The warehouse was cold and the floor was damp.

She'd given up fighting to be free a long time ago, surrendering herself to the fact she wouldn't be able to get herself out of the mess she was in - not alone, anyway. Catherine had even decided to be grateful for the gag she'd been forced to wear - it helped block the heady smell of melted rubber from invading her senses anymore than necessary.

Resting her head against the wall, she listened intently as her kidnapper hummed to himself as he worked, relieved when she worked out his echoing footsteps were going in the opposite direction.

Away from her.

Her relief was short-lived, though.

After a moment of silence, she heard his voice. Smug, taunting, conversational.

"It's me, Grissom. Times a wastin'. There's only two hours to go before Ms. Willows dies."

He hung up without waiting for a reply, just like always. She didn't need to be able to see him to know that.

Wincing, struggling impulsively against the restraints that kept her hands bound behind her back, Catherine could do nothing but glare as he approached her, his pace maddeningly slow as if he had all the time in the world.

Something she didn't have. Her time was running out.

She flinched when he knelt on the cold floor in front of her, jerking her head back away from his touch, seething at the amused grin that passed over his lips.

"Don't look so worried, Catherine. I've got you. But if Grissom doesn't find us.. It'll all be over soon." Paul Millander chuckled at the panic she couldn't keep from showing in her eyes, shaking his head as he stood up and turned to walk away, humming as he went.

'You've never let me down before, Gil,' she squeezed her eyes shut, hoping he would somehow pick up on her silent message. 'Please don't start now.'

Homicide or Suicide? That was the question.

All the evidence pointed to suicide but there was something a little off with that conclusion. Something just didn't feel right and that was enough to keep looking Gil Grissom looking. Unless his instincts agreed with the evidence, he was reluctant to close a case and he was certain that in this instance his gut was in the right.

He just needed the evidence to prove it.

Bored with tapping his fingers against the smooth wood of the desk, the latest crossword already complete and cast aside, Grissom moved to pick up the receiver just as the phone began to ring.

Composing himself and regaining his balance, he snatched up the receiver and put it to his ear, eyes moving to the door to his office as it opened suddenly. "Grissom." He spoke into the phone at the same time as nodding a greeting to Catherine Willows and Sara Sidle, two CSI's he worked with, both of whom seemed flustered.

"Mr. Grissom, how nice it is to hear your voice. It's been a while, hasn't it?" The voice on the other end of the line sounded familiar but Grissom struggled to match it with a name, his attention divided between his caller and the two women who were obviously trying to get his full attention. "Don't tell me you don't recognise my voice! I know it's been a while but I'd be hurt if you couldn't remember me.." The laughter that accompanied the words sent shivers down his spine.

"Millander." The name was said through ground teeth. Grissom noticed the alarmed look exchanged by Sara and Catherine, and assumed they'd been trying to warn him. "Can I assume you're calling to let me know you're behind Pete Walker's supposed suicide?"

Paul Millanders laughter was all the confirmation he needed. "Just thought I'd make sure you knew," Millander's smile could be heard in the way he spoke.

Grissom was left listening to the dial tone before he could say anything in response. He closed his mouth and looked to Catherine and Sara, one eyebrow raised inquisitively as he tried to reign in his temper. "You wanted to speak to me?"

"Looks like you already know most of it." Her shoulders slumping, Catherine moved to sit in one of the chairs on the opposite side of the desk. She waited for Sara to join her and arched an eyebrow when the younger CSI lingered by the door. "Sara? You want to tell Grissom when we found?"

Sara shook her head and gave them a quick, vaguely sheepish smile. "You can tell him. I was wondering if it'd be okay for me to leave now..? Shifts almost over and.."

"Go, get some sleep." Grissom waved her away with a small, curious smile when she seemed to blush under Catherine's scrutiny. "It's unusual for you to want to leave, Sara. Usually we have to drag you away."

Catherine snorted in an unladylike way and rolled her eyes at him. "You mean we usually have to drag the two of you away." Her smile turned teasing as her eyes fell on the seemingly nervous woman edging towards the door. She'd spent the last three hours trying to determine why Sara was so jumpy and kept checking her watch and Catherine suspected she'd discovered the reason. "Sounds to me like you're coming down with something. Either that or you've got a hot date you don't want us to know about."

Her words caused the young woman's face to darken to a deeper shade of crimson. "I.. ah.. I have to go."

Having too much fun to let the subject drop, Catherine leaned back in her chair and called after Sara when she escaped the office. "Have fun, Sara! Don't do anything I wouldn't do!"

Chuckling to herself as the door closed and Sara vanished from sight, Catherine returned her attention to Grissom, pleased to see he'd been successfully distracted for the moment at least. She didn't want to wipe the amused smile from his face but knew he had a right to know what she and Sara had discovered.

"There was another suicide note, Gil. Nick found the tape when he was checking over the scene. We think it might have been disturbed when housekeeping discovered the body since it isn't Millander's style to play hide and seek with the tapes." She tried to ignore the sympathetic guilt that swelled in her chest at seeing the humour fade from his eyes. "He wanted us to find it because it's personalised. Written, so to speak, to you."

"To me?" Leaning forward, his blue eyes wide behind the lenses of his glasses, Grissom stared at her in surprise. "How? What does it say?"

"You can hear it for yourself after Warrick's finished dusting for prints. The gist of it is that theres's an additional part to the original script, directed at 'Mr. Grissom.' He.. He thanks you, for letting him go, and asks if you've worked it out yet." Catherine swallowed a sigh and tried to keep her own concern at bay. It wasn't easy, though. Not when a murderer had targeted her best friend. "We don't know if were on the right lines but Sara and I realised something. It might not be what he wanted us to work out but it explains why you."

He blinked twice but other than that remained completely still. "Why?"

"Your birthday, Gil. You were born in the same month Millander's father died. Not only that but you were born on the same day of the same month in the same year as Millander himself." Subconsciously, she leaned forward until they were close, the cluttered desk being the only thing that separated them. "It's part of the mind game he's playing, Gil. I'm not sure if it was a coincidence the first time you were called to the scene or if he planned to kill these people in Vegas to get your attention but either way, I don't like it. You're going to have to be careful, Grissom." Concern and worry shone in her eyes. "Promise me you'll be careful."

Not entirely sure whether he was touched or uncomfortable at the degree of anxiety in her voice, Grissom sat back in his chair, putting some more distance between them. He cared for Catherine - more than he thought she knew - and although he was comfortable showing fear for her, he felt awkward when she displayed it for him. "You know me, I'm always careful, Catherine. Is there anything else I should know?"

Biting back a sigh and repressing the urge to roll her eyes, Catherine took his cool approach with a pinch of salt. She knew he wasn't deliberately trying to hurt her but recently it seemed that whenever she tried to inject a little warmth back into their friendship he'd respond by taking a step back and putting more distance between them.

"The only other thing we found out is that the 'I love you, Mom' phrase of each of the suicide recordings definitely comes from Millander. The last victim, Pete Walker, said it on the tape but his mother died three years ago of natural causes." Folding her arms over her chest, she surveyed him with a questioning look on her face. "What are you thinking, Grissom? What's going on in that brain of yours?"

Grissom lifted one shoulder in a casual shrug, his gaze fixed on a shelf on the other side of the office. "I'm thinking.. I should've realised it was him. I should have noticed the connection to me.. I should have picked up on the Mom thing. We don't know anything about her but we should. Is she dead or alive? If she's alive, where does she live? Their relationship is an important element here, one we've been missing. 'I love you, Mom.' Is he trying to let his mom know he loves her or is it ironic?"

"We can find out. Millander isn't such a common name, it shouldn't take long to do a records search." Getting to her feet, Catherine wasn't surprised when he mimicked her, having already assumed he'd be taking over the investigation now they knew it Millander was involved. It was personal to Grissom, and that's why she wasn't going to let him work on it alone. "One thing, Gil." She stopped him at the door by putting a hand to his chest and letting it linger there briefly. "You said 'I' a lot. If there's one thing you've taught all of us it's that there's no 'i' in team. You're not alone on this so stop thinking as if you are."

The admonition stated, Catherine opened the door and preceded him out into the corridor. He didn't say anything as he fell into step beside her but managed to convey a silent apology by letting his fingers graze the small of her back, one he knew was accepted when he saw the corners of her mouth curl up into the slightest of smiles.

Joining Warrick Brown in the CSI lab, Grissom and Catherine settled in for the morning, knowing they were in it for the long haul.