#csi reader insert

One and a half months to go

Upon entering the third trimester, the world had narrowed to the confines of ‘your’ bedroom. The door, once a portal to the shared life you were forced into, was now a steel barrier, a constant reminder of the control that had tightened around your neck like an ever-present noose. It had become the norm that you would often spend two days a week staring at those four empty walls, the silence broken only by the frantic rhythm of your own heartbeat. He would claim that it was in your best interest, his voice a soothing balm masking the chilling reality.

"Honey, I'm a Doctor, I know what I'm talking about. Rest and let me take care of you," he’d say, the words a cage around your spirit. Never once would he mention the baby steadily growing within you, a silent testament to the life he was slowly isolating.

By this point, you had missed so many necessary appointments. The accumulating stress was a palpable thing, a lead weight tightening in your chest, making each breath a conscious effort. More stolen time that you’d never get back, critical moments on a journey without your true co-pilot and partner. The joy that should have filled these months had been replaced by a gnawing fear, a constant ache of loss. Nick, the father of your child, was missing out on feeling every kick, on experiencing the shared excitement of cravings, and on seeing his unborn child on the ultrasound screen as the tech moved the probe to document the growth. The intimacy of the journey, the shared anticipation, had been stolen. His life too was slowly being erased from the picture.

There had been no assigned midwife to guide you through the prior months, no friendly face in a doctor's office. You had not seen the inside of a medical practice in the entirety of your pregnancy.

You were HIS patient, a possession, not an individual with any agency over your own body and health. The bare minimum that he had actually done was to prescribe you the prenatal vitamins and to have a dietitian tailor the ideal meal plan at stage of each trimester. Even these were tinged with suspicion. The dietitian was a close friend of his, who had taken you on off the books as a personal favour. Just another way to reduce any paper trail that could lead to your discovery. The sense of isolation was absolute, a suffocating blanket woven from lies, manipulation, and the chilling certainty that you were utterly alone.

It made you wonder how many others had been where you were sitting, but failed to meet his impossibly high standards. You were just the latest in a string of women kidnapped to be moulded into the object of his desire. He saw himself as a sculptor, meticulously crafting his perfect woman, and you, the raw material, were at his mercy.

It had taken time to earn his trust, to be left alone in the property without the constant presence of a chosen companion; the cleaner, the cook, or even the gardener, all were utterly loyal to the Good Doctor. Knowing that every external door and window was latched, and that the keys were always on him, offered little comfort. There was no way to escape, not that you hadn’t tried opening each door and window during your daily explorations, a ritual of hope that quickly turned to despair. After a few weeks of repeated visits from one room to the next, searching for any sign, any clue, any opportunity, it was then that you first found more than a single faded stain on a single piece of clothing that hung in the very back of the wardrobe.

The discovery sent a chill through your veins, a grim confirmation of the unspoken horrors you had come to suspect. Concealed beneath a few loose floorboards in the master bedroom and tucked away in the dusty recesses of the attic, you unearthed a horrifying collection of evidence, each item a testament to the Good Doctor’s depraved deeds.

The inventory of evidence included dozens of Polaroid pictures, faded and warped with age, depicting a series of terrified faces, each one a mirror image of your own growing dread. The locations varied, from the meticulously manicured gardens of the estate to the cold, bare-bones confines of the basement. A chilling assortment of hair, neatly bound with ribbons of silk, a grotesque collection ranging from the vibrant crimson of a fiery redhead to the pale, ethereal strands of a young woman with eyes that haunt your memory.

The diary, bound in leather and worn with use, held secrets more terrifying than anything you could have imagined. Its pages, filled with elegant yet frantic handwriting, told the story of another victim, another life stolen by this pillar of the community. The name “Eliza” was mentioned with a reverence that felt both perverse and deeply unsettling, a name you had only ever heard uttered in hushed tones, a forbidden whisper that sent a shiver down your spine.

The evidence was carefully put back in its hiding spots, and as a result, the case began to unfold in your mind. While you were attempting to understand the reason for your abduction, there was a lingering fear that he would realise you were getting closer to the truth. His library, with its imposing bookcases lining the walls, had been a welcomed find as you wandered through the halls.

You had spent countless hours escaping into the worlds contained within the pages, losing yourself in tales of adventure, romance, and intrigue. Yet, despite the comfort the library offered, and despite the captivating stories that held you enthralled, you always read with one eye fixed upon the door. Having been a police officer for a few years, your guard was something that you had honed and therefore could never be lowered even for the briefest moment in this house. The silence, broken only by the rustle of turning pages and the occasional creak of the aged wooden floor, was both a blessing and a curse, a constant reminder of the danger that lurked just beyond the sanctuary of books.

Yet, you often found yourself staring up at a particular oil painting, a portrait of a smiling young woman dressed to the nines, tucked away in a nook of the library. Her gown, a vibrant emerald green, shimmered in the faint light filtering through the high, arched windows, the fabric seemingly alive with movement. Her dark hair, piled high in intricate curls, was adorned with glittering jewels that caught the light, and a subtle smile played on her lips, hinting at a secret known only to her. You had questioned him, curious about both the artist and the subject, hoping to learn the story behind the woman's captivating gaze. You envisioned a tale of love, loss, or perhaps a clandestine affair, something to break the monotony of your captivity.

But when you had turned, expecting to find answers, you were met with a wall of silence and a look in his eyes that you’d never seen before. It was a sorrow, a deep, aching sadness that seemed to emanate from him, a vulnerability you had never believed your kidnapper could possess. The cold, calculating man who had held you prisoner for so long was gone, replaced by something broken, something that had clearly suffered a profound loss.

“Ask again and I won’t hesitate to snap your neck;” This had been the first time that you had glimpsed beneath the mask and seen the true nature of the real man. Void and unfeeling, ready at the drop of a hat to end your life and find a replacement, he was a danger not only to your body but to your soul. The threat hung in the air, heavy and suffocating, a stark reminder of the precariousness of your reality.

Heavily pregnant and a sitting duck in the serial killer’s lair, you were petrified. The air hung thick with the metallic tang of fear. The single bare bulb hanging from the ceiling cast long, dancing shadows, playing tricks on your eyes. You could hear the incessant creak of floorboards somewhere beyond the locked door, a constant, unnerving rhythm.

Striving to be accommodating, you played the role of the compliant, dutiful wife. You forced a smile when he entered the room, your heart hammering against your ribs. You endured his scrutinising gaze, his endless purposeless touches. The constant violation of your privacy. The familiar warmth of your growing belly calmed you as you rubbed your hand across it, feeling your child’s lively response to your touch. A tiny kick, a gentle nudge – it was a lifeline in this abyss of despair.

“I’ll always keep you safe, baby, I promise;” you vowed with an air of conviction. The words were a shield against the encroaching darkness, a defiant stand against the monster who held you captive. You closed your eyes, picturing your child’s face, its future, a future you were determined to secure. You would see it though, your child would survive even if it was the cost of your own life. The thought, though painful, filled you with a fierce resolve. You would use every ounce of strength, every flicker of intelligence, every opportunity to protect your unborn child. This was your purpose now, your only reason to fight.

You bit your lip, a nervous tremor in your hands, trying to quell the growing excitement as the butterflies in your stomach fluttered like mad, their wings beating a frantic rhythm against your ribs. How could not be looking forward to tonight; hopefully the first of many dates to come. You had never thought that he might have seen you as anything other than a friend and a colleague. Yet he had been the one to ask you out to dinner after having kissed for the very first time.

That was just over forty-eight hours prior. As soon as he had gotten home, a text message had come through with a time, date of when he could pick up, with no obvious indication of where he would be taking you. It had been a welcomed surprise that kept sleep at bay for a few hours as your mind had relived that evening’s events. Sleep came eventually, sweeping you away into a wonderful dream that you never wanted to end.

The next morning, you had discovered a sweet good morning message; you had briefly struggled to reply, but soon enough the perfect reply came and was sent shooting off into the invisible superhighway connecting all electronic devices. You felt as if you were floating on cloud nine; this is what it must feel like to have died and gone straight to heaven.

The next few hours blurred together as you messaged back and forth, laughing at his terribly pun-filled jokes before firing back with one of your own. Whilst a giddy smile remained in place as you went about your day. It had always been easy to talk with Nick, but this felt fresh and on a completely different level. Nick had been called in on his day off after one of the team had called in sick. However, he had stated outright that he couldn’t cover the day after, as he had immovable plans. You, not that his team, knew that.

A very visible blush exploded across your face as you reread the last message for the third time. You were that important; he wanted to see as much as you did where this went. To explore the very notion of being romantically entangled, to see if it worked just as smoothly. You dared to believe that you and Nick were compatible, but you were willing to risk it all for this chance.

As you pulled more clothes out of your wardrobe, you failed to notice the figure lingering outside the window. Watching your joy as you bounced about the ground floor room, trying on each item with a skip in your step. As you hold the next potential first date outfit in front of you before looking critically in the mirror. You could not see the contempt in their gaze, knowing that this little show was not for them but for another who was completely unworthy of you. The thought of you, happy, perhaps even in love with another, was a sickness they couldn’t stomach. Fear rose up as thoughts that you might be slipping out further out of their reach, that their control, their carefully laid plans, were slowly unravelling.

The cogs turned, springing into life; a familiar icy dread settled in. Time was slipping away as the figure, hidden amongst the overgrown greenery creeping up the walls, as they moved from one of its favoured perches. It was time to set the events in motion. The carefully crafted web of deceit, the subtle manipulations, all had to accelerate. There was so much still left to do before the last sands of the hourglass slipped away. This plan would not happen overnight; it was a symphony of carefully orchestrated events, a long game of chess where you were the queen. But soon, very soon, you would be theirs, and this pathetic display of happiness would be but a distant, forgotten memory. The thought of that moment, the sweet taste of victory, steeled their resolve, and they faded back into the shadows, the hunt now fully engaged. The first move had been made.

Three weeks later

Agent Montgomery arrived at the crime lab later than she had anticipated; traffic on the Strip had been a nightmare. It had extended for over a mile, a solid, creeping line of red taillights that had tested her patience to its limit. This was her breaking point, compounding the never-ending headache this case had created. The late hour, deadlines, and pressure from the higher-ups, as well as the LVPD's internal stress, mounted, especially with the victim being one of them.; it was the unsettling nature of the crime itself.

A grim expression crossed her face, revealing her current mood: a mix of frustration, exhaustion, and a gnawing unease. She ran a hand through her already dishevelled hair, the weight of solving the case pressing down on her. She had hoped to share the news with Nick Stokes, the partner of the victim, a criminalist. But given the tension that had arisen within the Department since the FBI had taken over the case, she understood the looming decision that she might have to keep him in the dark a little longer, for now. Unexpressed worries and frustrations filled the lab, creating a stifling atmosphere.

Even with the possibility of unlocking additional resources from the Federal Task Force, her presence was deemed a hindrance in the search for their friend, colleague, and loved one, as she was viewed as an outsider. Walking into a police department with a sense of discomfort was not an unfamiliar experience for Aveline.

She entered the trace lab. Nick was at the microscope, hunched over his work. His brow was furrowed, and his eyes narrowed as he peered through the lens. He was completely absorbed, oblivious to everything around him. The usual lab technician, Hodges, was absent, his frustratingly dry wit missing.

Aveline, hesitant, lingered just inside the doorway, unsure of how to interrupt. She had spent the morning piecing together a crucial piece of information – a breakthrough, really – that she needed to share with Nick immediately. A phone call would have worked, a quick and easy way to convey the data she had painstakingly uncovered. But something held her back. The news was too significant, too delicate, to be delivered in such a casual manner. She needed to see his face, to gauge his reaction, to ensure he understood the gravity of the situation. She needed to be in the same space, to feel the shared tension and excitement.

Finally, Nick looked up, his gaze shifting from the microscope to the world beyond. He saw her standing there, framed by the door, and a flicker of surprise crossed his face. He realised he wasn’t alone. He found her lingering in the doorway, her expression unreadable. She held a manila folder in her hand, its contents undoubtedly related to the research they were both immersed in.

Her mere presence was enough for him to know its significance. A phone call would have worked to share what she recently learnt, but Aveline didn’t feel at ease using that way to communicate this to him. The information felt too important to be relayed in any other manner than an in-person discussion.

“You found something, didn’t you?” His manner of speaking subtly conveyed a glimmer of quiet hope, which was evident in his words. His words direct and straight to the point, there was no beating about the bush.

The set of his jaw wasn’t rigid, but relaxed, almost inviting. His eyes, though reflecting the weariness of the long months without his girlfriend, held a spark, a faint but persistent flicker of optimism that, like a small fire in the hearth, offered warmth and the promise of light. The subtle tilt of his head, the almost imperceptible lift of his eyebrows at certain points, all worked together to weave a tapestry of understated hope, a silent assurance that, despite the challenges ahead, this was something worth striving for, something to be optimistic about. This wasn’t a boisterous proclamation, but a quiet undercurrent of belief, a gentle persuasion that resonated long after the particular conversation ended.

Agent Aveline took a deep breath, maintaining her composure. “Over the last week, we received a tip through the hot-line. A potential sighting of a woman matching your partner’s description at a hospital in California. The local authorities are reviewing the CCTV footage and have shared it with the Vegas lab here for their own analysis.”

“California?” Nick’s surprise was evident as she delivered the update. The room buzzed with a frantic energy that amplified the raw emotion churning inside Nick. He hadn’t even been able to fully process the information before the words erupted from him, a mixture of disbelief and searing panic. His voice cracked, betraying the tremor that ran through him. “A week; you’ve known about this for an entire week!”

He ran a hand through his hair; the gesture failed to soothe the whirlwind of worry that consumed him. Each second felt like an eternity, a slow torture of unanswered questions and agonizing possibilities. His heart hammered against his ribs, a frantic drumbeat mirroring the chaos within. The vibrant image of her, the warmth of her smile, the sound of her laughter, all flashed through his mind, each memory a fresh stab of fear. All he knew was that she was still out there in the clutches of a serial killer, in the unforgiving place, and he was utterly and completely in the dark. He turned towards the stoic figure standing beside him, the federal agent who had delivered the news.

After hearing the loud voices coming from the hallway, DB Russell stepped into the trace lab. He recognised the escalating tension and the potential for the situation to spiral out of control. Stepping into the lit space, he saw the two figures, that of Nick and Federal Agent Aveline Montgomery. He could see that Nick’s face flushed with anger; the lack of any recent evidence, the silence and ever-present worry were eating away at him.

The air crackled with unspoken accusations and simmering resentment. Without hesitation, DB moved between them, his presence immediately commanding attention. He raised his hands in a gesture of peace, his voice calm and measured as he began to try to de-escalate the situation, attempting to diffuse the conflict before it could erupt into something more. He started by addressing each individual, acknowledging their frustrations and encouraging them to express their feelings constructively. “Aveline, I’ll take it from here”

"Nick, calm down." DB placed a hand on his shoulder, a gesture meant to soothe the frantic energy radiating from the Texan. "We're doing everything we can. I know this is hard, but we need to follow procedure."

Aveline continued, her voice gentle yet firm, her brow creased with concern. "The tipster provided a partial license plate number, and our tech team is running it through the database. We're also cross-referencing it with the hospital's parking lot footage. We have security footage of the area from the last few weeks, and we're meticulously reviewing it, frame by frame, in hopes of glimpsing the vehicle and, hopefully, the detective."

Nick pushed DB's hand away, his frustration evident in the sharp movement. His dark hair was dishevelled, and his usually sharp eyes were bloodshot, betraying sleepless nights and mounting anxiety. "I've been going out of my mind with worry," he practically snarled, pacing the small workspace. "Every day feels like an eternity. And now, you're telling me she might have been in California?"

"We don't know yet, Nick," Aveline said, her tone soothing, as if speaking to a frightened animal. "That's what we're trying to piece together. The tip we received detailing the supposed sightings mentioned the Golden State, but the information is still unconfirmed. But we need to remain objective and not jump to conclusions. Premature leaps in judgment can lead us down the wrong path and waste valuable time."

DB's voice was firm, authoritative. "Nick, I know this is difficult, but you need to trust the process. We'll find her, I promise. We've handled similar cases before, and we have an additional team of dedicated professionals working alongside us. For now, I need you to focus on your work here. Let us handle the investigation. We will keep you informed every step of the way."

Nick's eyes darted between Aveline and DB, his emotions a chaotic mix of desperation, anger, and a flicker of hope. "How can I focus on work when my girlfriend is missing? I should be out there searching, doing something. This waiting is killing me. Every second feels like an agonizing stab. Why aren't we doing more? Why aren't we looking everywhere?"

"I understand," Aveline said, her gaze softening, her professional facade cracking slightly to reveal a genuine empathy. "My team is dedicated to this case, and we're making progress, albeit at a pace that is often frustrating. The process takes time; you know this. We'll keep you updated, I promise. You'll be the first to know if any new developments surface."

As Nick's shoulders slumped, the fight draining from him, DB spoke up. "Why don't you take a break, Nick? Clear your head. We can manage things here for a while. Why don't you go get some air? Maybe grab some coffee. You're no good to anyone in this state." He gestured towards the door, hoping to offer some small solace in the suffocating atmosphere.

Nick nodded, his anger deflating. "Fine. I'll... I'll go for a walk. But keep me informed, please. I need to know if there's any news." Aveline watched him leave, her heart heavy with the weight of the situation. The man's retreating figure seemed to shrink with each step, a stark contrast to the imposing figure he usually projected. His shoulders were slumped, his head bowed, and his hands were clenched into fists at his sides, a testament to the internal battle he was waging. The weight of their shared responsibility pressed down on them, a silent understanding passing between them.

"Thank you for stepping in," Aveline said, a sense of camaraderie forming between them. "I'll keep you updated on the lab analysis. Hopefully, we'll have more answers soon." The sterile environment of the lab, usually a place of focused activity, felt unusually quiet.

Meanwhile, the simmering fury that he had kept contained for so long was now unleashed, erupting and dominating his every thought and action as it surged to the forefront. Every memory, every imagined scenario, fuelled the inferno within him. As he continued to walk down the silent hallway, the weight of his anger became more apparent with each step, which seemed heavier than the previous one and echoed with each footfall as he headed out. The linoleum floor reflected the flickering overhead lights, casting elongated shadows that danced and twisted, mirroring the chaos in his mind. The familiar surroundings of the building, usually a source of comfort, now felt alien, a constant reminder of the life he was desperately trying to salvage.

Normally he wouldn’t have woken you after a long shift. Normally, Nick would have tiptoed into your shared apartment, quietly kicked his shoes off and gotten undressed without making too much of a sound. He would have been careful when sliding under the covers next to you, not wanting to wake you up, not wanting to disturb your sleep. You always slept so peacefully. He’d smile as he looked at you next to him, before nestling into his pillow and letting the exhaustion of a hard day’s work lull him to sleep. But, today hadn’t been normal, his shift had been anything but. He hadn’t even been able to drive himself home. Grissom had done that, his hands had been shaking too bad, the adrenaline still running laps around his circulatory system. The fear, the realisation of his own fragility, shook him to the core.  

He sits carefully down on the bed, not undressing like he normally would or pulling the covers back to go to sleep. Instead, he turns to look at you, at the smoothness of your expression, how everything about you seems relaxed when you sleep, the gentle breaths that help your chest to rise and fall, and the bedhead he always made fun of. It should calm the shakes in his body, the anxious bubbling in his chest, but it doesn’t. It makes it worse because for a second he thinks of what he might have lost and of how it all might have hurt you. 

It’s a gentle call of your name and the soft touch of a warm hand to your cheek that starts to stir you awake. At first you’re confused, in that bewildered and dazed moment between sleep and wakefulness you’re not quite sure what’s going on or why that southern accent is so familiar. But, you blink away the sleep turning towards the voice, hand fumbling on the bedside table for your glasses before pulling them on to turn the bleary blurry shapes clear in the low light.

“Nick?” Your voice is heavy with sleep but concern rides your voice at the sight of tears in his eyes. They’re red and blotches cover the skin underneath them like he’s already cried once tonight. He’s gnawing on his bottom lip so hard you think he might hurt himself. You reach out with a gentle hand and pull his bottom lip free of his teeth, before cupping his jaw as you sit yourself up to meet him. “Baby, what’s wrong?” 

He isn’t a crying sort of man, Nick. He’s sensitive and he’s sweet, but he doesn’t often cry. He’s one of the most composed people you know. Tears come from Nick only in the most extreme circumstances, a bad case, a horrible death, rarely does it mean something simple or easy to handle. It sends a horrible feeling to your gut and you know without him saying a word that something happened on the job, something bad enough that he woke you in the night to talk when he’d normally let you sleep. 

You scoot yourself forward, legs wrapping over his, tangling together as you pull yourself as close to him as you can before pressing kisses across his cheekbones, his jaw, his nose, his chin. You do this because you don’t know what else to do while you wait for an answer. 

His breathing is shaky, rough, like he’s holding in a sob and you kiss away the tears that quietly fall over his cheeks in slow rivers. Arms wrapped around his broad shoulders as if you could shield him from whatever happened, whatever wanted to hurt him, whatever might still hurt him. 

“I...she was gonna shoot me...she was gonna shoot me.” You don’t ask who, you don’t need to know. You have to physically stop the gasp that wants to leave your throat knowing it won’t help, knowing it’ll make him feel worse, that he’s scared you, that his pain is your pain. So you hold it in your throat like you hold the tears in your eyes, in a desperate attempt to be strong for the man that nearly died tonight. For the man that is always so strong for you. 

“It’s okay, baby, i’m here, and no one is going to hurt you. Do you understand me, Nick? No one is going to hurt you while i’m here.” You press your cheek to the crown of his head, pulling his cheek against your shoulders and holding him tightly as he cries. 

He cries so hard and so loud that you think he might fall apart, but you’re determined to hold him together, even though your heart is breaking and your own fears have almost been realised tonight. 

Nick has always been the one to tell you not to worry, that he’d be fine, that he’d come home safe after every shift. It had always been you that would worry, you that understood his mortality, the reality of his job and the risks. For the first time it seems like Nick really understands that he could die, that he could get hurt. It’s a fear you’ve always held deep in your heart, that horrifying sinking in your stomach when you don’t hear from him, when you have time to think that maybe something happened while he was on a case. 

“I love you...I love you so much.” You whisper it into his ear, hoping beyond hope that the love you have for him can in some way soothe the fear, the pain, the thoughts that are cycling through his head and the feelings that are rushing through his bloodstream. 

It feels like hours that you sit there rocking him, keeping him pressed against you as he cries and mutters and mumbles. It feels like hours, like your voice will go hoarse from all the reassurances, all the I loves yous, all the words that you hope will soothe him. It can’t in truth be more than an hour, and your voice is not hoarse, but his is. Rough from all the crying and the emotional confessions that fall from his lips, things that make little sense but he says them because they hurt him and they come to mind. It’s ramblings, but you understand that feeling, the fear, the sadness, how it can all bubble out of your mouth in streams of words, your thoughts made vocal, real. So you let him.

When he finally goes quiet and the tears have stopped you gently pull him to lie down on the bed, helping him untie his shoes and pull them off, to undress before tucking him under the covers. You follow suit, not wanting to be far from him, holding him tight hoping that maybe you can offer some semblance, some feeling of safety and protection. 

When his breathing is finally even, when you can sense the calming of his body, the muscles relaxing, you allow yourself to cry. You cry out of fear, out of a deep worry that one day he might not come home, that tonight he could have died and you wouldn’t be able to tell him all the wonderful things that bubble inside of you whenever he’s around, that you wouldn’t have any more years together. It is an utterly paralysing thought to think that the man you love was inches away from being murdered tonight, that he could be taken away from you with little effort. So you cry, you cry as you hold him tight in his sleep because you know come morning you need to be strong for him and you know that letting this fear fester and wallow inside of you will do nothing good. 

Grainy images played out upon the monitor; as keen eyes watched on tracking as the figure moved into frame. This was what they were all waiting for. A confirmed sighting proved she was still alive and well, but they couldn’t quite make out what she appeared to be shielding — a large object, keeping it just out of sight. This was odd even for her.

They continued to watch the clip as she moved through the relatively empty waiting area of the clinic, never reaching out to anyone else before placing what she had been holding down gently on the chair in the only camera’s blind spot. It was impossible for them to determine what it was at this point. She briefly turned, her attention shifting to the other woman present. The clock in the top left corner of the screen indicated the clinic had just opened its doors, a mere ten minutes prior. This detail was something Greg had discovered on the hospital’s website.

It was an opportune moment for a drop-off, as few people were around, taking into account the available staff and the single mother and child waiting. They watched the silent exchange unfold, a rapid ballet of glances and gestures that lasted only a breath. Then, she pivoted, her figure disappearing through the door of the waiting room, leaving. Never to be seen again. Archie had warned them about the dated surveillance gear; the screen flickered, a grainy black and white devoid of sound, offering no audible clues. This was their only window, and it felt like looking through a dusty pane of glass – a frustratingly limited view.

With a sigh escaping his lips, Greg pivoted away from the display he had been intently focused on, now facing Brass directly. “Without a doubt, that is her.” Months had passed since they were this close, and it felt like a breakthrough in the case. Greg's heart soared, a wave of pure joy washing over him as his missing friend appeared on screen.

Every lead, a glint of possibility, required meticulous scrutiny, leaving no stone unturned. This case had been their golden goose; its potential was immense. Yet, despite the combined might of the Las Vegas Police Department, the investigation had barely budged, a faint whisper against a deafening silence. This single step forward felt fragile, a pebble on a precipice. Would it trigger a landslide of revelations, a cascade of information that finally pointed them down the right path? Greg desperately clung to that hope, a flickering candle against the encroaching dark.

Nick, confined to administrative leave, was a ghost in the lab, his skills side-lined. Catherine and DB had initiated the conversation, the phantom echo of their raised, frustrated voices still resonating in the sterile hallways, a memory Greg actively avoided. No one felt truly content with the decision, but the necessity was stark: with the investigation crossing state lines, their direct control was relinquished. A grudging courtesy had been extended by the local FBI, a trickle of shared information and evidence flowing into the department's already overflowing inbox.

“Jesus,” Greg agreed with Jim’s simmering frustration, the words a low rumble in the quiet tension. The stale air of the room seemed to thicken with unspoken anger. “We are no closer to finding this bastard, then we were last month when he sent those blasted photos to Nick to twist the knife in further and deepen his pain,” Jim ranted, the words sharp and ragged, each syllable a crackle of raw fury. The metallic tang of his frustration seemed to hang in the air. “The other recordings track her journey out of the hospital and into the car park,” Greg added, his voice a flat echo in the oppressive silence, a thin thread of information lost in the vast expanse of their helplessness. “The Feds noted that they had gotten a partial plate, but they are sifting through the long list of vehicles.” The clack of the keyboard from a distant officer was a sharp, almost mocking sound against the heavy drone of their despair. It was another dead end, the latest in a string of cold, hard disappointments that could be felt in the slump of their shoulders and the weary drag of their voices. Once more, the suffocating weight of waiting settled upon them, heavy and cold.

The ring box sat alone on the bedside table, just as lonely as the one who had bought felt. Nick had sequestered himself in the room that once was his childhood bedroom in his parents’ home. Knowing that both of his parents were incredibly worried about his well-being, their kind words and attentive affection could do nothing to heal the hole in his heart.

A week had come and gone since he had turned up on their doorstep after being placed on administrative leave from the lab. Driving through the night with a single duffel bag thrown together without a second thought, straight from Vegas to Texas and only stopping partway at the motel to catch a few hours of sleep before heading back on the road.

He knew that there wasn’t much that he could do to further the ongoing investigation, but goddamn it did hurt to just stand on the side lines and helplessly watch on. Nick had been open since the beginning of the process, knowing that it wouldn’t take much to uncover his intimate personal relationship with her, which extended far beyond that of the workplace.

It was a conflict of interest, one that would affect the outcome if it went to trial, as it could be seen as a bias to be exploited by the defence against the Crime Lab, the evidence that had been collected and processed.

After eighteen months of running around the strip, hand in hand, they grew closer and closer as their feelings deepened and their passions soared. They had agreed to tell the world that she was utterly his and he was completely hers.

Nick had wanted to take one step further if he only had the chance to ask that all-important question. His mind wandered back to the last time that they had been together before all this craziness had begun.

Her legs tightly wrapped around his waist as they tumbled through the doorway into his bedroom. His lips were feverishly attached to hers, kissing her mercilessly over and over, addicted to her very touch as he inched them closer to the bed. Nick had been daydreaming about it through dinner as he watched her tongue seductively caress the dessert spoon, licking every inch of its surface clean to ensure nothing was left.

All that he could think about was her as she masterfully licked up and down, swirling around the spoon’s curves, imagining all the ways that she would use those tactics upon his heated flesh. It was damn near pornographic, and Nick never felt luckier than in this moment as he pulled his head back, releasing her lips from his as his shin collided with the frame of her bed.

“Let me ride you, Cowboy,” she moaned, a playful pout upon her lips trying to tempt him into giving in. Not that he had much restraint when it came to those devilishly delicious lips of hers, especially when they were calling out his name as he drove her through wave after wave of sheer ecstasy.

“Soon, Darlin’, we’ve got the whole night ahead of us” He smiles softly, his twang thicker than honey as desire blends through his words as he gently lowers her down onto the mattress.

God, it had been hot and heavy, nothing short of pure passion. One that was difficult to shake the memory of, which made him cling tighter to every moment that they had spent together. No matter how small the interaction had been, they were all special and part of their story.

Nick dared to hope that this would just be another one, a bump in the road, but she would be back with him soon. To stand here in this room with him once more, like she had last Christmas when he had brought her home to spend the holidays with his parents, siblings and the whole extended Stokes family.

With the sheets firmly entangled around both his and her bodies, Nick couldn’t help but smile down at his girl. She had long since fallen asleep, with her head resting on his chest. Nights like this one had quickly become a favourite of his, whether she was spending the night at his or he was staying over at hers. For the venue wasn’t the important aspect, no, she was. He might consider asking her to move in before popping that age-old question.

Even though that little black box was burning a hole in the pocket of his favourite leather jacket. As his eyes slid closed and sleep’s sweet embrace took hold, the thought of tomorrow being the day to think the next steps over was probably the best. Maybe he could ask her over breakfast.

A knock at the door brought Nick out of his thoughts; he turned his head in the general direction. “Nick? Dinner is ready; please come down and eat with us. I’m worried, sweetheart, don’t lock yourself away” The voice of his mother floated through. Concern, worry, and love for her boy intermingled as she tried to coax him out.

He sorrowfully sighed and pushed him up. “I’ll be down shortly,” He called back weakly, trying to hold back the fresh tears threatening to cascade down his already red cheeks.

How much longer would his girl be trapped in that god-awful situation? How long would it be before he held her in his arms again? This nightmare had been reaching a natural end soon, but then why couldn't he just wake up and find her still in bed beside him?

Frustration arose within him as he continued to torment himself. Sam’s company did little to comfort and negate the rage that he felt; his dear canine partner felt his master’s unrelenting pain and tried his best to elevate what he could. He damn near loved his furry companion; his companion helped to combat the loneliness as he slept at the foot of his bed. It was as if he knew that he missed her.

Why her? If only he had the answers that he had been so desperately searching for.

Twelve Hours Prior

Cases like this were rare for Detective Julian Denver. A mother abandoned her child at a downtown hospital. Her actions were shocking. But as an experienced detective, he needed to be objective.

He watched the grainy security footage repeatedly. He tried to understand the mother’s perspective. She gently placed the baby carrier down. She made sure the infant was safe inside. An officer on the scene gathered a witness statement. This statement confirmed that the child had been abandoned in a place of safety, a hospital outpatient clinic.

The mother in question had selected a spot closest to a single mother, sat with her own small child. To an outsider, it seemed like a normal hospital visit. But it devolved into something else entirely. Questions arose, more with every passing second as he read through the witness’s signed statement.

The woman, her eyes wide and darting, a flush creeping up her neck, approached me with a hesitant shuffle. Her voice, a soft, almost apologetic murmur, barely cut through the low hum of the clinic. “Excuse me,” she began, her gaze flicking towards her daughter, a tiny bundle nestled against her shoulder, “could you possibly watch her for just a moment? I seem to have left the changing bag in my car.”

I recognised that familiar, bone-deep weariness etched around her eyes, the shadow of sleepless nights that I, too, had known when my own children were that small. The faint scent of baby powder and something vaguely metallic, like stressed sweat, hung in the air. A surge of empathy, a silent nod of shared experience, washed over me. “Of course,” I replied, my voice gentle.

She mumbled a quick “I’ll be right back,” her hands fluttering nervously at her sides, and then she was gone, melting back into the bustling hallway. The minutes stretched, marked by the distant beep of machinery and the muffled cries of other infants. When she didn’t reappear, a knot of unease tightened in my stomach. The woman’s earlier nervousness, a palpable tension that had radiated from her, now felt like a warning signal. I approached the clinic staff, the words tumbling out, “Excuse me, but that woman… I need to report something.” The thought of her abandoning the child, that innocent, breathing weight in my arms, had never once entered my mind.

Julian hummed as he turned the page, as the cogs in his mind processed the words. The witness had never seen the woman as a threat, only as a new mother struggling without sleep. She had sympathised, willing helped only for the woman to vanish. After thirty minutes, the witness had informed the clinic, which had then reported the abandonment to the authorities, but only after a grace period of an additional fifteen minutes had passed.

It could easily have been a simple mistake, a case of parental burnout after falling asleep in the car. Closing her eyes for a few minutes. However, the mother had not returned. A nurse had been allocated to the young babe whilst they’d waited for him to arrive.

They had reported that one doctor had checked the child over; the little girl was healthy, well cared for and most definitely loved. It was what had been tucked into her carrier that concerned the staff, more for the mother than the child. A hastily scribbled note. It had been bagged and sent off to the techs to analyse.

The trace labs report reported that it had traces of protein-based hormones, leucine enkephalin. He didn’t need a degree to understand what that was. It was spelled out on the report for him. “Tears, she was crying when she wrote this,” He said; she had been crying as she penned this note, knowing that this might be the last time that she could be with her baby girl.

The print lab had called him, reporting in that they had lifted a single print and there had been no kickback from AFIS yet, but it was still searching. His attention shifted back to the small piece of paper with the sealed evidence bag on his desk that had been found hidden in the carrier. It had changed how all those involved in the child’s case viewed her actions.

My daughter isn’t safe; I had to get her out. I was kidnapped whilst pregnant, and he would have killed her. Please contact Las Vegas PD; her biological father works there. Please help her.

To know that it had been scrawled in a rush, by a mother simply trying to keep her child out of harm’s way. It was risky as if she had been discovered; the ramifications were hard to even think about for both her and the child, but thankfully that seemed not to be the case.

The departmental criminalists and lab techs had run the baby’s DNA through the system to see if they could hit on the identity of the parents. The note had been processed and printed, but the results were still pending as well. Who knew when they would get the reports back on them? It could be days or even weeks.

However, the little girl was safe, being looked after and cared for as she should have been all along. What puzzled Denver the most was that she was far from malnourished and there were none of the usual signs of any sort of abuse. It did not make a lick of sense why she would be up and left at a hospital one day. If the note was to be believed, then there were more layers to this mystery that he could hope to understand and unravel.

Nothing was ever straightforward these days, even on the American Pacific Coast. California was indeed a paradise, which held many secrets behind the sandy beaches along its picturesque coastline.

He had put in countless hours of work, scouring all the leads that had arisen as he patiently waited for those vital reports to land on his desk. His rather outdated computer sat, taking up most of his desk. He could still hear the cries for him to replace it from both colleagues and IT support alike, but the old bit of kit, much like himself, still worked well enough.

Documents lined the remaining desk space, statements from hospital staff and the key eyewitness, along with reports from various lab techs that went nowhere fast. He needed help as he worked through the many dead ends and false starts that came forward after the latest press conference. Denver endeavoured to go to hell back for the sweet baby girl.

The familiar ping alerted him that he had a new email. As Denver turned to face the beaten-up monitor through narrowed eyes, he focused on the dimly lit screen. The subject line gave him a reason to smile. The reports were in, and it had taken only less than a week to come back.

As he moved the mouse to click on the first attachment, the cursor soon fell upon the document with a rapid click; the document opened, displaying its complicated lingo and diagrams before his very eyes.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” He said, leaning back in the desk chair. “We have the kid’s parents; this lines up with the note” However, his gaze was fixed upon the message displayed underneath their names.

RESTRICTED ACCESS

MEMBERS OF LVPD / CSI

ACTIVE JOINT FEDERAL TASK FORCE LVPD/FBI

What in the hell had Detective Denver found himself a part of? This was likely going to be the case that defined his legacy when he eventually retired. Not that he was going to walk from the job anytime soon but this went well above his pay grade. Julian grumbled to himself; this was going to be one heck storm to ride out.

Greg’s gaze rose to investigate the sudden arrival of Henry; the lab tech’s smile was both welcome and concerning at the same time. He was loudly panting as if he had run from the DNA lab to the locker room at breakneck speed.

Greg did not initially move from his seated position on the bench housed between the two rows of lockers. “Are you alright there, Henry?” He questioned, knowing his friend well enough to know that he would not run across the lab without a good enough reason. This had to be something huge that would crack a case wide open.

It took a moment for him to catch his breath as he steadied himself in the threshold of the open doorway. “I got an alert from San Jose PD on DNA that had been run on a recently opened case,” Henry spoke, opening the manila folder he held in his hands, revealing the paper reports hidden within.

Greg listened halfheartedly; this was nothing new. Other police departments in various other states would offer run evidence that could link back to their backlog of cases. This, at first glance, didn’t seem important enough to run himself ragged over, but he gave his friend the benefit of the doubt to finish his news.

“It’s about our missing detective…..” This caught Greg’s immediate attention, as his mind rushed through the various reasons for her DNA being found in California. He had to weigh up the possibilities of equally good and bad outcomes.

“But it flagged up Nick as well” This was a twist that he had not seen coming; Greg had to ask.

“What do you mean, Henry? Nick, to the best of my knowledge, has never been to California,” Greg’s curiosity overwhelmed his words as he rapidly inquired for clarity on this peculiar development.

“San Jose ran a search for familial matches on a child abandonment case that occurred in the last week. This child had seven alleles in common with Nick and seven in common with the Detective.”

“Who else knows about this, Henry?” Greg pressed as he stood up and closed the gap between the two of them. His eyes widened as shock washed over as he mulled over what he had just been told. “No one; I came looking for anyone on the team. You just happened to be the first person I found,” He nervously replied, hoping that he hadn’t done the wrong thing.

“We need to call an urgent family meeting,” Greg said before pulling out his phone to send a message to the entire team. This was a huge step forward in a case that had been rapidly cooling down.

His nimble fingers danced across the screen of his phone, and in no time at all, the message had been sent. He turned his gaze back to Henry. “Come on, the others will join us in the layout room; they need to hear this”

Henry nodded in response as the two of them walked off toward where all family meetings were held. This was going to rock the proverbial boat.

Sunday, 10:45 am

With your acquired piping hot morning cup of decaffeinated coffee, confined to the conveniently supplied to-go cup, you were ready to head out, to head back home and get the final chores finished before your mother arrived. Tomorrow could not come soon enough, it had been way too long since your mother last visited a few years back but this would be different. 

Dinner reservations had all but been confirmed. You were awaiting the relevant information as soon as your partner had it in his possession as he had insisted on handling this little task himself. This would be the first time your mother and he would be in the same room. It was rather nerve-racking as you hoped that nothing would go wrong and they'd get on like a house on fire.

Lost in your thoughts, as you wandered through the crowded little coffee shop, one that you had regularly visited twice a week over the past four years. You only saw the stranger coming once it was too late to prevent the collision. His shoulder knocked into yours hard enough to send you spinning and before you could react, your coffee flew out of your hand, spilling its dark content all over the tiled floor.

“Damn,” You said, mildly annoyed but knowing the popularity of your favourite coffee shop. There was always a chance that something like this could easily happen. It's just your turn. You would look back and laugh about this later with your mother.

“It’s my fault, sorry about that. Let me buy you another one” An unfamiliar smooth baritone voice spoke, catching her attention. You raised her gaze to meet theirs, ready to politely decline as after all, it was just one cup of coffee nothing to cry over. With a friendly, nonchalant smile upon your lips, you open your mouth to reply…

Monday, 9 am

Evelyn had never been truly comfortable flying but when her daughter had called around two and half months back with an open invitation and her airfare fully paid, she jumped at the chance. After sending one more message to both her daughter and husband, Evelyn boarded the plane.

Driving down had been an option, Evelyn had never been the most confident driver, especially over long distances. On those long lonely straits of road, she would always worry needlessly about every little thing, even if her husband had been along for the ride. Flying had been the only option since her husband was still not back from his fishing trip. An hour and a half was nothing, it would be over before she knew it.

Just before she turned off her phone, Evelyn checked one final time to see if either of them had replied. Her dear Bob had but her daughter had not. This hadn’t been the first message that she hadn’t responded to.

Evelyn had spoken to her the previous morning to confirm what time she would arrive at the airport so that she would be prompt to pick her up but after that, it was utter radio silence. This was hardly unusual due to the nature of her daughter’s job but this felt different. For her daughter was truly a creature of habit, always calling back if she had missed more than one call that day from either parent and replying to text messages by the next morning.

She had done neither of these as Evelyn had tried calling last night and once more before leaving this very morning. She even used the keypad to text carefully a goodnight message and the one before boarding. She preferred to call over using the messaging function on this newer model of phone that had been purchased as a Christmas present. Her family wanted her to try and keep up with the times and have a way of contacting them whenever she left the house.

It had been sweet though but it wouldn’t have been her first choice of present. She knew that her daughter worried about her, but then Evelyn deeply worried about her child’s safety especially since they had not lived in the same state for the last five years. 

All she could do was wait until her plane landed safely at Las Vegas Airport and the sight of that ever-infectious smile beaming from just beyond the barrier in the Arrival Hall. The pleasant image would be enough to get through the flight as she laid back in her seat, closing her eyes and relaxed as much as she possibly could.

An hour and a half flew past and Evelyn found herself standing in the right place with a suitcase in one hand and her purse dainty held in the other as her eyes scanned the crowd. She had checked the signage on the walks to ensure that she had gone in the right direction, as it was most definitely possible that the airport had more than one arrival hall in this terminal but this hadn’t been the case.

She had been walking up and down for the last twenty minutes, her eyes passing over each of the many faces staring back at her from the barrier. None of them were the ones that she had been expecting. This was strange as her plane had not been delayed and her trip through security had not taken long. Maybe her daughter had been held up in a traffic jam, yes that had to be it.

Evelyn made her way through the crowd, all whilst looking for a seat to rest and continuing to wait as she was certain that her child wouldn’t be much longer.  

Minutes ticked past, soon becoming tens of minutes and before long an hour had passed. Evelyn was concerned as her eyes had remained fixed upon the exit doors, watching as they opened and closed as people flooded in and out but her daughter had never stepped foot across that threshold.

With one hand, she fished out that dreaded mobile phone and swiftly dialled her daughter’s number. It rang for a few moments before being diverted to voicemail. Without hesitation, she spoke knowing that she had few options in a city where knew no one beyond her child. 

‘Sweetheart. It’s your mother. I’ve been at the airport for a little while. I know you are on the way and have likely been caught up in some dreadful traffic on the way here so I’ll get a taxi as I do have your address and you head home. I’ll meet you there

She placed the phone back in the depths of her purse before heading outside to find a taxi as seeds of worry and doubt blossomed into life.

Monday, 11:10 pm

Detective Captain Jim Brass had seen it all. There was not much that shook him to the core anymore, after all the years spent with all that he had seen with the ever-loyal team of hardworking CSIs that made up the graveyard shift. 

His officers were just as hardy as he was, well maybe a few were still green and somewhat naive but in time, they would be as hard as diamonds on the outside at least. Seated in his office, he was ready to burn the midnight oil when a quick succession of knocks alerted him to the presence of someone at his door.

The words were on the tip of his tongue, to summon them to cross the threshold and enter but this individual did not wait as the door was swiftly pushed open. He frowned, annoyed at this sudden intrusion but as his gaze fell upon the familiar face of Officer Rodriguez of Day Shift, a thousand questions rose erupted within his mind.

Why was he still here? His shift ended hours ago but yet he remained within the department. His pale and drawn face was far from the usual for this stern man who lived for the badge. 

“Sir, I’m sorry for just entering but I felt that you needed to hear this” His voice lacked its normal steady tone, it was similar to that of the many terrified fathers that he had encountered over the years. “I’m listening, Rodriguez” He patiently spoke briefly, to allow the man to find the rest of his words.

“My partner and I were called to the scene of a 406, from the information that we had received from dispatch just seemed like a run-of-the-mill job. However, when Sawyer and I rolled up at the address, it was far from ordinary”  

Jim watched on silently as the story began to unravel. “A distraught older woman was waiting outside the property for us, and quickly it was established that this was the mother of the individual that owned this unit” It was plain to see the professional nature waning as the officer continued to relay his report.

“The owner was discovered to be one of our own” As he heard the name, the cogs began to turn, as he tried to make sense of what had led to this but yet, he lacked the whole picture as if only a few matching pieces had found and place down upon the table, the jigsaw was slowly coming together. 

However, this still perplexed Jim, why was a simple burglary being hand-delivered to his door, unless there was more to this than a case of a stranger breaking into the home of a member of law enforcement and taking anything that wasn't nailed down. 

A small case that dayshift would need no assistance from either swing or graveyard but this didn’t feel as if they were reaching out for a fresh set of eyes to look over the evidence. He would bite and see where he ended up.

The memory of the morning still fresh lingered at the forefront of Rodriguez’s mind. It was hard to push aside as he relived each step, trying to see if he missed any detail. No matter how miniscule it initially seems could open doors down the line.

“She’s been paid leave for thirty-six hours as her mother was due to arrive this morning. Using a few vacation days left over from last year” He relayed the information readily to the younger man. A basic set of facts that most of the department was already aware of. She had been rather openly vocal about the pending arrival of her beloved mother. 

Each shift had been part of the active countdown that drove many mad but much like any other family, they took in on the chin and revelled at the sight of her excitement. Both men remembered the smile that never faded, it didn’t matter which end of her shift they encountered her, there it would be.

The years of service had not yet tarnished and hardened her heart, but it would come eventually. That one case that they could not get past, sleepless nights and a drive to find a way to justice that went above the call of duty. Jim had his, he knew that Rodriguez had his own.

The sight of Conrad Ecklie and the click of his office door closing behind the said man spoke volumes, this was not going to be good news in the slightest. “Sir, The Detective in question never turned up at the airport to pick up her mother and has not been seen since the morning before that”

Monday 11:20 PM

Nick held his phone as he walked through the station’s front doors, his focus transfixed firmly upon the tiny screen of the device. Still no message back but then again he wasn’t expecting her to answer straight away especially now that her mother was in town. He had the breakfast date to look forward to once he finished this graveyard shift.

Tomorrow was going to be his day with his girl, meeting up with her at their regular breakfast joint and then sitting down to dinner with her mother later in the evening. Nick would message her the details later on during his first break of the night.

Nothing could easily railroad this wonderful feeling, for the first time, in a long time things were going swimmingly with his love life. He never knew that these were famous last words, ones that would haunt him in the days to come.

As his eyes rose from his screen, he could not help but notice the scene in Brass’s office. Ecklie was a familiar sight, flitting in and out whenever the need arose but an unfamiliar Officer who should have clocked out hours ago, now that was unusual.

Catherine lingered in the hallway near the locker room, leaning into the wall behind her with her arms crossed over her chest. Her eyes trained upon the glass-walled office. “Evening” He greeted his dear old friend as he stiddled up beside her. “Do you know what’s going on?” He enquired curious to know if she had any insight into the strange situation.

“No, but I don’t doubt we’ll be in the dark for long. All I do know is that it’s do with one of the day shift’s newest cases” She replied, her curiosity had been piqued the moment that she entered ten minutes earlier.

In tandem, their phones beeped and the same text message was displayed on each of their devices. What a way to start a shift, Nick knew that he would have to tell about this in the morning.

Chapter Five 

Countdown: Four Months Remaining

The rattling of keys twisting in the lock was the sound that haunted you throughout this waking nightmare that you could not call living. It alerted you of his imminent presence. 

He was allowing you a few precious moments to prepare for what he might have in store for the day. Every day had been different. Your jailer kept you on your toes, showing his prize for all to see. For that was all you would ever be, his pretty little pet tightly tethered, never able to wander far from his side, always within sight. Most would simply see an overzealous spouse, trying his best to keep his pregnant bride out of harm's way. 

In light of your present condition, you had been trusted to sleep alone, locked in the master bedroom. A panic button had been recently installed to summon him to your side if such a need arose. Yet as the grains of sand slowly fell into your hourglass, it seemed more likely that you would have to push the damn red button.

He hardly mentioned your ever-growing waistline, only in polite company when it inevitably arose in conversation. He played his part beautifully like a doting father-to-be would. His facade of excitement vanished the second that the front door slammed shut, he could hide his thinly veiled expressions from you. His jealousy shone through, each time his eyes fell on your growing bump housing a life that he hadn’t had a hand in the conception of.

It was similarly a tool to use. You shivered at the thought of what he might do when the time came when your waters broke. The fear had been slowly building with each new day. You still had time. You were comfortably within your second trimester, around the five-month mark. Each new day brought with it surprises and a new round of nightmares as new scenarios played out on your inner silver screen as you slept.

Sleep itself was becoming increasingly more difficult, as your little one liked to rest against your bladder, so more often than not you’d have to get up more than a few times throughout the night. Each new development brought on a new degree of heartache, which reminded you of the fact that Nick should have been here for this. As the flutters and kicks grew stronger, the tears flooded like the bursting banks of a rushing river.

It could be easily explained away, hormones and mood swings of an expectant mother. Nothing out of the ordinary as you forced yourself to smile through the sorrow. The first rays of dawn creeping over the horizon shone through the closed drapes, hiding a large bay window that could not be opened, it had been nailed shut before you had been permitted to sleep within these hallowed walls.

The softness of the bed linen outshone any of the countless sheets and duvet covers that you owned, they were truly in a league of their own. Only matched the most luxurious hotel suites that you had found yourselves walking in, met the sight of the worst that humanity could do to one another. Still, such horror seemed a world away when compared to your imprisonment.

Yet the threat of violence was held by the thinnest of threads. You knew from on-the-job experience that one wrong step was all it took, one misplaced word could turn your world on its head. All of this would always, your continued existence was at his pleasure. You needed to continue to play the dutiful spouse and companion to see another sunrise like this one.

It was such a breathtaking sight to behold, watching as the vivid oranges and yellow dance through your fingers as the morning rays passed through the thin, silky curtains separating you from the outside world. Moments like this made you think of Nick, of gently waking to the sight of him still lost in dreams after a long night’s work. In those moments, he looks younger, the hard lines born from the difficult cases fade away in an instant.

You can easily lose yourself in daydreams of him for hours on end, remembering both the good times and the bad.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------You checked the time on your dashboard, as you turned into the hospital’s main car park. 5:45 pm was displayed on the tiny screen, your shift had been over for the last fifteen minutes. You still had plenty of time to spare since you hadn’t made any concrete plans for the night ahead outside of this stop. You could always call up Lexie, one of the few friends that you had made since starting your new job as you knew, she loved to party and dance away.

She was like you, a single woman living alone in the heart of Sin City. Where you differed was that she would easily go a little too wild and over the edge, as she got lost in the music and whoever she happened to be dancing with. She was a wild card but sometimes you needed to cut loose too. To forget the horrors of the day, the varying degrees of twisted minds that used the Vegas strip as their hunting ground.

As you manoeuvred your patrol car into the tiny space far from the entrance your thoughts quickly turned to the handsome CSI who you’d been crushing hard on for some time now easily making you smile. Nick Stokes was way out of your league, of that you were certain.

However, such thoughts would have to wait. You needed to check in with Lydia. You had promised her that you would come back to visit as she needed to stay in the hospital for at least one more night. You could still vividly picture the awful state that she was found in when you rolled up to answer the call.

She had been the lucky one, Lydia had survived by the skin of her teeth but the ones that came before hadn’t. She had been the last victim in the chain going back a fair few months, the one that refused to die. She had been the first case in which you were taking point, this was your case. 

It had been a few weeks since your promotion to Detective. You had been riding that high through the cases that landed on your desk but they were not your priority like Lydia’s had been. It had been difficult to stop yourself from stepping over the line and remain strictly professional. 

As you stepped out of your unmarked vehicle, before swiftly locking it behind you then crossing the parking lot and heading into the hospital and up towards the ward. The trip through the familiar white, sterile corridors was uneventful and barely took no more than ten minutes. You traversed the same path on each visit. You could get to the ward with your eyes closed if you wished to but you didn’t. As you’d likely bump into many people on your travels that way.

Soon you found yourself choosing to wait for the lift over taking the stairs and climbing up three flights to reach your destination. Your legs ached, from having chased a suspect as they fled from the scene of crime earlier on in the day. There was no way that you were going to take the more physically taxing option. As you watched the floor numbers slowly creep down from 6, a small crowd formed around you. All awaiting going your way, up. You didn’t glance around, knowing that it was likely a mix of visitors and staff. 

5 

4

3

2

It was getting closer by the second, you dared to hope that Lydia had taken the advice of the medical staff to see the onsite psychologist. She had only just started to come out of her shell, more so with each visit. You were seeing a ghost of a smile creep in now and then, in those brief moments of peace. It was understandable that she would never go back to the person that she used to but you wanted to help her find a new balance, a new sense of normal as she came to terms with the trauma that she had gone through. 

The pain would fade, the cuts and broken bones would mend but the mental anguish would linger on. Lydia had been beaten within an inch of her life, her face heavily bruised and almost recognisable. The ding announcing that the lift’s arrival dragged you out of your thoughts of then.

You stepped in, ready to press 3 on the panel but before you could a voice spoke “Which floor?” You turned your head, politely smiling in their direction before answering. “Three please”

Your focus quickly turned away from the kind stranger, you’d give them a second thought as the doors slid shut and the lift began to ascend.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------- “As of this moment, this case is now part of an ongoing Federal Investigation” 

Agent Aveline Montgomery confidently spoke to the CSIs standing across from her. She watched as her men rounded up the last of the evidence boxes. This latest victim had surprisingly outlasted all of the prior ones. The pattern had been fixed, as usually by the time the second set of photographs arrived, the women would have already been discarded. According to the profile, he treated them like broken toys who failed to live up to the seemingly unreachable heights of his deluded fantasy. 

This individual had eluded the long of justice for the last eight years, having crossed multiple state lines to abduct his chosen few but the bodies of the murdered women that come before had never been found. He had held onto those failures, as tightly as he had done when they had been alive. The detective had been different, she had played along and survived. She had been his ideal, fitting the mould that all those others had failed to fit into. 

She glanced up at the photographs pinned to the layout board. Each had been taken in a similar vein, softly lighting her oddly intimately. It was as if he had been covertly caressing her form, showing his deeply twisted desires in a few frames. However, they lacked any signs of escalating violence, no fear in the subject’s eyes as her last moments were captured. The final image had always been the same, that of the woman’s broken, dead body. His rage displayed front and centre as his hatred for failure bled through.

Aveline could only imagine the delight that this sick prick must have felt the moment that his chosen victim did not break the immersion. She had theorised that the killer was trying to right a perceived wrong that had been committed. Trying to rewrite a part of their personal history. The others had made him truly face the fractured reality, to face what had gone wrong the first go-round leading them to their deaths.

Aveline had been doing this job for the best part of twenty years but this one could be the cornerstone of her career. She refused to let this one slip any further through her fingers.

“This will be a Joint Taskforce as this perpetrator has knowingly crossed state lines to abduct then murder his victims when they fail to play the role that he has assigned.” She briefly explained, turning her focus back to the silent few, taking their varying facial expressions from left to right. Each told a story, some more openly than others. 

One stood out from the crowd, the victim’s partner Nicolas Stokes, she would have to keep an eye on him. Hoping that he won’t become a problem but then again, she could handle such delicate situations if she needed to. Aveline just dared to think that it wouldn’t come to that. Emotions are already running high, this was a case that hit home for many an officer. It would be akin to walking on eggshells, knowing that the next step could crack a few.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------Another round of bad news, that was all Nick needed right now, further souring his already rotten mood. These days, it was hard for the Texan to be anything other than sullen. What did he have to smile about when his partner had not been found? 

Progress had been slow, as if they were being drip-fed. Tips had been few and far between, and lately, they had all been dead ends until the second set of photographs had arrived only a few days prior. He had been wrapped up in chasing down each lead, hopefully at the possibility that this informant would be the one to lead him straight to you. However, each time the disappointment would quickly set in as reality came down hard, like a ton of bricks when they reached the inevitable unsatisfactory conclusion. She was not home. 

Seeing his name scrawled across another manila envelope was the wake-up call he needed, kicking him into high gear. This time, it had been different. This one had been posted directly to his home address. A fresh lead with the very real chance of a paper trail, it had to lead somewhere. It had been the last chase that he had observed before the Feds had turned up.

Nick stood off to one side as he watched Greg enter the information pulled from the latest envelope into various databases. Mandy had not been able to find any useable fingerprints, only smudges but they still had been logged as a longshot. Hodges’s chemical analysis had been nearly identical to the one for the first envelope.

Each avenue ventured had drawn a blank, Nick couldn’t even bring himself to take a proper look at the photographs. It had just been too difficult, Catherine had swiftly taken charge taking them from him. He had only seen the first image but that had been enough, if he had been anyone else, he might have seen it as a loving candid shot, taken to show off the woman that the photographer adored but that’s not what it revealed.

It was a wild expression of obsession, a gross exaggeration of prideful glee at gazing longingly at his prize from a safe distance. She never knew that he was there, photographing her when she was vulnerable. It was impossible to forget the sorrowful expression on her face as she sat wistfully staring out of a window with a book perched upon her lap, forgotten in the moment.

It burnt him, something wicked that son of a bitch truly had been tracking her every step of the way for god knows how long. A silent observer with a persistent and unhealthy preoccupation fixated upon his partner. Nick had never seen this coming, his imagination could never dream up such an outcome. Yet here he was.

He had been suppressing his steadily growing rage and frustration for the last few weeks as the investigation began to grind to a complete standstill. Now, this latest development would be the final push to trip him over the edge. 

Monday, Midnight

Greg and Morgan sat side by side, as Archie worked his magic on the various clips of CCTV. Each of the three larger monitors displayed different parts of a timeline that had been created by the day shift’s visual and audio tech Franklyn. They watched as their friend exited her known and preferred coffee shop with her piping hot beverage alone. This had been the last place that she had seen when Officer Sawyer had taken the barista’s statement.

“This is the only first clip that Dayshift obtained after the warrant for her finances came through” Morgan stated with the matching report in hand. The short clip showed nothing out of the ordinary. There was no one tailing her, no strange car parked with a window partially wound down with the driver trying to look casual as their eyes trailed after her.

“It confirms the Barista’s statement at the very least” Greg replied as his gaze shifted to the second screen. Archie paused the first clip and then slid the cursor to the play the next one.

All of them were teetering on the edge of professionalism. Trying their best to push aside their personal feelings. They needed to try at the very least to view the evidence collected like any other case. It was going to be a long night especially as Greg and Morgan had been the ones assigned to review what was already there for this shift. 

The plan was for hands on deck over the next few shifts, to hand over the new details and brief the incoming day shift at the end of their night then repeat the process with a fresh set of eyes the next night.

“This one isn’t the greatest quality, it’s a wall-mounted camera from one of her neighbours that was discovered by the door-to-door interviews” Archie stated as the pixelated footage started. Both Morgan and Greg noted the timestamp, it had been captured at 2:30 in the afternoon. 

“This camera will only record when the motion detection is triggered as you both know” Archie reminded them as they all watched as a battered, Silver Chevrolet Cruze drove past. It did not match the make and model of the car that the Detective had, which had yet to be located even with the BOLO that had been put out with all the necessary details. It had vanished into thin air.

Notes from the lead CSI Ava Dane stated that none of the neighbours had recognised the car when they had spoken after reviewing the footage. One neighbour had commented that he noticed the vehicle when he had returned from home at around 3:10 but he had heard tyres screeching loudly about twenty-five minutes later and when he looked at the window, it was gone.

There had been a slight skid mark noted and photographed from outside that particular address which had been run through the system and matched commonly used wheels. It had the first dead end.

“Franklyn managed to recover a partial plate after cleaning up the image, I won’t be able to get much more than that due to video quality” The tech apologised, knowing that this was not what the two of them wanted to hear.

“It’s a start at least” Morgan responded, trying to remain positive as she turned to the next report. Her eyes rapidly moved over the data displayed there. “It looks like the day shift ran that plate, there’s a fair few listed but they eliminated half” 

As her eyes drifted down the page, they stopped over one particular name. As memories of the case that she had worked on came flooding back. The Detective had been waiting for her at the scene. 

Vaughn Mikhailov was a two-bit drug dealer, he and his older brother Artem had been targeted and shot at in a drive-by gangbangers after they had tried to move in on the turf of another local dealer. The initial warnings had been ignored by the pair, and this had led to the car being targeted. Vaughn had been in the backseat, he had barely been clipped by a single bullet in his left shoulder but Artem hadn’t been as lucky.

He had died at the scene, bleeding out whilst waiting on the paramedics. Vaughn had been cooperative to a point, but eventually, he just screamed at her friend when she had in his eyes failed to get justice for his brother.

It was not always possible to reach a satisfactory end to every case, it had been one of those which slipped through the crack when the leads had all run cold. Morgan remembered that her friend had noted that this had not been her first rodeo with either of the Mikhailov brothers.

“The first time I met them was when I was working the beat, I arrested Artem for soliciting a working girl and Vaughn for dealing. Both of them had rap sheets as long as your arm. It's their mother, I feel for each time one of them ends up in court”

There had been sympathy that lingered as she listened, as it turned out their mother had raised both the boys single-handedly after their father had run off. She had tried her best but they had been drawn into the fast-paced lifestyle of wheeling and dealing. As she watched, the detective informed the woman of her son’s death.

“What is it, Morgan?” Greg asked, noticing that Morgan had not spoken and became transfixed by one of the reports further in. He leaned, to see what she had been reading. It was the list of cars compiled by the plate search. 

“Vaughn Mikhailov,” She said looking up to meet his gaze. Greg’s gaze narrowed perplexed as he did not recognize the name. However, before he could reply, Morgan beat him to the punch.

“It was a drive-by shooting case, I worked a few weeks back and she was the lead detective assigned work to the case alongside me” She started, knowing that she would need to give him more than that if they were going to start to seriously look at him as a potential suspect.

“He and his older brother were targeted after trying to move into another dealer’s turf. His brother died at the scene. He was far from happy with how things went but he had a chip on his shoulder as she had arrested him more than a few times in the past” Once she had finished speaking, Morgan waited for Greg to process the information that had been dumped upon him.

“So he held her responsible for not finding his brother’s killer then. Greg asked, Morgan nodded before one last comment. “He had an axe to grind”

-------------------------------------------------------------------------Tuesday, 4 am

With one hand poised, Nick firmly knocked upon Russell’s closed office door. In a roundabout way, he had expected the text summoning him to the supervisor’s office but not this soon. He had hoped that he would be one way approaching Russell but then again, at least this way soon enough everything would be out in the open.

This was not the way that he had hoped that this conversation would be initiated. He knew that she had already started telling her partner and fellow officers about her boyfriend whenever she had a spare few minutes. She had also scheduled a meeting with HR on the day that she was meant to be returning to work. Nick then would approach Russell around the same time as she would have been seated down with HR. Effectively killing two birds with one stone 

This had always been their plan when things became more serious between the two of them. Multiple discussions had arisen, on when, where and how they approach their collective jobs regarding their romantic relationship and the potential impact on both of their jobs that would need to be addressed and solutions put into place.

She had planned to offer to be moved from Graveyard to Swing or Day if no other compromise could be reached. Where it would be possible for both of them both work the same shift pattern without any issues. Departmental policy had previously torn Sara from the team when her relationship with Grissom came to light, they had wondered how it would have played out for them.

Yes, they were still colleagues working alongside another one, but not under the same direct supervisor. They crossed over for Homicide and Forensic evidence collection and investigation came hand in hand. Without one, you couldn’t have the other.

“Come in” Russell’s voice called from behind the door, bringing Nick back of his thoughts as he pushed the handle and then the door inwardly. “Hey Russell…” He greeted the man sitting behind the desk but what he hadn’t expected was Catherine being in the room, standing off to one side behind Russell.

“Shut the door Nick” Russell continued as he went through the motions of crossing the threshold and closing the door behind him and moved further into the office to stand before the pair staring straight at him.

“I know this is about Detective..” Her name rolled off his tongue, one that had fallen on his lips many times before. “Look, I know that I should have told you..” Nick started to try and explain the position that he had found himself in.

“Nick, I need to know that you’ll be able to recuse yourself if you cross that emotional line where you start to lead your heart, not your head. For as long as you can remain objective then you still work on the case but the moment, that you step over that line. I will remove you and you’ll be treated just like every other significant other or next kin on every other case that had past through this department” Russell spoke with a conviction that could not be ignored or overturned. This was a promise that he would not go back on. 

Nick quickly nodded, happily agreeing with his supervisor’s conclusion. “This will have to be logged with HR and I’ll arrange the meeting shortly”  Russell said before turning to Catherine. “Anything you want to add?” He said, pulling her into the dialogue. Catherine had been quietly observing the short back and forth between the pair.

“Nicky, from here on out, we’ll be watching closer. Please understand, that we want to bring her home as much as you do. Still, we have to follow the rules and ensure there nothing can be challenged further down the line” Her words held a warmth that Nick had felt before, the familial love that had developed and grown over the many years that they had worked together. Once again, Catherine was looking after him, all whilst balancing the integrity of the crime lab and their necessary work on top of that. It was a well-practice balancing act that she had perfected over the last decade.

All it took would be one step in the wrong direction and it would come tumbling back down. That could not happen, no it would not help.

------------------------------------------------------------------------Tuesday 2 am

As the night rolled by, evidence was processed, reviewed and reported, with the new findings and avenues to venture down next added to the ever-growing list.

The one initially weak lead that had cropped up early in the shift strengthened as prints from the scene which had been set running whilst the sun was still up bore fruit. Morgan’s theory now seemed more plausible as the same name popped up once more, this could not just be a coincidence in the name of bad blood. 

Morgan turned to Greg, still trying to wrap her head around this as there were still too many variables that did not make a lick of sense. She could understand the steps taken to enact some twisted form of payback by breaking into the detective’s home and destroying everything that she might hold dear. There were no signs of a struggle, no blood splatter or trail to imply that they had been lying in wait for her to return.

With the crime scene photos laid out on the table between them, this felt much like the pieces of a puzzle waiting to be put together to reveal the image displayed upon the box when a handful of key tiles were missing, creating holes in the image. “This isn’t the primary scene, there is no indication that she ever came back. Two separate indications with one connecting factor, her” Morgan said, churning over the thoughts in her head out loud as she tried to make any sense of it all.

“What do we know about Vaughn Mikhailov, beyond his last arrest report?” Greg started before listing off what had been discovered thus far “His prints are all over this crime scene, his car matches the mark and model spotted on the neighbour's CCTV but why would a dealer break into a cop’s home in broad daylight?” He posed the question to Morgan, the blonde’s face twisted in confusion as she tried to gather together a logical answer but found none. 

“How did he find her address? That’s what bugs me unless he tailed her previously but according to the neighbour’s statement” Morgan replied, fishing out the relevant document from the box on her side of the table and turning to the right page. “That car had never been caught on camera before that day and those cameras had been up for more than six months”

“The only way that we’ll get satisfactory answers is that Vaughn Mikhailov needs to be found and brought in for questioning” Morgan nodded her head in agreement, the two-bit criminal had a lot to answer for.

“Brass put has BOLO out on Mikailov’s car”

-------------------------------------------------------------------------Tuesday, 4:30 am

The blinding flash of blue lights and screeching sirens were not out of place as the convoy of vehicles pulled up in front of the homestead. Its chain link fence had seen better days, half still attached to the poles that marked the edge of the property and the rest lost within the depths of the tall grass that desperately needed cutting. 

The property itself was registered to one Nikolai Mikhailov, the cousin of their prime suspect. It was not out of the ordinary for Vaughn to crash on his cousin’s sofa when his mother threw him out for the third time that week. Officers had called the property in the past, more often than not on matters of public nuisance or disturbance. Nikolai loved to party well into the small hours and was not shy about using violence to silence any complaining neighbours if they dared to call the cops on him.

Detective Captain Jim Brass surveyed the scene from behind the cruiser’s side door and soon found what he was looking for. With the garage door half enough, it was plain to see the car parked within, its license plate matching the suspect’s known vehicle of choice. No lights could be seen from the street as Officers tentatively approached the front door, ready to burst through the door and apprehend whoever was on the other side.

With the fury of valkyries leading the charge, the officers breached through the threshold as calls of LVPD came and went as Jim watched them disappear inside. This had to be it, this had to be the end of the road.

He was not the only one listening in, as the Officers inside cleared the scene. The investigated interest ran through from the bottom straight up to the top. She was one of them

‘419’ The code of a dead body came crackling over the airwaves, a dead body had been discovered. A chill rushed through him as he envisioned the very sight of her lying there, with empty, glazed-over eyes staring up at him as he wondered why.

’It’s not her’ The voice of Officer Mitchell soon followed as Jim released the breath that he hadn’t known he was holding back, then again he wasn’t the only one. Nick stood silently by, with bated breath as Morgan and Greg left with kits in hand. This was their scene now as they had been the ones to discover the connections that led to this.

Hodges stood in the doorway, reading the scene before him. The air was still tense as they all waited for the relief to set in but yet that felt too premature. The lab tech cleared his throat to try and catch Nick’s attention. He watched for a moment then tried a different approach.

“Nick, this was left at Reception for you” Hodges called into the room, as he held out the unstamped manila envelope for the other man to take. Nick Stokes was scrawled across the front in a large and unfamiliar hand. 

Nick frowned, he was not awaiting any post as he took it. “Thanks, man,” He said as he turned it over, inspecting it from every angle. There was nothing about the envelope that stood out, it was a standard A3 office stationery that was stocked by countless suppliers but the question arose of who had sent it.

As he carefully opened the sealed flap and reached inside, Nick quickly found the content. A series of photographs which he slid out. Hodges slid up beside him as he turned over the first which revealed little other than what he already knew to be true.

“Is that…” David questioned at the sight of his friends and colleagues locked in a rather passionate embrace. “Yes,” Nick curtly replied, annoyed at the very prospect that they had been followed and their privacy had been invaded like this as he turned over the next one.

It was the last one that drew a shocked gasp from Hodges, as he shook with a rage that he hadn’t felt for some time. The sight of her bound and unconscious in the boot of an unidentifiable vehicle with the words I WIN STOKES, SHE IS MINE written in bold, block capitals across the top of the image.

Each had focused upon her, she was the object of this maddening desire. A tail had been placed as her routine was documented. He held pride of place in a number of the images, whether he liked it or not.

As you stood at the bar, sighing after having lost sight of your friend for the third time. At least one of you was having a good time as you continued to nurse your first drink of the evening. With the thin red straw between your lips as your eyes flitted over the crowded dance floor, watching them dance to the beat of an unfamiliar song. However, your gaze was drawn like a moth to a flame to the sight of a familiar face as he made his way off the floor and over to the bar. You leaned back against the cold, hard surface of the marble bar top before placing your glass down upon the surface.

You could not help it as a smile graced your lips when his eyes found yours. It felt much like the start of a cheesy romance novel.  “Hey you, fancy bumping into you here tonight” Nick said loudly, trying his best to overcome the thumping of the drum and bass.  “I need to lose myself after that last shift. Dance the night away, looks like you've got a head start on me” You playfully teased, as he moved to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with you.  This was one of the few times he had seen you out of your regular tailored suit and trousers. However, Nick hadn't expected to see you in a form-fitted short dress that seemed to kiss your knees each time it lightly brushed past.

It was a welcome sight indeed. A coy smile played on his lips as he leaned on the bar, his eyes leaving yours but a moment as he ordered his drink. Your gaze raked over his form, as you briefly let yourself get lost in your foolish crush as you relished in the proximity of his body to your own. Nick edged himself closer, with a hand raised to catch the attention of the bartender. His tight form-fitting t-shirt paired with black skinny jeans fitted the particular club scene to a tee as he relayed his order to the man behind the bar. All while a playful grin lingered upon his lips, as his gaze returned to meet yours.

As you stared into the mirror on the dresser, you could not help but notice him standing in the doorway. The reflection of your abductor. The man who claimed to be your salvation, to have rescued you from hell on earth, only to deliver you straight into the heart of the inferno.

“Darling, dinner is nearly ready and Mrs Branson has dished up all your favourites” His voice was calm but his words felt heavily practised as if he had spoken directly from a script. One that he held with a cast iron grip, one that changed at his beck and call.

“Oh, that’s oh so kind of her” You replied, knowing that the housekeeper doubling as a chef knew only what he had fed her. Tales of false lives lived, of a loving husband and his distant wife who had been away for many months at a time to care for her ailing mother. One that had peacefully passed on which summoned him to bring his beloved home. A passionate marriage built solely on falsehoods and outright lies. 

With one hand cradling the ever-growing bump hidden beneath the flowing fabric, you pushed yourself to your feet before waddling over to him, taking the crook of his arm. Memories of Nick were still fresh and at the forefront of your mind as you fiddled with the ring upon your left hand. 

One that did not belong to you, one that felt more like a ball and chain keeping you prisoner. A constant reminder that your freedom was not your own. The white gold band felt more like a lead weight than a wedding ring. This make-believe was all just an act, a live-action roleplay where you were cast as in the role of a lifetime, one that you were dying to play. A fact that he had harped on about for the last few nights, as you lay in bed inches away from him.

He would not dare touch you, not in your condition. A stray roaming hand caressing up your thighs was more than enough for now. To keep him content as he played the role of a lifetime that he longed for—the doting husband who worshipped at the feet of the pedestal where he placed his wife.

As you swayed and danced to the beat of an unfamiliar song, you were quickly drawn back into the moment Nick’s hand pulled you further into his welcoming embrace as you smoothly moved around the floor. There was nothing but the two of you in this moment as your head laid down upon his chest and you lost yourself to the rhythm.

Enjoying the closeness of how it felt to be pressed up against him. His hands rubbed up and down your back, it was pure ecstasy as you leaned into it, and your lips found his. Shock overtook your senses but you did not pull away, neither did he. The seconds ticked by, as your lips flowed effortlessly over his as the kiss heated up.

It had begun as a surprisingly soft kiss. Nick had been caught off guard from the moment that her lips had brushed his softly, delicate like the petals of a rose would kiss, would brush past barely there. To give him a taste of what could be, if he dared to take the plunge.

Oh, how he dared, dangling over the edge ready to drive in head first. Nick had never considered the possibility of a moment like this to occur. His lips were tentative at first but once the shock had passed then all bets were firmly off. There must have been signs but all of them had gone over his head as he pulled her closer, deeper into his embrace as they continued to sway around the floor.

Nick could not help but reflect upon that night, the first of many. As he stared down at the image displayed on the board opposite him. Each one of them had been burnt into memory but the last deeply disturbed him. It had been the one he saw into the worst of his nightmares of late. His failure to save her from this surmounting terror. An unknown adversity had chosen her for this most wicked of games but seemed to be unwinnable.

The memory of their first kiss had been in the heat of the moment but she had been the one to initiate it. To take that leap of faith and cross the line hovering between them. He had hesitated, contemplating the countless pointless reasons to stay in his lane. Do not try and see if he had been interpreting the signs incorrectly. Thankfully that hadn’t been the case.

The weight of her body against his was electric, as his lips slid effortlessly over hers. Nick’s mind was racing as it fogged up with images of what could come next. Racy, raunchy and most definitely delicious possibilities flooded through his mind but not tonight. He would have to push down those thoughts for now at least. Nick Stokes, categorically was a gentleman first and a player second. As he slowly pulled back, his breath quickened and his heart thumped harder than before. He found himself admiring her, whether it be reddening cheeks or the well-loved lips that he could not help but intensely stare at, wanting nothing more than another taste. A goofy smile played on his lips as the seconds ticked by. “Never thought you’d be interested in me that way Darlin’” He breathlessly spoke, each word drawn out as if it was drowning in smooth honey.

“Let me show again, I’ve wanted to do that for ages Nick. I like you more than I think I should” She called back, the words mixing in with the beat of the next song as she once again claimed his lips and kissed him deeply in the middle of the dance floor. Her lips eagerly mapped out the slopes and valley of his back. This heated exchange had been the first of many that night, they had never crossed that invisible line lingering firmly between them. Only kissing as if they were love-struck teens in between brief moments of conversations. It had been breathtaking to see this passionate side of her. At the end of the night, he had eagerly walked her back to her car. Smiling from ear to ear with his hand firmly entwined with hers. “Hey, I like to take you out to dinner or breakfast. Whatever comes first” He had rambled out as he stood there, still holding her hand.

“Like a date?” She had called back, there had been a hopeful glint in her eyes that he could hardly tear himself away from. “Yeah, a date if you want to of course”  It had been a painful few minutes before she had answered but he hadn’t needed to hear those words as the huge megawatt smile upon lips gave away the answer.

Nick remembered the first few seconds after they had parted, as he made his way over his own car. Still smiling as he began to think over the next step. This had not been how he had envisioned the night to go but here he was, with a date to plan for. With his colleague and friend, one who he had never thought saw him in any other light. He had seen past the service weapon and badge to see the strong-willed woman underneath.

Greg had been the one to crush hard, first with Sara then with her and any other woman who might give him the time of day. Nick had always been the player, the one to catch the girl's eye and take them out of the town before moving on. He had never found the right one. She was most definitely different.

He stood there, waiting for answers as a single thumbprint had been recovered from the photographic paper. Mandy had put a rush on it, it was a priority and needed to be compared to ones already in CODIS. He dared to hope for a match as it had been blow after blow. For now, it looked like they were making progress, they would wander haplessly in another dead end. The Texan needed a catch-a-break, to crack this case wide out. 

“Nick” The sound of his name being called was enough to bring him back down to reality and out of his daydreaming. He lifted his gaze to find the familiar sight of Mandy standing there in the doorway, with the report in hand but something was off. Whether that be in the way that she held herself, almost halfway out of the room. Her bespectacled gaze barely met his own. This was not the type of news that he was hoping for.

“Not in the system then” Nick spoke, sighing jumping the gun before the lab tech could get a word out.

“Actually it is but it’s linked to an Active Federal Investigation” Mandy interjected, knowing this was going to be the start of a world of frustration. Agents would soon be knocking at their door, wanting access to all the evidence that the Lab had collectively gathered. Descending upon them like a plague as they overtook the case and ripped it right out of their hands. 

Nick was not going to let that happen. “Thanks, Mandy,” He said as he took a look over the information for him. The thumbprint seemed to taunt him from the print, as he stared down at the word UNKNOWN MATCH almost daring it to burn. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------You sat stiffly to the right of him, playing the role perfectly. You were meant to be his ideal little housewife. Keep busy during the daylight behind these four walls and only take out of your self-contained box at his beck and call. His ironclad tightening hold upon your hand was unwelcomed and all you wanted to do was pull away.

You couldn’t, that would create a scene and unwelcome attention that he would quickly write off with a litany of excuses. You would pay for it though when he and you were finally alone. This was just another dinner party to get through by the skin of your teeth as you acted your heart out to play the doting wife.

You would envision Nick in his stead, standing there proudly staring down at your swollen stomach housing his unborn child safely within. Yet, this was not the case as you carefully watched those envious daggered stares aimed at what was not the product of his loving touch. This was all the more reason to pander to his slimy desires, to his wants and needs even if it felt oh so wrong to do so. You needed to bide your time, wait out the clock and not upset your captor too much.

He would slip up eventually then you’d make your daring escape. As you raised the glass that you held in your hand in toast. The fruit juice sloshed from side to side. “Here’s to all who could join us on this most wonderful of evenings” You started, selecting your next words ever so carefully.

“To my husband and your host, cheers” You plastered a false smile upon your lips as you turned to take in the look on his face. Grateful to discover a pleasant smile beaming back in your direction. Gone was that look of jealousy that sent shivers down your spine. For now, you’d get through the night and see the rising sun of morning then it would all begin again. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------Five years ago

You stood there in the locker room taking it all in, with your service weapon holstered on your left hip. The light brown uniform top paired with the standard issue trousers fit like a glove but the smile upon your lips just won’t disappear. The golden shield pinned to your top for all those who glanced your way to see. It sat just below your radio with its long trailing wire connected to the battery pack hidden in one of the pockets on the thick black standard-issue belt that your service weapon was holstered into. 

This was the day that you had been eagerly waiting for. Although your parents were far from keen on the idea of you uprooting yourself across state lines. They would have rather you joined one of the local law enforcement departments but Vegas had come calling. It was dang near impossible to resist. 

This was your first job, fresh out of the academy and you were as green as they came but it was a rush to find yourself assigned to Sin City. You were expecting to be thrown into the deep end, a graveyard shift straight from the get-go but the sun still shone high in the sky. Maybe, they were planning to treat you with kid gloves. You didn’t know what felt worse.

“Officer, you’re riding with me” The voice of your new partner echoed through the room catching your attention, snapping you out of your daydream. This was the person charged with training you. The one that you’d spend countlessly riding up and down the Strip with as you grabbled with radio codes and all the various crimes committed at the drop of a hat for reasons both simple and complex.

Learning on the job was part of the experience, one that you were ready and willing to jump into as you turned to face Officer Ashby. For Andrew Ashby, this was not his first rodeo or his first rookie. You were the latest in a string of many that had come before, sometimes he felt much like a revolving door.

One came, only to be replaced by another after they passed through the final exam and were sent out onto the streets. In his eyes, you were just the next in a long line of Green Officers who were too naive and not street-wise to be aware of what it was truly like out on the beat. To work the streets, alongside the scum of the earth, the users and the worst of humanity.

This would be a crash course that would open your eyes for better or for worse. This was only the beginning, he doubted you’d last the week, let alone the shift before deciding to get on out of dodge.

“Come on Rookie” He called before exiting the locker room. You did your best to match his pace as you wandered through the Precinct. Your gaze danced from left to right taking in each little detail as you followed Ashby out past the front desk. He did not speak to anyone as he went, his eyes firmly fixed upon the path ahead. 

The desk sergeant nodded your way, you raised a hand to wave back. First impressions were important, especially if you intended to stay, which you did. 

“Rookie, this way. You can social butterfly later” He grunted at you, without ever turning his head back to look at you. You picked up the pace, trying to push down the embarrassment as it arose and your face turned a deeper shade of red.

The police cruiser stood silent, awaiting its driver for the night. Officer Ashby swiftly unlocked the door before sliding behind the wheel. You exited the building, taking the sight of the black and white vehicle, number painted upon the roof with the light housed front and centre. Without a second thought, you rounded the car before opening the passenger side door and taking the seat beside Ashby. As you pulled the door closed, the engine roared to life.  

“Let’s not waste time, mine or yours. Prove to me that you are serious about being here” His words hit hard, you knew that this was what you wanted to do. You had fought hard to get through the trials and tribulations that the Academy flung your way. You felt small like a child being scolded for daring to stand on two feet.

“I have no intention of wasting anyone’s time. Let’s get rolling sir” You shot back, trying to nip this in the bud this early in the night. Silence fell as the radio crackled in life. You watched as he answered reeling off radio codes rapidly, showing his years of practice when engaging and coordinating with the dispatchers. You recognised a few but one stood out. 419 was the code for a dead body. What a way to start your very first shift.

The relentless heat of the afternoon sun hanging high in the sky, baked the bare skin of your neck as you stood at the side of the road. This lonely stretch of desert highway was not where you’d thought to end up for the first call out. A jeep had careened, crashing straight through the barrier before colliding hard with the tree below. 

The paramedics had been and gone, the driver was already dead. Ashby had been the one to radio in for a coroner and forensics. All you could do now was wait, all the necessary protocols had been carried out and at least he had let you take notes as you followed his lead. 

As you awaited the arrival of the Crime Scene Investigators assigned to work this case. You couldn’t help but wonder. They were the scientific side of the coin, working in tandem with the police department to unravel the questions of who, how and on occasion the why. You had tried probing Andrew but he said very little.

“They gather the evidence, what else do you need to know” His tone was curt, refusing to elaborate any further than that. You could not help but notice the painfully obvious chip on his shoulder as the sound of an approaching vehicle rumbling from behind you caught your attention.

With your gaze fixated upon the horizon, you watched as the car came into sight. As the lone black four-door SUV pulled up and parked, you caught the tail-ended of Officer Ashby’s mutterings. “Took them long enough” This was the first of many cues that you could not miss, your training officer was already in a sour mood. You didn’t want to make it any worse, as you closed the gap to stand shoulder-to-shoulder, beside your fellow officer.

You watched as the two criminalists exited their vehicle carrying their kits, the tools of their trade. Each of them could easily be described as handsome, but your gaze settled on the shorter of the two men.  Your already flustered cheeks could explained away by the heat of the afternoon, masking the first flutters of butterflies.

Whenever Nick was asked about their initial encounter, he would also hark back to the fact that they had met through work, stringing the few split-second moments together. Each had started the same way. He remembered that those early days before their friendship had truly taken over, had been whilst he and Warrick had been assigned to work the swing shift with Catherine as their supervisor.

He recalled that their introductory had been awkward and plagued by the chill of her training officer. Officer Andrew Ashby was a decent, hardworking member of the police department but it was hard to shake off that bitter glare that he shot his way, whenever they happened to cross paths at a crime scene. He was a stick in the mud who believed that boots on the ground, good old-fashioned police work trumped whatever they did in that musky lab. 

Nick couldn’t help but notice her, a new and unfamiliar face. Never knowing that this was the very start of a journey that they could embark on together. 

With the crime scene and jeep fully photographed, Nick climbed back up the embankment, needing to head back to the lab to get the evidence to the various lab techs for processing. He glanced from left to right to make sure that he had not missed evidence of the vehicle's descent as every the smallest detail could be vital to getting the answers to what had happened to their victim Cory DeMayo.

Nick had his theories as to what might caused the crash but without the evidence, they were just that, theories. He had noted that Officer Ashby had been one of the first responders on the scene after the Neveah Power company had called in the crashed jeep. When he and Warrick had pulled up, he had seen Detective Chris Cavaliere receiving the rundown from Ashby but it was who was standing off to one side that caught Nick’s attention.

He had never seen her before, she must have been Ashby’s latest assigned rookie. A new fresh face to work alongside. Warrick had called him out, as they carefully clambered down to where the runaway jeep had come to rest. 

“Good luck with getting past Lukewarm Ashby Nick, he’ll never let you say more than a few words to her”  It was a fair assessment of the other man’s character, he rarely went beyond cordial to anyone other than Catherine or Grissom but that was more down to their job title than their personalities. He respected them only as far as their seniority and authority went.

When he was finally back up on the highway, Nick found himself unconsciously searching her out and when his gaze found hers, it was only polite to go over and introduce himself. With a warm smile spread from ear to ear and his hand out for her to take, Nick made the first move.

“Hey, I’m Nick Stokes, CSI. Nice to meet you”  He said with a smile, as he noticed that she seemed to be caught off guard for a split second. Maybe, she hadn’t thought that he could speak to her, that must be Ashby’s doing. She quickly took his hand, accepting the olive branch and introduced herself but before she could say anymore, Ashby cut in.

“Rookie, we’re heading out. Stokes don’t you have anything better to do than trying to flirt with my trainee” Ashby swiftly commanded her with an iron glad authoritative tone matching any seasoned general when addressing the soldiers servicing under them. 

“Goodbye, it was nice to meet you too” She had quickly replied, her words warm and friendly as she turned to leave. Nick stood there for a moment longer, watching the two of them leave. He could not quite make out what was being said, Ashby was doing most of the talking, likely reprimanding her for the perceived slight that she had made in that brief few seconds.

Warrick had been right but still, Nick couldn’t help but smile as he climbed into the SUV and drove off back to the lab.

Their next few chance encounters had played out the same, as if they were reading from a script penned by Officer Ashby. Short and sweet but never going beyond, colleagues being cordial to one another before he stepped in to whisk her away. He always seemed to be waiting in the wings, never more than a few feet away. Warrick thought it was incredibly comical but Nick never gave much weight to the other’s man actions. He just laughed it off and went about with his day. You wandered through the halls, your latest shift had come to an end. Andrew dismissed you but not before giving one last order. To file the last of the paperwork before heading off home. A simple administrative task that would take no more than a few minutes, he had slowly started to allow you to step up and have a more active role, instead of just passively watching and taking notes. 

You had made your first arrest earlier in the day and for the first time, you truly felt like a police officer. The sound of your name being called stopped you in your tracks. You turned to find yourself face-to-face with the brunette Texan who never missed the chance to stop and say hello.

“Good evening CSI Stokes” You amiably greeted him, knowing this was the first chance that you had gotten to speak more than a few simple words to him. 

“You can call me Nick” His words were playful, teasing you for your formality. You couldn’t help but laugh. “Alright Nick, I just need to file this as I made my first arrest today then I’m done for the week” You continued, finding it incredibly easy to eager in small talk with him. 

“You’ve probably heard it all before, sorry” You couldn't help but apologise for your excited ramblings. “No, I get it as I was the same when I closed my first case. Warrick and I are going to get something to eat if you want to join us then you can tell us about your arrest”