Disclaimer: I don't own Grissom or Sara; Charleston, Mount Pleasant, Pet Keepers, etc. Ehm, from this point on any persons that resemble anyone is strictly coincidental. Yeah.

Where the real meets the mind…

'Smiling Faces, Beautiful Places.' That's what their license plates said, and for the most part it was true. But even 'Beautiful places' have a dark side.

She was found in a dumpster in a not so savvy section of downtown Charleston. At first police just thought her a homeless person who'd been looking for shelter and heat among the garbage, but upon a second look, noticed that she was wearing scrubs and was fairly clean. After turning up several dead ends the Charleston police were reluctant to ask for outside help, but upon hearing Grissom's name (he was known nationwide by now) quickly agreed to turn the case over.

Grissom and Sara agreed to look at the body and go from there. Upon arrival at the coroner's office Grissom was given access to anything he might need. He and Sara went straight to the back of the building to look at the body.

"Where's the light switch? Ah." Flicking the lights on they glanced around the room. It was a clean, good sized room of mostly stainless steel. On the far wall were drawers that housed corpses. A nice size autopsy table sat in the center of the room with the girl's body lying atop it. On another table were stacked her clothing and items found in the same vicinity that she was.

Sara walked up to the body for a closer look at the girl's face. She barely hooked old enough to be out of college.

"At least she looks peaceful."

Grissom nodded. "Yeah, but that probably also means she knew her killer."

"You've already decided that this was a murder? What do you base that on? We haven't looked at anything yet."

"First blush. She was wearing scrubs—med student? Doctor? There's a well known medical university downtown. Her hair is short and parted which means she probably had a home. Homeless people generally don't worry about that sort of thing. She's got a watch tan on her left wrist and a ring tan on her left ring finer. Possibly married? However, her cuticles are all chewed up so she worried about something, and her nails are short, they look bitten which—again—implies worry. Murder? I just have a hunch. But if doing this job for 20 years has taught me anything, it's not to ignore hunches. This girl was murdered. Let's find us a killer."

Sara sat down on a stool near the table. "Ok. What do we know?"

Leaning against the counter Grissom laid out the new information they'd been given by the Charleston police. "Her name is Emily Richardson. Age: 24. She lived with her sister and worked at a nearby boarding facility. She had no overt enemies and was active in her church."

"Wow, so that's quite possibly a lot of suspects and at least four possible leads: the dumpster she was found in, her house, work, and church. Having been thrown in a dumpster sends the message 'you're garbage'—this could have been personal."

Grissom smiled, throwing Sara off until he spoke. "Miss the guys yet?"

The gang had taken the first flight to Charleston after receiving Grissom's call. They were only too happy to leave Vegas in the hands of Swing shift and Ecklie while going to the beach to help their friends with a case. Greg, in particular, was excited about the girls who would be on beach. "Ha, ha! Charleston is a college town!" he'd exclaimed excitedly as they were taking off.

When they arrived the team was caught up on the engagement (to no one's surprise) and what was known about the case. Greg was sent dumpster diving, which he didn't really mind because the college was situated in the middle of downtown. Catherine went to find the sister. Nick and Warrick went to the kennel, which left Grissom and Sara with the church.

"Ha! Stubby. What a great name for a dog with little legs."

"Yeah, well just be glad your momma didn't name you Velcro."

Nick and Warrick were walking through the kennel where Emily had worked. They decided to give the place a comb over before outright interrogating anyone.

Nick stopped at a cage with a fat little terrier in it that was barking its head off.

"Aw, Jeremy…what's wrong buddy?" he moved to stick two fingers between the bars when they heard a timid voice behind them.

"Uh, I wouldn't do that if I were you."

A young man in his early twenties dressed in burgundy scrubs stood before them rocking on his heels. A fine layer of blonde hair covered his pale head and his eyes peered at them above a mischievous grin.

"Who are you?" Nick was a bid offended at being reprimanded. It was just a dog…and a little one at that.

"Matt. I work here—and I wouldn't do that."

"Why not?" Warrick smiled. Nick was getting a bit feisty.

"Oh, he's bitten a hole through another dog's foot…"

The young man turned to leave still mumbling before Warrick spun him back around. "Hey-don't go far. We're gonna want to talk to you."

"Fun stuff," he replied before disappearing behind the door.

The two CSIs looked at each other. Nick grudgingly moved away from the terrier. "Man, what do you make of that guy?"

Warrick lifted his hands palms up in response. "I don't know, but something's definitely off about him. We'll keep an eye on him. In the meantime I think we should talk to the manager and receptionist. They would probably have a better idea of what's going on."

Nick reached over to bet the fat little dachshund one more time. "Catcha later Stubbs."

Catherine arrived at the address listed as Emily's home at about the same time the guys got to the kennel. Hmm, must be nice to live so close to work, she thought to herself as she walked up to the door and knocked.

A young lady answered the door after about two minutes. Catherine had considered leaving, but there were two cars in the driveway, indicating that someone was bound to be home, so she decided to try knocking one more time—more forcefully.

"Can I help you?

"Hi, I'm Catherine Willows, Las Vegas Crime Lab. Are you Bonnie?" The girl nodded so she continued, "I'm here in town helping with your sister's case. I'd like to ask you a few questions."

Bonnie sighed and crossed her arms. "Fine, mind if I smoke?" The question was somewhat moot as she proceeded to sit on the porch steps and light up.

Catherine raised her eyebrows and moved to where she could see the girl's face as she spoke. She could already tell that she was in for an interesting, if not long, conversation.

A/N: I'm sorry for the lack of updates. Life happens. I have not given up on this story...completely. Truth be told I've been somewhat reluctant to write for fear of it not being any good. Life's still happening, I'm going out of town again this weekend, but maybe I'll find some time to write. I really would appreciate feedback, mostly encouragement. Thanks for hanging in there.