AN: 2/19/12 - Apologies to those of you who are signed up for Story Alerts and received one for this re-publish of Chapter 1. But there was a glaring error on my part in the original and I couldn't let it go, so I thought I would fix it before publishing the final chapter. Don't worry tho...the final chapter is in the works and I'm going to promise you now that it will be up within the week. :-) Thanks again to everyone who is reading and especially those who take the time to leave a little feedback. I appreciate it!

I'm back with another multi-chapter story. I hope you enjoy it! :-)

Nick Stokes bit his lip, looking out the window of the SUV as Warrick Brown pulled it up to the curb. The sky was gray and it was unusually cool for November, especially in Las Vegas. "Hope it doesn't rain," he said half to himself as both CSIs got out of the vehicle and stepped onto Bryant Street.

The children had been missing for almost a week. Five days had gone by with no sign of the 6 year old girl or the 7 year old boy. By all accounts they had simply vanished into thin air. Allison Ruh's small stuffed tiger, which she took with her everywhere, was found in the grass near the street a half a block away from her home. Sean Elliott's toy NASCAR racer was discovered in his best friend, Danny's, back yard in the dirt where the two boys had fashioned a makeshift race track. The missing children lived across the street from each other in a close-knit neighborhood of older, two story, brick homes on this tree-lined street near downtown. But other than the proximity of their houses, there was nothing to connect one child to the other. Each had disappeared on the same day a few hours apart from each other, but it wasn't until late afternoon that anyone had noticed their absence.

Sean's friend, Danny, said that he and Sean had been playing in his backyard with their cars when Danny was called in to lunch by his mother. The woman had invited the other boy inside to join them, but Sean had declined and said he was going to play awhile longer. That was the last time he was seen that day. As for Allison, the mailman had seen her playing on the sidewalk a few hours later and had stopped to see what she was doing. The little girl had delighted in showing him the ant hill that she was watching, and after she had made him assure her that he would take care not to step on any other ant hills he might come across on his route, he had continued on his way, the last person to see her before she disappeared.

"What are they thinkin' around here, man?" Warrick stood on the sidewalk and looked up and down the street. Several marked and un-marked police vehicles dotted the area, detectives and officers nearby. "Would you let your kids just run around all over the place? Especially at that age?"

"Nope," Nick replied as he pulled on a jacket. He zipped it halfway as he shuddered and took another look at the sky.

"Hold up, guys," Captain Jim Brass called to them from up the block. He turned back to the woman he was speaking with and wrote something in his notebook before putting a hand on her shoulder and then leaving her and walking toward the CSIs. "Allison's mom," he said, nodding back down the street toward the woman who was now making her way back to her house, surrounded by several friends. He turned his attention back to Nick and Warrick and said, "Hey, thanks for helping out." The captain knew they had a full night's shift ahead of them, but they had volunteered to come out beforehand to assist with the search.

The men nodded in acknowledgement before Warrick said, "We were just talking...how come these parents let their little kids run all over around here? No wonder some of 'em go missing."

"Well," Brass said with a sigh as he took a look around the area. "Times have changed, but this old neighborhood is still pretty safe. They keep an eye on each other. It's kinda like...Main Street USA, you know?"

Warrick huffed. "No such thing anymore, Jim. Especially here."

"Yeah...well...seems like the kids still play outside...in each other's yards...that kind of thing. Everybody knows everybody."

"So they would notice any strangers coming around?" Nick asked.

Brass nodded. "The parents all say their kids know better than to talk to anyone they don't know."

"All parents think that. Unfortunately...they're wrong." Warrick picked his kit up off of the sidewalk. "So where do we start?"

"You're not gonna need that." Brass nodded at the kit. "At least not yet."

When the children had first gone missing, it was an all out frenzied search of the neighborhood for clues, but nothing of use had been found. The CSIs had picked up a few incidental items in the area, but after analysis none of them appeared to have anything to do with the case. Detectives had talked to the family, the children's friends, and some of the neighbors, but now with the case almost a week old they had the okay from above to go door to door.

"We don't have any warrants," Brass reminded the CSIs. "We're just talking. Right now there's no probable cause to search any of the houses, but if you see anything suspicious let me know and I'll call it in. Judge Beckett will have us a warrant within the hour."

"Okay, okay..." Warrick put his kit back into his SUV. "So...should I ask? How many registered sex offenders we got around here?"

"More than these folks realize," Brass answered grimly. "But in the immediate area...just one." He looked at his notebook and flipped a few pages before finding what he was looking for. "Clayton Steele...he lives at 704." He looked up and across the street. "Right over there," he said as he pointed to a small house with the curtains drawn shut. "You can start with him, and then why don't you hit 706 and 708 for now? My guys will take this side of the street, and I'll give you a call with a couple more addresses later."

Nick nodded. "Got it. So who else we got over there?" He indicated across the street by tilting his head in that direction.

"706 is a widow...Ruth Bruner...seems like all of the kids hang out at her place a lot...kind of the neighborhood grandma. And 708 is Shelly Southern...divorced...two kids." Brass closed his notebook and put it in his jacket pocket. "Call me if you find anything."

Nick and Warrick stood on the sidewalk in front of the small house with the number 704 on the front of it. The house had a neat appearance and the yard looked to be well kept. The two CSIs made their way up the walk.

"Curtains are shut," Warrick noted.

"Doesn't want anybody to see what he's doing in there. Nice." As they reached the door Nick raised his hand to knock, but before he had a chance the door flew open.

Clayton Steele stood in front of them, barefoot, wearing a pair of jeans and a black t-shirt with a NASCAR design on the front. Number 88.

"Dale Jr. fan, are you, Mr. Steele?" Nick asked.

"I know why you're here!" the 30 year old man said hurriedly with just a touch of a southern accent. "I didn't have nothin' to do with those kids. Nothin'! They play all around here but they know they ain't supposed to come near my house."

"Or near you, either? Right?" Warrick leaned to the side trying to see inside the house behind the man who was several inches shorter than he was. "You know, I hear Sean Elliott is a NASCAR fan. Last time anyone saw him he was playing with his racecar."

"I don't know nothin' about that," Steele insisted as he tried to shift himself to block the CSI's view into the home.

"No?" Nick now leaned the other way, also looking behind the man. "You two have something in common. You sure you two aren't buddies? How about Allison? She was playing right out here on the sidewalk."

Steele stepped to his left and pulled the door so that it was shut except for the space he stood in. "You got no right to look in here. I ain't done nothin'."

Warrick nodded. "You're right, man. You don't have to let us in if you don't want to. But you know how that looks? Like you got somethin' to hide."

"Something to hide?" the man repeated, his voice getting louder. "Something to hide? Man, I got nothin' to hide! They know everything about me...my name, where I work, what I done...my whole fuckin' life is on public record. But let me tell you somethin'...I been clean for three years. No trouble. They didn't want me here in their prissy little neighborhood, but I haven't done nothin' since I got here. Nothin'! Them kids? They stay away. They know better. And so do I." He crossed his arms and stuck his chin out defiantly, refusing to say any more.

"All right, man, all right." Nick held his hand up to the man. "So you're clean...didn't have anything to do with it. Did you see anything? Notice anything? Hear anybody around here talking?"

Steele snorted and shook his head. "Man, weren't you listening? I stay in my house. I don't see nobody...nobody sees me. And they sure as hell don't talk to me."

"Okay, but…"

"But nothing," Steele interrupted. "Get the hell out of here. Get the hell off my property."

Warrick nodded. "Thank you for your time…Mr. Steele." He almost choked over the man's name as he tried to remain professional. He turned and walked away toward the street with Nick following closely behind.

When they reached the sidewalk, Nick asked, "Well...what do you think?"

"I don't know, man." Warrick shook his head and looked back at the house where Clayton Steele continued to stand, staring after them. "He's pretty defensive, and he damn sure didn't want us to see inside the house."

"Yeah," agreed Nick. "And we can't get in there without something pointing to him. You'd think he'd let us in if he was innocent."

"They still got the trash from that week quarantined?"

Nick nodded.

"Let's have another look at it when we get back."

"You got it." Nick looked at the house to the left of Steele's. "All right...let's try this one."

Contrary to their experience with Clayton Steele, Nick and Warrick had no trouble at all getting into Ruth Bruner's home. The old woman seemed eager for company and insisted that they step inside. Before they knew it the two bemused CSIs were sitting at the table in her kitchen politely refusing her multiple offers of food and drink.

The woman was in her early seventies, but she appeared to be quite healthy and alert. She wore a pair of dirty blue jeans and a flowered smock top. Suddenly self-conscious, she apologized. "Please excuse my appearance. I've been out in the garden today. Haven't had a chance to clean up." She smiled at them. "Are you sure you won't have something to eat or drink? I've got plenty of cookies. Homemade just this morning."

"No, thank you, ma'am," Nick answered.

She sighed heavily as she sat down at the table across from them. "It's a habit, I guess...my morning baking. The children used to have the whole batch eaten by the afternoon. But now..." She shook her head. "Now the neighborhood is so quiet. The parents keep the kids inside all day. I don't blame them. Those poor little dears. There is no news?"

"We can't really discuss that, ma'am," Warrick told her and then asked, "Did Allison and Sean come here for cookies?"

"Oh my, yes! They all did. Up until...well, you know." Ruth stood up and went to the sink to rinse out her coffee cup. She came back and sat down, taking a cookie for herself from the plate on the table. "I have grandkids, you know...but they live far away. The neighborhood kids..." She laughed a little. "They kind of adopted me. They play over here a lot, and the older ones...they help me with my lawn, shovel snow, that sort of thing."

Nick nodded. "What about your other neighbors? Is there anyone you think could have harmed the kids?"

"Oh no!" She exclaimed, shaking her head. "It's such a nice, friendly neighborhood. I've lived here most of my life, and we've never had any trouble...not until now."

Nick and Warrick looked at each other, both of them silently thinking the same thing. The woman had made no mention of the sex offender who lived right next door to her. Nick cleared his throat. "Are you, uh…do you know Mr. Steele next door?"

The woman's smile dropped from her face. "Yes…yes, I know him. Or rather, I know of him. I see him out getting his mail and such, but I've never talked to him. None of us have, I guess. Sometimes I feel ashamed at what an outcast we've made of him, but…" Suddenly her mouth fell open. "Oh dear…no…you don't think…? Do you think he had something to do with this?"

"We're checking out everything, Mrs. Bruner…and everyone," Warrick replied. "We're just looking for some answers…trying to find these kids."

"I know…I know…bless you, boys. I just…" The sound of a cell phone ringing interrupted the woman.

"Excuse me." Nick pulled out his phone and got up from the table, walking toward the living room. "Hey, Jim." A few minutes later he returned to the table as he ended the call and sat down. In a low voice he told Warrick, "That was Brass. They got the rest of the houses. We just have the one left and then we're done."

Warrick nodded and then turned to Ruth. "So, Mrs. Bruner…is there anything else you can think of that might help us?"

She shook her head sadly. "No…I'm sorry. I just hope they're okay and that you find them soon."

"We will," said Nick as he stood up to leave. "Thank you for your time, Mrs. Bruner."

Warrick got up as well, and the woman followed them both to the front door. "Are you sure you wouldn't like a snack to take with you?"

The CSIs smiled at her and politely declined again before leaving the house. At the sidewalk, Warrick said, "This is crazy, man. These people don't know anything. Those kids are long gone from here by now."

"We don't know that." Nick headed for the next house. "C'mon…this is our last one.

"Yes? What is it?" the 42 year old woman asked impatiently as she answered the door. She looked harried, with a young girl of about 5 hanging onto her leg and tugging at her shirt. When she saw the two men on her step holding out ID badges, she apologized and smiled, running her hands quickly through her messed up hair trying to straighten it out. "What can I do for you?"

Warrick put his ID back into his pocket and said, "We're from the Crime Lab...just want to ask you a few questions about the missing children, Mrs. Southern."

"I'm not 'Mrs.' anything anymore," she replied, annoyed at first, but then she smiled and straightened her hair again before eyeing both men and saying, "You can call me Shelly."

Nick gave Warrick a glance before speaking. "Um...Shelly...do you have..."

"Bailey get off my leg!" She leaned over and detached the child, then pointed into the living room. "Go on in there and play."

The little girl looked up at the CSIs and asked, "Are you the police?"

Warrick laughed and said, "Sort of."

She put a finger in her mouth for a moment and then took it out and spoke again, "Are you gonna find Allison?"

Her mother hushed her and told her to stop bothering the nice men, then shouted into the house, "Scotty! Get out here and take your sister!" A sullen looking boy of about 15 appeared in the kitchen doorway, and she shooed the little girl toward him. He gave her a glare and then followed the child into the kitchen.

"Mrs...Shelly...would you mind if we came in and asked you a few questions?" Warrick asked once the children were out of sight.

"Sure! Sure, come on in!" She stood aside as Nick and Warrick passed by her. "I'm sorry the place is such a mess." She quickly crossed the room in front of them and swept some toys and magazines off of the couch and onto the floor, then kicked them under a table. She smiled at them and gestured toward the couch. "Have a seat." When they did, she sat on a footstool facing them. "So...what did you want to talk about?"

"The missing children," Nick said, raising his eyebrows and trying not to sound as frustrated as he felt by the woman's inattentiveness.

"Oh! Yes! I'm sorry. I'm so scatterbrained these days. Single mother, you know..." She paused, and when neither man said anything she went on. "The little Elliott boy...I've seen him running around the neighborhood and even back in my yard, but I didn't care. A lot of the kids play back there. Allison played with my Bailey some...just outside, really. She never came inside."

"Yes, she did."

The three people in the living room looked up to see Scotty, standing in the doorway. "What's that, son?" asked Warrick.

The teenager leaned against the doorframe and gave his mother a scornful look before answering. "Allison came in here a lot...not like she would know, though."

"Scotty!" His mother gave an embarrassed laugh. "I don't know what he's talking about," she said, clearly flustered.

"Yeah, you do." Scotty turned his attention to the CSIs. "She's never here. Or if she is...she's not alone." When his mother started to protest, he interrupted, "You know it's true. You never know what goes on around here."

"So you've seen Allison here?" asked Nick. "How about Sean? Did he play here too?"

"Nah...just like she said, believe it or not. But Allison came over. She and Bailey always played upstairs with their stuffed animals...up in the attic too."

"The attic?" his mother exclaimed. "Scotty, you're making that up. Those children never went up there. It's too dangerous. I wouldn't allow it!" She turned to the men and repeated, "They never went up there."

"Shelly...if they did...is it possible...maybe Allison went up there and couldn't get back down?" Nick asked.

"They didn't go up there!" she insisted. "He's just trying to get me into trouble! Scotty, get your ass out of here and go watch your sister and stop bothering us!"

The boy snorted and shook his head. "Typical," he muttered as he turned and left the room.

Warrick spoke carefully, trying his best not to use an accusatory tone. "Shelly, maybe we should check the attic."

The divorced mother's demeanor suddenly grew serious, and she stood up. "I'd like you to leave now."

Nick stood up as well. "Ma'am, we aren't accusing you of anything. But if it's possible that the kids were playing up there and Allison got stuck or accidentally locked up there..."

"It's not possible! I told you, I watch the kids. I'm a good mother. If there were kids locked up in my attic I would know about it!" She went to the door and opened it. "Now unless you have a warrant...please leave."

Nick sighed and looked down at Warrick who then stood up and answered, "We'll be back with one. Thank you for your time."

Back on the sidewalk after having Shelly Bruner slam the door behind them, Nick said, "You know no judge is gonna give us a warrant for that attic based on what that kid said."

Warrick nodded as he looked up and down the street. "Yeah...I know," he replied solemnly. "So we're..." He stopped as his cell phone rang. Looking at the display he noted, "Grissom," and then answered it. "Yeah, Gris...what's up?"

While his friend was talking on the phone, Nick turned to look back at the Southern house, noting that there were no windows on the attic, just air vents. As he heard Warrick finish his call, he asked, "What's up?"

"I gotta go. He needs me on a scene. Sara and Cath are each out on solos...can't leave. He's got a double out at the landfill...with missing parts." He sighed with a grimace.

"Sorry, man. Tough break." Nick tried unsuccessfully to hide his grin.

"Yeah, I'll give you a tough break," Warrick kidded back, then added, "Hey, he wants me out there ASAP. You think you could..."

Nick was already waving him off. "Yeah, yeah...I'll catch a ride with Brass." He nodded across the street to where the captain was talking to a couple of uniformed officers.

"All right. Catch you later."

"Have fun!" Nick called after him with a laugh as the other CSI headed to his vehicle.

"Hey, Gris."

Gil Grissom looked up from his desk to see Warrick standing in the doorway, toweling off his wet hair. The supervisor took off his glasses and set them down. "Good shower?" he asked.

"Yeah," Warrick laughed.

The supervisor wrinkled his nose. "You might want to take another one."

"Aw c'mon! Really?" Warrick lifted his arm and sniffed it. "Shit," he uttered.

"Possibly," Grissom deadpanned.

The CSI scowled in disgust. "That's just wrong, man." He came into the office and sat down across from Grissom. "So what do you have Nick doing? I told him we'd go through that pervert's trash tonight."

Grissom looked at him blankly. "I don't have him doing anything. Haven't seen him. I figured he was still out with Brass."

"Doing what?" Warrick asked, confused.

"Talking to witnesses? Canvassing the neighborhood? I don't know, Warrick, it's not my case." He put his glasses on and went back to his paperwork. "Have you tried calling him?" He asked without looking up. When Warrick pulled his cell phone out and started to dial, Grissom added, "From somewhere else?"

"All right…all right…" Warrick got up and left the room, his phone to his ear. When he heard Nick's voicemail pick up, he rolled his eyes as he paced the hallway. "Figures." He left a message and then disconnected the call and punched Brass' number in. After several rings, he got an answer.

"Mmm…'ello?"

"Brass? Warrick. Hey, where are you?"

There was a coughing sound followed by the gruff voice of the captain. "In bed…where the hell else should I be at this time of night after a double shift?"

Warrick was less worried about having awakened the man than he was about the fact that he was pretty sure Nick was not with him. "Sorry, Jim…but…I can't get a hold of Nick. I thought maybe he was still with you…workin' or somethin'."

Brass yawned and then sighed heavily into the phone, slightly more alert now. "Still with me? I haven't seen him since I talked to you guys on Bryant Street. When I left, I didn't see your car so I figured you guys finished up and left too."

"No, man…I got called away on a double homicide and Nick said he was gonna catch a ride back with you. You didn't see him or talk to him?" When Brass said that he hadn't, Warrick continued, "Well, he hasn't come back to the lab…and he's not answering his phone. Jim…that was ten hours ago…and he didn't have a car. Where the fuck is he?"

You all knew this was where we were headed, didn't you? ;-) Well, I hope you enjoyed the first chapter enough to keep reading! Make sure you're signed up for Story Alerts so you know when a new chapter is added. And I love hearing feedback, so please leave a review so I know someone is reading. Thanks!