A/N: Thank you for all the comments for last week's chapter. Things are starting to move along with the following chapters. I can't take all the credit for this chapter, as well as doing an awesome job as beta, Jellybean also wrote some of this chapter. This story certainly would be much more difficult, without her help.

CHAPTER 16

"Nevada Southern, this is Prisoner Transport Vehicle 4563. Do you copy? Over."

The radio transmitter at Nevada Southern Detention Center, located in Pahrump barked to life with a static-filled message, but was not readily heard by the guard on duty.

"Nevada Southern, this is Prisoner Transport Vehicle 4563. Do you copy? Over."

Finally, the guard on duty picked up the transponder to reply to the transmission. "We hear you bus. This is guard on staff at Nevada Southern. Can you give me your 20? Over."

"Well, presently, off our time schedule. We're having some issues with the vehicle. We stopped to change a flat and check on an engine issue. Over."

The guard retrieved his prisoner manifest to look over the schedule for the transport. "PTV, do you need assistance on your transport? We can schedule another bus to meet you. Give me your 20. Over."

"We should be fine if we look things over. We prefer to get this bucket back on the road rather than wait for another transport. Over."

The response from the transport didn't phase the guard. He wouldn't want to wait for a transport either. But he still wanted to know the location of the vehicle, a question asked twice and still not answered. "10-4, transport. Give me your 20 so I can mark location coordinates and let my boss know a better timeline for the pickup. Over."

"Currently 50 plus miles from Nye County Correctional on I-95, where we drop off a guard, before heading back to you in Pahrump. Over."

The guard looked at his manifest for record of the transport going to Nye. He hadn't known about that although it definitely changed the timetable of when the transport would arrive in Pahrump.

But having an additional stop was not unusual. At the last minute, wardens might make requests of transfers at the last minute. He had come on duty not too long ago and it is possible the guard on shift before him was alerted but never wrote down the information.

So, the guard did some quick math in his head. They still had a good 120 miles before they could make it to the prison, which made for a two to three hour drive, depending on the life of the transport, the time to do a tire repair and the drop off of the guard. "10-4 transport. Will mark down your coordinates and await news. Appreciate another update in an hour or two. Over."

"10-4, Nevada Southern. Will talk in 60 to 120. Over."

Some six hours later, 12 prisoners of Nevada Southern Detention Center were getting antsy. The dozen inmates had been waiting in a holding cell area for more than three hours, and the area was not conducive for 12 grown men to twiddle their thumbs.

The guards on duty could not care less about the restless inmates, who were scolded if they got too loud. But they had realized the transport they awaited was too late for comfort. It was time to called the dispatch office to see what was going on.

The same guard who took the radio transmission from hours before was getting ready to leave. He had received a second transmission from the transport two hours after he first heard from them. They were 20 miles from Nye and would be heading to Pahrump ASAP. The transport once again declined a relief transport vehicle to meet them. He figured now was the time to contact the transport.

"Transport 4563, this is Nevada Southern Detention Center. Do you copy? Over."

Nothing but static.

The guard tried again. "Transport 4563, this is Nevada Southern Detention Center. Do you copy? Over."

Still nothing.

He switched to other channels to no avail. No dispatched messages were stated to be received.

This wasn't good.

Although there was only 20 minutes left on his shift, the guard knew he had to make a call he didn't want to make. "Give me the warden's office."

Because the prison guard from Nevada Southern Detention Center in Pahrump lost contact with the Prisoner Transport Vehicle when it was supposed to be near Nye Correctional, the Nye County Sheriff's Office in Beatty, Nevada, did preliminary investigation. Members searched a long stretch of Highway 95 for any signs of wreckage of the prison transport vehicle within the Amargosa Valley. But they found nothing.

With the vehicle missing for some seven hours, the Nye Sheriff's office reached out to Clark County, which dispatched a team of day shift CSIs and almost two dozen cadets to conduct further investigation along the stretch of Highway NV116 that leads out of the two point of origin prisons.

Knowing this would be a high-profile investigation, day shift supervisor Karson Hess led the CSIs on site. He sighed in frustration as he gazed into the familiar, and never never-ending distance of the isolated crime scene. For as far as the eye could see was a flat expanse of sandy soil, punctuated with rock mounds and hills. White bursage, creosote bushes and some Joshua trees dotted the landscape.

Like the investigators in Beatty, the CSIs had made no progress either.

There had been over sixty-two miles of isolated highway to cover, and they had nothing to show for it. There were skid marks, but they were clearly old, and possibly made from any number of vehicles avoiding some of the larger indigenous wildlife that populated the area. It was not unusual for desert big horn sheep or coyotes to venture too close to the road.

But just how did a bus with a driver, two guards and a total of four prisoners from two prisons disappear?

Kahlil glanced at his day shift coworker with more than a hint of concern in his eyes. As Sara stirred the cold remains of her lunch around her plate, it became evident to Kahlil that she'd not eaten much, if anything at all. Slender to begin with, she appeared to have lost weight, she couldn't really afford to lose, over the weeks, since Grissom's incarceration.

They'd been working on a suspected hit-and-run for the last few hours, and had little evidence to show for their efforts. He was still trying to figure out, how he'd managed to convince her to take a break.

"Not hungry?" Kahlil asked. "You want me to get you something different?"

Giving up all pretense of eating, Sara put down her fork, and took a sip of the mango smoothie she'd ordered instead of her usual tea. "No. Thank you, though. That's sweet of you to offer."

"You should eat more or perhaps, drink more of those smoothies."

She smiled and took a sip, savoring the taste. "Lately these things are the only thing that have helped with my stomach. I get…"

Sara stopped short of explaining how she starts feeling nauseous whenever she thinks of her husband. But she didn't need to because her partner seemed to understand. A soft-spoken man, he never overstepped or overshared, but he always seemed compassionate.

"I don't know how you do it Sara. If you ever need to talk about how you are feeling, don't shy away."

"Sometimes it's easier just to move forward."

Kahlil nodded his head. He was not a man who pushed. "That is true. You did a great job today."

She smiled. "Back atcha." She took another sip of her smoothie grateful the subject was dropped. "You heard from anyone else on shift today? I feel like we've abandoned them."

"Oh, I got a text earlier. Everyone else got called on a case in the desert. You didn't get that text?"

Sara checked her phone. But saw no new texts. Not from her supervisor. Not from anyone. She'd still not heard from Grissom, since she'd last called his lawyer, Hobson Nash, and she was beginning to think that he might not be passing on her messages.

"I … didn't get it."

"Well, no worries," Kahlil said. "We were told to stay on our case. I suppose we are the fortunate ones not having to work in the late afternoon sun."

He raised his glass of water in a gesture of a toast. Sara reciprocated as she clinked her Styrofoam cup against his glass. "To being lucky."

"Yes. That is something you could use," Kahlil said before resuming his meal.

As her present partner ate, Sara's thoughts wandered to her former teammates. She'd tried asking the team on how the investigation on Grissom's case was going, but she knew as well as they did, that they couldn't talk about an active case. Still, she hadn't heard anything from anyone in weeks. Not even to check up on her or her well being. She was beginning to feel isolated from her friends as the weeks passed.

Back in his office Karson leaned back in his chair, and let out a sigh. He was tense, the consequences of a long shift, that showed no signs of ending soon. He stared at the information that he'd been given from the wardens at both prisons. Of the four prisoner names on the sheet, only one stood out.

The suspicion that had been tumbling through his mind, was beginning to look like a certainty. He didn't know the ex-grave supervisor well, but he didn't cherish thinking the man could be involved in such ill circumstances.

Then there was Sara. Fortunately, she was on call with another case when Hess got the PTV call out. Karson knew she had to be as far away from the situation as possible, but he still felt like he needed input from someone who knew Grissom well.

Which is why hours after his own shift and hours before the grave shift was to start, Karson heard a knock on the door from Nick Stokes.

"Hey, Stokes. Thanks for coming in," Karson said as he rose from his chair. "Close the door behind you and have a seat."

Nick immediately noticed the various folders, papers and maps littering Karson's desk. "Looks like you got a helluva case going on. You said you might need my help?"

"Yeah, your help and frankly, what I'm working on relates to a case you worked on grave," Karson said. "A prison transport vehicle is missing following an early morning transport between several prisons. Karen spoke to the warden office's at the individual prisons where pick-ups were made, and requested info on the prisoners that were being transported. Of the four prisoners, only one is the highest profile on the call sheet — Gil Grissom."

He handed a file folder full of printouts to Nick. "Where was the last vantage point of the transport?" Nick asked.

"There's no sign of wreckage anywhere along the route they took. Nothing."

"What?" Nick asked incredulously. "There has to be something. A bus with seven people on board just doesn't vanish without trace."

"I agree," Karson said. "Unless it was a jail break."

Nick was silent for several minutes as he took on board everything the CSI supervisor had told him. As he glanced over the printout, his gaze focused on Grissom's name. At first he had not believed for a minute that Grissom was guilty of Jake's murder. But as he conducted the investigation and looked at the evidence, his mind changed. He had to come to terms that the man he had admired committed murder.

"What do you think, Stokes?" Karson said, breaking Nick out of his own thoughts. "I didn't know Grissom that well and never would have pegged him to kill someone…"

"You and me both," Nick said. "And if something happened to the bus and it broke down, maybe he escaped… but this is the middle of nowhere."

"Exactly," Karson said. "We would have found something — the bus or at least a piece of it. And there aren't many places for him to hide out there. I know Nye had a chopper in the air that found no signs of life. Hell, we would have found a body, if anything."

"You're thinking this was a coordinated jail break?"

Karson shrugged. "It's not out of the realm of possibilities. Karen seems to be the most vocal about that theory and as she looked into the backgrounds of the prisoners, she couldn't find ties to anyone, but it would seem Grissom would have the most know-how of the ins and outs of law enforcement to possibly pull this off," Karson explained at he leaned back in the chair. "But, even as those words come out of my mouth, I find a hard time believing it."

"Yeah," Nick said solemnly. "But still … there is something about it that makes sense."

"It only makes sense if he had help. There is no way any prisoner could do this solo."

Nick felt a terrible feeling in the pit of his stomach. "Has anyone contacted Sara about all this? Does she know about the bus and that Grissom was on it?"

"I need to find that out from the sheriff…" Karson's statement was interrupted by his phone ringing. "Hess. … Yes sir. I was actually just sitting down with Nick Stokes discussing some theories. … You heard from whom? … I find that unusual since Karen is not the lead on the case. … Yes, that is one theory but this investigation is nowhere near over. Any theory at this point is speculation. We need something concrete. We need to find that van. … No, I do understand that. … Sir, I would appreciate it if I could be there as well. … Yes. … OK. Thank you, Sheriff."

Karson stood up, letting Nick know their brainstorming session was over, for now. "To answer your question, if Sara doesn't know by now, she's going to find out. Ecklie's on his way to pick me up to go to Sara's."

Nick followed Karson out the door, and as the two made their way in two different directions, Nick asked quickly. "Is it just you two?"

Karson turned around solemnly. "No."