CHAPTER 5:  

See Part 1 for disclaimers

Grissom walked down the hallway.  It gave him a sense of dislocation to hear the usual sounds
that occupied the halls of the CSI building daily.  On the one hand, he was grateful to be able to
hear every individual sound without feeling like he was caught in a riptide, struggling to break
free of the water dragging him under and away from the steadfast rock of his foundation.  On
the other, he couldn't help wanting to shout out that life had no right to go on as if nothing had
happened - they were missing... Sara had been taken from him.

Head downcast, Grissom began to compile in his mind the possible evidence that had been
gathered at the crime scene.  He was about to enter the conference room when the voice of the
newscaster caught his attention.  He stopped abruptly in the doorway.  His eyes were drawn to
the television mounted to the ceiling in the corner of the room.  The familiar figure of Paula
Francis was on the screen.

"We have a breaking story here... A Las Vegas criminalist has been abducted from her home. 
We go now to Shane Green at the scene."

The screen crossed over to show the driveway leading to Catherine's home, sealed from the
public and inquiring media by the customary yellow and black crime scene tape.  The dark-haired
reporter launched into his presentation.

"Initial reports are that Sara Side, a criminalist with the Las Vegas Police Department was abducted from
this house this morning together with the nine year old daughter of a colleague. Details are sketchy at
this stage and there is no information as to whether the abduction is related to a current case under
investigation." 

Grissom entered the conference room as the reporter said his last sentence.  He grabbed the
television control from off the table and pressed the button.  The screen turned blank and all
eyes turned to him before quickly dropping to avoid direct contact.

He was the last of his team to enter.  Silence greeted him.  As Grissom sat down, he swept his
eyes over them all.  Warrick's body was pitched forward, elbows resting on the table,  downcast
eyes scanning the evidence before him.  Nick was slumped in his seat, fingering the edge of
the file.  He was obviously avoiding the contents, avoiding the reality that the crime had touched
one of their own.  Greg was also slumped down in his chair, his quietness a clue to how the
very nature of this crime affected him.  Then there was Brass, his normally laid-back attitude
zinged with energy, determination filling his rounded face.  

It was obvious that he needed to make his team a team.  They were missing two key members,
which was seriously affecting them all.  But if they were to continue to process this crime, they
would need to operate cohesively and with the precision of a well-oiled machine.  Grissom
realised that he was going to have to be the oil to keep the machine working smoothly.

"Catherine's sister is staying with her.  What I want to do is run a chronology of the crime scene
and what we have so far.  Warrick, let's start with you."

Warrick looked up, his eyes blinking a moment as he absorbed the request.  "The tire tracks I
found on the road are unusual.  They match with Goodyear Eagle F1.   While designed to fit a
wide range of vehicles, the make was only released two weeks ago on the market.  Another
interesting point is the width of the tires.  The prints match a 225/50ZR16 tire.  Not a commonly
used size by the average consumer.   I've got Travis chasing up the local dealers for details of
all recent sales on this tire." 

Warrick pulled out the photograph of the tire track he had obtained from the scene.  The blown
up shot clearly showed the tread and its rather unique pattern.  He also produced a copy of a
recent promotional piece by the company which detailed the pattern.  A perfect visual match.  

"The other tire impressions I found were in the driveway and in the centre of the road.  Whoever
it was reversed out of there like a bat out of hell.  Left perfect prints on the driveway, although
the tread is common to many four cylinder vehicles - Aquatred 3.  But one of the left tires has a
nail in it."  Again, Warrick placed the photographs on the table in front of him with the
comparative match.  

"Slow leak," Nick murmured under his breath, relieved at having something to tie the kidnapper
to the crime.

"Once we have the suspect's vehicle that evidence is going to be crucial," Grissom pointed out.
"Nick."

Nick sat up at the sound of his name, pulling himself immediately into action.  "Greg's still
working on the DNA from the cigarette butt against the blood you found at the house.  It'll be a
few more hours before we'll have a comparison."  

Nick tossed out some crime scene photographs, using his pen to point to each individual one as
he detailed the contents.  "Footprints on the door were size ten and twelve.  One had part of the
maker's name left in the imprint.  They're handmade Italian imports.  Sold in Vegas only to
Vincenetti's.  Tried to get details of the customers, but the owner is refusing to give anything
without a warrant.  Brass is working on it."  Nick nodded towards the rotund homicide detective.

"Should have it within twenty minutes.  I've got Sam seeing the judge as we speak," Brass
informed them.

Nick continued, pushing the overlapping photographs apart and pulling the ones he wanted to
the top of the pile.  "The other footprints in the house can all be accounted for except for two. 
One was partially in the blood on the floor and the other was found in the hallway.  They're not
a match to the two on the door."

"So we have four unidentified assailants,"  Grissom said to no one in particular, momentarily
lost in thought.  He caught himself quickly, not allowing his personal involvement to possibly
jeopardise the investigation.  Looking towards Brass, Brass picked up immediately on what he
wanted.

"Sam in the process of tracing a recording of the 911 call.  It may give us more to go on. 
Interviews with neighbours haven't revealled much," Brass told them, tapping his gold pen
against the folder in his lap.  "Most weren't home at the time we did a door to door knock.  We'll
have to go back later tonight to follow up.  However, one woman recalled hearing a scream. 
She went out to take a look, but only saw a car reversing out of Catherine's driveway and
speeding off."

"Any better description?" Grissom asked, grasping for the possibility of a stronger lead in which
to trace the suspects.

"Red Toyota Corolla.  She only got part of the registration plate," Brass told him, happy to
provide an ounce of relief to the man who had once been his sub-ordinate.  He had noted the
waxed look to Grissom's features and knew that the investigation was weighing down on him
heavily.  

"I take it you're running a trace," Grissom said, his eyes questioning Brass over the top of the
glasses perched on the end of his nose.

"As we speak."

"Greg," Grissom said his name curtly, his tone trying to convey that he wanted answers not
expositions.

"The blood on the coffee table and floor was a type match for Sara's.  The one in the hallway
was different..."  

"How'd you get a comparison?" Warrick broke into the dissertation and sat up straight, his mind
trying to come up with an explanation.

"The blood on the paper towels from Eddie's attack on her last night," Grissom told the group
calmly.

"Oh...  Is this tied in to what happened last night?" Nick asked, his face genuinely surprised.  It
had not even crossed his mind that the two could be related.

"I believe so.  I spoke with Catherine earlier," Grissom informed them.  "Eddie came to ask
Catherine for money last night.  He was being hounded for twenty thousand dollars."

"So we know who has Sara and Lindsey." Warrick immediately felt relief that they were going to
be able to find them soon.  Eddie would be able to provide them with the name of the
extortionist and it would all be finished.

"No.  Eddie never said who he owed the money to and she can't find him now," Grissom
informed them matter-of-factly, despite the fact his insides were churning as to how close they
could be to finding the two.

"And she didn't ask?" Nick queried.

"No.  She didn't realise that Lindsey was in danger." 

"Damn." Warrick said, his closed fist hitting the top of the conference table with force.

"Warrick."  Grissom's tone pulled the younger man back into line.

"Sorry, Griss.  It's just..."  Warrick searched for words to explain how he was feeling, how he
was thinking about Catherine and what she would be experiencing right now.  "I can only
imagine how Catherine's feeling right now.... wishing she had asked."

"We've got leads... we all know how important the first hours are in a kidnapping.  There's a tap
on Catherine's phone... " Brass began reassuring the group.  A knock on the window
interrupted him.

Red-haired Sheriff Mobley stood in the doorway.  "Gil, can I speak to you for a moment."

Grissom rose slowly from his seat.  He recalled Brass' warning earlier that morning.  Behind the
Sheriff, Grissom narrowed his eyes when he noticed that Conrad Ecklie was hanging around
like a bad smell.  While Grissom could cope with most decomposing matter, Ecklie's vampiristic
attachment to cases in the media spotlight managed to break through even his cast iron
resistance.  He realised that Brass had called the shots accurately.  He was prepared for the
impending battle ahead.  Keeping a tight rein on the anger boiling precariously below the
surface, he excused himself from his team.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"Catherine, here's some tea," Jennifer McNab placed the steaming brew under her sister's
nose.  She had tried to get Catherine to lie down and sleep, to no avail.  Tear tracks marred the
usually perfect make-up and red eyes greeted her whenever they looked up to meet her own.

Catherine wrapped her long fingers around the large mug with a cartoon on the front. 
Something about all the good men being either married or gay.  The joke hardly registered in
her fog-laden brain.   She sipped the brew and the sharp sweetness got her attention.

"How many sugars did you put in that?" Catherine asked, pushing the tea away and shaking her
head in disgust.

"Three and you need it, so drink up." Jennifer pushed the drink back towards her.

The sharp trill of Catherine's cell phone broke their impasse.  

"I'll answer it.  You drink some of that tea," Jennifer commanded her younger sister.   It wasn't
often that she took control.   Catherine recognised the impenetrable wall and slowly sipped the
sickly, sweet tea.  

Jennifer moved from her seat and picked up the cell phone on the kitchen table.

"Hello," Jennifer answered.  She broke off as she was rudely interrupted.   "I'll get her for you."  

Jennifer walked the phone over to Catherine.  She handed her sister the small portable phone,
saying softly  "Someone asking for you."

"Who is it?" 

"Don't know.  Ask them."  Jennifer sat down and listened unabashedly to the one-sided
conversation.

"Catherine Willows." Catherine answered the phone more tentatively, the abduction of her
daughter making her suspicious of everything and everyone around her.

"Mommy."

"Lindsey!"  Catherine leaned back in her seat with a sense of relief.  Her daughter was alive! 
"Are you all right?  Are you hurt?"

"No, Mommy.   I've had KFC and ice cream and they've let me watch Harry Potter and the
Chamber of Secrets," Lindsey detailed excitedly, the words were strung together almost as if
they were one .  "Mommy, Sara was hurt."

"Is Sara okay?" Catherine asked, fear for her colleague flooding her words.

"Sara isn't here, Mommy.  They left her in the house.  She was bleeding..."  Lindsey's voice
suddenly cut off mid-sentence to be replaced with a deep-set, villainous one.

"That's enough.  Now you know she's alive and being treated okay.  It's your turn..."

"Where's Sara?"  Catherine interrupted the man.  The words that Lindsey had said were
beginning to sink through the thankfulness that her daughter had not been harmed.  "What've
you done with her?  "

"Sara?  Who's Sara?"

"The woman who was with my daughter when you took her.   You'd hurt her."

"She was one tough cookie.  Nearly took out two of my guys.  Wished she was on my side..." 
There was almost an air of wistfulness in the tone as the admiration for Sara's actions.  "  We
left her on the floor.  She was unconscious."

Catherine was worried.  If the man's words were correct, then who had taken Sara?  

The deep voice broke through her thoughts.  "Enough of this.   It's your turn to return the favour
for us keeping your daughter safe.  We want our money and we want it today.  You tell that low-
life husband..."

"Ex-husband," Catherine automatically corrected him, her hand slapping instantly over her
mouth the instant the words were said.  The nature of their exact relationship was unimportant
right now. 

"Ex-husband of yours that if I don't have the cash by 9.00 a.m. tomorrow, things may not be so
nice for your little girl." The deep resonating voice continued as if she hadn't interrupted, other
than the correction to his words.  

"You do anything to her and you'll pay..."

"No, the reason we have her is so that you will," the intimidating voice reminded her.  "We want
our twenty thousand by 9.00 a.m tomorrow."

"How do I know where to pay the money?"

"Ask your husband."  
                    
"But I can't find him..."  Catherine found that she was talking to a dead line... the call had been
disconnected before she could tell them.  She held onto the phone numbly, shocked at the
content of the call sinking in.  Despair filled her as she realised that her ability to comply with
the request was impossible.  Not from a financial standpoint, but because she didn't know who
Eddie owed the money to.  

"Cath, what happened?  What did they say?  When's Lindsey coming home?"  Jennifer was
desperate for her sister to break free of her horrified trance and speak.  She knew that this call
had placed her sister in more troubled waters, but needed to know the full implications in order
to support her through this crisis.  

Catherine tuned out her sister's questions, twisting the phone over in her hand.  She tried to
swallow down the heavy ball of fear that was clogging her throat.  Despite the fact that she
thought she had cried herself dry, Catherine found tears filling her eyes once again.  Lindsey
was okay, but she was in immediate danger.  The kidnappers threat was not an idle one.  Sara
was missing.  Shaking her head, wanting some reassurance, Catherine hit number one on her
speed dial.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

As soon as Sheriff Mobley saw Grissom approaching he pulled his shoulders back, imagining
that his large, barrel chest would provide him with more clout.  He found himself at a loss to
know how to control this investigator who challenged his authority,  caring more for the solving
of cases than the political ramifications of some of his investigations.

"Why did I have to find out about the kidnapping of one of *your* CSIs from the media?" Mobley
fired the question the moment that Grissom had shut the conference door behind him.

"I sent an email advising you of the situation," Grissom told him shortly.

"I don't check my email so early in the morning.  You could have phoned me," Mobley pointed
out.

Grissom raised one eyebrow in response.  He knew that, but kept his face neutral so as not to
confirm precisely what he had avoided doing.    

Mobley chose to ignore the possibility that Grissom had thought to phone him and decided not
to. "So who are the victims... I missed catching those details with all the questions being thrown
at me this morning."

"Sara Sidle and Lindsey Willows."

"Sidle I know.  The other one - any relative of Catherine Willows?"

"Daughter,"  Grissom answered shortly.

"Ecklie's team will have to take over the case.  You're all to close to this one," Mobley
determined, his tone begging for no argument.

"No." 

"Gil..." Ecklie began, speaking for the first time.

"Brian, the first twelve hours in a kidnapping are crucial.  By the time Ecklie's team finds their
asses, it'll be almost that deadline and it'll be 'home time' for his crew and they'll pack up and
come back tomorrow.  That is just not happening," Grissom told him aggressively.  

There was only one other time that Mobley had been witness to Grissom's wrath.  The Strip
Strangler case and Grissom's assessment had been accurate on that account. 

"Grissom, you are out of line..." Ecklie began, but his words were ignored.  

"Brian, these people are too important.  I'm not risking them in someone else's hands." 
Grissom refused to back down.  

"My people are excellent investigators," Ecklie told Mobley.

"Back off, Ecklie.   This is my case," Grissom turned his back on the obnoxious man.  A
moment later though, he turned and acknowledged his presence.  "Although, I could use one of
your staff.  Toby Wright."  

"You don't want my team, just one of them."

"For now," Grissom agreed.

"Gil, I can suspend you right now."  Sheriff Mobley warned, seeking to get control over the
situation once again.  Somehow, it had all gone very differently from what he had imagined, as
had every other stand-off he had had with Grissom.

"Suspend me and I'll leave after I find them," Grissom warned.  "And I'm going to find them. 
I've got a feeling that the rest of my team might just follow suit on this one. Brian, we have the
case under control.  We've got several leads that we're chasing up right now."  Grissom broke
off his argument as his cell phone began to ring.  He excused himself from the two other men.

"Grissom," he answered curtly.  "Catherine, slow down.  Take a breath.  Okay, now tell me."

He listened intently as Catherine slowly related the story of Lindsey's telephone call and the
threat  that had re-affirmed the contents of the ransom note.  

"Sara's not with her?  Are you sure?"  Grissom was confused.  If Sara wasn't with Lindsey, what
had happened to her?  "Have you been able to find Eddie?" 

"Okay, come in and we'll go over the information and try to pinpoint what could've happened,"
Grissom instructed, finishing the call.

Sheriff Mobley and Ecklie were both about to continue their discussion when Mandy came
rushing towards them, a swath of print-outs in her hands.

"Mr. Grissom."

"Yes, Mandy." Grissom turned to face the fingerprint expert.

"The fingerprint - I've got a match."
                                 
"Who?"

"Eddie Willows."

End Part 5/?