Chapter Two

Horatio discovered early on in his career that it was the cases that dealt with children that affected him the most. He had seen a lot since his first day as a CSI, and not a day went by where he wished that he could close his eyes and never see anything again. There was a small part of him that realised that even if he were blind that he would be haunted by the memory of every case he had worked on. He closed his eyes and leaned against the banister of the staircase, trying with all his might to ease the sudden constriction of his throat so that he could breathe again. The metallic smell of blood was high in the air, mixed in with another much stronger stench that made him feel slightly woozy. There was something off about this smell, and it was this that forced him to focus back on what he was meant to do.

He felt the urge to sink down to his knees and resisted the temptation to follow through with it. There was blood on the staircase and possible evidence that may get destroyed by such actions. There most likely was fingerprint evidence upon the banister that he clutched with one gloved hand as though it were a lifeline that prevented Horatio from succumbing to his feelings. The job of a CSI was to collect evidence from a crime scene and to bring their findings back to the forensic lab for analyses. If he couldn't gain control of his emotions and become objective, then he needed to be replaced by somebody who could.

A little girl is missing. It was this thought that constantly repeated itself in his head that forced Horatio to reopen his eyes. He took a shaky breath as he released the banister, and though his knees shook and he felt the urge to vomit, he took a step forward so that he was off the staircase. He refused to look in the direction of the child's room, and though he could hear the sound and flash of a camera as it took pictures of the scene, he found that he was far more focused on the room that was off to his left ahead of him.

He took a deep breath as he slowly made his way to stand within the doorway and gazed around him at the room before him.

Ryan Wolfe stood with his back to the door at the foot of a large master bed that was untidily made. The mint cream curtains lay in a jumbled heap upon the floor; the decorative rod that held them had been shoved under the bed. From his position in the doorway, Horatio could see a piece of the rod sticking out from under the bed near Ryan's feet. Upon the bed was a large pile of clothes, some of which had fallen to the floor to accompany a plastic laundry basket that had been kicked from the bedstead so that it lay upon its side near a door that led into the bathroom. An old ornate Tiffany lamp along with the bedside table had been knocked over. The glass from a beautiful painting had been smashed and smeared with blood.

Horatio frowned as he looked around at the carnage of the room. Ryan who was oblivious to his boss standing behind him began to hum a tune that sounded vaguely familiar to him as he took a few photographs of a spot upon the bed.

"This was where it all happened." Horatio said quietly. Ryan started violently and nearly dropped his camera. The young man whirled around, his face crimson as he regarded him.

"I didn't realise that you were behind me, Horatio." The young CSI returned back to his work, desperate to prove himself worthy to such a high ranking colleague. He nervously bit his lip as he bent over the bedposts and zeroed in on a spot of blood that he had discovered upon the light blue comforter. "There is blood everywhere in this room. I've found high velocity blood spatter that goes high up on the walls behind the bed, and there is a pool of it upon the floor on the right side of the..."

"And on the bed?"

Ryan released a puff of air and nodded. He pointed out the spots and spatter to Horatio. "There is a really big spot of blood here on the comforter. There's also what appears to be a hand smear near the bottom of the blanket on the right side of the bed. I've counted at least thirteen areas of blood in this room so far, not including the blood trail that leads out of the room and down the stairs."

Horatio nodded his head thoughtfully. "You've documented this room and took pictures of everything you've found?"

Ryan nodded sullenly as he looked around the room. There was something deep within his eyes that caught Horatio's attention but it was gone before he could place what it exactly was.

"You're doing a great job, Mister Wolfe. I want you to bag and tag everything that has blood in this room and to bring them back to the lab."

"What if we can't find them?" Ryan blurted out suddenly. At Horatio's look he reddened and appeared sheepish. "I mean, they're dead aren't they? The amount of blood throughout the house and this room..." he waved an arm around at the mess that surrounded him. "What will happen if all our hard work doesn't pay off, Horatio? What if we... what will we do..." he trailed off looking confused and startled at his sudden lack of control.

It took a few minutes for Horatio to think of what to say. He struggled with his own emotions regarding a case and never thought that other members of his team suffered the same way he did. It wasn't as though he were oblivious to the fact that his team were just as human as he was, but it was the fact that whenever it came to these things that he never knew the right words to say.

"It may look like a lost cause right now," he said finally. He spoke slowly and carefully, choosing the words that would bring comfort to Ryan and discarding the ones that made him appear aloof. "The countless hours we spend in a crime scene and the lab matter because we are getting closer to the truth. No matter how horrible that truth is. We do what we have to do, Mister Wolfe. We collect and follow the evidence no matter where it leads."

Ryan nodded his head obviously embarrassed. "I am sorry, Horatio. I don't know what came over me. It's the blood I think. It got to me."

"There are times when things bother me during murder investigations." Horatio paused and found that he was looking in a different direction. "It's human nature to want to care. There are times that you can no longer be objective because you want to be human."

"Do you ever feel like you've done all that you could possibly do in your job, but still feel like you did nothing?" Ryan asked his voice barely above a whisper. At Horatio's look, the young CSI flushed and quickly looked down at the camera in his hand. "I've always wanted to be a CSI, but sometimes I feel that despite all of our best efforts, we are unable to bring justice to the victims or their families."

Horatio held his breath for a second before he released it. He pinched the bridge of his nose with his gloved hand and remained silent for a few seconds more as he tried to find a way to answer Ryan's question. When he finally thought he had it, he looked the young man straight in the eyes and held onto them.

"Sometimes a job as a CSI is hard because of what we see on a daily basis. We are always used to seeing the evil that humans are capable of." He paused long enough to think about what he was to say next. His eyes never released their hold upon Ryan's. "However, it is because of what we do that brings hope to victims and their families. One piece of evidence is just a piece of a puzzle that will always be solved no matter how small the pieces are."

Ryan nodded his head sadly as he listened to Horatio. When he had finished, the young CSI appeared as though he were struggling to make sense of something but didn't say anything else. For a long time, the two men stood staring at each other in silence.

"I'll finish up here before I move onto the rest of the house," Ryan muttered so softly that Horatio could barely hear him, and had turned his back on him before he had a chance to say something else.

Horatio decided to leave the young man to his work in the bedroom. He had learned early on from working alongside the newest member of his team, that it was always best to leave him alone when he performed his duties as a CSI. There was no use in trying to talk to Ryan when he was in this type of mood, and Horatio knew that if Wolfe really wanted to talk that he would seek him out personally.

He walked back out into the hallway and froze. From one of the rooms he could hear the sound of Natalie's voice and paused long enough to hear what she was saying.

"... Do we know of any women missing in the Miami area during the time that Jorgenson lived here?"

"I'll check in the database when we get back to the office." An unfamiliar male voice answered softly.

"Can't you check now?"

"I can't. Not here anyway."

The two stopped talking the moment they caught sight of Horatio within the doorway of the second bedroom that was diagonal to the room that he just left. The male agent coloured slightly when he noticed him and quickly went back to work dusting the bedroom. Natalie looked as impassive as usual and refused to meet Horatio's eyes.

He chose to study the room that he had just entered instead. The room was slightly smaller than the large master bedroom that he had just vacated, and had been painted a light peach colour that seemed to grab hold of the light and made the bedroom warm and inviting. A double bed was directly in front of him with a lovely turquoise and white bedspread that had been neatly pulled to every corner of the bed. There was a beautiful pastel pink Louis XV sofa that was pressed up against the one wall directly underneath the large windows overlooking the front garden. Two matching armchairs in the same colour stood directly on either side of the couch facing each other. A handsome armoire with dark wood panelling was on the opposite side of the room from the furniture set, along with a spectacular vanity set that had a set of brushes upon the top.

For a moment Horatio was instantly reminded of Versailles palace with the setup and grandeur of the room. It was a unique sense of style that the master bedroom never seemed to replicate. It made him wonder about how things went on under this roof with two adults who preferred sleeping in two very different rooms. His eyes seemed instantly drawn to a decorative Fleur-de-Lys that adorned the wall above the bed.

"What do you know about the Jorgensons?" Horatio finally asked Natalie who had remained unusually still as he looked around the room.

"Outside of the information that I've already told you on Paul Jorgenson?" Natalie asked him, her eyebrows slightly raised. "Nothing at all that can help you. He's been under surveillance for a few months. We've never really focused on his family until now."

Horatio frowned at her before he sighed. "I find that impossible, Agent Greenfield. You came before you were even called into the scene. Obviously you know something and don't want to tell me."

"That is because this is an ongoing investigation..."

"Please cut the crap, Natalie. We're working on the same side here. Any information that you have may help us solve this case. You are obligated to tell any law enforcement agency what you know now that there may be a crime to solve."

He watched her puff herself up in indignation but like usual, the FBI agent refused to give anything away. Horatio always felt it frustrating whenever he had to deal with this cold and seemingly aloof woman, but always appreciated her dedication to solving murder investigations. He suspected that the agent's lack of emotions guaranteed that she remain objective in these cases that left many people in her profession reeling. Her inability to talk to the other members of law enforcement was a puzzle that needed to be solved before they could work as a team.

"Do you remember what happened in the Elizabeth White case a few years ago?" Horatio asked gently. He saw Natalie stiffen and her eyes become narrowed slits.

"Of course I remember what happened in the White case," she snarled as her eyes flashed dangerously. The male FBI agent was rigid where he was bent over near the bed, a fingerprint brush held delicately between his two fingers and his thumb. Though he didn't look over at him or speak, Horatio knew that he was listening hard. "I was embarrassed in the court of law because of you and your team!" She spat out the last word and looked away, her eyes glittering.

"I remember everything a little differently," Horatio said coldly. "I recall that one of your DNA analysts had contaminated the only sample of genetic material we had from the victim. It wasn't my lab that messed up the investigation but was the FBI's forensic laboratory..."

"Don't you have a go at Boa Vista, Horatio! She felt devastated by the consequences of her mistake and ensured that she never made that kind of error again. As a matter of fact, she is one of the leading forensic scientists in her field now."

"The case being thrown out by the judge was what got Elizabeth White murdered." Horatio continued on as though there had been no interruption. "We couldn't work together before, and we can barely be in the same room together without arguing years later."

There was a nasty silence. They glared at each other across the room.

It was Horatio that finally broke the silence. He gazed intently at the FBI agent in front of him, his eyes seeking hers but she refused to make eye contact.

"I need you to tell me everything that you know about this man and his family."

"Fine, Horatio. We can do it later when I have everything put together in a file for you."

He nodded grimly and stepped out of the way as she marched past him and down the stairs. The remaining FBI agent looked around him in surprise and quickly got back to work. His ears reddening as he did so. There was an awkward silence as Horatio watched the man vigorously rub at a spot on the wall, and the stiff movements of a man that knew he was being watched.

"Have you looked around the room yet?" Horatio asked him as he stepped over the threshold of the doorway to blink around at the sudden brightness of the bedroom. The peach colour on the walls seemed rather sickening now that he had stepped into the room.

"Not yet, but I think that waiting for one of your guys would be better than doing this job on my own," the man said cheerfully. "Besides, I am a little limited with what I could do at crime scenes. I only lift fingerprints and can't touch anything but hard surfaces and walls."

Horatio felt a smile tug at his lips. "My CSIs are busy at the moment with different tasks. I can join you in here instead if you'd like."

The man looked over at him and nodded. "Sure thing, Lieutenant. Despite the fact that this room may look small to you, I can use all the help I can get."

An hour later and Horatio had over fifty evidence bags that had been filled with samples and items from around the room. The small garbage can beside the bed had been emptied out and its contents separated and placed into their own bags. A clear, sticky substance that had been found on one of the bedside tables had been documented and a few samples were taken and stuffed into their own collection tube. He ensured that he had each tube labelled carefully with a thick black sharpie before he placed them in a bag. He removed the blankets and sheets from the bed and had them placed into large brown bags that were then folded down, taped and labelled.

There had been four dark stains upon the mattress. Horatio painstakingly took pictures before he cut each of the stains out using a sharp knife and a pair of scissors. A cursory look in the armoire found a keepsake box made of cherry wood hidden amongst a pile of clothes that had fallen from their hangers. He had just finished labelling the bag with which the box now inhabited when Calleigh walked in through the door.

She watched him in silence from the doorway until he had placed the box carefully into an empty brown bag. There was an air of frustration about Calleigh that overwhelmed the room's atmosphere not long after she had arrived.

"I've been trying to find the weapon used for such high velocity blood spatter for hours now, Horatio," she said in answer to Horatio asking about the progress she had made. "I've collected nearly everything that could be used as a weapon as a result. Everything from baseball bats to butcher knives. Though, I would say that the weapon we are looking for is quite possibly a knife or at the very least a pair of scissors."

He looked up at her, his interest suddenly piqued. "How can you tell that it is a knife that we're looking for? High velocity blood spatter can mean that anything blunt or sharp could be the weapon of choice here."

Calleigh breathed in sharply, her hands hitting her thighs in an evident display of frustration. "There was a peculiar imprint upon the child's bed sheets. I've measured and documented it thoroughly. It looks like the tip of a knife or half of a pair of scissors. However, there were very strange indentations that Ryan and I discovered in the master bedroom. They were upon the right side of the bed and were upon the floor with a long line of blood that went up the side of the blanket."

Horatio's blood chilled when he heard what Calleigh had found. Before he could say anything however, she had begun to speak again.

"Going off of measurements and the length of the blood patterns in the master bedroom, I've bagged and tagged all the axes and hatchets that I could find in the home and garage." Calleigh studied his face, her gloved hands in the pockets of her black pants. "I am going to take my search outside to see if I can find anything else of interest." She turned to leave but looked back at Horatio before she took a step out. "I'd be careful on the stairs if I were you. The FBI technicians are helping Ryan with the collection of blood evidence. They said it would take a few hours at most before they were finished."

Calleigh disappeared out of the room. Horatio could hear the sound of her going down the stairs, saying a quick apology to the technicians that had no doubt stopped their work to glare at her as she passed. He sighed before he got back to work, shoving his hand into a darkened space between the open bottom area of the armoire and the floor. His hand brushed over something and pushed it back. A frown upon his face, he flattened himself onto the floor and shone a flashlight underneath to reveal what exactly he had touched, the beam of light fell on a collection of three books that appeared to be journals.

He grabbed for a few clear plastic bags and managed to open one blindly before he reached under the armoire to remove the books. He straightened up as he picked up the first one and dropped it into the bag, sealing it immediately with tape, and had it labelled before he placed it gently on top of the keepsake box. He repeated the steps with the two remaining journals and stood up to his feet, his knees cracking loudly as he did so.

Horatio had searched every inch of the room before but quickly looked through it again to make sure he didn't miss anything. He picked up the bags of evidence that he had recovered and quickly left the room, throwing a quick look in the direction of the child's bedroom before he went down the stairs. The FBI technicians upon the staircase threw him a dirty look as he carefully made his way past them and outside so that he could place his evidence into his hummer.

Before he had the chance to go back inside to check out the other rooms of the house, Eric had rounded the corner with a clipboard in hand and a frown upon his face. The moment that he found Horatio, a look of intense relief had taken over his features.

"Calleigh told me that you were still inside the house," he said as he approached him. "I am happy that I found you outside. I heard that the Greenfield woman is still inside there." He threw a dirty look in the direction of the doorway and motioned Horatio to accompany him to the backyard with a sharp nod of his head.

"What have you found, Eric?"

"Something that is of great interest, Horatio," Eric answered curtly. He gazed down at the clipboard as he walked quickly towards an ornate black iron gate that stood open with three police officers standing guard near it. He didn't speak again until he had ushered Horatio through the gate and had consulted the piece of paper in front of him three more times before finally looking up.

"I measured the length and width of the property and discovered a few things that were out of place. The fence out back in your typical wooden structure that is high enough to give the appropriate privacy. However, it is of a cheap quality that falls apart easily. The back gate was damaged but I can't determine if it was natural or manmade." Eric paused here and consulted his notes again. He had slowed down his pace so that Horatio, unprepared for the sudden change nearly walked right into him. "I discovered a set of footwear impressions on the outside of the back gate and noticed significant damage to plants that makes me suspect that they were trampled."

Horatio thought about this fresh information. The footwear impressions could mean nothing depending upon the evidence that was gathered. There could be a logical explanation for such a discovery. After all, most people wore shoes outside when they were going out and about their own property. The trampling that Eric had found could also be innocent and as such could be easily dismissed in the court of law. The Jorgensons did have a two year old child that most likely didn't know the difference between an area that she could play in and a flowerbed that could be destroyed by accident. Even without the child, the evidence found wouldn't be sufficient enough to hold up in the court of law. The judge would throw it out on the grounds that careless homeowners were the result of such damage in their own backyard.

Eric made a note on the piece of paper that he had in front of him, sighed deeply and shook his head. The young Cuban looked suddenly troubled as he placed the clipboard under one arm and continued to lead Horatio further down the side of the house.

Horatio looked sideways at him and frowned. He had known Eric for a long time and was always wary whenever the young man fell silent like this. It usually meant that far more troubling news was to follow.

"That wasn't all that you found was it, Eric?" Horatio murmured as he shakily put a hand through his hair.

Whether Eric heard him or not was a complete mystery to Horatio, though there was a distinct tightening of his lips that was usually reserved for wanting to get something over with and quickly. Instead he pulled open another gate, walked through it and waited for his boss to follow.

Horatio blinked. He had known that the private properties of Coconut Grove had extravagantly designed gardens, but the one that the Jorgensons had clearly worked hard on was one of the most elaborate gardens that he had ever seen in Miami. The large property had many different varieties of roses, and though he was no expert, he knew that most were of the climbing species that preferred a trellis or some other climbing structure in order to thrive. It appeared as though construction for such intricate arches and wooden pillars was still under way. Despite the fact that it had yet to be completed, the roses planted near to it had already been tied to their posts and had made their steady climb to the top.

It seemed as though there was a race to see which one could get to the highest part of their structure. Horatio could see a pretty light pink Boursault bush competing with a magnificent cream coloured Delbard that had light peach undertones upon its delicate petals. An orange rose shrub was elegantly wrapped around one of the columns as far away from the others as it could possibly be, and with good reason, its vine like tendrils appeared to be strangling another plant that had brilliant red flowers that was unlucky enough to have grown away from its archway. From where he stood, he could see that an orange blossom was beginning to emerge where the vine had stuck itself.

He took his gaze away from the roses and focused instead on the rest of the garden. A young palm tree happily grew in the centre of a small island surrounded by grey bricks that appeared reminiscent of the stepping stones found in a shallow river. There were two small orange trees that had been planted in square containers that stood on either side of a cobblestoned path that winded its way through the garden. There were even more varieties of flowers to be found here, not just fragrant roses. Colourful Celosia plumosas had been planted with dark purple, pink and white flowers. The vile stench of marigolds reached Horatio's nostrils before he could see the orange flowers; they seemed to protect a small portion of a vegetable garden. As he passed by, he could see the dark purple of aubergine and some red chili peppers. There was a large trellis fence that had a monster sized pea plant that had taken up space by the wooden fence. It was here that Eric stopped and waited for him to catch up.

Horatio had to carefully step over tall bell pepper plants, nearly upsetting the nearly ripe fruit that sat in the sun. He nearly got snagged by a bushy tomato plant that had grown against its cage and had its fuzzy leaves poking out of its cage. There was a row of large cabbages that he nearly tripped over, and had just stepped over them when he realised that he had nearly trampled a potato plant. He looked over at Eric bemusedly when he realised that the latter was trying to not to laugh.

By the time that he had finally managed to get over to Eric, an annoyed expression written all over his face, the young Cuban had managed to contain himself.

"I found the blade of a bloody axe here," Eric said grimly as he crouched down and lifted up some of the bottom leaves from the pea plant to show Horatio. "Calleigh collected it not too long after I discovered it. She said that she was going to look around for more weapons before she headed back to the lab." He added apologetically.

Horatio looked round at him in surprise before he too crouched down so that he could get a better look. He could see the imprint of something large in the dirt, and knew what it meant. He suddenly felt sick to his stomach at the realisation.

"There was evidence of an axe being used in the upstairs master bed," he said softly. He fought the urge to vomit at these words and instead focused his attention on a green peapod. The colour of the plant suddenly looked off to him, as though the sun had brightened up the foliage so that it appeared almost lime instead of dark green. "The attacker must have known the gardens. Why else would the blade of that axe be thrown into an area where it most likely wouldn't have been found if we didn't know what we were doing?"

Eric made a noise that was between a snarl and a snort, though his mouth was drawn in such a tight line that it came as a surprise that he could even make such a noise.

"Probably thought that he could outsmart us by doing something like this. I haven't been able to find the handle of the axe, but I don't think that we will be able to find it. There is evidence of a fire that had been lit recently in the stone fire pit."

Horatio gave him a sideways look. Eric continued on sullenly.

"I haven't been able to find much in the ashes. However, I did manage to pull out a few items that can be examined further at the lab. Though I have to say that that wasn't everything that I found out here." Eric pulled himself heavily to his feet and trudged off down a small stone path of the garden that led off back into the main property. Horatio followed quickly after him, finding that his CSI's behaviour was rather strange.

They rushed past a children's play area where a small colourful slide, a caterpillar teeter-totter and a large turtle sandbox stood closely together. A child's playhouse that appeared handmade stood in the shade of an ancient tree whose bark was rough and jagged. Its sides had been painted a dark shade of burgundy and had a slated black roof with white window trimmings. Horatio could see a small bench that had been pushed against the wall and a table that had been set up for a tea party. He winced inwardly at such an innocent scene and hurried past as though there was a fire that needed to be put out.

Eric led him to the back fence and gate and crouched down onto the ground. One of his gloved hands touched the dirt gingerly as Horatio joined him, looking on in curiosity.

"Here is the footwear evidence." Eric squinted up at him. "Or at least one of the patterns I was able to find." He pointed in the direction of a row of freshly planted flowers. "There's where the trampled flowers were found and the imprints match the ones that were discovered here and out the gate."

Horatio carefully stepped towards the gate, opened it slowly and peered out. A wide grassy patch of land separated this row of houses from the next. Horatio could definitely see areas where the grass had been stepped on and discovered that despite all appearances that there actually was a footpath that led out of the property and down to a road.

Eric watched him carefully, a frown upon his face.

"I've measured the foot impressions. If they match up to what I find in the house, then there is a possibility that this evidence will be irrelevant in the eyes of a judge."

"Nothing is irrelevant, Eric," Horatio said suddenly. His eyes glued on the light brown gate that seemed oddly distorted the more he looked at it. "No matter what the evidence matches up to there is always relevance to it until it is discounted as evidence. What else have you found?"

Eric got back up to his feet and went directly to the gate. "I found significant damage to the gate. It is bent in areas and the latch has been destroyed. Anything could have caused this, and since it is such a cheap quality of wood, it could have buckled not long after it was put up."

"That might be true, Eric, but I highly doubt that a gate such as this could sustain such strange indentations to it," Horatio said as he peered more closely at the damage. "Look here for example, it looks like somebody kicked it in and the fact that it doesn't close or latch properly is evident of that fact, isn't it?"

Eric nodded glumly. "I thought that as well, but remember what happened the last time I made such assumptions? It got the evidence thrown out. I'll have to wait until I get this gate back to the lab so I can know for sure what caused all this damage."

"I don't think that you should focus on your past failings, Eric. You're a great CSI..."

"I nearly lost my job, H." Eric looked away, blinking hard. "I don't want to lose this job. It is nearly impossible for a CSI to find another one if they are fired for mistakes on the job. I am not a forensic scientist!"

Eric's worries about his job were a sad reality for every CSI no matter how long they had been at it, or how efficient they were at their duties. One lethal mistake to a criminal investigation and they were replaced by somebody far more effective. It was true that they weren't forensic scientists, but they had the same training in the lab as one and were considered forensic experts. Yet, those that worked in forensics were civilian scientists and didn't face such dire consequences if they made any errors in the lab.

He still believed that Eric was overreacting. What had happened in the court of law wasn't so much a mistake as it had been a dangerous assumption. He had done his job correctly and discovered that the evidence did not line up with what it had first looked like. Though to give the young CSI some credence to his fear of mistake, Judge Ratner had torn apart the evidence and allowed a serial rapist back out on the street. Horatio's mouth curled into a snarl at the memory of that day. It had taken a lot of effort for him to remain in his seat and not attempt murder himself.

Horatio shook himself mentally and forced himself to return to the present. He noticed that Eric still looked angry with himself over his past mistake, and tried to think of something to say that would make him snap out of it. His mind was oddly blank, however, and Horatio wasn't sure if that was a good or bad thing.

"Have you found anything else?" he finally asked lamely.

His question finally jolted Eric out of his deep reverie. He watched as he looked quickly down at the clipboard to read his notes.

"Other than the blade of the axe, the prints and the gate, I've found nothing. Do you want me to look around again?"

Horatio looked around the property and bit his lip. It was a very large yard, and had many hiding places that needed to be checked out. However, he was certain that Eric had already looked around and collected as much evidence as he could find given the circumstances. He knew that Natalie Greenfield would want the backyard searched as well by the Bureau's own forensic investigators. Despite the fact that he knew the FBI agent was only doing her job by being thorough, he couldn't help but scowl at the fact that she didn't seem to trust a state funded laboratory.

He realised that Eric was waiting for an answer, and quickly looked over the backyard once again. "If you feel that you've missed anything, then you can go back to what you were doing. However, if you're finished out here, then I would like you to go to the house and process the rooms downstairs."

"What about the gate? Do you want me to take it now or wait until the FBI sees it?"

Horatio knew that Eric was referring to Greenfield by the way he crinkled his nose in disgust, and tried hard to restrain the smile that he felt tug at his lips. After a few moments of thought, he turned around towards the house.

"Let's run it by Agent Greenfield first," he said gently as he led the way to a stone walkway that wound its way to a small fountain that mimicked a waterfall. "After all, she is in charge of the crime scene. We wouldn't want her to interrupt the processing of evidence for not informing her that we removed it from the scene without her permission."

As Horatio walked past the fountain, the ghostly laughter of a young child echoed loudly in his ears.