A/N: Sorry this took so long; it's been a crazy few months. Thank you all for your reviews, they are the reason I am continuing this even when I should be working... oh well. Oh and this chapter is dedicated to my physics teacher who taught me everything I know.

"That's right, I'm looking for a Hummer that sustained... no I don't want to buy a Hummer... I'm calling on behalf of the Los Vegas police... no sir; you are not in any trouble. I am just trying to acquire some information..." Grissom couldn't help but laugh as Sara pushed her people skills to the breaking point. This was the seventh and last number they had to call, if it didn't turn up anything they were back at square one.

"That's quite alright sir. Okay, I'm looking for a Hummer that sustained a rear collision... you have one? When was it brought in? ... Two days ago? That's great... oh... no... no, that can't be the car. Thank you for your time." Sara looked like a six year old sulking as she set the phone down.

"What was wrong?"

"His Hummer was lime green." She was looking awfully cute now; she even had her arms crossed. Without realizing it Grissom went and sat down next to her on the break room couch. "You looked at all their financial records right? Did anything look out of place?"


"Friends and family?"

"Both their parents are dead. She had a sister in Florida; he was an only child. As for friends, I talked to bunch of them. It didn't seem like anyone cared about the Kenneths enough to kill them, much less kill for them. This is impossible! This is worse than a nettle in a haystack. I mean we don't even know if the vehicle is from this state. Not to mention it could be a rental or borrowed... or stolen,"

"If the car is impossible to find perhaps we should look for the person."

"How, under 'hit man'?" Sara began flipping through the yellow pages until she reached 'H'. All of a sudden she stopped. "I think I know how to find him. We need to check the local hospitals."

This sudden reverse in mood amused Grissom, but her plan confused him. "If he didn't take the Hummer to the shop we can't assume that he would risk going to the hospital for minor injuries."

"Unless he had to." It was times like these when Sara was glad she had a degree in Physics. "Okay, when two vehicle are in a collision they each exert a force on each other, and force is equal to mass times acceleration, right? Well acceleration is distance per time squared. If you think about it then, force is inversely proportional to time. So as time increases the force decreases. Which means that the more time an accident takes less force is applied to the occupant of the car. That's why cars are made to buckle in an accident; it prolongs the crash, weakening the force. But Hummers were built for war, they weren't built to break."

"So the force experienced by our driver would be far greater than what the Kenneths experienced."


"Well we have some more calls to make don't we?"

Brass smiled as he opened the door to the break room. He had just been wondering how many hours straight Gil and Sara had been working, only to find them both asleep on the couch, together. "I should've become a CSI. While I was out interviewing employees from all of the hospitals in the city, you two were what, taking a cat nap?" His comment woke them and he suppressed a smile as he watched them both look at him, then at each other, then the couch, and then back at him, a similar blush flooding over both their cheeks. Out of sympathy he handed them the folders he had collected and left the room before they felt the need to explain themselves.

Grissom graciously grabbed the pile and handed it to Sara as he logged on to the DMV's website. "The first person with consistent injuries, Michael Jauss, a twenty-seven year old from Vegas." She read out, pulling up a chair beside him.

"He's unmarried and lost his license for drunk driving two months ago. Before that he had a 1993 Ford Taurus, who's next?"

"Well here's our killer, Martha Moses, an eighty-eight year old, also from Vegas."

Grissom also smiled, but preceded to type the name in anyway, "A widow, she hasn't even renewed her license in ten years, much less own any vehicles. Anyone else?"

"Yeah, one more. James Murphy... wait a second. I remember this name. He worked with Adam Kenneth, they were partners."

"Well I think we should pay Mr. Murphy a visit. Hopefully nothing goes wrong." Sara rolled her eyes at his comment but followed him out to his SUV.

James Murphy was a middle-aged man who lived alone just outside the city. His home reminded Sara of the boys' dorms in university with cloths, books, and week-old pizza boxes all over the floor and furniture. He had let them in with a grunt and now standing in his living room Sara was quite sure he still had a hangover from the night before. "What'd you guys want to know about again?" he asked, bleary-eyed.

"Where you were Tuesday and Wednesday night." Grissom said rather irritated that he had to repeat himself for the third time.

"Right, right. I was at home."

"Can anyone confirm that?"

"Um...no I don't think so. It's just me around here," as he spoke he absentmindedly scratched the brace around his neck.

"How did you hurt your neck?" Sara asked, already aware of what he had told the hospital.

"Oh this, I was helping a friend move into his house. I tripped over one of the boxes and landed funny." Grissom and Sara exchanged looks. "I'm telling you, that's the God's honest truth."

"I didn't see a car in your driveway, do you often rent a vehicle for work."

At Grissom's last comment Mr. Murphy tensed up and unconsciously put his hands, which were also damaged, into his pocket, hiding the bruises. "You know, I've got to get ready for work. Sorry, but you'll have to go."

"He had told the hospital he had hurt himself falling down stairs. Not to mention that neither of his 'stories' could result in the type of injuries he sustained."

"It not enough for a warrant though,"

"Well we can get Brass to pull his credit, see if he..." She was interrupted by Grissom's cell phone.

He gave her an apologetic look, as he read the name on caller ID. "Speak of the devil. Grissom."

"Hey Gil, there is something you REALLY need to see. I think I found your Hummer."