It had been almost a month since Detective Speedle was shot, now he was finally back on duty and determined that things be as normal as possible at work, which wasn't easy thanks to unwanted therapy sessions, certain looks and murmurs of sympathy from colleagues and even a few female colleagues asking him if it still hurt, marvelling at his bravery (apparently then didn't know he'd had the misfortune to blunder into his shooter) and querying if he needed any help. It took less than a day before the rumour quickly spread that not only was Detective Speedle not interested in help but he was liable to verbally tear into anyone who offered it.

The circus had now gone, Lieutenant Caine had used as much clout as possible to detain it and given a member of the law enforcement was in intensive care that had worked well for a while but once it was obvious Detective Speedle was going to live Lieutenant Caine's influence had waned, especially with a lack of evidence linking any circus member to the crime. Worse, none of the would be animal liberators fitted the crime either and they all denied knowledge of anyone using a gun. Their guns had been pistols loaded with blanks and despite extensive searching round their properties and vehicles, all of which Horatio had made damn sure to get warrants for, the weapon which had shot Speed, a Browning Hi Power according to Calleigh, had not turned up nor had any legitimate bullets save for a couple of handguns, which were allegedly for protection and had licences to match them.

Horatio, Ridley and Frank had grilled all their potential suspects extensively, convinced that their shooter was a member of the circus blending in with the activists and potentially even connected to them. Horatio was considering the possibility that he had helped them create the chaos in the circus. Alas, there was no evidence and whilst several of the activists and circus members were willing to turn on each other when past criminal history was unearthed none of them was willing to roll on a rabbit masked male with a top hat and a gun. It was as frustrating as it was ludicrous. They spent hours going through all the names they had, their connections and their history, a strongman with a heroin problem, a family of illegal trapezium artists from Eastern Europe, an animal rights biology student who had a pot habit, another whose family had come from Cuba illegally but there were none who knew about a potential serial killer with a LSD habit.

In the end they had to let them go, the circus was in ruination anyway, two of the clowns were wanted in another state for a rape and murder charge, Ridley made certain the circus was done for animal cruelty and all of the animals were removed and sent to sanctuaries and the reputation of the chaos made it unsafe for future performances, never mind the cost of damage and the lawsuits piling in. The members had split and fled the city save for Nina Balksom who informed Horatio coolly that she did not run from questions and had nothing to hide. She had booked herself into a modestly priced hotel, murmuring about needing a holiday anyway, but as far as the CSIs could tell she was the only one who had stayed.

In frustration Ridley had gone back to the first part of the case, the woman in the Chimera House. She stayed in the crime lab researching whilst Tim and Eric dealt with a body on the beach, and Calleigh and Horatio took care of an alleged suicide in a hotel, incidentally the same hotel Nina was staying in. Though they highly doubted a connection Calleigh had made several jokes to Ridley about how Horatio would find a way to run into the former ringmaster despite the hotel having twelve floors.

It was coming up to four in the afternoon when Horatio and Calleigh arrived at the Ocean Avenue Palms Hotel, not the best name, thankfully it more than made up for it in looks. Miami was a city chock full of hotels, it boasted an entire strip of art deco themed ones on Ocean Drive, perhaps not as impressive as the listed Moorish Revialist buildings of northern neighbour Opa-locka they were still something to be admired. The hotels competed in size, appearance, appeal and show, at night they gave a neon light show worthy of Vegas and during the day they tried to lure people in with palm trees, pools and suspiciously wide smiled staff in clean cut, white suits who promised attention, admiration and, most importantly, discretion and even ignorance when required. It was this policy of turning a blind eye to drink, drugs and rock n roll if the guest was wealthy enough that made crimes in a hotel all the harder to solve. They should have been easy given each room was sterilised daily so the prints at a crime scene usually weren't too contaminated, and the hotels were always busy, even now coming into the autumn months, so there were numerous witnesses, guests and staff alike, but for some reason Horatio always found crimes in hotels to be a tricky business.

The Ocean Avenue Palms Hotel had an edge on its vast competition in that it had a prime spot near the pale golden sands of South Miami whilst holding the illusion of privacy thanks to several iron fences, tall palm trees and a wide space of land that was just greenery for show. There was a hint of art deco to the hotel with curved horizontal lines, rounded off corners and gold sunbursts at its front on either side of green palm trees framing the gold letters of Ocean Avenue Palms Hotel but it avoided the pastel colours of the other art deco hotels, having smooth, white walls instead with gold framing its numerous glinting windows. It also had carvings below its flat roof and above the top windows, columns at its main entrance supporting a long, wide porch and a mosaic at the entrance suggesting more than a hint of Ancient Greek influence to its design.

"Why Ocean Avenue Palms?" Calleigh queried aloud as she shut the door of the hummer and looked to the telltale police car at the front of the building at the right in a space undoubtedly reserved for taxis. "There is no Ocean Avenue in Miami."

Horatio shrugged with disinterest as he studied the mosaic of pale pink seahorses and blue dolphins. "To differentiate from all the Ocean Drive hotels probably," he murmured, "and Ocean House and Ocean View and Ocean Bay and Ocean Beauty, and Ocean Palms," he paused in his naming of hotels to give Calleigh a small smile.

"Point taken," the blonde murmured as she pushed back the tails of her pale pink shirt and followed Horatio to the lobby.

The lobby was as opulent as expected, with curved blue seats with white rounded arms mimicking the foam of the ocean, a turquoise, marble tiled floor, smooth, pale pink-orange walls suggesting a sunrise and tall lamps of gold shaped like palm trees with bulbs in coconut shaped glass hanging from the leaves. There was one wide desk to the right, also in the popular curved shape the hotel seemed fond of. It was a deep mahogany desk with several pamphlets on it and four computer screens behind it, two currently monitored by a male and female staff member both dressed in similar turquoise uniforms with gold, sun shaped name badges at their breasts. The lifts were to the left, four side by side with gleaming gold doors, the door to the stairs was beside them, and a shop was further back boasting snacks and items for the beach and pools.

Horatio tipped his shades slightly as he greeted the female receptionist with a small smile. "Good afternoon Sara, I'm Lieutenant Caine and this is my colleague Detective Duquesne, we are here responding to a call from my colleague Detective Salas about a death on your property." His blue eyes roved over the leaflets about the hotel boasting themed rooms for those willing to pay including nautical, medieval and circus, he had to wonder at the latter.

The thirty-something, brunette woman nodded awkwardly as her green eyes flickered nervously to her male colleague. She was obviously upset about the death and had probably never experienced anything like it before. "Fourth floor," she answered, almost shyly, "room 412, your...Detective Salas is still up there."

"Thank you," the redhead answered sincerely before he headed to the lift.

Calleigh followed, frowning at the cheesy elevator music that greeted them when they stepped in and Horatio pressed the round button for the fourth floor. "So it's October now," the blonde observed as she looked pointedly at Horatio. It was October 3rd to be precise, for the blonde summer seemed to have simultaneously rushed by and yet dragged by too as they were weighed down by problem after problem. She had thought they had almost seen the back of the drama until Speed had gotten shot, now though he was back on his feet and she was determined to be optimistic.

"Yes," Horatio answered as he looked back at his colleague curiously, "and it was September last month and it will be November next month unless someone's changed the calendar."

Calleigh gave him a scornful smile that was as effective as any frown. "It will be Ridley's twenty-ninth soon and I want it to be better than her twenty-eighth. It was different last year, she hardly knew us and she was down here on business but this year she's here as one of us, she's our friend. Look, on my birthday she made a point of sending me a card and a present all the way from New York and phoned me, and I know for a fact she sent you something, she joked about it though she wouldn't say what, the point is we have to make an effort."

Horatio kept his best poker face on and did not show his relief when the lift binged and the doors parted. As they walked up a soft, deep green turquoise carpet he thought dryly of the white Easter bunny teddy that had arrived in the post for him at the Miami-Dade Headquarters at the start of April for his birthday on April 7th. At first the stamps had made him a little wary but he had recognised the writing on the package and then of course there was 'Moon' on the return address, not her full name but enough so he would know. It now sat in his house in the living room propped up beside a photo of his late brother Ray, the size of a cat, it was fluffy with a pink nose, a small smile, black eyes, a yellow, silk bow and a matching egg in its right hand and a blue baseball cap on it with 'Happy Easter from NY' on it in black font. A week later Ridley had arrived; she had greeted him a polite, belated 'Happy Birthday' but never alluded to the present.

Horatio, though he would never confess to it, thought about the cheesy gift often and even looked to it with a degree of affection. To the lieutenant it was a sign that not only had Ridley mostly forgiven him for his numerous failures to save her but that she actually held him in some regard, he was more than just a colleague to her. It was a friendship he sorely wanted, partially out of guilt, he could certainly admit to that, but also because he was fond of the New Yorker, she was interesting, fun when she allowed herself to be, and probably one of the only people who could get away with parking in his spot.

"Alright Calleigh," he said tentatively as they reached the ajar door of room 412, "what do you have in mind?"

The blonde was delighted to hear Horatio actually consider her idea but the truth was she didn't have one yet. "Nothing in particular," she confessed, "but it is Halloween, I'm sure we can come up with something memorable. I'll ask Speed, he said that she actually did blow a pumpkin last year, so maybe all that stuff about dressing up as ghosts and scaring the neighbours on her birthday is true, maybe Ridley liked embracing part of it once."

"Horatio," Yelina greeted them with a tight smile, "Calleigh, afternoon."

They stepped into the crime scene, which was annoyingly a mess. Their victim was an attractive, tanned, golden haired woman in her late twenties, both her hair and skin seemed to have come from a bottle and, as Yelina informed them, her ID suggested she was from Washington. "Her name is Kym Garson, at least according to her driver's licence," Yelina explained, "and she was staying here with a Fiona Marshalls according to the desk, Frank is out trying to locate Marshalls now."

The young woman was lying crumpled on her side, half her skull was blow clean away and in her right hand she was clutching the offensive murder weapon.

"I know it looks like a suicide," Yelina admitted, "but I don't know, it's a little too obvious and just look at this mess, there was evidently a party going on here. Who has a party then shoots themselves immediately after?"

"Good question," Horatio murmured as he tugged off his shades and pocketed them.

It took them over two hours going through the scene, during that time other CSIs showed up to help process the scene and Alexx came to inspect the body. The dark skinned examiner pointed out the bruises on the woman's right wrist and hand, before death she noted coolly, and an odour of urine about her. It was Calleigh who found minute traces of white dust at the edges of the back of the toilet along with a shred of plastic, heroin or cocaine, they wouldn't know for sure until the evidence came back.

At first they thought the chaotic look of the room along with opened wine bottles, abandoned glasses and tins of beer suggested a wild party but the more they inspected the scene the more Horatio began to suspect something else. He pointed out how one glass was still almost full, there were only two tins in the trash, the phone was off the hook and there was still alcohol in the mini fridge. The destruction, he thought, hinted more at someone hunting for something rather than partying with perhaps an attempt to stage the look of a party.

Finally, they called it a day and left the scene to return to Miami-Dade and process the evidence. Horatio let Calleigh walk on ahead, his cerulean gaze locking with Yelina's warm, chocolate brown gaze as she folded her slender arms and looked at him expectantly. "It's been a while," she murmured.

The redhead nodded calmly. "Longer than intended," he admitted, "how's Ray Junior doing?"

"Good, what about Speed?"

"Back at work, he seems fine but our suspect still being unidentified and on the loose probably isn't helping," the redhead confessed wearily.

"And Ridley?" Yelina's voice was calm, innocent even but her gaze had turned sharp prompting Horatio to wonder if the New Yorker was always going to be a sore spot between them. Yelina knew Horatio well enough to know he was hiding something with regards to Ridley but she just could not figure out what and seemed determined to jump to the wrong conclusion.

"She's well," Horatio retorted evenly, "better now that Speed is."

"Mmm well that's all good to hear, and what about this case of yours? Any progress?"

"No," he confessed reluctantly. "The circus is gone now so it's entirely possible our killer has gone with it, if he ever was a part of it. At any rate, Ridley's working on it nonstop, which does concern me a little," he admitted with a slight frown.

"Why?" Yelina pried trying to keep the hardness from her voice. There he was getting worked up about Ridley again like she was special compared to the others, he didn't seem so bothered when Calleigh and Eric put in the overtime and his concerns over their relationship was fleeting at best whilst it was clear he did not know whether to approve of Speed and Ridley or not.

"This happened with Detective Silver and then again with Ruby, when the killer got personal Ridley almost burnt herself out trying to stop him, I don't need her exhausting herself over this because he got to Speed."

"Was it personal do you think?" Yelina pried with a softer look. "Could he have known you guys would be there?"

Horatio shook his head. "It was unofficial and I don't think he was seizing an opportunity when he shot Speed I think he panicked."

"Well that's something," Yelina pointed out with a slight smile, "it means he's not the pro he thinks he is if he can't keep calm and act natural at the mere sight of a cop. Look, just remind Ridley it's not personal this time, I understand the timing of things is a little coincidental and I've noticed, just like everyone else, that her name and face has been all over the papers lately linked up to all this but just advise her to distance herself from it, treat it like any other case because that's all it is."

Horatio gave a nod of gratitude. "I will Yelina, thanks. By the way, do you think you and Ray Junior would be free for lunch sometime this week? It really has been too long."

Yelina relaxed her stance slightly, and her gaze brightened as she considered the offer. "Sure," she said at last, "let's aim for Wednesday if it suits, I'm off then."

"It will suit," Horatio retorted as he gave her a warm smile. "Anyway, I'll see you then."

"See you then and take care Horatio."

"You too." He hastened out of the room and after Calleigh who was waiting by the lift doors texting Eric.

The blonde greeted Horatio with bright smile. "Listen Horatio, we had plans before Speed got shot to have a night out and anyway, we've rescheduled it to this Friday, would you like to come?"

The redhead mulled the idea over in his head. He was unsure how he felt about his team socialising, in many ways it was a positive thing but when you had two women and two men who obviously had feelings for each other well it did get complicated. He wanted them to be happy, of course he did, especially Ridley's as she sorely deserved a sliver of joy and love in her life, he just wasn't sure they were going to keep their happiness with one another. Yet he didn't want to be their chaperone or the fifth wheel who made things awkward. Maybe with Yelina there... 'Now isn't that hypocritical,' he thought wryly with a flicker of a smile. "I'll think about it," he gave in to Calleigh's eager smile.

It was coming up to seven when Horatio and Calleigh were finally able to meet with Eric, Tim and Ridley in the Miami-Dade headquarters. Eric and Tim, thanks to Alexx's findings, had concluded that their victim was the result of a robbery gone very wrong but the evidence as to their potential killer was scant and they were looking into similar cases.

Calleigh and Horatio had learned that Kym Garson's bruising was just on her right hand and wrist and enough to hint at someone possibly making her wield the gun. A further indication was Alexx's confirmation that the woman had at some point wet herself. The trace of drugs Calleigh had found was indeed heroin, though there was none in Kym's system and better still, Kym's ID was fake and now it seemed obvious that both she and roommate Fiona Marshalls had in fact been using aliases. The whole case stank and camera footage from the hotel showed a lot more to the dark tale. Four men wearing hoodies and caps, which kept their faces hidden, arriving up to the room at approximately three in the afternoon before leaving just twenty minutes later. The gunshot had been reported by a maid on the floor sometime in between. What they didn't know was Fiona Marshalls', or whoever she really was, role in the grim events.

The only one who was having any luck today was Ridley who entered Horatio's office at a quarter past seven with a tired smile clutching a pile of paper. Tim stood up and looked at her in surprise; he hadn't even known she was still at work. "I think I have a breakthrough," she announced proudly.

She placed the pages on Horatio's desk, separating them out showing several to have highlighted and underlined passages as well as notes scribbled by Ridley in black and red ink. There were photographs, newspapers and articles from the internet. "We kept looking for someone who disappeared in the Chimera House," Ridley murmured, "a family member or someone connected to one but it wasn't right."

"Go on," Horatio urged as he looked at the papers with interest.

"Twenty years ago the house had a different name, The Rabbit Hole, and it was the summer home of the Anderson family. They only went down to it during July and August, the rest of the year it stood dormant, that's what they thought anyway. There were a few families nearby, a very small community if you like who had children who had a fascination with the house. This house, 313 Thorndale Lane was just ten minutes away on foot and it belonged to the Rothdales." Ridley gestured down to a black and white photograph of a two storey wooden house with chipped walls, an old looking porch with a broken swing in it and a small front garden with weeds growing in it. "Charles and Wendy Rothdale lived here with their children Charles Junior and Lorina, it was the former summer home of Wendy's parents the Devereuxes after they bought it ten years prior. Charles Rothdale was a busy but unsuccessful businessman from England and more often than not his business took him out of state. Wendy, by all accounts, preferred to hire cheap babysitters when she could and socialise in the town, given this was the eighties I don't think people meant she had cakes and tea."

Eric let out a snicker at this, breaking the silent concentration of the CSIs and earning a look of annoyance from Calleigh.

"Anyway, this went on for a few years until Charles Junior was sixteen and Lorina was twenty-one, and their parents went through an awkward period of arguing. In the end, Charles Senior skipped the state, and his family, for business in North Carolina, apparently Wendy had a lover down here in the city and became inclined to simply abandon the children in the house and stay with him in the city. Lorina apparently had several boyfriends in the city and according to accounts of friends she was often seen there when she was supposedly at home minding her brother.

This was all around November, Charles Junior's birthday being the 26th, incidentally Alice's Adventures in Wonderland was first published on November 26th, 1865." Ridley paused to suck in a breath, giving the CSIs a quick moment to process her information so far. She pointed to the headline of the grainy newspaper cutting, it read- ROTHDALE GIRL STILL MISSING. "We know that Lorina went missing sometime around then, we don't know the exact date because for a couple of days her mother simply thought she was staying with a friend or boyfriend, which Lorina was inclined to do and then for a few more she said nothing because she was afraid of the scandal. She gives the date of Lorina's disappearance as November 30th but people think it was probably earlier than that. They say on Charles' sixteenth birthday his father had already abandoned the family and instead of pulling together for him, his mother and sister both headed into the city, leaving him alone for the entire day and night."

Ridley finally tugged out another printout, a faint, colour photograph of a young woman with bleached blonde hair, large, brown eyes, and a tanned face wearing a yellow sundress. "Lorina Rothdale," she explained, "pictured at about eighteen or nineteen years of age. She was never found, the police at the time concluded the case as unexplained, they had no major suspects and whilst they wrote that Charles Junior was indifferent to the matter they put that down to the problems in his family. The Rothdales home was searched and the father was located and questioned but in the end most people assumed she had run away."

"But you think Charles Junior put her in the attic of a neighbour's home," Tim surmised as he gave Ridley an impressed look.

"The Rothdales' home is long gone, it burnt down about ten years ago, Mr Rothdale is supposedly still in North Carolina though no one knows for sure and Mrs Rothdale died eight years ago from alcoholism, without DNA to test against our body we can't know for definite but I managed to get some accounts up about The Rabbit Hole at the time, the press ran a brief piece on it in the early eighties. When the Andersons named it there was a fear they would renovate it too but they described themselves as largely disinterested in the place, considering renovating it too much work and not worth it given the little time they spent in the place. There was one quote in there by Jill Anderson, then aged five, the journalist obviously stuck it in for humour but I think it could be more." Ridley gestured down to a clipping from 'Historic Homes in Miami' magazine, pointing at a passage she had highlighted.

" 'I don't like it here," Horatio read the quote aloud, "it's swampy, too hot and there's a dumb boy who keeps coming over with a smelly rabbit.'" He looked up at Ridley with a small smile. "Charles Junior?"

Ridley tugged out another photograph, this one was also in colour and faded and showed a younger looking Lorina, what could only be her parents and one boy, around ten or so, with short, dirty fair hair, his father's hazel eyes and tanned skin like his sister. In his arms he clutched a white, pink eyed rabbit.

Tim tensed at the image and leaned back from the photo, staring at the floor awkwardly as he suppressed a flashback of a black eyed rabbit mask.

"I know it's going on a lot," Ridley said in a serious voice, "but I really think this could be it."

"And where is Charles Junior now?" Horatio asked the all important question.

"Off the records since he turned eighteen, two years after his sister's death," Ridley confessed. "He left school and there's no trail after that, I don't know if he changed his name, left town or what, with the house burnt down and his mother dead there's no way to confirm yet."

"No other relatives?" Calleigh queried.

"Still looking," Ridley admitted, "none close anyway. I'm hoping someone will turn up so there's a chance at DNA however slim."

"Well Ridley I think you should run with this," Horatio decided, "it's the strongest lead we have so far."

"You've certainly had better success than us with our Ocean Avenue nonsense," Calleigh praised.

Ridley stood up and gave Calleigh an odd look. "Ocean...Avenue?" she queried in puzzlement.

The blonde nodded. "Ocean Avenue Palms Hotel, go figure," she grumbled, "we went to look into a suicide there but it's looking like a lot worse, murder, drugs and a girl still missing."

"Do you have an Ocean Avenue in Miami?" Ridley quipped curiously, still looking a surprise.

"No," Horatio retorted calmly.

"Wait a minute," Eric was quick to speak up as his eyes grew wide with excitement. He stepped up to Ridley and pointed at her almost accusingly. "Did you go there? Oh shit Ocean Avenue, that was in New York!"

"What are you talking about Delko?" Tim queried wearily. He still looked pale and there was a hint of unease in his brown eyes that he was trying hard to banish.

"112 Ocean Avenue," Eric answered excitedly, "come on guys, Amityville!"

"Wasn't that in the seventies?" Calleigh queried in confusion. "A bit before Ridley's time."

"Yes but I bet you've been there, haven't you?" Eric demanded.

Ridley sighed and shook her head with a teasing smile. "Second case," she confessed, "everyone thought it was hilarious giving it to me, it kind of started the whole thing of getting the more unusual cases."

"Wait you went to the house?" Calleigh queried in shock and she turned to Ridley quickly with wide, blue eyes. "The actual house?"

"Yes," Ridley confessed with a look of unease, "that is to say I went to a case on the same street and happened to pass the house."

"What kind of case?" Eric demanded with intrigue. "Is the whole neighbourhood cursed?"

Ridley pushed back a strand of her dark hair as she thought back to the case. "Mother and kids dead, it looked like a weird ritual killing, that's why it came our way, the pet dog...was hanging upside down on the ceiling at the top of the stairs it er...it made it look like the stairs were bleeding."

"Holy shit!" Eric exclaimed before he could help himself.

"Calm down Delko, no demons were involved," Tim chided as he frowned and looked appropriately unimpressed.

"Anyway, the father turned up at a bar, apparently none the wiser, had been late at work having an affair with his secretary. It took a while but we soon figured out he was behind the whole thing, a combination of an insurance scam, he had policies on every family member, wanting his wife out of the scene and simply being an evil, mad fuck. He thought with the whole Amityville Horror thing he'd somehow get away with all but sure it didn't work for that guy either, now they're both rotting in jail. I can assure you there was no voice telling us to get out, no flies and no Indian burial ground."

Eric frowned and grumbled, "that's the best bit you know and how can you be sure? Whole neighbourhood could be built on one?"

"Given that they used to dominate this country every town is probably built on one," Horatio commented with an amused look.

"Well that's...not comforting," Eric replied dryly. "On that note, next case you get called to Ridley I'm definitely coming, they are fascinating."

Tim rolled his eyes whilst Calleigh shook her head disapprovingly and Ridley gave a small smile. "Sure thing," she agreed.

Wow info overload! I'm mean I know, I keep dragging this out in ways, I kind of like having other CSI cases spliced in between since these guys obviously work more than one case at a time plus an excuse for character development! Hope you like this chapter and the fic so far! I couldn't resist the Amityville nod, two reasons- one the CSI NY episode Boo is what got me into CSI (true story) I have a morbid fascination with the Amityville story and I learnt about the episode Boo, watched it and loved it and just had to get more CSI and more and more lol, two- Ridley is from New York, I just had to do it!

Anyway, for those of you who have been waiting patiently, I promise next chapter...TFIF!