Catherine looked at the evidence before her. The glass was from a car window, a match to a Toyota Hybrid. They'd also found black car paint underneath the mothers fingernails, along with skin from an unknown male. There were thousands of cars that matched that description in Las Vegas though, so this really didn't help. Exasperated, she decided to work on her surprise for Sara.

Half an hour later, she heard her pager beep. A 911 from Al, must be important. He never paged anyone. She practically jumped out of her seat and ran to Autopsy.

"What's up, Doc?" She said, slightly out of breath. Al raised his eyebrow, knowing that Catherine probably didn't mean to quote Bugs Bunny.

"The toxicology and SAE kit came back on the little girl. It's not good, Cath. Our TOD suggests that the mother and daughter died first, and the husband about an hour later."

Catherine nodded. "What did the tox report say?"

"Well, it says that they found flunitrazepam in her system." He sighed. Injustice was the basis of all of their careers, but sometimes it was difficult.

"She was roofied? This couldn't get any worse."

"Actually..." Doc Robbins trailed off as Catheirne raised an eyebrow. "It could. The DNA from the SAE kit came back with 13 allelles in common with the kid. Her father did this to her. And there he is, DNA confirms it." He pointed at the first body they'd found.

"I don't understand, why would he need to roofie a girl under ten? There's no way she could have fought him off!"

Doc Robbins walked towards the man in queston. His face seemed to morph under the knowledge of what he'd done. Where before he had been handsome in a rugged sort of way, Catherine could now only see a monster who'd used his daughter as some kind of toy.

"He was so hyped up on intravenous drugs, I doubt a toddler would have had trouble fighting him off. His wife must've kept him pretty well fed, because we found evidence of steak in his stomach."

Cath grimaced. She could guess the answer to her next question. "And what of the wife?"

"Evidence of long-term abuse, at least over ten years. Bruises, broken bones that had healed wrong, that sort of thing."

"Thanks, Al." She smiled sympathetically at him and left the room.

As she was cwalking away, Sara appeared from round a corner.

"You been to autopsy?" She asked, casually. Catherine nodded.

"You wanna tell me the outcome?"

As Catherine told her the story, Sara's face gradually whitened, memories in her mind resurfacing, her own childhood biting at her. She stood stock still and listened. When Catherine was done, Sara just stared.

And then she whispered four words.

"We need to talk."