A/N: An awesome beta by JellybeanChiChi, as usual. This story really wouldn't be what it is without her invaluable help, suggestions and encouragement. Many thanks also, for all your awesome comments. I'm quite far ahead in chapters, and if i continue posting only 1 chapter a week, its going to take forever. So, how do you feel about maybe 2 chapters a week? I'll stick to Wednesday's but what other day, would you like an extra chapter on? I think at least a few days apart, so that no one gets too far behind.

Chapter 18

It was a long night for Sara. She got little sleep as theories played in her head and she relived the hours and days that led up to Jake's death. Where was he at different times of the day and night? Yes, he overreacted with Jake at times, but it wasn't deadly at any time.

The sounds of Daniel playing came through the baby monitor for his after-midnight feeding. Sara still hadn't slept, but his sounds made her smile, for a moment. She made her way to his room and her smile widened then faltered slightly as thoughts of just how much Grissom was missing out crossed her mind once more. That was the one thing that Matty Foster had gotten right.

Mother and son prepared for the daily routine. She cradled Daniel as he looked at her and drank milk. His finger curled around hers and she thought about how he was growing so fast. He had found his voice, and it wouldn't be all that long before he would be talking. Having mastered the art of crawling, he was now experimenting with pulling himself up. There had been a few occasions, when Sara had turned her back for just a second, and he'd been off making his escape. When she'd turned back to look at him, he'd managed to make it across the living room, and had successfully managed to pull himself up, using the sofa as leverage. The delighted grin, on his small face had spoken volumes. He'd been quite pleased with himself. It certainly wouldn't be long, before he was walking.

She daydreamed about the small family taking a trip when all these events are behind them. But when would that time be?

She continued to think about that as Daniel started to finish and fall back asleep. She put him back in his crib and retreated back in the bedroom. All her thoughts about Grissom — what had happened, would he be back, where was he now — created an all-to-familiar anxiety.

Although tired, those thoughts prevented her from falling asleep. She grabbed her laptop and sat up in bed so she could put a pillow on her lap and perch the computer there.

All these events started with Jake, so Sara, ever the investigator, typed Jake's name into a search engine. She quickly found he had a Facebook page and clicked on the link.

Her breath caught, and goosebumps formed on her bare arms, as a cold shiver cut through her from head to toe. Jake's timeline was filled with photos of her.

She blinked several times before she realised that they weren't actually photos of her. Instead they were photos of a girl who could be her twin. The only distinction is her doppelgänger didn't have a gap between her teeth.

Swallowing down her shock, Sara continued to look through Jake's timeline. There were several more photos of women who all looked the same. Women who could easily pass for Sara.

Going through his page, alarms rang in Sara's mind. Apart from the their shared similarities to her, they all had another communality. The longer they stayed with Jake, the more the women looked unhappy. Some even looked downright scared and unsure as the relationship progressed.

Sara identified a Penny O'Brien as his most recent girlfriend. According to his timeline, they'd been dating for just over six months before Jake's case had brought him to Vegas. After only four months, Sara could already see the changes starting to appear in Penny's photos. Sara presumed the reason was that Jake's overbearing and arrogant personality had started to erode Penny's self esteem and confidence.

As she processed all the information she uncovered, Sara signed out of Facebook and switched off the computer. As she laid back down in the bed she shared with her husband, her mind drifted back to those last tumultuous days of her relationship with Jake. They had argued endlessly, and his jealousy had been a big part of their growing incompatibility. While it was entirely fine for him to have many woman "friends," it was an entirely different matter if she were to talk to another man.

Jake had been an attractive man, and he had known it. But his jealously and arrogant attitude had made him unpopular among their male colleagues. It was that "bad boy" image that attracted the women. He could turn on the charm when it suited, which had led many women to his bed.

For a little while, it seemed that Jake had changed his ways after meeting Sara. It didn't last long; within a few short months, the arrogance returned as had the jealousy. The day before he'd asked her to marry him, he'd laughed in her face when she'd confronted him about his latest woman "friend."

She'd seen through the charming veneer. She no longer knew what had attracted her to him in the first place. She'd turned down his proposal and had walked out the door, and never looked back.

Seven months later, she attended that fateful seminar and met Gil. Despite the ups and downs of their relationship that followed and despite the tumultuous time they suffered through now, Sara regretted nothing.

It was apparent that Jake had been obsessed with her, and despite the years after their break up, his jealousy of other men in her life had remained strong. The haunted look in Penny's eyes sent another shiver through Sara's body, and she couldn't help thinking she'd had a lucky escape.

But then again, he came back into her life and created this new hell. As Sara drifted off to sleep alone in her bed she thought she was anything but lucky.

When the sounds of Daniel growing restless filtered through the baby monitor in the morning, Sara's eyes popped open. She seemed to get only a few hours of rest, and now her stomach growled with hunger, and brought with it the uneasiness of the previous day.

Her anxiety over Grissom was renewed, but so was her intent to prove his innocence. While she did have questions, moments, inklings of believing maybe he did kill Jake, maybe he did break out of prison, her heart, soul and mind quashed every instance.

He was missing precious moments of Daniel's life and Sara could not believe he would put his life on a path that would allow that. Something was wrong in the investigation and something was very wrong about him being missing along with a bus, guards and other prisoners.

She decided it was time she took more of an active role. Despite being put on leave, Sara was going to start her day as she normally would. Shower, care for her son, take him to daycare and investigate a crime. One against her husband, not committed by him.

If only she could understand anything about the investigation. That would help things for sure, she thought.

As if the universe had heard her request, Sara saw a moment of serendipity an hour or so later. She had just dropped off Daniel at daycare when she spotted Nick's Denali parked at a local restaurant when he liked to get breakfast before going home.

She made a quick decision and pulled in. It was a long shot, but maybe he'd had some news on Grissom. And if he'd heard the latest news, he might be more willing to help.

She parked by his Denali and stood outside the cars waiting from him to come from the restaurant. Soon, he came to stand in front of her, his hands deep in his jeans pocket, his expression unreadable.

"Hey Nick," Sara began, but Nick held up his hand.

"Look, Sara, I really shouldn't be talking to you, with everything that has happened. Especially since Ecklie has suspended you after what's happening with Grissom..."

"You know about my suspension?" Sara was shocked by his words, not just about his knowledge of her but by the tone in his voice. She couldn't believe that he believed the worst about Grissom. "What are you saying, Nick?"

"You know what I'm saying, Sara," Nick said sadly. "Look I know this is tough for you, but you have to understand what is really going on."

"I don't believe you..." Sara shook her head. "When this whole mess first started, you didn't believe he was capable of this either. I even asked you to look for innocence, rather that guilt. And now? You believe what they're saying about him?"

"Sara, the investigation is out of our hands. There's nothing I can do. There's nothing you can do."

"Nothing I can do? What I can do is prove my husband's innocence!" Sara exploded. "I don't believe that Gil would just disappear like this, leaving not just me but Daniel, high and dry, never to be heard from again."

"Sara, if he's innocent, why not turn himself in? Or wait at the scene until help arrived?" Nick questioned. "I'm sorry, Sara, but his actions are not those of an innocent man."

Sara didn't have a retort to the comment, although she still found it a ludicrous suggestion. So if Grissom was OK, he should have just waited in the middle of the desert, the middle of nowhere without food or water? She was about to try and voice that thought, when Nick spoke up again.

"Listen, Sara, I know it is hard to believe this stuff about him, but look at the reason he is in jail to begin with. I mean, I never would have thought he could commit murder, but the evidence doesn't …"

"Don't," Sara interrupted, knowing exactly what Nick was going to say. "Now, you need to listen before you start throwing Gil's words back at me and against him. Do you truly believe that Gil… that Grissom a man you've known for so long would even be capable of murder?"

Nick shook his head sadly. "Sara, I saw the guy throw a punch at Jake…"

"Yeah, throw a punch. Like you might have done. Like I know you wanted to do," Sara responded, receiving a red-faced response from her friend. At that point, she knew her argument struck a cord. "So he threw a punch. Does that automatically mean he would kill someone? I mean, come on Nick, you know he isn't a violent man. Hell, I can count on one hand the times he carried his service weapon, let alone drew his gun in the course of his duty. He was a scientist first and foremost. This isn't the Grissom I know or the Grissom you know. There's more to this than there appears, and I'm going to find it, with or without your help."

Nick stared silently at Sara for several minutes, as he weighed up her words. He knew she spoke the truth; Gil Grissom would never leave his wife and son behind, without so much as a word. But he also knew that if Grissom made a huge mistake he would want Sara to be as far away from that mistake as possible.

Even if that meant killing a man out of jealous rage and taking a moment of serendipity to escape prison and fall off the face of the earth.

"You're thinking like his wife and not as a CSI…"

The simple statement enraged Sara. "Screw you, Nick!"

"No. Now you stop!" Nick insisted, his own anger rising. "When Karen O'Shea posed this theory, me and Hess both took a hard look at this and think it might be what happened."

"Karen O'Shea? She's lead on the investigation?" Sara truly couldn't believe that. Not only is she a sub-par CSI, she always had it out for Sara and was probably enjoying the opportunity to steam roll any investigation of her husband.

"No, Karen's not the lead, but that doesn't mean her theory shouldn't be considered," Nick said. "You know, Sara, if this was anyone else other than Grissom, you'd be thinking exactly the same things as I'm thinking! Don't deny that."

Sara took a deep breath to control her emotions. "You guys are not even trying to stop the gossip. You all are assuming he escaped, instead of treating him like a missing person."

The two friends stood across each other, stone faced. Neither was going to budge in their argument. Sara knew it was time to leave before she would say something she regretted.

Before she turned to leave, she wanted to strike home one more chord. "You know, Nick, you might think I am not thinking like a CSI, but maybe you need to check yourself, because I thought CSIs had to look at situations from more than one perspective. Not a singular perspective that is rooted in gossip and preconceived notion."

With that she turned away leaving Nick to stew in a myriad of many thoughts.

His body lurched to the side, his face cracking against the passenger window as the bus jarred violently once more as the bus was again hit from behind. Prisoners and guards alike, were flung forcefully from their seats, in a tumbling mess of arms and legs. The sounds of rendering metal, filled the air as the semi pulled back. It edged closer to the severely damaged and mangled rear end of the prison bus, ramming it a third time.

Although unconscious, Grissom relived those moments in his mind. When he relived the bus veering dangerously to the left, and then ploughing into the hillside, he woke up with an equally shuddering jolt.

Grissom swore he could once again smell gun powder, and just underneath the surface, a faint scent of gasoline as worked to regain consciousness. It hurt to move, so he couldn't evaluate his current surroundings, but it seemed to be a very small, dark room. He was lying upon a metal cot with a mattress thinner than the one in his prison cell. As a bonus, his left hand was cuffed to the frame.

The sole window in the room was boarded up, but light seemed to filter through cracks and knots in the wood. He squinted his eyes and saw a door. He certainly wasn't in the transport bus any more. He didn't seem to be in a prison cell either. But he might as well have been.

How did he get here? Grissom tried remember what happened. After the crash, his body was sprawled between his seat and the aisle and he heard low groans around him. The coppery taste of blood filled his mouth and pain radiated through his body and emanated from his left side.

A gunshot. The smell of gun powder had seemed to thicken.

That memory jarred Grissom everything seemed to rush to him at once.

The blurred outline of a head and shoulders filled his vision. He blinked owlishly, as he tried to recall a name, but the task was too difficult for his confused mind, so he gave up. Darkness edged his vision once more, as unconsciousness threatened to consume him again.

"Oh, no you don't, Grissom," the blurred shape ordered, as it shook Grissom. The voice sounded muffled to his dulled senses. "Wake up!" the voice ordered sharply, shaking him vigorously.

Groggily, Grissom tried to comply with the voice, as the shape leaned over him, and unfastened the shackle to his foot. He was impatiently shaken again, the movement causing pain to shoot from his left knee and his left side just below his ribs.

"On your feet, Grissom! If you think I'm carrying you out of here, you can think again!"

Two more muffled voices, mingled with the first one, then hands grasped him roughly under the arms and pulled him roughly to his feet. Nausea swirled in his stomach, as the interior of the bus spun madly. He swayed slightly, and the hands gripped him more tightly.

"Grissom, focus!" another voice ordered sharply. "I just need you to get your ass outside!" Recognition danced just out of reach of his confused senses.

He walked and was dragged outside. He heard the guard who escorted him speaking with someone else. They talked about the driver and the other prisoners.

"All but the driver are dead."

The guard from his prison. That was the voice.

"And I'm about to deal with the driver now."

"After you do, don't forget to grab the dispatch radio."

Grissom didn't recognize that voice at all.

"Right, boss."

Grissom was situated at the rear of the bus. He sat slumped against a wheel. He felt weak and nauseous and wondered how much blood stained the right side of his face.

Then he heard another gunshot.

The rest of the scene seemed to be a blur as Grissom waited under the brutal sun. At one point, he was half-pushed, half-dragged to a sedan. What was it? A Lexus or a Camry or a Buick. Could have been anything. Some type of four-door car. There was a tow truck that worked to winch the mangled wreckage of the bus upon its flat bed.

If didn't Grissom know any better, he might have thought there was an accident and prison officials were working to get them back on track with another transport.

But that didn't explain the gunshots. And it truly didn't explain the conversations that filtered in Grissom's tired, injured brain.

"It's an almost two-hour drive to the scrap yard in North Las Vegas. The owner will be expecting you…"

The voice of what Grissom surmised was the leader seemed so familiar. But he couldn't place it then and he still couldn't place it now.

"They're closed for lunch between 11:30 a.m. and 12.30 p.m. There's a bonus in it for you, if you can get there, before they reopen. Got it?"

As he laid upon the uncomfortable mattress, Grissom worked to remember anything else after that moment, but he could think of nothing. He had no lucid recollection of anything else. I must have been drugged or knocked out, he thought.

Grissom's anxiety started to peak. He fought back his pain and worked to sit up on the bed. Where was he? Where were the other prisoners? And the guards? What were those gunshots about? He wondered if he should call for help, but the rattle of his cuffed hand quashed any notion that he was in a situation where people might help him.

His musings were interrupted by the sound of someone unlocking the door. The lights were switched on and Grissom adjusted his eyes to the newfound brightness of the room. The figure approached him, and soon recognition was there as Grissom's eyes widened then narrowed.

"Hello Grissom."