Sara had to use every fiber of patience in her body not to open her eyes and sit up instantly after hearing the creaking door shut. She waited, her ears straining before she heard a second creaking door slam shut, followed by the distinct sound of a lock being applied. Cautiously she opened her eyes, trying to move as little as possible until she was certain she was alone.
            Her fears allayed for the moment, Sara craned her head around to take in her surroundings. She appeared to be in a small barn or large shed. The only light came through a small window above the double, wooden doors just beyond her bound, bare feet. Rolling up into a sitting position, Sara quickly removed her hidden screwdriver from between her wrists.
            With some difficulty she was able to make it to her feet. Using a workbench along the wall to steady herself, Sara looked for something to loosen her bound hands. Spotting a keyhole saw on a hook on the wall, Sara almost cried out in relief as she dropped the screwdriver and grabbed up the small saw.
            Awkwardly, she turned the saw back towards herself. With a few scooping cuts, the serrated blade had cut through enough of the tape to allow Sara to rip her wrists lose the rest of the way. Bending over she applied the same technique to the tape around her ankles, before ripping the remainder of the tape lose Sliding the saw quickly onto the workbench, Sara grabbed up her screwdriver, holding it like a knife as she rushed to the doors.
            A turn of the ancient copper handle and subsequent shove with her shoulder told Sara she was not getting out the way she came. It was time to think up a plan B but Sara was worried she didn’t even have a plan A.
            “Think, think, think,” Sara whispered desperately.
            Looking above her head she realized the window above the door was out of her reach but its corresponding window at the back of the building had potential. Shuffling her feet quickly across the unseen wood planks in the dark Sara almost tripped over something metallic in the middle of the floor. Making her way around what felt like a large metal machine, Sara could barely make out the shadowy outline of a Jon boat nestled in the back of the building and just below my escape route, Sara thought as hopeful excitement began to slowly thread its way through her fear.

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

            The Black Cherry Club was a trendy dance club that effectively meshed Modern Rave with Eastern European Goth. It had just the right amount of neon and black mascara to attract a variety of patrons. It was the kind of place that played The Crystal Method and Chemical Brothers while sweating, well dressed clubbers drank champagne or jello shooters.
            Grissom was greeted the moment he entered the glossy wood and black, metal doors that led to the cathedral large club with its pulsating beats and Technicolor light show to match.
            “Follow me.”
            Grissom didn’t hesitate. He was cutting his twenty minute time limit close. Following the pro-wrestling looking man in the black Versace suit, Grissom was led towards the back of the club where a wall of smoke tinted mirrors reflected the action behind him and his escort. A wave of an electronic keycard and he was ushered into a private party room.
            The party rooms were set up for comfort and to be able to see the action in the club. The one-way mirrors that separated the club from the private rooms allowed for a certain amount of anonymity, as well as the burgundy silk curtains that hid the back of the room from the plush lounge area. It was a private clubhouse for the well heeled and ultimately decadent.
            Sitting towards the back of lounge, casually sipping red wine from a long stemmed glass was an elegant, dark haired woman with a certain Greta Garbo quality about her. Her brown eyes were almost black as she watched Grissom enter. They twinkled with age old knowledge as she summoned him forward with a graceful curl of her fingers.
            Grissom came forward and took the overstuffed chair she indicated, sitting on the edge. He looked to her two bodyguards, intently taking in the monoliths and the surroundings behind them.
            “Mr. Grissom,” the woman purred handing her wine to one of her sentinels, before relaxing back in her chair.
            She had a slight accent that Grissom could only guess to be Russian or Balkan. She was beautiful and regal and completely dangerous. Grissom decided to tread carefully, should this woman have Sara.
            “You said I could see Sara.”
            “Mmm,” she said her eye brows rising as she leaned forward, her elbows crossed and resting atop her crossed knees. “Tell me what Sara is to you,” she said eyeing him purposely.
            Grissom shook his head. “Wha…? I came to get Sara. Can you help me or not?”
            “Oh, I think I can help you,” she explained “I just want to know if it is worth my while.”
            Grissom didn’t falter. “What do you want?” he asked. Whatever she wanted he’d hand it to her gift wrapped if it brought Sara back safely.
            “I want you to tell me what this woman is to you,” his mystery woman restated, relaxing back into her chair.
            “She’s my girlfriend,” Grissom answered.
            The woman waved her hand in front of her face, dismissing his answer.
            “Who is Sara to Gilbert Grissom?”
            The look in her eye told him she wanted everything.
            “She’s my everything,” Grissom declared his voice thick with feeling. “Before her I observed life. With her I live life. Please…whatever you want…”
            The woman smiled. “You love her very much,” she stated.
            “Yes”
            “I am a business woman, Mr. Grissom,” she informed him as she held her hand out, as if to pluck a grape from a vine. Grissom watched as one of the bodyguards placed a plain, white business card between her index and middle finger. “My business partners are…undesirables, but sometimes necessary.”
            Grissom made to open his mouth. He didn’t care that she was some Underworld Queenpin. Her hold gesture kept him silent as he tried to maintain his patience.
            “I have recently learned that a *former* business associate has taken your lover.”
            Grissom sat up a little straighter.
            “I do not want the added attention from law enforcement and from what I have gathered you can be quite the adversary,” she eyed him appreciatively, “and although I do not fear confrontation I am, at heart, a romantic.”
            She handed him the business card. In bold black numbers were two phone numbers.
            “The top number is this phone,” she held out her hand and a cell phone was placed in it. “Do not waste your time trying to place a name to the number,” she warned, “the second number is Markus Bathory.”
            Grissom felt his heart rate increase ten fold.
            “I unfortunately do not know where Markus has run off to hide but in ten minutes I plan on calling that number,” she indicated the card in Grissom’s hand, “with this phone.”
            A knowing gleam entered Grissom’s eyes as her plan became apparent.
            “I suggest you bend whatever judge’s arm you must or break whatever law you…”
            Grissom bolted from the chair and was out the door before she could finish.
            “…need to.”
            Cezar walked through the wine colored curtains, coming to stand at Cassiopeia’s side, his hand softly grasping the one she held out for him. Pulling her to her feet, he placed a kiss to her temple.
            “Do you feel better, dorogoi?” she asked pressing herself into his chest.
            He smiled brightly at the woman in his arms. “Da,” he told her, motioning for the guards to take point. He had no wish to be in the club when the cops began making their trace, besides which he had business to arrange for Mr. Scott Abrams.

            *****************************************************************
           
            With the twin force of Hell and Fury represented by Grissom and Brass, the trace happened in record time. Storming Layout Room D like seasoned Marines, the nightshift crew, Brass and Sofia surrounded the lighted table holding the grid map of southern Nevada.
            “According to the cell provider, Bathory’s signal was picked up by this tower east of Nellis,” Greg explained, circling the location with a red marker. “Based on signal strength he was within 15 miles of the tower,” Greg drew a second larger circle indicating their search area.
            Grissom stared at the map, a dawning realization widening his eyes.
            “DAMN IT!” he yelled running from the room, “HE’S GONE BACK TO RICHARD’S CABIN!”
            At his words it became a rally to vehicles. Brass and Sofia called in the search, racing to Brass’ Charger. While the five CSIs divvied into two teams. Catherine and Warrick riding with Grissom and Greg riding with Nick, they followed Brass in a procession of squealing tires, flashing lights and piercing sirens.

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

            The waxing gibbous moon washed the landscape in eerie silver light punctuated by dark shadows cast by the Sagebrush trees littered throughout the rocky terrain. The strong scent of the Sagebrush almost masked the scent of the water that Sara knew was nearby, as her eyes strained in the various shades of darkness.
            The sound of her heart beating wildly in her chest and the greedy gulps of air sounded terrifyingly amplified in the ghostly moonlight. Her dark eyes were wide as she tried desperately to navigate the rocky uneven ground with all its hidden obstacles. Behind her, in the silver slashed darkness, her captors hunted for her. Their angry voices stabbing through the vast silence of the wilderness Sara had found herself in.
            Escaping from the building she had been locked in Sara had no clue in which direction she needed to go to make good her escape. In the darkness the terrain looked the same, so she just ran, praying it was away from her kidnappers.
            “SSSSSSSSAAARRRRRR-AAAAAA!”
            Sara shuffled her torn and bloody feet to halt, ducking behind a nearby Sagebrush. The voice was a fair distance away but not far enough for Sara’s liking. She cursed silently. She had hoped her escape would go unnoticed longer but it was now clear to her that her captors had pressing plans for her.
            Sara stooped low and ran, disregarding the pain in her feet, the stinging cut across her forehead from a low branch and the raw ache of her bloody elbows caused by a spill in the darkness. None of these wounds matter, pushed to the background by a mind singularly focused on survival.
            Looking behind her she could see the bouncing beams of flashlights piercing through the blackness. Without hesitation Sara launched herself from the trunk she had used for shelter, running from the light and the men who brandished it.
            “SSSSAAAARRRRAAAA!”
            Sara squatted low, looking back. It was the other man, his voice sounding strangely familiar to her. She could see the two beams of light coming together and knew the men were regrouping. Her abductors were fifty plus yards away, close enough for Sara to pick up their flashlights easily but not to hear the hushed voices.
            Slowly she backed away, keeping low to the ground and attempting to keep one eye trained on the two men not far enough away. After a couple of dozen steps, Sara felt safe enough to run away, still trying to keep low.

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

            Markus yanked Donny roughly against his chest.
            “Take the ar-e-a between the wood sshhhop and the houssse,” he hissed at the young man in his grasp, “if you don’t find her, check to make ssshhhuuurr sheeee didn’t get to the road.”
            Markus shoved the younger man in the direction he was to search. He could feel his anger getting the better of him, his control slipping. He had already been put on edge by Cassiopeia’s call concerning Daciana. He was certain if Cassiopeia knew about his side deal with Daciana or not, so he had tried to be non-specific while answering her questions concerning the girl’s whereabouts.
            Donny, returning to tell him Grissom’s woman had escaped had nearly cost Donny his life on the spot. He had had plans for her, painful, excruciating plans. Plans that would ultimately end in death but not before Grissom came to see her ignoble and agonizing demise.
            “Fuck!” he growled in the darkness. She couldn’t have gotten far but where?
            He stretched his arm, shining the flashlight’s beam into the wilderness. As long as she didn’t make it to the road Markus felt confident he and Donny could contain and recapture the woman. Taking a deep breath to calm his rage, he refocused his energies in a more controlled manner.
            “YOU KNOW SARA,” he yelled into the darkness, “I CAN SEE WHY GRISSOM CHOSE YOU,” he told her, deciding to search down by the waters edge.
            I’ll find you, you bitch and I’ll bleed you dry in front of that fucker, Grissom!

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

            The Denali bucked and swerved occasionally on the dirt road that led to Richard Bathory’s remote cabin. It had been fourteen years since Grissom had traveled this particular stretch of Nevada wilderness. His memory filled in the blanks that the truck’s headlights left out. He knew not far ahead there would be a left hand curve in the road that would signal they were close to the drive that would lead to the cabin set back a hundred yards from the road.
            Grissom had switched the sirens and flashing lights off the minute they entered the dirt road. He wanted to keep their arrival as low key as possible. The last thing he wanted was for Bathory to panic and hurt Sara.
            Sara…Grissom didn’t want to think of her in danger. He was desperately trying to detach himself from his emotions, afraid he would fail her if he lost focus. Grissom tried to paint it as a rescue mission in his mind because if he thought of it as Sara at the mercy of Markus Bathory, the panic that swirled in his lower belly would surely rise up and choke him. He needed to think first, feel later. He had done it for years but his past experience was rapidly becoming useless.
            God! What had he done to her? He had set a monster in her midst and then abandoned her!
Grissom banked the trunk left, into a controlled slide around the curve in the road. His eyes searched the far end of the truck’s lights for the dirt driveway that would lead to Bathory’s cabin. Knowing it was near, Grissom slowed down in anticipation of the hard right turn he would have to take.
            “There it is,” he informed Catherine and Warrick. It was a warning, letting them know they had reached the gates of Hell.
            Catherine craned her neck to look through the back window of the truck, reassuring herself that Brass and the others had kept up with Grissom’s near suicidal pace. She could pick out Brass’ car and a set of headlights that were probably to Nick and Greg’s Denali. She knew somewhere behind Nick there were two state troopers, their vehicles obscured by the SUV and the darkness.
            Twenty yards in, Grissom pulled the truck off the drive in a dusty, skidding stop, Brass and the others following suit. Jumping out of the truck, Grissom made a beeline for Brass, Catherine and Warrick following.
            “The cabin is approximately twenty to twenty-five yards ahead,” he indicated the direction with a chopping motion of his left hand, his right already holding his weapon. “There was a rock path that to a small barn southeast of the cabin. The last time I was here the terrain was fairly open between the two buildings, so you should be able to see them coming if you’re careful.”
            “Where’s your money on?” Brass asked, his tone hard, “House or barn?”
            For a brief terror filled moment, Grissom recalled Richard Bathory’s “workshop” and all its horrors. “The barn,” Grissom said, swallowing his fear.
            “Alright, anything else we should know?” Brass knew time was of the essence but the only casualties he was willing to accept were Bathory and Kempler.
            “The east side of the property backs into a natural watershed that feeds the lake. It’s rocky, dangerous in the daytime,” he warned, “lots of Sagebrush cover behind the barn and closer to the water and cliffs.”
            Brass nodded in the pale light. “Alright, this is how it is going to work. Two teams, Gil, Catherine, Warrick-you’re with me. Nick and Greg you are with Sofia and Troopers Petrie and Douglas,” Brass pointed to the two men standing nearby with shotguns at the ready. “We’ll take the barn. You take the cabin. We’re on channel 2. Now watch your asses.”
            With that succinct warning the two teams hustled off in the darkness. On that small point on the globe, prayers were fervently thrown to the heavens for the safe return of Sara Sidle and none more feverishly than Gil Grissom’s.

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

            Sara had lost sight of the bobbing flashlight and wondered if she had successfully avoided her attacker or if he was attempting to trap her. The latter portion of that thought had her eyes darting apprehensively around her surroundings. She had run into a grove of Sagebrush trees. The silver moonlight perforating the black shadows cast by the trees was the only light visible.
            She instinctively knew she was getting closer to the waters edge, the subtle smell and sounds acting as sensory buoys. Sara had surmised that she had to be close to Lake Mead. She hadn’t been unconscious long, she was certain of that since she had initially been able to pick up the glow of the city lights. And if this was Lake Mead than she knew she needed to tread carefully. Rocky cliffs and steep drop offs were not uncommon terrain features surrounding the lake.
            Sara slowly ventured from her hiding spot near a brush thicket. She needed to cautiously risk the exposure of the moonlight to determine that she wasn’t traveling in circles. All of Grissom’s astronomy lessons were going to be put to practical use this night.
            From the tree line she could see a fair distance, picking up the random, black shapes of other trees on the horizon. Sara knew that the ethereal light was deceiving, even though it looked like her visibility was high it would be easy for a man to hide in the muted light. Scanning the open expanse for nearby danger and detecting none, Sara quickly looked into the heavens for a helpful constellation in which to get her bearings.
            Almost immediately Sara picked out the distinct shape of Ursa Major. Sara smiled ducking back into the darkness and planting her back protectively against the rough surface of a tree trunk. If that is north, I’m going to assume the lake is to my east, which makes Vegas that way! Sara turned her eyes to her left. Somewhere across the open expanse and beyond the wilderness was help.
            “Hello Sssara,” whispered a voice in the dark.
            Sara’s dash across open span of ground came to a stuttered stop. Her feet sliding in the lose dirt and rock as she fell backwards, landing roughly on her hands and rear. She scrambled backwards on her hands and feet, watching the ghostly shadow of a man emerge from behind a nearby tree trunk.
            Sara’s mind went momentarily blank as she relied completely on survival instinct. And every instinctive molecule in her body screamed GET AWAY! Flipping around to get up to her feet and run like hell, Sara’s knuckles hit something rough as she shoved herself up to her feet.
            Sara’s feet lost traction in the lose ground but Sara had been a runner for years and might have made it away from her captor if he hadn’t had the upper hand of already being upright. Her escape was cut painfully short when Markus reached out and grabbed a handful of her long brown hair and yanked her painfully back.
            Sara spun in the direction of her attacker, almost losing her footing before regaining some measure of equilibrium. Her left hand reached out desperately for his right hand. She could see the soft glint of metal and the general shape of the gun in his hand.
            Yanking her head back, leaving Markus with a hand full of hair, Sara swung her right arm in a vicious arc towards her adversary. The heavy branch her hand had grabbed up from the ground colliding with the side of Markus’ head with a resounding thwack! Markus stumbled to his right, head down as is left hand came up to his bleeding temple.
            “BITCH!” he howled firing into the shadows where Sara disappeared. Growling, Markus went crashing into the grove of Sagebrush after Sara.