Catherine Willows was spreading peanut butter on Ritz crackers, making neat little round sandwiches, which she immediately wolfed down. Her cell phone rang so she quickly chewed, swallowed and gulped some milk before bringing it to her ear. "Willows." She mumbled; her tongue busily searching out the last bits of peanut butter clinging to her teeth.

"Catherine? It's Chloe."

"What's up?"

"I think Grissom is in danger."

"Why?"

"I've been reading her journal, and, ah….well, she recognized you guys at the crime scene."

"What? You mean, when we were processing Frank Leland?"

"Yeah. She realized she'd messed up because the wallet and the credit card holder were missing. She wrote that she's going after the two who got away and one of them is, apparently, Grissom. How come neither of you mentioned, he'd possibly met Mantis?"

"Fuck! I knew it was her. I did bring it up to Gil but he thought I was being a bit melodramatic so it kinda got dropped."

"The best I can tell, she left here late Saturday or early Sunday so she could be in Vegas by now. Rob is trying to locate Terry Franklin but I think Grissom is the closer, easier target. Just find him, okay? He's not answering his cell and please call me back."

"All right, I'll find him." Catherine replied determinedly with more calm than she felt. She called his cell and home phone while she located her shoes and keys. She paused for a second, staring at her service piece, before resolutely picking it, hoping she wouldn't have to use it again. She called his pager on the way to her car, then frantically hit the speed dial for Jim Brass.

"Brass."

"Jim, it's Catherine. Look, I can't explain, right now. But, Chloe DeCaen just called me and she thinks Gil is in danger. Meet me at his townhouse, please?"

"I'm on my way."

"Please? God, just let him be at work." `Work!' She thought as she jammed the key in the ignition. Hitting the speed dial to his office, she threw the car in reverse and careened into the street. After another `no answer', she ran a stop sign and floored it at an approaching yellow light. In frustration, she dialed the DNA lab, thinking she'd send a lab tech in search of him. Again, no one answered. Jim Brass was pacing outside Gil's townhouse when she pulled up.

"He's not answering the door but his car is gone. What's going on?" Catherine didn't bother with an answer as she searched her keys for the one to his front door. They quickly searched his quiet home to find nothing amiss. Catherine stood in the middle of his living room trying to determine a clue to his whereabouts. The hall closet door was ajar so she rushed to it, flinging the door open.

"Catherine?"

"His golf clubs are missing."

"You think he's golfing?"

"Uh, more likely, at a driving range. The city golf tournament is coming up and he's supposed to play a four-man scramble with Atwater and the Mayor."

"I wonder if Ecklie is the fourth."

"Who gives a shit about Ecklie?" She was busily searching the yellow pages for the closest driving range.

"I hear, he's a good golfer."

"That's probably because he has plenty of time. He sure doesn't spend much of it solving crimes." She complained then ripped the page listing driving ranges from the phone book. Holding it out to Brass and pointing, she said. "Here. I think he might be here."

"Okay, one more time, what is going on?" Brass asked as he nosed his Taurus into the street.

"Chloe called. She and Rob are in Wyoming. They found `whatever her name is'…..Mantis' house. Chloe found her journal and she referred to Gil as `one of the two who got away.'"

"What?"

"Jim! Watch the road!" Catherine exclaimed as the Taurus drifted into the lane of oncoming traffic. "A couple of months ago, Gil and I met up at the Grill'em sports bar after work one morning. I remember a brunette was seated on the barstool next to him. It was nine in the morning! Anyway, we played pool then went to his house for breakfast. I really can't believe this!"

"So, did she, ah, drug him?" Brass inquired a couple of minutes later.

"Yes."

"You're sure?"

"Yes."

"Did…..anything happen?"

"That, has nothing to do with this!"

"Okay, don't get pissed at me." He stifled a chuckle and surmised from her response that something did happen. He just had to know so he gave her a minute to calm down then inquired. "Was it as good as that other guy said?"

"Jim!"

"Come on, Catherine. I won't tell anybody."

"If you do, you'll die a slow, painful death." She threatened then sighed. "It was great but, ah, since it's been pretty damn good ever since, I can't say the drugs really enhanced it all that much."

"Wait a minute! I thought the drugs were for the guy."

"Well, um, I drank about half the beer that, I think, she spiked."

"Really?"

"Are we done with this conversation, yet?"

"Yeah, `cause there's the driving range."

"There's his car." Catherine exclaimed. "Uh, oh! She drives a Pathfinder, like that one." She pointed out a dusty, dark blue Nissan with Wyoming plates.

TBC