"Nice Rolls. Bet it belongs to the owner. Cars are such a bad investment," Tim comments dryly as we get out of the Hummer at McCauley Jewelers. "I'm just happy I have my bike."

"Someday, you might need something with doors," I tell him as we approach the entrance; I let him walk a little bit in front of me. I can't help but admire the grace with which he moves.

"Well, I got plenty of time for that," he chuckles.

"Someday I might need you to have something with doors, Speedle. It's damned hard to think about fucking you on that Ducati, unless it's parked in the garage," I whisper, mouth just a fraction of an inch from his ear as I reach past him to open the door so he can precede me into the jewelry store.

"We're here to see Mr. McCauley, please," I say to the man who intercepts us, taking my usual stance, one hand on a hip, the other on the butt of my gun.

"Oh, Mr. McCauley is the previous owner. I'm the new owner. Rudolph Koehler; call me Rudy." He glances over his shoulder at Tim, who has continued on into the store to take a look around, and then turns to face me, glancing down at the badge clipped to my belt. "But maybe I can help you with something, officer. I'd be more than happy to help the police."

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Tim start to move around the store. He heads towards a counter and a pair of nervous-looking female employees and pauses there, his back suddenly tense. I can feel the alertness, the wariness, rolling off him in waves. My own heartbeat begins to accelerate. Tim, for all the hell he's been through in his life, is an innocent in a lot of ways. His sense of self-preservation is remarkably underdeveloped. So if he's sensing something amiss, then we are in serious trouble.

"Yes, I've recently been speaking with your customer, Mrs. Tawny Williams," I say just as Tim shifts position a hairsbreadth to take another look at something, thumbing the snap on his holster open.

"Yes, I just heard the news about her husband. It's tragic. She's such a nice lady."

I can barely hear the proprietor's words over the sudden roar of blood in my ears as Tim pulls his gun, my attention split between Koehler and Tim. In the space of that heartbeat, a routine questioning is going south. "Excuse me," I brush off the man's words as my attention turns to Tim. "Speed?" he glances back at me and I can see the fear in his eyes. "Stay put," I order the owner, my whole being focused on Tim as I start to move towards him, placing my hand on my own gun as I do.

"She and her husband were very good customers," Koehler rambles on.

If the man would just shut up, we could survey the scene, figure out what's wrong with this picture. I try to tune out the chatter as I stop near Tim and realize he has his gun fully out and at the ready.

Tim is even more alert than I am his back rigid with tension. He's got his eyes trained fixedly on a window that reveals a workroom of some kind and within, a door that leads farther into the store. It opens slowly and a man steps out, using it as a shield as he pulls a gun.

I pull my own weapon the rest of the way out and turn to warn Tim. "Speed!"

I'm just a fraction of a second too late. The man raises his pistol and opens fire. With shrieks of terror, the two women scream and drop to the floor. Reflex kicks in and I return fire, knowing Tim's trying to cover me from his position. But my heart freezes cold as I see him fumble with his gun, glancing down at it with surprise. God, not again! Not again, dear god, no...

I squeeze off two more rounds and the man from the back room goes down, motionless on the slick marble floor. But as fast as I take care of one threat, another man appears from the back, spraying the shop with bullets. I fall to the floor to avoid being hit, then roll back to my feet using the counter as partial cover and fire at him in something barely short of panic. I can't get the bullets off fast enough, though, because he's out the rear door and I'm left standing in the shards of glass, gems, and my life.

"Speed!" the word is strangled, my voice shaking as badly as my muscles are as the firefight adrenaline ebbs, replaced by a different, more terrifying kind of fear.

He's lying sprawled on his back, eyes glazing over as they focus on the chandelier over his head. Blood... blood is everywhere. It stains his shirt front, trickles from his mouth, the red as brilliant as the scattered gems mingled with the glass littering the floor.

I drop to my knees beside him, picking up my dropped cell. "This is CSI Caine. We have a priority here! I got a man down, shots fired!" I know someone is on the other end, responding, but I have no idea what they say. It doesn't matter. Nothing matters except Tim.

My hands hover over him, my heart pounding so hard I can see my fingers shaking in time with my pulse. I'm afraid to touch him, to move him. There's so much blood. "You're going to be okay, Speed. Look at me. You're going to be okay. You'll be fine." The words are more for my benefit than his, and I'm not even sure he can hear me.

Confusion is written on his face, bewilderment. "I-I can't feel anything," he coughs, more blood foaming darkly on his lips, the motion making his whole body jerk. He's choking on his own blood, breathing raspy, erratic. I wipe his mouth with my handkerchief with still-trembling hands, my vision blurring with grief. I've seen fatal gunshots. So many times. I know what they look like.

"Hang in there," I urge him, voice breaking as he reaches out for me. "Speed. Speed, keep breathing. Speed." Losing him now, again, after all we've just been through... there truly is no justice in this world. Love is so fleeting, and I've let it escape me again. Or had it stripped from me, torn away just as I was beginning to believe it was real. To trust it. To allow myself to feel again.

Tim blinks owlishly up at the ceiling, the overhead light glaring in his eyes, eyes going clouded and dull. But the love in them as he turns his gaze towards mine is as intense as anything I've ever seen. I lean over him, my mouth grazing his ear, warm flesh cooling even now, and whisper the words I've been so afraid to say aloud. To him. I owe him this much. I owe him so very much more. But this is all I can give him, now.

"I can't feel anything," he manages, voice strangled and wet-sounding. He's starting to slip away. I can feel him losing his grip on consciousness, on life.

"I know, I know. I understand. Just hang in, partner," I plead as I lean back up to stare into his eyes for the last time. He coughs and more blood comes from his mouth, some of it hitting me in the face. "Speed?" I lay my head on his chest to hear his final heartbeat and release the breath I'm holding just as his last escapes in a sigh. "Speed. Speed..." I whisper on a broken sob. "Speed." My eyes drift shut.

"All units. Shots fired. Officer down, McCauley Jewelers." I hear dispatch in the distance, the words sounding strange, foreign, as if I was overhearing a neighbor's television through a shared wall. "Two fifty-three Adam en route." My eyes are wet with grief, and I close them on the ruins of my life.

"Speed. I love you," I whisper again.

Alexx comes over to where I'm kneeling over Tim's body. "Give him to me, Horatio." she says as she rubs circles on my back.

I nod vaguely, not really hearing her, still focused on Tim's still body under my hands.

"He needs to go with me," she says gently. Of anyone, she understands what I'm feeling now.

"Okay." I whisper. "Okay." I still can't believe he's gone.

I stand and pick up his gun, moving towards Calleigh as I try and get a grip on myself, on the situation. My fingers trace the steel of Speed's gun, now cooling along with his body on the floor behind me, as Alex and the paramedics get him loaded onto a gurney for transport to the morgue. "Hey...Okay, um...I know you to need to start processing the firearms evidence. This is mine..." I say as I pull my gun from its holster. "...and this is Speed's." I hand the guns to her, hoping like hell I can let her take the gun out of my hand.

"Is there anything I need to know about the shooting?" she asks calmly, but I can see the tears gathered in her eyes.

"Uh, well...a lot of confusion." I have to clear my throat several times.

"And?" she prompts, voice a little rough. There's a strange kind of comfort in knowing that she's having as hard a time staying professional here as I am.

"And uh...Speed may have had to look at his gun." I know she knows what that admission cost me, and our eyes lock briefly before my gaze drops away, vision blurring.

"Okay," she replies as Stetler walks in to the store and pauses to sign in with the Front Officer.

"That was quick. IAB..." I state as I feel the anger well up within me. If it was anyone other than him...

"I'm out," Calleigh states abruptly, walking away just as Stetler approaches.

"Okay," I acknowledge her exit, using the word to buy me another second before I turn to Stetler and have to face his smug certainty that Speed was the agent of his own downfall. I can see it in the man's eyes. What makes it infinitely worse is that he may be right.

"I'm sorry. There's nothing worse." Stetler stops near me and offers his insincere condolences.

"Thank you, Rick." I have to wonder why he's being so nice, and my voice must betray my loathing of his presence, here, now.

"It's an officer involved shooting. You know I got to work it," he reminds me dryly.

"Yes, the body is still warm." I really hate this man. He wants to start investigating this while my lover is still lying in a pool of his own blood.

"Unfortunately, that's the best time for me to be here. Where's Speedle's weapon?"

"See Calleigh." I growl.

"And yours?" he doesn't seem to notice my building anger.

"See Calleigh." I say again with more heat than necessary.

"You should sit down with a counselor," he suggests. Does he really think he's being helpful? Because he's not. Not in the slightest.

"Only therapy I need is finding the Williams boy, but thanks for the offer," I say as I walk out the door and meet up with Yelina. We stare at one of the shooters. There is a crowd of photographers taking photos while news crews develop their stories.

"Patrol picked him up two blocks away. He only speaks Bulgarian. Now we're waiting on a translator," Yelina tells me.

"I am not going to wait," I growl as I walk towards Koehler.

"Horatio!" Yelina tries to get me under control. "Film at eleven." Yelina reminds me urgently as I push Koehler into the side of a radio car.

"We're live at McCauley Jewelers..." I hear a newsperson say.

"I'm going to put you in the car," I tell Koehler.

He nods and lets me help him into the car.

"Where's the boy?" I ask him as I place one arm on the hood of the car and lean down to maintain eye contact.

"What boy?" he asks looking around nervously.

"Rudy...do not play with me." I am getting really close to ripping this man's throat out, ready to share my pain with the moron whose hirelings caused it in the first place.

"We swapped stones on jewelry. I don't know anything about a little boy."

"You didn't conspire with Mrs. Williams to kidnap her son. Is that what you're telling me?" I ask barely keeping my anger in check.

"What? Kidnap? I barely know Mrs. Williams. I may be a thief, but that's all." he looks scared.

"Who were the gunmen inside then?" I demand.

"Security, I hire them. But only to protect the stones." Koehler's really starting to sweat.

"He goes nowhere," I order the officers as I walk away from the car slamming the door, heading back inside the jewelry store.

"So this is the palm print that Calleigh found on the trunk of the car?" I ask Eric later at the lab. We're staring at a computer screen that is running the print against others.

"She's been searching for a palm print match for hours," Eric confirms. He sounds like he's fighting to stay on the functional side of extremely pissed off.

"Okay, Eric. Hang in there."

"That little kid is out there depending on this box. I hate it; I want to do something." Eric's losing hope. This day has been hard enough, but to admit we may never find the boy? That simply isn't an option for me right now. I can't lose anyone else right now. Even if it's a kid I've never met.

"I understand, but this is the course of action. So let's keep going," I encourage him just as the computer beeps. It's found a match.

"Pete Keller. Priors for forgery, embezzlement, fraud, and theft," Eric reads the screen.

"And now kidnapping. And Eric, if you want to do something, let's get this guy Keller. He's got the kid," I order through gritted teeth as Eric's shoulders slump even more. I want to say something to him about Tim's death, but I'm not sure what. I can tell he's not sure how to grieve. I hesitate a fraction of a second before turning and walking out of the room.

Pete Keller runs out of his hotel room and prepares to jump off the stairs just as Eric and I approach with a SWAT team.

"Let's see your hands. On the ground! On the ground!" One of the SWAT officers orders just as Keller jumps off the railing and lands at the bottom of the stairs.

"Okay, we got him." Another officer says. "Hands behind your back. Come on hands behind your back, now," he orders Keller.

"Did you get anything?" I ask the officers as Eric and I stride over to where Keller is on his knees, surrounded by SWAT officers.

"Found a weapon on him sir," yet another officer tells me. He holds up a .22.

"Ooh. A .22, just like the one that killed Mr. Williams. Where's the boy. Pete?" I have to really check myself. It takes every ounce of my self control to keep from beating him senseless.

"I don't know who you're talking about," Keller snarls, baring his teeth.

"Got a chipped tooth there, champ." Eric points at Keller's front incisor where a chip is visible.

"Yeah, I busted it when I was a kid." he spits out.

"No you didn't. You got it biting down on a fake emerald before you shot Mr. Williams," I say through gritted teeth. "Now, your plan went down south and you had to scramble, didn't you?"

"Jump ship, get back to shore, get back to the kid. Where is he?" Eric adds in a growl.

"I don't know. It's out of my hands now," Keller just smiles.

"Where'd you stash him?" I have to keep myself from grabbing him by the hair and shoving him face down on the ground.

"Why don't you ask Tawny?" his smile turns even more evil.

"Mrs. Williams?" I ask, stunned.

"Yeah. It was all her idea." he gloats.

I just stare at him. Things are finally starting to make more sense. If Mrs. Williams knew this guy before she married, then the kidnapping of Joey just might have been her idea all along. Three million in jewels, even fake ones, is a lot of money.

"I got a hit on Keller's known associates," Yelina informs me when we meet in the corridor between her office and the interview room I just placed Keller in.

"Tawny Williams." I say.

"That's right, only she went by Sissy Huber back then." She hands me a file.

"Sissy Huber--Tampa, Tallahassee. Fraud, theft, embezzlement." I read the impressive list of offences.

"Look at their victims. Rich men in their fifties and sixties." Yelina points to part of the file.

"Broke their hearts then broke their bank accounts, didn't she? Let's bring her in," I order as I turn and stalk away. I'm getting tired of being lied to by this woman.

"Lieutenant, I mean, really. Shouldn't I be home in case someone calls?" Mrs. Williams asks as Yelina and I join her in the interrogation room.

She looks like she's about ready to chew nails.

"Someone like Pete Keller?" I ask as I remain standing. Just like getting in a suspect's personal space, it tends to make them nervous enough to slip up.

"Your boyfriend...is in custody for kidnapping," Yelina says as she sits down across from Mrs. Williams.

Mrs. Williams looks over to her left and sees Pete Keller in handcuffs, being escorted past the interrogation room to lockup by two police officers. "Pete did this? Well, I haven't seen Pete in years." She appears to be on the verge of tears and not nearly so pissed off, now.

"He murders your husband, he kidnaps your stepson and I'm to believe that you haven't seen him in years...Sissy? This is a list of known associates and it appears..." I show her the folder. "...that you and Pete have been separating people from their money for quite awhile."

"Usually older, rich men," Yelina adds as she leans forward in her chair to rest her arms on the table.

"I ripped off rich guys. Okay? I admit it. We picked them out of the Society page in the Herald."

"Is that how you found your husband?" Yelina asks.

"Yeah, he...Reed had just been widowed. He was like a prime target. Only this time, it was different. I fell in love with him. Okay? I fell in love with his son. You said I'd been hiding something. That's it. My past. I've been trying to make some changes in my life. People do change. Please find him." She starts to cry.

"Where's Joey, Pete?" I demand as I walk around behind where Keller's sitting.

"I told you. Ask Tawny. Although she's still Sissy to me."

"Pete, you just got a CSI killed. I suggest you take your last opportunity and talk to me right now," I snarl through gritted teeth as I grab the back of Keller's chair and pull it down and back, forcing him to look at me.

This is getting old. I want nothing more than to beat a confession out of him, but I must maintain my self-control. Can't have Stetler sniffing around anymore than he already is.

"You already got me for murdering her old man. Why would I help you out?" he's starting to get nervous.

"Because the boy will be killed unless you do."

"Guess that'll break Sissy's heart won't it?" he asks in one last attempt at bravado.

"And isn't that, Pete, what you're really interested in?" I ask as I let him back up.

"Have we processed the envelope with the hundreds from Ken Timmons, the martial arts guy?" I'm hoping Adena has something for me, something to take away the empty space where Tim used to reside.

"Cash wasn't helpful, but the envelope was," she tells me as she points to the monitor where some notes can be seen.

"Translation, please."

"It's a bill." she states.

"It is a bill, for karate lessons."

"The payoff envelope, it didn't come from Pete Keller." Adena confirms.

"No, it came from inside the dojo. Which means Timmons and Keller are partners." I finish as I pull my cell out and walk away. This little bit of information pisses me off more than it probably should.

I can't stand liars on a good day, and today is anything but. I'm having a really hard time staying in control after everything that's happened today. All these lies have taken something from me. Something I was just starting to allow myself to enjoy. Tim. And his love for me. My love for him.

I clench my teeth as I exit the QD lab in search of Eric. We have a storeroom to examine.

About twenty minutes later, Eric is taking pictures of the cluttered storeroom behind Ken Timmons' dojo. The man really needs to be taught how to keep a proper storeroom. There is a ladder lying on its side, some papers strewn about and mud and other debris on the floor.

"Good thing he never cleans his storeroom," Eric comments as he takes some more photos.

"Take a look at this. This is mud. Let's see what else is here. He's gonna take Joey somewhere he's been before, someplace remote." I point my flashlight at a muddy footprint on the floor near the window.

"I've got some kind of sap. I'm gonna rush this over to Trace." Eric informs me as he scrapes up a piece of sap from the floor near some crates.

"Okay, I'll be on the cell." I call out as I stand up and head back outside.

"H, yeah he's got him in Hell's Bay." Eric informs me just over an hour later when I answer my cell as I head out to the Hummer.

"He can't bring himself to kill the boy, Eric." I respond the bottom dropping out of my stomach.

Hell's Bay is where the ocean meets The Glades. It has both sharks and crocks.

"He's going to let the sharks do it. Now there's one way in. Meet me there."

Now that we know where the boy is, I can feel the adrenaline starting to leave my system.

I arrive at Hell's Bay before Eric and spot a Bronco parked on the side of the road. I park behind it and cautiously exit the hummer, holding my Sig behind my back as I take a look around. If it hadn't been for Eric finding that sap in Timmons' storeroom, I doubt we would have ever found the boy. There are no houses of any kind anywhere near where we are. In fact the only signs of human life are the Bronco and Joey huddled on the piece of broken dock in the middle of a stagnant inlet.

"Joey?! Stay right there, son, I'm coming to get you," I call out as I slowly approach the Bronco to take a look inside, holding my gun at the ready. Timmons is conspicuously absent.

"I'm scared. Get me out of here." the child cries.

After determining that Timmons is nowhere to be found, I put away my weapon as I head towards where the boy is.

"You hang in there Joey." I try to reassure him. I look into the water at the bloody button down dress shirt that's floating on the surface between the shore and the section of broken dock Joey is clinging to. Guess I now know why Timmons isn't anywhere to be seen.

"Don't go in there," Joey warns as I start to slide down the bank to the murky water. It's a risk, but there is no way I'm leaving that kid out there a second longer than necessary. Maybe it's stupid, to be contemplating a swim with the gators and sharks, but the alternatives are unacceptable.

I set down my sunglasses, gun and badge on the part of the dock that's still standing and step into the brackish and opaque water.

I ease my way along the treacherous muddy bottom, feeling my way towards the dock fragment Joey is trapped on. Suddenly, I stumble and have to struggle to keep from going under. I hear the whimper of horror from the boy and hasten to reassure him - and myself. "That's alright." I say, seeing the look of pure terror on his face.

I reach a hand towards him as I approach where he's sitting. "Come on. Reach my hand. That-a-boy," I praise him as he reaches towards me. "There we go. Right on my shoulder" I tell him as he climbs into my arms. "I got ya," I rub his back to reassure him as I carry him to the shore just as Eric and several radio cars arrive. "Code four, Eric. Put it out. We've got the primary," I tell my CSI as he steps out of one of the cars.

As I climb out of the water with the boy perched on my shoulder, I can't help but feel relived that we were able to find him in time. The warmth of his little body feels nice, but it makes my eyes blur wetly as I realize that I will never have the warmth of Tim's body in my arms again.

Less than an hour later, back at the PD, the trappings of civilization have already begun to blur and dull Joey's residual fear. He's even recovered enough to be hungry, something I wonder if I'll ever feel again. "Pizza? Okay. Pizza..." I agree to his hesitant suggestion as we walk out of the elevator. "Mrs. Williams," I say as I see Mrs. Williams standing a few feet away. She looks over with a shocked expression on her face. She seems to be frozen to the spot in front of the receptionist's desk where she was pacing while waiting for us.

"Joey!" She says in disbelief as she holds out her arms for her son.

"Mommy!" Joey yells as he runs towards Mrs. Williams. I duck my head and turn away to provide them a moment of privacy for their reunion, wishing deep down that I could have a similar one with Tim.

"Hi, oh God. I thought I lost you." Mrs. Williams sobs as she picks him up for a hug. "Thank you." she whispers as she turns to face me. "Never occurred to me that Pete was involved. That he would hurt a child," she continues as I walk over to them.

"Well, Mrs. Williams, jealousy is a powerful motivator. And Pete is going away for a very long time. So you guys are going to be safe now." I inform her as I realize that the case is over and I can now go home to my empty house. That thought has me swallowing hard around the lump that has been growing in my throat all day.

"I-I heard about your CSI, I'm sorry...really." she says.

"Yeah. Thank you. Take care, partner." I blink back the moisture that gathers in the corners of my eyes at the loving picture Mrs. Williams and Joey make, the cynicism and bitter experience of my chosen career and the day's events a painful counterpoint to their joy.

"Thank you," she says again as she puts Joey down and together, they walk away, a family of two, reunited against all odds. My own family shattered.

Several hours and much too much paperwork later, I enter the empty locker room and stop in front of Tim's locker. The silence is a balm to my soul. Even though it feels cold and almost like a tomb without Tim's presence, I find solace here. I touch his nameplate with the tips of my fingers.

"You saved me," I whisper in anger. "You saved me and then left me alone, you bastard."

"I wanted you to see this before I gave it to Stetler." Calleigh says from behind me, startling me a little. "He definitely had to look at his gun," she whispers as I take the folder she's holding.

"'Lieutenant Caine's weapon expended six rounds. Tim Speedle's...'" I have to stop to clear my throat. "'Tim Speedle's malfunctioned.' There are many reasons for a misfire, aren't there?" I ask as I look up from the file.

"Faulty mechanism. Low-grade ammunition. Poor gun maintenance," she shrugs.

"Designation of any one of those would be speculation on our part, wouldn't it?"

"We never speculate. Bottom line--the gun malfunctioned." she states in a flat tone which leaves me in no doubt that she's as pissed as I am that Tim allowed his gun to get this way again.

"And that closes the IAB investigation, doesn't it?" I turn back to Tim's locker. I have to go through his stuff; I just can't seem to make myself do it right now.

"Yes it does," Calleigh sighs.

The silence stretches between us until it feels like it might break. Just as I turn to leave she looks up and says, "Now maybe you'll go to the hospital."