"Are you serious about this?" Greg asked Maggie and Nick as they headed to the motel, intent on asking around and checking out the original crime scene, as Grissom said to, knowing what Maggie wanted to do, learning from the past events. "You two seriously want me around?"

"Why wouldn't we?" Maggie sighed at the former lab rat turned C.S.I. as she turned around to face him from the passenger seat, the Las Vegas heat still bothering her, despite the car's cold air on her face. "You need experience, Greg, and here it is. I asked Grissom that you come along."

"Don't let her fool you, Greg," Nick commented as he drove towards the mote, the Tahoe totally in his control despite the distracting conversation. "She was going to literally grab you anyway, asking Grissom or not. She had a plan ready."

"You shut up." Maggie crossed her arms, as if she was going to pout, but thought better of it and turned her attention back to the situation at hand. "Well, not quite a plan, but I still had some scheme in mind to get more evidence from the motel."

"Yeah, sneaking out and ignoring Grissom."

"Shut up, Nick."

"So, what exactly are we looking for if we're not arguing about sneaking around and ignoring supervisors?" Greg asked as the two in the front teased each other, Nick using one hand to poke Maggie as she swatted him back childishly.

"The White Sands Motel at Las Vegas Boulevard South," Nick answered, successfully warding off Maggie's attacks as she gave up. "It was where the kidnapper called Grissom. The person was said to have used the phone in a room on the top floor, but the manager claims that nobody was in that room, nor was it reserved. No fingerprints were found on the phone."

"What about the room?" Greg took out a notepad and wrote what Nick said previously down.

"One out of thirty-two rooms, the room seemed pristine with no signs of anybody in the room. Only one dark brown hair strand was found on the bed and it was Ursula Kearns'. Sex was clearly done on the bed, but there was no semen."

An idea dawned upon Maggie. "Wait, wait, wait…no semen on the bed, but sex on the bed, can indicate that two women were playing."

"Could be, but as Grissom always says, we can't assume," Nick said, smiling.

Maggie huffed. "I'm aware, but has the lab checked it out, to see if that was true?"

"Oh, Hodges, you mean? Doubtful, but it's possible. Ecklie has slowed down the investigation somewhat, so I don't think he was able to test that theory. Something was said in there about the reputation of the crime lab when another C.S.I. has been abducted and/or killed."

"I hate that man sometimes. He frustrates me to an extreme." Maggie crossed her arms again, angry about Ecklie, noting that Nick was feeling the same way, his lips in a tight grimace and his eyes narrowing as he jumped into the left lane to pass a driver. "Now, is there anything else we should know? Is that about it?"

"Other than why we should be checking the room again?" Greg asked.

"Because Grissom thinks that a few set of new eyes could be able to find something," Nick guessed. "I don't know. I would have thought we would have resorted to Maggie's plan and snuck out a while ago and faced the consequences later."

Maggie punched Nick in the arm as he turned to the street the motel was on and passed a car on the right, pulling into a parking lot. Quickly finding a spot, the three C.S.I.'s looked out the window of the Tahoe, seeing a two-story sleazy motel. The place was not recently painted, large chips of white peeling everywhere, rust on the railings and traffic shaking the U-shaped building.

What a place that Ursula picked out. Why she would do something like that, I would never know. She's daring, I'll take that, but to get herself involved with a married man…if she knew…is not like her. And to have Eric have an affair with the wife and learn about the circumstances is almost circumstance. He could not have been involved…could he? Maggie shook her head, as if clearing it.

"So, what's the plan now?" Greg then asked, unbuckling his seat belt and taking his kit out. Nick had killed the engine by then, the three of them sweating as soon as the heat came back into the car.

"I guess we're questioning the manager of this place and then looking around," Maggie said with another sigh, getting out of her seat as she, too, unbuckled and opened her door.

~00~

Nick, Greg and Maggie entered the main office together, relieved when air conditioning hit their faces. Their kits in hand, they strolled over to the front counter, a middle-aged, slightly obese man sitting behind it, a magazine covering his sleeping form, his light snores reverberating throughout the room.

Greg noticed a bell on the counter, next to a book containing information about the people who came in and out with times, dates, pricing and even companions. He eyed it with an excited silence, motioning with his head to the elder C.S.I.'s to look at it. Nick, putting his kit down and taking gloves out of it, passed by Greg and took the book into his hands, flipping through its pages and noting the dates in his mind. Mouthing, "They were here" to the other two, Nick put the book down in its proper places and took his gloves off, throwing them out in a wastebasket next to him and then nodding his head at Greg to ring the bell.

When the ding echoed in the room, the manager quickly woke up, the magazine slipping off of his face as he woke up, frantically searching left and right for the noise. Then, looking forward to the three, he sighed, groaning as he got up to face them. Leaning heavily on the counter, he smiled at them.

"You must be the crime scene people that Mr. Grissom called about," the man started, putting out his hand, as if he expected the three to shake it. "Rick, Rick Moren is my name. I'm in charge of this dump. And you are?"

Maggie, Nick and Greg simultaneously flipped out their I.D.'s at the manager to verify who they were. "I'm C.S.I. Nick Stokes," Nick replied, keeping an unusual poker face as he put the I.D. away and took the grimy hand. "This is Margaret O'Keefe and Greg Sanders."

"Wait, aren't you that C.S.I. who killed that guy at the high school who murdered your parents and those other people?" Rick looked to Maggie wide-eyed as he let go of Nick's hand, seeing her familiar face from years ago. "I remember that. That was a few years back, wasn't it? I'm surprised you're back here. Thought old Mobley would have kicked you out of town a while back."

"We're here to investigate the upstairs room that C.S.I. Kearns was in," Maggie sighed, only emphasizing that, putting her I.D. away as well and getting to the point of the visit. Ignoring the jab in the meantime, she added, "Other than seeing her on various nights with a man, can you remember anything else?"

"I just told that detective what I knew," Rick said, slicking his hand back over a receding hairline. "She came in with that man in her arms about three times a week – Mondays, Thursdays and Saturdays – and they both stayed the night. Paid every time, always stayed until about five-thirty in the morning and then left together."

"We need all of the receipts and/or checks to their visits," Greg chimed in, writing everything Rick said down in his notepad after putting his own I.D. away. "Who paid?"

"That's the thing, C.S.I. Sanders," Rick replied in a mocking manner, shrugging his shoulders (Nick and Maggie could not tell if he was being disrespectful or was just annoyed that they disturbed his nap). "They never used a credit card or a paper from the bank. The man used cash. She just giggled and smiled, like an ornament. She was just there to look pretty."

"Describe him." Greg flipped a page over and posed his pen ready to write more down. Maggie and Nick exchanged looks and backed away, letting Greg handle the situation.

"Your detective should have it, but I'll repeat it anyway. The guy was a bit tall with sandy blonde hair, like dark blonde almost, with a tan even. No freckles, but he had a tattoo on his neck. Some snake going 'round and 'round or something like that. Dark brown eyes, I think. I could not tell."

"If you saw him, could you positively identify him as the man with C.S.I. Kearns?"

"Sure, I could, but I don't know if he'll answer to the name he put down in the book. The man said he goes by a few names, but he was courteous enough to leave his real one. I have a copy of his drivers' license around here somewhere. I'll give it to you fine people when you're finished here." Rick paused. "Say, don't you people talk with your detectives?" He peered over at Maggie and Nick, who stood over in a corner, awkward as Greg took control of the questioning. "You two sure need to talk things over. You both look like you're two kids shoved together in a desk pod and miserable because you're told to be quiet in class."

"Right now, it's not imperative to the investigation," Nick, as the senior C.S.I., replied in a stiff voice. "Which room was used?"

"Top floor, room four," Rick said, taking a key out from behind him and tossing it to Nick as the three picked up their kits, Greg putting his notes away. "The two have not been around since before this thing began, I think it was last Saturday, the fourteenth o' June. Then, three days later, I get some police in here about a kidnapping and whatever. I just hope everything is ok with the girl. I heard about the other one that was murdered. I'm just so sorry about him, too."

The sentiment seemed very sincere, but Maggie found it forced. Warrick deserves more than that. "Thank you, Mr. Moren, for your cooperation. We'll be back for the picture of the drivers' license when we are done with the room."

Taking the lead immediately afterward, Maggie reluctantly walked out of the office, feeling Rick Moren's stare on her back. Nick and Greg followed her, complaining about the heat as soon as they went outside, but they both soon grew somber as they mounted the stairs that led to their destination.

In less than an hour over here, it'll be the New Year. So, let me tell everybody HAPPY NEW YEAR 2011! I hope you have a safe and happy holiday with everybody you love.