"Grissom!" Warrick Brown walked down the alley where Gil and Sarah were standing at the pool gate. Sara was dusting it for prints and Gil was talking to an officer. Red and blue flashing lights lit up the surroundings, as the evening light began to fall. "What've we got? Message just said missing kid."

Gil nodded at the police officer, stepping around Sara and turning his attention to the arriving CSI. "Warrick. Missing girl, about 16, red hair about 5'3". Came back here to take a phone call, and disappeared, only a bit of a blood trail left behind. I want you on photographs. Where's Nick and Catherine?"

"Trying to find a place to park. Right on the strip, parking is at a premium."

"Good. I want Catherine in the office talking to anyone and everyone. The last person to see her was a lifeguard, and she is detained in the office just for questioning. Have Nick track down an employee by the name of Adam, and find out where he is and take a uniform with him. Sarah has the pool area and gate, I am working on the alley."

Warrick sighed, hefting his kit case, his kind eyes narrowed at the scene around him. "So what are you thinking, Gris? Kidnapping?"

Gil had turned away to study the ground and he looked up at his CSI. "I don't make assumptions, Warrick, I study evidence. And that evidence is fading as we speak." He gave the younger man a pointed look and the CSI nodded. He set up his equipment and began the task of photographing the scene, as Catherine and Nick came into view in the alley.

"How did you pull this case away from afternoon shift?" Nick asked, stopping right outside of the yellow caution tape. Grissom walked over to meet them and shrugged.

"Once I told them that I knew some things about the kid and it took so long to get everyone here, afternoon was all too happy to pass it off since it will run into our shift anyway."

"How kind," Catherine said in a sarcastic tone, rolling her eyes. "Don't want to do doubles, apparently. Lucky them, lucky us."

"I'm not upset about it," Grissom shrugged, shaking his head. "I want this girl found alive, guys, if at all possible. That relies on accuracy, efficiency, and prompt reading of evidence, and you are all the best in the lab, I trust you all. I wanted you on this case. The lab - needs you on this case."

Nick and Catherine smiled slightly. 'I need you on this case' was really what their boss was saying, even if sentiment was difficult for him to fall into. They then grew serious again. Nick looked around the alley. "So, since we are on the same page regarding which shift is on this, maybe you better brief us on this kid, Gris. Who are we looking for?"

Gil held up the caution tape for them to enter the scene and waved a hand at the crime scene. "Missing girl named Holly, about 16, red hair, about 5'3", came in to work this morning, was here for several hours in training, then according to an eyewitness came back here through that gate to take a phone call and she didn't return to the pool area. Blood trail is all we have visibly to go on. Sara is working on the gate over there. Warrick is already on photographs, Catherine, lobby, interview anyone and everyone, and Nick, I need you to find this guy named Adam. Get a description, address, whatever you can from the other lifeguard, she is in the office. He was the last person to talk to her before she disappeared. Adam was training her, and he supposedly stayed until the end of his shift when our girl was scheduled to have taken over for the next shift. Bring him in for questions once you get him."

Nick nodded and headed toward the office. "On it."

"So our girl was a lifeguard?" Catherine noted, pulling gloves out of her kit.

"Yes. Our girl also may have a history of loving to swim, so keep that in mind when looking for trace. She told me it was - a hobby. Guess when she needed it, it also somehow became a job opportunity."

"You talked with her?" Catherine asked quickly, giving him a confused look.

Gil nodded. "Last night. She came up to me and wanted to ride the roller coaster with me. Said I was 'safe'."

Catherine raised her eyebrows. "Well, we both know what that means. There were definitely people in her life that weren't safe. Did she have anything to do with the 'something' you needed Sarah's help with earlier today?"

Grissom flashed his light around the gate area where Sara was lifting prints. "I wanted to check on her."

"Ah," Catherine gave him an incredulous half smile. "The tough Grissom does have feelings."

Gil gave her a friendly but annoyed glare. "Sara did some digging. Her father is in jail for several serious charges including exploitation of a minor."

The look of anger that crossed Catherine's face mirrored that of the older man, and she shook her head. "People are pigs."

Gil's eyebrows raised in agreement, but he didn't say anything else. Catherine sighed and turned toward the street. "Well, I will go around the front and check out that manager and the office."

"Oh, Catherine, we also need her employment documents, application, background checks, anything and everything in her file if he will give it to us." Gil called after Catherine as she headed toward the office.

"What if he won't?" she called back. Grissom shrugged.

"Use your charms. Then get a warrant."

"On what grounds?"

"Missing employee, blood in the alley, pick something."

Catherine rolled her eyes at him again, and he frowned, returning to the alleyway. "Got anything Warrick?"

"Two sets of footprints, one light and about a size seven, another heavier one about a size 11. Drag marks in this blood over here. Low and medium velocity spatter, whomever this blood belongs to wasn't moving very quickly. Point of travel indicated she was moving toward that end of the alley."

"You are assuming it's hers," Grissom corrected him, crouching to shine his light on the prints Warrick had lifted. "Let the evidence talk, don't interpret."

"Right. Got it. I will collect all this and get it to Greg. If she was in training, then she must have been in that lifeguard tower at some point. I will see if I can get a DNA sample from it as well as our mystery Adam."

"My jacket!" Grissom shoved himself to his feet, heading for the parked cars. "Hang on, she wore my jacket last night. It's still in the SUV. Give me a minute and I will bag it for you. There should be epithelials on it, as well as her shoe print."

"Got something," Sara called, bringing him to a halt. She was shining her flashlight on the latch of the gate.

Grissom shined his light where hers was pointing and walked over to where she was standing. "Sara, what have you got?"

"Hair and blood on the edge of this gate. Looks like someone hit their head on it."

"Question is, was it our girl or our guy," Gil murmured, studying the gate. "Well, it's more than we had, now we've got hair and blood. Bag and tag and get it to trace, put a rush on it. Warrick, take these samples Sara is collecting with you when you take yours. I will get that jacket. Sarah, when you are done, work on getting those cameras."

Gil Grissom left the group, and headed to the SUV, where he pocketed his flashlight, peeled off his gloves, and reached for the door handle to get his jacket out of the passenger seat. As he touched the handle, a note stuck into the door frame caught his attention. He carefully folded over one of his removed gloves, careful not to touch the paper, and tugged it free. He half turned into the glow of the streetlight to read it, his blood chilling in his veins.

I know you.

You don't know me but.

From a man.

No one is ever safe.

You will kill her.

By your hand.

By getting too close.

Before she met you.

She was mine first.

The words were a thinly veiled threat, that much Grissom could tell, and in an odd rhythm. He grabbed the jacket from his SUV and hurried back toward the group, intending to give Warrick the note to take to the lab with him. But before he could step back into the circle of flashing lights and yellow tape, something hard hit him over the head and he fell to the sidewalk, still and bleeding.


Sounds faintly filtered back into his consciousness, along with the pounding pain in the back of his head. He tried to focus on his senses for a moment, feeling the gritty ground beneath him, cool air brushing across his bare chest, cold metal clasped around his wrists, hands extended above his head, fingers cold and numb...

His eyes flew open, as the situation he was in fully registered. The room around him appeared to be an old barn, great beams running the full length of the space. Scattered farm machinery was silhouetted in the far side of the barn. He was inside a large stall, and was bare chested, sitting on the hay-strewn ground, back against a wooden stall divider, arms extended above his head, clasped in metal shackles that were attached to a metal eye ring at the top of the stall wall. Blood had trickled down the back of his neck, and he could feel that it had dried there, itchy and stiff around an egg sized throbbing center of pain where the unknown object had connected with his head. His shoes had been removed, and only his jeans remained. In the opposite corner, clearly unconscious, was Holly, face down in the hay. Her wrists were shackled to the wall as well, and blood had trickled down the side of her face, and was smudged across her arms and what he could see of her legs. She still wore a white short sleeve rash guard and white and red shorts, apparently her lifeguard outfit. He was thankful she was at least dressed, unlike himself. He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to remember what had happened to him, hoping that the jacket and letter were still laying where he had been struck down.

"Mr. Grissom."

A male voice snapped him out of his reverie, and anger filtered into his thoughts as a tall, scruffy man stepped into the barn. His dark hair was shaggy, his t-shirt and jeans too big and baggy, and his face unshaven and rough. He strode up to the CSI, hands clasped behind his back. "How good of you to come join this little vendetta."

"Is she okay?" Gil growled at him, pulling against the shackles, his jaw set grimly, trying to present that air of confidence he was known for. He definitely wasn't feeling it, but he knew anything he could collect at this point that could be used as evidence was going to be invaluable to his team.

"Ah, Mr. Grissom, how chivalrous of you. But you can drop the act. You are a red blooded man just like all the other men in the world. False bravado doesn't make you a better man. She is alive, but barely so. Wouldn't be as exciting if there wasn't a chance of losing the one you want to save, now is there?"

From a man.

No one is ever safe.

"Is she okay?" Gil asked again, his voice low and threatening. "You know what I am asking."

The stranger laughed outright. "Ah, I see I shall have a grand time breaking you. I do love a tough exterior and a soft inside. Much like a fancy chocolate. You, Mr. Grissom, are just like a fancy chocolate..." He knelt about ten feet away, grinning evilly at the CSI. "You know what the problem is with chocolate, Mr. Grissom?"

Grissom narrowed his intense blue eyes at him, jaw flexing in fury, but he said nothing. The man nodded and stood, sauntering toward the investigator, and placed a hand above his shackled hand. "The problem, Mr. Grissom, is chocolate breaks, so very easily..."

"You don't scare me," Grissom grunted, "Just let the girl go and you and I can deal with this."

The man laughed outright, and rested his elbows on his crouched knees. "Mr. Grissom, you are quite the dramatic man, are you not? All bugs and details and evidence and tough guy. Well, let me tell you this. She can't go, because she is instrumental in this little experiment. And I may not scare you, but by the time this is over, you will scare her. I haven't touched her, but the same can not be said of you, but the end of this day."

Grissom swallowed hard, his eyes drifting back to the still figure in the corner, his eyes softening. The barn faded away and the image of her beside him on the roller coaster, small hands clasped around the shoulder restraints, freckled face upturned to the starry sky, red hair blowing around her drifted back into his memory, and a sudden pain tore him back to reality. The stranger was standing on his ankle, pressing ever so slightly harder and harder.

"Stay focused, Mr. Grissom, I am still talking."

"Listening," Gil grunted through the pain. The man stopped just short of snapping the ankle and smiled.

"Good, good. I have your attention now. Here's the plan. It's very short, very simple. Pay attention, here goes...you...are going to kill her."


"Has anyone seen Grissom?" Warrick walked back toward the SUV's, bags of evidence in his hands. Catherine walked out of the office and came to meet him.

"No, I got her file from the office, was going to take it back to Documents and see if they can get anything. Sara is taking her photographs, blood, and hair back to DNA, and Nick got the address of the lifeguard and is headed over there now with a uniform, he left a while ago. Wasn't Grissom out here in the alley?"

"He said he was going to his vehicle for his coat, something about the missing girl having worn it."

"Okay, maybe he is still over there then. I want to see if he is staying at the scene here until everyone is done."

"Let me know what he says. You riding back with me since Nick is gone?"

"I'd appreciate it. My only other option is walking and I'd like to not take that route if you don't mind."

"Sure thing, that's why I offered. Come on, I parked over here. Hey, Catherine, is that blood?" The CSI's pulled out their flashlights and moved closer to where a heap of cloth lay on the pavement, next to a pool of dark blood, a piece of paper resting slightly in the puddle, next to Grissom's SUV. A name badge on the jacket was illuminated by their lights, clearly marked 'Grissom'. Warrick and Catherine looked at each other.

"Warrick, is that Gils' blood?"

Warrick sighed through his nose and set down his kit, opening it to collect the blood and items. "Evidence, Cath, don't interpret. Let's not go there just yet, but yeah, looks like it might be, but I sure hope not. Once way or the other, we have a second crime scene. Call it in and get Brass down here now. Hell, call in everybody. We have a situation."