Chapter Three

Its Not So Bad

To love is to risk not being loved in return. To hope is to risk pain. To try is to risk failure, but risk must be taken because the greatest hazard in life is to risk nothing.

Nick couldn't quite contain his smile as he ventured into the office the next morning and found yet another box being discussed by his colleagues. Grissom was no where in sight.

"Where's Griss?" He asked of no one in particular.

"In with H." Sara said.

"And Speed." Warrick added.

"And Eric." Catherine put in.

"What are they doing in from Miami?" Everyone shrugged.

"Don't know, but you've got another package." Catherine informed as though Nick could fail to notice it. She handed it to him. Huge and weighty when compared to the others.

"So what was in the last one?" Sara half asked, half demanded.

"Trip to Delphine's." Nick murmured not expecting them to get it. Remembering the chocolate in his pocket he reached in and plucked it out. Catherine snatched it up halfway to his mouth.

"Nick you went to Delphine's. Please give me her number and I'll date this girl." Catherine half moaned stuffing his chocolate in her mouth. Nick scowled, sighed and opened the new package… Or started to. He had the book of collected poems halfway out when Grissom shoved into the room.

"Nick stop!" He ordered or as close as he ever got to it.

"What?" Nick said pausing as he watched H, Speed and Eric pour into the room behind him.

Horaito stepped passed Grissom and looked at the box.

"May I?" He said holding out his hand. Nick handed him the box, book clutched in his other hand. Horaito turned it over looking at the left bottom corner. A small scribble in black ink marred the surface. Some CSI I am. Nick thought, he had never noticed it before.

"Nick how many of these have you gotten?" H asked. He shrugged.

"Four including that one, over the last two weeks. Why?" H sighed.

"Because this is the insignia of a serial killer who up until recently was working in Miami." H gritted coolly.

Nick blinked rapidly, feeling his world tilt. It felt like someone had just punched him in the chest.

"You're sure because of a mark." Nick spilled. He looked at it hazily, nothing more than a dot really.

"No Nicholas, I'm sure because this is his signature, the murder you're investigating is his style and you… You are his type…"