The tires squealed as the van lurched to a rough stop. Kyle rolled onto his back. The people in the front of the van stepped out and slammed their doors shut. Kyle strained to hear their footsteps. The double back doors to the van opened and bright sunlight streamed in, momentarily blinding the teenager. He squinted against it, fought to see who stood in front of him.

Two burly men, one that he recognized from the house, stood beside each opened door. They stared down at him impassively. He heard a car door slam from somewhere behind the men and then the sound of lazy footsteps, sauntering towards them.

"Get em up," Ron Saris commanded.

They both reached in simultaneously, grabbing Kyle and Julia's arms roughly. Kyle was dragged from the van and set on his feet, but the muscular arm never left his bicep. Julia was struggling to stay awake and on her feet. The man behind her held her by both arms as her head hung drunkenly in front.

Kyle took a few moments to study his surroundings. They were in a shipyard, and a heavy duty one at that. Large cranes loomed over them but the dock looked empty. Twilight painted the entire scene in a hazy orange. 'It must be quitting time,' Kyle thought to himself. 'Everyone's gone home.' And that meant no help would be forthcoming for his current predicament.

Ron was grinning at them, undoubtedly delighted with their misfortune at his own hands. "Well, well, well. Aren't we just one big happy family?"

Kyle glared at him.

Ron took off his sunglasses, rubbed one arm absently with his thumb as he studied Julia's staggering form. "Wow. You're a mess." He walked over to her, cradled her chin in one hand and forced her to look up at him. "We coulda' been happy together. I don't know why you let that snake into our home."

Kyle flinched as though he'd been physically slapped. Ron was calling his father a snake. He found it a bit hypocritical. He would have called him on it too, if it weren't for the annoying piece of duct tape covering his mouth. Ron eyed him suddenly, as if reading his thoughts.

"You got a problem with me kid?"

Kyle stared at him evenly.

Ron casually walked towards him until he was looming over top of his face. He cocked his head as he surveyed the young man in front of him. "Never did like the looks of you, you know that Kyle?"

Kyle continued to hold his gaze.

Ron grabbed him at the base of his neck and squeezed hard. Kyle cringed. "You look too much like your father." He abruptly let him go and turned his back on them both, walking towards the blue convertible. There was a soft click as Ron pressed a button on his keyless entry. "Get them ready," he yelled over his shoulder as he slid into the driver's seat.

The wail of sirens pierced the pretentious serenity of the high-class suburb that Julia Winston inhabited. Horatio Caine rode shotgun in the CSI Hummer that was being handled expertly by Calleigh Duquesne. Although Calleigh often looked and sounded like a perfect southern belle, those that knew her well also knew her appreciation for firearms and her aggressive driving skills.

"She treats the freeway like it's her own personal Nascar track," Eric Delko had once commented lightly to Horatio. At the moment, it was an ability that Horatio wouldn't have traded for the world.

Calleigh weaved in and out of lanes, keeping both eyes glued to the rode even as she listened in attentively to Horatio's telephone conversation with Frank Tripp. "I heard his voice Frank; I know it was Ron Saris." Calleigh accelerated around a slow moving mini-van and got back into her lane. "Meet me there," Horatio said before snapping his phone shut. Calleigh glanced at Horatio. He rubbed his forehead, then started drumming the armrest impatiently.

"We'll get there," Calleigh assured him.

Horatio continued to stare at the road ahead of him.

Police cars already swarmed the house. Frank Tripp was standing in the doorway to Julia's house when the Hummer pulled up. Horatio was already getting out of the passenger side before the Hummer was put into park. He jogged up to the detective and tried to read the grim look on Frank's face.

Frank put his hands out, as though to catch Horatio before he bowled him over completely. "They're not here, Horatio."

Horatio pushed past Frank anyway to get inside the house. With one quick look, he instantly catalogued the scene before him. The front door had been open with no signs of forced entry. There was an overturned chair in the dining room. Kyle's backpack was haphazardly slumped in the hallway. Then he noticed the blood.

He crouched down beside it, noting the amount. It wasn't much, but it was enough to know that someone had been injured. He stared at it, almost transfixed. A pair of white stilettos suddenly appeared by his side. Natalia Boa Vista crouched down beside him. Silently, she dabbed at some of the blood with a long cotton swab, pocketing it into a vial. "I'll have this analyzed right away," she said.

Horatio nodded, grateful in his own silent way for the competency and intuitiveness of his team. He got up, hands on his hips and a perplexed frown plastered on his face. He walked into the kitchen, where Ryan Wolfe was taking pictures of something small on the breakfast nook table. Horatio strained his eyes at the item. Slipping on a pair of latex gloves, he picked up the small orange bottle. It was a bottle for prescription drugs, most of which were gone. A few small white pills littered the glass tabletop. Horatio turned the pill bottle to study the label on the front.

"Its Tryptizol," Ryan Wolfe stated. "It's a tricyclic anti-depressant."

Horatio nodded. "It's Julia's."

Ryan frowned at the scattered pills on the table. "Hope she didn't take too many. These can cause some serious side effects."

Horatio replaced the pill bottle on the table. "Something tells me she didn't take them willingly."