. A decay smell poured out at them and they worked through the urge to vomit. Finally, the rug fell away and Gil let out a sigh.

"It isn't her," he said.

When David and Brass arrived they cornered off the scene and waited while David checked the Jane Doe for an estimated time of death. As the young medical examiner lifted up the girl's shirt he stopped and did a double take.

"Um, guys," David called. "You may want to check this out."

Brass and Gil walked over to David and kneeled. They both widened their eyes and stooped for a closer look. On the diaphragm of the victim was a short message scrawled in blood. It looked as if it was done in a hurry and with a shaky hand.

"Judge Milton Knows," David read. "What do you think it means?"

Gil smiled. "Good girl," he said.

~0~

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