Grissom had brought a whole new level of pain in the ass to the doctors and nurses at Desert Palm hospital. He had argued, glowered and railed at the staff for five days until finally the doctors had relented. Extracting a promise from Grissom to take it easy and get plenty of rest. Both Sara and Catherine had reassured the doctors that they would keep and eye on the man, who seemed to have far too much pent up energy. In truth both women were becoming concerned by Grissom’s erratic behavior.
            Grissom was a man that valued control. He had spent years forming mental and emotional barriers. It was what made him a difficult man to know and understand but since he was in the hospital they had witnessed him lose his coveted control a number of times. Not to mention the huge swings in mood that happened without warning.
            Brass had set Grissom up in a safe house that the city had acquired from a husband and wife illegal porn operation. It was a nice brick, ranch style home in an upper middle class neighborhood that blended well with all the other houses on the street. There was nothing about the house that screamed safe house, not even the unmarked police car that sat in the shaded driveway.
            Everyone from Brass to Greg had stopped by to see how Grissom was doing in his temporary home. He had enjoyed their company, especially Nick’s ribbing of Sara. She had volunteered to go buy him a few new clothes since his old wardrobe was a little lose. He had told her there were probably some clothes that would fit at the back of his closet but Sara wanted an excuse to buy him some clothes so he let her.
            When she arrived with the oversized department store bags Nick and Greg had already arrived to check on him. The two immediately laid into her playfully which had Sara coming back with her sharp wit and even sharper gaze skewering the two. It had been a relaxing day and he had been in good spirits but now as night fell and they all rushed off to work, Grissom found his mood darkening with the evening sky. 
            Wandering into the kitchen he took a couple of the painkillers that Dr. Mutzengarr had prescribed for him. He didn’t know why he took them; they didn’t seem to do anything for his aching head. Grissom supposed that they might help the aches and pains of his body but for some reason he did not pay much attention to those discomforts. To Grissom the dull ache of his wounds were minimal. He had never thought of himself as a man with a high threshold for pain but for some reason he had developed one.
            Sara had been the last to leave and had extorted a promise from him to try and get some sleep but Grissom knew even as he had promised it that he would renege. He didn’t want to sleep, he felt on edge when he laid down, the nervous energy threatened to tear him apart. So he paced the house like a tiger trapped in a cage seeking an exit. He didn’t care about the television, the stereo or the pool in the back yard. He knew Brass had chosen the house for the many diversions it offered but Grissom hadn’t cared for these things before his abduction, they were even less important now. He wanted out, away, where? First things first, transportation, Grissom thought as he headed to the carport and the babysitter that Brass had left him.

            ************************************************************

            Sofia Curtis caught Catherine late into her shift coming from the DNA lab.
            “It looks like your DB from the motorcycle shop is Roderick Karns,” Sofia informed Catherine, falling into step with her. “Fingerprints came back a match; apparently he was a bit of a wild child in his youth. Also, the wife ID’d a scar he had gotten in a motorcycle accident two years ago.”
            “Hmm,” Catherine mused.
            “The sad thing is it looked like this guy had finally pulled his life together.” Sofia followed Catherine to her desk.
            “So did the wife know why he was in the alley behind the shop?” Catherine wondered.
            Sofia took the chair in front of Catherine’s desk and reclined comfortably back. “According to the wife he is a motorcycle nut. The kind that go mach ten and set dogs to howling. She also confirms that he is a semi-pro racer for Boots Roy.”
            Catherine gave a whisper of a smile. “Well no breakthroughs there.”
            Sofia tapped absentmindedly on the metal doorframe, preparing to leave. “The wife also said Derek Lopez use to race for Roy as well but was cut lose for some reason she was unaware of.”
            “This case has the odd sensation of being intricately connected but somewhere we have a short and I can’t seem to find it.” Catherine’s voice gave a little of her frustration away. “Jim talked to Roy. Maybe he can shed more light on the full story.”
            Sofia nodded her head, “By the way how is Grissom doing?” Sofia asked. “Rumor has it that the staff at Desert Palm is heaving a sigh of relief.”
            Catherine smiled, “You have nooo idea.”
            “I’ll let you know if anything else turns up,” Sofia chuckled tapping on the doorframe as she left.
           

            ***************************************************************

            Grissom was surprised by the police seal on the front door of his townhouse. It wasn’t that he had never seen the seal before it just seemed surreal seeing it stuck to his door. Exiting the dark blue sedan, Grissom reached into the front pocket of his jeans to pull the key he had pilfered from Sara’s key ring earlier. She’d be mad at him later when she found out that he had taken her key to his townhouse but she would be pissed when she realized he had lied to her about getting some rest.
            “Are you sure about this Dr. Grissom?” the young officer in the car asked. The young man was obviously nervous about taking Grissom from Brass’s safe house.
            Grissom looked at the kid, he had to be about the same age as Sanders but his mildly pudgy features made him look like he needed to be back in high school not sitting in an unmarked cop car. He really didn’t have an answer for the officer. Was it okay? Something told him that if it was okay he wouldn’t be sneaking around like he was but he found he didn’t care. There were things he wanted from his home and he would get them himself. He wasn’t going to be mollycoddled by Sara, Brass or anyone for that matter.
            Without answering Grissom walked towards his front door. He could feel his heart beating a little faster and there was a sense of foreboding creeping into his consciousness as he reached for the lock. Brass had told him what had happened, that he had been kidnapped from his home. He had explained to him what the perpetrators had done to his home so Grissom told himself that it was only logical to feel apprehension as he entered his townhouse.
            Shutting the door behind him, Grissom reached quickly for the flashlight in his back pocket as the darkness swallowed him. The bright white bloom bounced across the floor and walls like some protective talisman against the evils that laid in wait in the shadows. He felt perspiration build on his forehead and wiped it with the sleeve of his free hand.
            The crime scene clean up crew had started working on his home the day before, according to Sara. His living room furniture was all gone and his books were in the process of being boxed up. Grissom could smell the strong odor of cleaners and his flashlight picked up the swirl marks made on the stone tile floor. Round and round and…          Grissom could feel himself getting dizzy. Shaking his head forcefully he spun quickly and headed for the stairs.
            Grissom
Halting at the bottom of the stairs Grissom whirled to shine his light back into the room. His heart racing as he held his breath, the flashlight streaked through the dark. Nothing, turning abruptly he bounded up the stairs and made his way to his bedroom.
            The cleaners had not gotten as far with his bedroom as they had downstairs. His bed had been dismantled. The headboard, mattress and box spring had all been stacked against the wall nearest the door. He could see the blood stains on the fabric of the mattress and box spring. He had been told of the staged dummy but he couldn’t seem to recall it.
            It was maddening, really, he’d almost think that he would have something that everything would fall into place and he would understand why he felt like a stranger in his own body and then nothing. Nothing until the headaches came and the nightmares that left him panting for air. Even his dreams hid the answers from him, always dissolving into nothingness except for the nauseating whiff of fear.
            Tell me your fears.
Grissom hurried across the room, throwing open the closet doors. Pulling a dark green Army duffle buried under spare blankets, Grissom began stripping clothes from hangers and shoving them in the bag with a pair hiking style boots and black shoes. In the corner of the closet, on the floor, was a small personal safe. Spinning the dial back and forth to the combination he snapped it open and pulled his holstered pistol out, shoving it in the duffle bag, Grissom rose, almost running from the room.
            Downstairs he made his way to his garage. His flashlight bounced erratically across the stone floor in front of him.
            And I will make them all come true.
He crashed through the door of his garage slamming it loudly behind him. Here was what he had come for. He needed to be able to move freely, he needed transportation. Grissom had two choices sitting in his garage and he had already decided before he came which of the two he was taking. It’s been awhile, he thought, besides I am more likely to lose the babysitter this way.
            Grabbing the spare remote and helmet from a nearby utility shelf Grissom made his way to the motorcycle parked and covered at the back of his garage. Throwing the tan cover to the side Grissom straddled the motorcycle before placing the helmet on his head. This is going to feel great, he thought enthusiastically. Turning the key a second before he hit the garage door opener, Grissom leaned the bike up and kicked the kickstand back.
            Officer Jay Fawcett sat up a little straighter when he heard then saw the motorcycle shoot from Grissom’s garage.
            “GRISSOM!” he shouted jumping out of the car just before the motorcyclist zipped past him. Jumping back into the sedan he fumbled for the keys but knew with growing dread that he had screwed up royally.

            ***********************************************************
           
            Sara entered the break room with Nick and Greg discussing the new girl in ballistics from days.
            “I’m telling you, she’s like Fijian,” Greg said in his overly animated way.
            “She is not Greggo,” Nick argued getting a coke from the machine. “She’s from Maui.”
            Greg looked a little taken aback. “How do you know?” he asked with a slight hint of accusation.
            “Because she told me.” Nick winked knowingly at Greg who began to bug the older man for more details.
            Poor girl, Sara thought good humouredly.
            Brass entered the room with Catherine heading straight for the coffee pot. “Tell me you set me up, Greg.” Brass said looking over his shoulder as he poured some coffee in the white Styrofoam cup.
            “Hey, who’s the man?” Greg motioned to himself.
            “Hmmm,” Brass answered sipping on the coffee.
            “I thought you were the coffee BOY,” Nick teased.
            “Anything new come up on Karns?” Sara asked both Catherine and Brass. The autopsy had just reiterated much of what David and the two CSIs had found.
            Brass just shook his head as he made himself comfortable in one of the chairs surrounding the glossy table. They had already gone over Mrs. Karns’ and Boots Roy’s testimony.
            “Hey, Jim,” Sofia said entering the room looking a little frazzled “dispatch called. Apparently the brain trust we put on Grissom lost him.”
            Brass came out of his seat yelling a few choice words as to what he was going to do with the officer in question’s reproductive organs.
            “Yea, well apparently the moron drove Grissom over to his place,” Sofia made a gesture that said she couldn’t believe her own words “and Grissom packed a few things in a duffle bag and rode off on a motorcycle.”
            “A motorcycle?” Greg said incredulously.
            “Does Grissom have a motorcycle?” Nick asked anybody, looking around the room for an answer.
            Brass rubbed his brow, “Yes, and a nice one too.” Looking at Catherine he added, “I forgot he had that thing.”
            Catherine looked at Sofia, “Does your guy know where he was headed?”
            Sofia shook her head. She didn’t even want to say what needed to be said next. It was embarrassing that someone that held a shield was this dimwitted. “I was hoping one of you might know what kind of motorcycle it was so I can put out an A.P.B. on him.”
            Catherine rolled her eyes.
            “It’s an older bike, Italian…I think,” Brass said “He’s had it from before he came to Vegas.” He looked to Catherine for help.
            “Oh yea, I know this one. It’s a mid, late 80’s Ducati 750-F1,” she said to Sofia. “Hey, Eddie slobbered over it constantly for two years.” Catherine added at the looks she was getting from Nick and Greg.
            Sara was about to tell Catherine she was correct but held back knowing someone would wonder why she knew about the motorcycle. And boy! Do I know about that motorcycle, Sara thought feeling the heat rise in her cheeks in remembrance.
            “Grissom owns a Ducati,” Greg exclaimed, “Man, how Bad Boy of him. Little did we know our little Grissom was such a rebel.”
            Sofia looked at Greg mildly amused before saying, “I’ll get the description out. Would anybody know where he might be headed?”
            Sofia was greeted with a lot of perplexed stares and silence.
            “The rollercoasters,” Sara blurted out at last leading the way out of the break room. If Grissom was going stir crazy, it was possible he had decided to go out and participate in his favorite therapy.

            **************************************************************
            The walking wall in the black Versace sportcoat and matching slacks lead Markus down into the inner sanctum of Cezar Elescu’s envy worthy home. The palatial mansion boasted numerous amenities but the one that Markus Bathory most admired was the near impenetrable basement floor that was essentially closed off from the rest of the house.
            Cezar had had the basement greatroom and accompanying rooms built for business purposes. The former Romanian valued his private life and chose to keep the seedier side of his life as fenced off from his other life as possible. It had worked with mostly success. Although he did not delude himself into thinking his many female relatives were completely in the dark as to what he did, they were far enough removed as to not get accidentally caught up in it.
            Except for Daciana, the girl had too much spirit and was far too clever for her own good. It was bring her in under his wing or let her loose on the world and that was simply too risky. Besides, he had had promised his uncle he would look after Daciana and her mother.
            Markus smiled as he entered the large sunken, subterranean room. On the opposite side of the room to the heavy, double doors and slightly to the right sat Cezar’s office area. The heavy mahogany desk sat at an angle to the room and sitting behind the desk, busily multitasking was Cezar, just as Markus had expected him to be. The man was always working, it was his vice and he abused it well.
            “Markus,” Cezar called out, waving for him to cross the room. Even after nearly two decades in America his accent was still noticeable.
            “Cezar,” Markus acknowledged as he stepped down and crossed the pushily carpeted floor. Markus had to admit he enjoyed Cezar’s company. He was intelligent, articulate and a master of control, something Markus could appreciate. “What is this about Daciana getting arrested?”
            Cezar made a pained face as he pulled the cell phone from his ear and tossed it onto his desk. “I tell you Markus, she should have been born a man. Too much will that girl.”
            Markus could sympathize. If Richard would have listened to him all those years ago, he would be a free man. As it was, he had to play games and taunt Grissom until the man had beaten Richard.
            “According to Daciana, the cops were doing a little fishing and it looks like you and I may have a common problem,” Cezar arched a single brow as he dipped his head.
            “Scott?” Markus asked crossing his leg as he relaxed into the burgundy, leather chair across the desk from Cezar.
            “Hmm, seems the authorities are sniffing around anything even remotely connected to him. It was why they arrested Derek Lopez and by near accident landed on Daciana’s little pet’s doorstep.” Cezar explained intertwining his fingers as he tried to hide his intense, black gaze behind a casual veneer.
            Markus chose to listen rather than ask questions. Being in hiding kept him on the fringe, where he liked it, but it also left him in the dark at times too. He wasn’t sure why the cops were focused on Scott but Cezar might and if he remained silent long enough he might learn what his sometimes business partner knew.
            “I don’t know what your man did to get on the cop’s radar but as you know it has got Cassiopeia crawling so far up my ass I can taste her,” Cezar said sarcasm dripping from each word. “And as tasty as Cassie is that is not how I like it.”
            Markus kept his face mildly neutral as Cezar laid it all out. “We have business between us. There is plenty of profit to be made and it benefits you but I think Scott has worked very hard and needs a vacation.”
            That was when Markus knew he would have to dispose of his young protégé. Scott had potential and although he was still in the rough, Markus had been certain that with some more training he could train him to be more than just a lackey. As it was he had turned into a liability and Markus’s only true loyalty lay with his brother so he would miss Scott.
            “Is Cassiopeia here?” Markus asked casually, even as he felt the slight flutter at the pit of his stomach.
            Cezar spun his chair and stood up behind his desk. “Of course not but she did want me to remind you she would see you soon,” Cezar said motioning for the walking block of muscle to come forward from his post not far away.
            “Geoffrey will make sure you get back safely. I can not have Daciana be our go between at this point and Derek is no longer an option, so you will be contacted by a new associate,” Cezar paused waiting to see if the slightly paranoid Markus Bathory would have a problem with a new player in their game. From the man’s silence he took it as a sign to go on. “Since I do not know the extent of the damage caused by Mr. Abrams, I can not tell you who at the moment.”
            “How will I know they are from you and not some police trap?”
            Cezar smiled he did enjoy working with the paranoid; they made his life so much easier. Cezar handed him a torn dollar bill. “My representative will have the other half and tell you they are tired and have flown in from Billings.”
            Markus grinned as he took the torn dollar. He did enjoy working with the paranoid.
              

            **************************************************************

            Damn, busted! Grissom thought as he approached the safe house. On the street sat two dark SUVs and in the drive, as he pulled in, was Brass’s Charger. Grissom weaved the green and red motorcycle around the car blocking the car port. He had hoped what? What had he expected, really? That the cop that he had left dumbfounded at his townhouse wouldn’t tell?  Grissom had known that his little escapade would get back to Brass but at the time it hadn’t matter much. He had felt like he was locked up, imprisoned and had to get out.
            Shutting the bike off, Grissom was greeted by an overly excited Greg Sanders dashing through the door that led to the kitchen of the house.
            “Unbelievable!” He said throwing his hands in the air as he approached Grissom. Grissom took his helmet off and placed it on the gas tank next to the handlebars. Grissom looked at the young man approaching warily.
            “NO TOUCHING,” he said forcefully, wagging his finger at the salivating Greg. Greg was happy just to admire the vintage Italian sport bike.
            “Who’s inside beside Brass?” Grissom asked heading for the side door to the house.
            Greg looked up from the bike distractedly, “Hmm, Oh, umm, Catherine, Brass, everyone.”
            Grissom rolled his head. Why me? He thought miserably.
            The car port door was accessed through the kitchen, which is where he found half of his inquisitors. The other half had taken up seats on the patio. Brass was the first to lay into him.
            “God damn it, Gil!” he bellowed upon seeing Grissom “I didn’t assign that jackass to you so you’d have someone to play with. He was here for your protection.”
            Grissom threw the duffle bag he had been carrying onto the kitchen table before unzipping his jacket and hanging it up near the back door. Running his hand through his hair he walked to the kitchen sink and made himself a glass of water.
            The whole time he had kept a cautious eye on Brass, as if he thought his old friend might be a physical danger. He tried to keep a smile on his face to hide his nervousness as Brass leaned against the breakfast bar and continued to chastise him. He tried to ignore the rising anger that was bubbling to the surface and most of all he tried to not look at Sara, afraid of what he might see in her eyes.
            Grissom’s pulse was quickening. He leaned against the counter in front of the sink, looking out the window trying to focus on anything other than Brass’s voice and the eyes watching him. He could hear the blood pounding in his ears, he could feel the fire building in his chest as he labored to keep his breathing normal, he could feel the pressure increasing in his skull and he could hear the crying again.
            “Okay!” he shouted throwing the empty glass in the sink in front of him, the shattering glass ceasing Brass’s diatribe on personal safety.
            Nick and Warrick entered the dining area at the sounds of the broken glass, having chosen to stay out of the ass chewing session. There they found Catherine, Sara and Brass staring at Grissom with startled, worried looks.
            “Hey, everything cool?” Warrick asked his question pointed mostly at Catherine who just looked dumbfounded.
             “I got it, alright… I got it.” Grissom rubbed his fingers along the stitches that ran down his left brow. In the silence his hostility dissipated leaving him numb.
            “So have you tried out the pool, yet?” Nick asked in an attempt to lighten the moment
            Sara could have kissed him. Leave it to Nick to diffuse an angry situation.
            Grissom walked past the frowning Brass, the worried looks of Sara and Catherine and the curious stares of Nick and Warrick to stand at the glass doors that led to the patio and the pool.
             “No,” he answered almost in a daze. The water was clear and sparkling, reflecting back the bright light of the late morning sun. If he stepped to the edge he could see the bottom and there would be nothing there but the dancing lines of light mirroring the waters surface. So why, every time he came close to the pool’s edge, did he feel like he was drowning in fear. Why did he stare at the water in anticipation of what, he did not know.
            Nick turned to the others and frowned curiously at Grissom’s bizarre behavior.
            “Hey, who’s ready for some barbeque?” Warrick said clapping his hands and coming off the chair back that he had been leaning on.
            Grissom turned from the pool with a raised eyebrow.
            “That’s the Mac-Daddy of grills out there on that deck,” Warrick said smiling and pointing at the enormous silver grill outside the patio door. “You didn’t think we were going to let that pass?”
            “Yea, come on,” Nick said trying to put the odd moment behind them “Fire, meat, sorry Sara, veggie shish kabobs. What do you say?” he asked looking at Grissom.
            Grissom gave Nick a smirk, “I say flame on Johnny Storm.”

            ************************************************************

            Derek Lopez wandered the common room that made up the center of his assigned cell block. Often called a hive the three tiered, round holding center was a modern facility with stainless steel tables and chairs bolted to the concrete floors and security cameras pointed into every nook and cranny. Cell Block B was used for moderate prisons. No gang bangers or hot heads, so the threat of violence was less severe.
            Perching himself on an unused table, Derek scanned the room with annoyed eyes. His lawyer was suppose to meet with him that morning but had had to postpone. He needed to post bail so that he could reach out and get word to Cezar. He’d cut Scott’s throat personally if it kept Cezar Elescu from sending any of his enforcers after him. The last person Derek wanted as an enemy was a Cezar.
            “Lopez!”
            Lopez jerked around to see who had called out his name, ever conscious of the inherent dangers of a holding facility. Lopez relaxed as he watch the tall, skinny kid glide over to his spot.
            “Dre,” Lopez greeted slapping the other man’s hand in a strong grip before bumping shoulders. “What they got you in for?”
            Dre gave the other man a sly grin as he adjusted the dew rag on his head. “Paying for trim where I wasn’t supposed to be buying,” he chuckled as he pulled a pack of gum from his front pocket and slipped a stick in his mouth. As an after thought he asked, “Want some?”
            Derek Lopez was a gum junkie. Loved all kinds of gum and as a kid had been nicknamed Gummy. “Sure,” he answered taking the tinfoil covered stick from the long dark fingers of his companion.
            Slipping it between his teeth Lopez gave Dre a nod of thanks. “I got a buddy over there I need hook up with before he’s tossed upstate so I’ll check ya later,” Dre said placing his fist out for a friendly tap before sauntering off.
            Derek Lopez was left alone with his troubles once more, smacking on his gum. He needed to make certain that everything was cool on the outside and quick. The last thing he wanted was to become a liability in Cezar’s operation.
            A sharp piercing pain in his chest had Lopez slipping from the shiny, metal tabletop into the matching seat below. Several attempts at a deep breath and the increased pain in his chest had the man panicking as he slumped against the table, his right hand shaking with extreme effort as he tried to grasp the place just over his heart. Try as he might he could not take a big enough breath and began to pant in short, shallow breaths.
            “Hey man, are you okay?”
            Thank God, Dre…”I…brea-the, heart…helpppp,” Lopez gasped as he felt his head sink to the table and his heart beat painfully slower.
            “You don’t look so hot, maybe you should grab yourself a siesta,” Dre said his eyes glancing between the man dying next to him and the other inhabitants of the holding cell. Everyone minded their own business, no nosy fishes!
Dre watched as Derek Lopez took his last sporadic breath before the light in his eyes gave way. Reaching out Dre patted Lopez on the side of his face in an attempt to close the startled, dead eyes. If he was lucky no one would notice the dead man for awhile, giving him a chance to be as far from the body as possible when the guards came in to check on him.
            “Take it easy, man,” Dre said in a friendly voice before bouncing away.
            In the morning his lawyer would come visit him. The charges would be dropped due to insufficient evidence and Andre Garbeaux would walk free once again. Falling into a conversation with a pair of wannabe bad guys, Dre waited for the rest of his little drama to play out.