It was to the sound of a very shrill sounding voice screaming, "You stupid bitch! How could you?!" That forced her out of her slumber. She couldn't be sure if the pounding in her head was caused by the sound of fists hitting the bathroom door or if it was something else, but she regretted opening her eyes in the brightly lit bathroom all the same. She had a headache that rivaled any she had felt in her relatively short life and her throat was so parched that she barely made a sound when she first attempted to reply to her accuser.
Once her eyes were closed again she was finally able to try to think straight. OR at least she was able to try to think at all. The pain in her head was quite severe and her muscles were starting up their own protests from her having spent the night on the hard bathroom floor. At least she assumed she had spent the night there since that was where she had woken up.
It took a great deal of effort and fumbling around for her to find the light switches so that she could turn off the majority of the lights which she hoped would allow her to open her eyes. Once that was successfully accomplished, she moved over to the sink to get a glass of water to try to ease the pain in her throat and the unnaturally dry feeling in her mouth. As she filled the glass she let her eyes wander up to the mirror and the sight that she encountered in the reflection caused her to drop the glass into the sink in utter disbelief.
What the hell...? She thought to herself. (Because she still wasn't able to speak, even if it was just to whisper to herself.)
Her eyes were puffy and red under her smeared dark sapphire blue, glitter eye shadow and dark streaks of waterlogged black mascara. Her blood red lipstick was somehow still present, only now it was in spots on her chin and cheeks instead of on her lips. Miraculously, her hair was still sporting the artificial spirals that she had created with hot rollers the night before, only now they were no longer arranged in a neat pile atop her head that cascaded over one shoulder like a golden waterfall. No, now they looked like a nest formed by some sort of pest and made her look like a deranged woman who wasn't able to properly care for herself.
She tentatively raised her hand to probe the puffiness around her left eye with her right index finger and was startled to find that there was more to the swelling than the usual feelings she associated with a night of crying herself to sleep. If she didn't know any better she would say that under the layers of messed up makeup that she had a black eye blossoming. But that was impossible because she hadn't gotten into a fight with anyone, had she?
Don't make a sound... I WILL kill you... Stupid blonde bitch... A sinister sounding voice that she didn't recognize echoed in the back of her mind as she continued to stare at her reflection.
She knew that there was something that had happened the night before that she should remember. It had to be the reason that she woke up on the bathroom floor feeling like a dead rodent that a cat had dragged up a flight of stairs into the house.
Why did I drink so much last night? She mentally questioned herself forlornly as she tried to fill the glass with now icy cold water from the tap.
If there had been any moisture in her mouth she probably would have been salivating at the sight of the water because she was craving it so much now. As she raised the glass to her lips she actually closed her eyes in anticipation of the liquid soothing her parched mouth and throat.
At least that had been her fantasy. Her reality was much less pleasurable. As the liquid passed over her tongue en route down her throat, she was met with a very unpleasant sensation of her throat nearly convulsing at her attempts to swallow down the water that now felt like tiny pieces of ice or glass in her throat. On top of that , the dull ache that she had been feeling throughout her body since the moment that she had opened her swollen eyes had magnified to feel at least ten times worse now that she had been moving around. Or maybe it was because she had been able to look at her battered body so her mind had become conscious to the fact that it should be feeling pain. Somehow she was able to ignore all of the pain radiating through her body and forced the liquid down, but once it was gone she gasped in a breath of surprise at the pain that continued to throb in her abused throat.
Seriously? What the hell happened? She thought to herself as she carefully placed the still full glass on the countertop.
With both of her hands now free she was able to move her hair and the collar of her plush white terry cloth robe so that she could try to examine her throat. Robe? I didn't... She shook her head to force herself to cease that train of thought and she instantly regretted that because it made her headache throb painfully a with each action. One problem at a time. That's the only way you'll figure this out.
Her eyes quickly moved from the robe to her reflection to comply with her brain's wishes to see what might be wrong with her throat. She gasped in another painful breath when her gaze focused in on the red marks on the front of her neck that promised to transform into bruises in the near future. Her hands suddenly appeared at her throat to mimic the hold that would have created such marks. That action seemed to act as a trigger because she was hit with a violent flood of images as her memories of the night before came back to her in one big, jumbled rush.
She stumbled back a couple of steps and had to use the wall to help her to keep upright. Her next breath came out as a sob and fresh moisture started to trickle down her cheeks and drip off her chin. She was more than prepared to allow herself to succumb to her tears once again, but a loud knock at the door froze her in her place.
There was something different about this knocking than that of the woman's that had awoken her. Hers had sounded frantic and erratic. This sounded purposeful and authoritative. Then she heard the voice that belonged to the new knocking and it all started to make some sense to her.
After a couple more solid hits with their fist on the wood of the door, she heard a male's voice call out, "Miss, this is the Las Vegas police. Come out of the bathroom slowly with your hands empty and visible."
Her brain told her to move quickly and comply immediately, but her body protested any quick movements that she tried to make. Then a crippling fear threatened to overtake her because she knew that something truly terrible had to have happened for the police to be there and be giving her such orders. She was starting to remember the horrors that had caused her to lock herself away in the bathroom, but she was sure that no one else was aware of those events so there was no way that the police could be there because of them.
"Miss! If you don't come out now, we will use force to open the door!" The same man's voice warned in a tone that sounded like he was not to be trifled with and yet it he still managed to keep his tone devoid of any heat or anger.
"Coming!" She finally croaked out as loud as her damaged vocal cords would allow.
She then forced her throbbing legs to move despite their continuous protests. Once she reached the door she realized that her robe was so oversized that her hands would be hidden no matter how hard she tried to keep the sleeves rolled back. The best solution she could come up with was to take it off completely to avoid any misunderstandings. But first she unlocked the door in the hopes that the officer would hear the click and know that she was trying her best to follow his orders in a timely manner.
As she slipped the plush fabric off her body she let out a sigh of relief that she was wearing clothes underneath of it, skimpy as they may be. She couldn't recall undressing, but then again she didn't really have much of a recollection of any of what had happened once she and her roommate had made it to the dance floor at a club. She knew it was probably the alcohol that she had consumed that impaired the majority of her memories because there was no way that anyone could have convinced her to dance in front of that many people without first loosening her up with some strong, spirited drinks.
As she stepped out of the pool of terry cloth material, she noticed that the door was starting to open. She then moved to take a step towards it, but froze when she saw the muzzle of a handgun enter the room before the arms and body of the officer who was holding it.
Her instincts then kicked in and she raised her hands above her head and croaked out, "I'm unarmed."
His eyes widened unconsciously when she came into view, but he recovered quickly to reply, "I can see that. Now, very slowly follow me out of the room."
"Yes, sir," she forced out with a little more volume than her throat wanted her to use.
He carefully stepped backwards out of the room so that he didn't have to take his eyes or gun off of her. She kept her hands well above her head, which caused her top to lift up and expose her mid-section. She hoped that by baring more of her flesh that he would believe that she wasn't trying to conceal a weapon and that they could get through whatever was happening right now that much more quickly.
Once she was out of the bathroom, her eyes did a quick sweep of the bedroom she had claimed in the large two bedroom suite where she and her friend were staying for the weekend. The room looked much smaller now that it was filled with men and women wearing uniforms and plain clothes with stark black vests. It took her brain a couple of seconds to compute that she was looking at uniformed police officers and members of the local Crime Scene Investigation Unit. Once that fact became clear to her, she tried to think of what crime her roommate may have reported that would have brought them all here so quickly and in such great numbers.
Her eyes continued to move from face to face as she stepped closer to the muzzle of the firearm that was still being pointed at her chest. The officer was still moving on a path that lead to the opened door to her room, so she continued to follow him without hesitation. When her eyes briefly connected with any of the people remaining in her bedroom, they quickly diverted their gaze. After she noticed that a couple of them had pink coloring blossoming on their cheeks, she realized what might be causing it. She had on a dark blue, sequined tube top that was actually a size smaller than she would normally wear because it was borrowed. Due to that last fact she wasn't wearing a bra because she hadn't brought one that could work with that article of clothing, mostly because she didn't own one. That meant that her ample bosom threatened to spill out of the tight material with every step that she took. If that wasn't bad enough, she was also wearing a denim skirt that could be considered obscenely short. It fit her curves quite nicely because unlike the top, it actually did belong to her. When she had bought it, it fell to a much more respectable length, to her knees, but after an afternoon with her tailor shears and years of fraying away during use and washes, it was barely long enough to cover her firm, rounded bottom, And just like her shirt, each step that she took threatened to expose parts of herself that she really didn't want to put on public display.
Thankfully once she was out of the bedroom and in the main living room area she heard the officer say, "Okay that's far enough. Take a step to your left and press your back to the wall." Once she had done what he had instructed, he added, "Alright... lower your arms... slowly. Good. Now, press your palms against the wall... Good. Okay, so..."
"It was her! She did this to him!" The same shrill voice that had awoken her called out over the rest of the officer's statement. "Why aren't you arresting her?! She killed him!"
The officer quickly whipped around to face her accuser as he shouted, "Deputy! Get her out of here! I told you to keep her in that room!"
"Sorry Detective, she just slipped past me," the contrite female officer replied as she pulled the still seething woman back into the other bedroom in the suite. "It won't happen again."
"See to it that it doesn't."
He then turned back to the woman he had led out of the bathroom and his face started to soften ever so slightly, but it looked like it was in a forced way. Her eyes were unnaturally wide and he knew why. Her gaze had finally landed on the reason why he and his colleagues had swarmed this luxurious hotel suite. On the floor just a few feet from where they were standing was a man laying on the ground with his lower body partially hidden by the large coffee table in the center of the room. At first glance one might erroneously assume that he was asleep, but it wouldn't take long for anyone to realize their mistake. Instead of looking peaceful while slumbering, his eyes were wide open and his mouth was opened as if he was in the middle of a silent scream. There was a small trickle of blood that had dried in a trial down his nose from a small cut between his eyes, but it didn't look severe enough to be his cause of death.
Her eyes remained fixed on the corpse until her sight line was filled by a male's chest dressed in a dark, charcoal grey blazer with a prominent gold colored, star shaped badge affixed to his left breast pocket. Her eyes moved from the badge up to his dark brown eyes as he gave her a small, professional looking smile.
Now that he was certain that he had regained her full attention, he pulled out a familiar looking notebook and pen as he said, "My name is Detective Cavaliere. Are you...?" He paused to consult the notes that he had taken during a previous interview. "Are you Nicolette Radisson?"
She wasn't sure that her voice would work, so she nodded her head vigorously as she managed to answer in a still very hoarse sounding tone, "Yes sir, I am."
"And are you the friend who is listed as an occupant of this suite by the registered guest, Athena Ericksen?"
"Yes, sir."
He jotted some notes down and then turned to look over his shoulder and nodded at someone that she couldn't see. When he turned back to look at her, his facial features were looking much less comforting than they had a moment before.
"Miss Radisson, I am detaining you as a person of interest in the death of Lawrence 'Lucky' Rivero."
He gave Nicolette a few seconds to let his words sink in. He wasn't at all surprised, or concerned, that his statement elicited nothing more than a thoroughly confused frown because that was the usual reaction he received from his suspects when they were first confronted, whether they were guilty or not.
"As such, I am going to have a female officer search you for any weapons or prohibited items. Do you understand what that means Miss Radisson?"
She was still mentally playing catch up with his words, but she still answered, "Yes, sir."
Detective Cavaliere nodded and then took a couple of steps back. His spot was then quickly occupied by a female dressed in a light brown uniform shirt with dark brown accents and dark brown pants. Her hair was pulled back into a tight bun which made her facial features appear to be more angular and severe than they would be when she wasn't on duty.
There was no smile or any warmth on her face as she instructed, "Turn around and face the wall." She waited until Nicolette had completed that task before adding, "Place your hands above your head and spread your feet to about a shoulder width apart."
Nicolette had already started to 'assume the position' even before she had those orders barked out at her. Her head was still pounding with the headache that had accompanied her rude awakening so she wasn't quite able to think straight. Had her mind been clear, she probably would have been grateful that she had taken off her cowboy boots at the main door to the suite the night before and that her friend had convinced her to wear such a revealing (also known as 'skimpy') outfit because it should help the search to be completed that much more quickly since she really didn't have anywhere on her body to hide anything dangerous.
She jumped slightly when she heard the snap of a latex glove against the skin of the officer's wrist, but she didn't move out of her position. Nicolette knew what to expect next, but having the search being done while she was actually being detained in connection with a potential homicide made her feel kind of queasy. Usually she was on the other side of the equation observing the officer of the law, so she was having a hard time digesting her current predicament. But she didn't want anyone in the room to know how nervous she was, so she forced herself to keep her breathing as even as possible.
"Do you have any weapons on your person? Or anything sharp that might puncture my gloves?" The officer asked as she stepped closer to Nicolette's back.
Nicolette shook her head and quietly replied, "No Ma'am, I don't carry anything like that."
"Okay, good. Now, don't move unless I instruct you to do so."
Although her statement didn't sound at all like a question or that she required any verification that Nicolette had understood her instructions, the younger woman still responded with a very quiet, "Yes, Ma'am."
The foreign texture of the latex gloves traveling up the bare skin of her legs nearly caused Nicolette to once again jump in her spot, but she managed to force herself to remain in her place. Just as she predicted, the search was concluded fairly quickly. The officer's hands had hesitated slightly at the hem of her skirt and again at her shoulders but she didn't speak at all to the detainee. Nicolette's resolve to remain silent actually did break when the officer's hands plunged into her blonde curls and she whimpered out a couple of soft noises of distress.
"Sorry," the officer quietly apologized she tried to comb her fingers through the knotted mess that was Nicolette's hair.
She wanted to tell the officer that it was alright, but Nicolette remained silent. She bit her bottom lip to muffle the noises she was making and to stifle the sob that was creeping up her damaged throat. She was sure that if anyone tried to get her to speak that she would end up in uncontrollable sobs right then.
Nicolette remained so focused on keeping herself as calm as possibly could that she didn't notice that the officer had completed her search and had moved away. She also wasn't aware of the exchange that happened between the Constable and the Detective behind her back.
"Alright Miss Radisson, you may turn around. Please don't move away from the wall, "Detective Cavaliere instructed in a more compassion filled town, he gestured to a woman who was standing beside him and then said, "This is Catherine Willows. She's with the crime lab and she has a couple of questions for you."
Nicolette turned only her eyes to look at the very attractive, strawberry blonde haired woman. She was dressed in a very stylish navy pant suit with an emerald green blouse. Nicolette couldn't help but to think that Catherine was too pretty to work in such a grisly job. She guessed that the CSI was likely closer to being her parents age than her own, but Nicolette still thought that Catherine's looks were better suited to being a model or a showgirl and not working crime scenes filled with any number of nightmare inducing horrors.
"Hi Nicolette, I'm Catherine," the CSI said in a placating tone as she stepped towards the frightened looking suspect. "Constable Martinez noted a couple of areas of concern. Are you alright with answering a few questions for me? We can step into another room if you would prefer some privacy."
Nicolette shook her head as she timidly replied, "No, it's... it'll... I mean, you can..."
Catherine could tell that their suspect was trying to put on a brave face, but she wasn't quite managing it. Even before Nicolette's bottom lip started to quiver, Catherine was shushing her into silence. She had been working with most of the Law Enforcement Officers for a while now, so she didn't have any concerns about their level of professionalism, but she was still prepared to move the now distraught looking woman out of the room with the primary crime scene if she thought that it would help to calm her and to question her.
Catherine kept her tone low and caring as she said, "She pointed out the bruising on your neck. Do they make it hard for you to speak?"
"Y-yes, Ma'am."
"Alright. Normally we need to have verbal answers, but if you are finding that it is hurting you too much to respond, you can just nod or shake your head for any of my 'yes/no' questions, okay?'
Nicolette gave her a tentative smile and simply nodded in response. That earned her a fairly warm smile from the CSI which helped to calm her down even more.
"Do you remember how you got your bruises?"
"Sort of," Nicolette whispered as her eyes moved to the deceased male on the floor behind Catherine.
Catherine turned to follow Nicolette's gaze and she didn't attempt to hide her surprise as she asked, "He did that to your neck and wrists?"
With a shallow nod Nicolette replied, "Yes, Ma'am."
"Okay," Catherine said more to herself than to the potential suspect. She seemed to catch herself as her mind started to wander. She shook her head and then refocused on Nicolette's face as she said, "I need to take some pictures of your injuries. Can you turn and face the wall again?" Nicolette did as she was asked and then after feeling a gloved hand brush her hair out of the way and hearing a couple of clicks from the camera's shutter she heard, "Alright, please turn back around to face me. Good... Okay, can you lift your chin up a little bit? Just a little more... that's good. Hold it right there for me, Nicolette... Alright that's great, you can lower your chin now."
Nicolette had closed her eyes to help her to focus on her breathing so that she wouldn't give in to her overwhelming desire to burst into tears. She was worried that if she started to cry that it would turn into uncontrollable sobs which would be counterproductive to assisting the officers in front of her. But she couldn't help but to feel completely despondent because this was not what their weekend was supposed to be about. This weekend was supposed to be for letting her hair down and relaxing before the weeks that were akin to being in Hell because of all of her exams. Instead it had become another version of Hell for her and she was going to have to break promises that she had made to herself long before she moved into this State.
When she opened her eyes, she startled in her place because the CSI had stepped so closely to her that she could now smell the floral scent of her shampoo. Catherine's eyes were filled with so much concern that she knew many of the officers in the room would think that hit bordered on being unprofessional, but she didn't care. The woman in front of her was looking less and less like a suspect and more and more like a victim, so that was how she was inclined to start to treat her.
"Do the bruises on your neck and wrists have anything to do with the reason why you aren't wearing any underwear?" Catherine asked so quietly that she was sure only the Detective who was notes about their conversation would be able to overhear her.
Once again Nicolette closed her eyes to try to keep her emotions in check. Her bottom lip started to quiver quite vigorously, so she but down hard on it while she moved her head up and down rapidly. After a couple of seconds, she opened her eyes while still nodding because she did want to try to give a verbal reply.
As soon as the victim had her eyes open, Catherine could see the tears forming at the edges of her eyes, so she placed a gentle hand on her upper arm and silenced her by saying, "Shh, it's alright Nicolette. You don't have to say anything, I understand."
The CSI then gave her a soft smile before she turned and walked over to Detective Cavaliere's side. She once again kept her voice so low that no one but the person she was addressing would be able to hear her when she said, "There is some very obvious evidence of sexual activity on her inner thighs and given the bruising on her neck and wrists I'm inclined to believe that it wasn't consensual. I'd like to take her to the hospital to be check out, examined and medically cleared before we question her about the circumstances surrounding his death."
"Well if she was sexually assaulted, that could definitely point us in the direction of a motive for her killing him."
His eyes were still on his notebook, so Detective Cavaliere missed Catherine rolling her eyes as she replied, "How about we gather all of the evidence before we condemn her to death row?"
That comment earned her some very direct eye contact, but Catherine raised her hand to keep him silent so that she could add in a more civil tone, "Was she wearing anything else when you found her in the bathroom?"
Cavaliere forced himself not to glare at her as he answered, "I'm pretty sure that she took off the robe that's on the floor in there but I can't confirm that."
"Okay," Catherine stated as she walked back to stand by the woman who still looked like she was doing everything she could to keep from crying. She softened her features and kept her voice as comforting as possible when she asked, "Nicolette? Did you take off the robe that is on the floor in the bathroom?"
"Yes, Ma'am," she answered in the same painful sounding whisper. "Needed to show my hands were empty."
"That makes sense. Were you wearing anything else?"
"No, Ma'am. I just woke up in this and the robe."
Catherine gently stroked her upper arm. "Okay, you just wait here a minute and I'll be right back."
The CSI didn't bother to walk back towards the Detective because she had already overheard him make the request to dispatch to have Emergency Medical Services (EMS) make their way to their crime scene. Instead she moved over to her kit to retrieve some bags and a pen. Once she had done that she attempted to make her way to the ensuite of Nicolette's bedroom, but found her pathway blocked by a male CSI who was slightly taller than herself with spiked light brown hair.
"Catherine, this is supposed to be my crime scene," he stated too quietly for anyone else to hear him.
Catherine had the good graces to look contrite while she said, "I know that Greg, but this is kind of a sensitive situation. Our supposed suspect is most definitely a victim of a fairly violent sexual assault. I've been able to build a rapport with her and I'm not sure how she will react to an unknown male right now."
"I get that," he quickly answered. "But, if I'm in charge here then let me collect the evidence... Uhh here in the room I mean since you'll be going to the hospital."
Although she wanted to take charge of anything connected to her newly found victim, Catherine knew that wasn't proper protocol. She relented quickly and relinquished ownership of the evidence bags and pen to her colleague. Greg gave her a grateful smile and remained in his spot for the instructions he knew that would follow her actions.
"She said that she woke up on the bathroom floor in a robe, so..."
"So, I need to collect the robe and anything else she may have used like towels from the bathroom," he interrupted trying not to sound as annoyed as he felt.
"Right, but Greg? Take a look at her. I'm pretty confident that she hasn't showered away any of our evidence."
They both turned to look at Nicolette who was standing staring at her feet. Her toes were curling themselves in the plush hotel carpeting to try to keep herself from fidgeting in her place too much. She knew that they were talking about her, but that wasn't what was making her so uneasy, even though it was a factor. The thing that was making her the most uncomfortable was that she was becoming more alert with every waking moment and her memories of the night before were starting to come back to her; particularly those of her assault. As the memories were flashing back to her, her eyes move unconsciously towards the dead body and she couldn't help but to question how he had met that fate.
I didn't do that, did I? I couldn't have... could I? She asked herself as she forced her eyes to stare at her feet. No, he was alive when I passed out. I'm pretty sure he was... wasn't he?
"No, she definitely looks like she could use a shower, Cath," Greg nearly whispered in reply. "But that doesn't mean that she didn't use a towel or a face cloth to do some spot cleaning."
Even though she didn't mean to, Catherine looked surprised that he had thought of that. Before she could speak, Greg took a step away as he angrily added, "I do know how to do my job."
"I know you..." She let her protests trail off there because he had entered the bedroom and she didn't want to yell out her reply and attract any more attention towards herself.
Detective Cavaliere moved over to her side so that he could quietly inform her that the ambulance was ready to transport their suspect slash victim to the hospital. Catherine gave him an unfriendly look at his title for Nicolette, but she had no heat in her tone when she said, "Okay, thank you."
She went back to her kit to retrieve a thin, hospital issue blanket that she wrapped around Nicolette's nearly naked body as she explained, "There's and ambulance waiting downstairs to take you to the hospital..."
"For a rape kit," Nicolette inadvertently interrupted, sounding very dazed.
"If you consent to it, yes. But I'm more worried about the damage that has been done to your throat and I really think you should have it checked out as well."
Nicolette gave her a tentative smile as she answered, "Thank you. And yes, I consent to whatever you need from me."
"And here's where I thank you. I'll be going with you to the hospital so that I can..."
"Collect the evidence. I understand," Nicolette cut-in sounding more alert. "I understand all of that, but..." Her eyes drifted back towards the body in the room as she added, "But I'm not sure that it will matter all that much since he's... you know and all..."
Catherine gave her a sympathetic smile. "I know you might feel that way, but every little bit of evidence is crucial in a homicide investigation."
Nicolette tried to take a deep breath, but that irritated her throat so much that she started to cough. Catherine moved closer to her side to comfort her, but the younger woman was quick to wave her off.
"That's why you have my consent," Nicolette replied once her breathing had steadied. "You can search anywhere; my room here, my dorm room and my body. Whatever will help you."
Catherine shared a surprised look with Detective Cavaliere, but it was he who asked, "Do you mean that Miss Radisson? Will you be willing to put that into writing?"
"Once Ms. Willows and I are cleared from the hospital, I will be more than happy to provide you with a written affidavit of consent."
The Detective couldn't help but to show his surprise at her new, more confident manner of speech."Miss Radisson, where is it that you are attending school?"
"I'm enrolled at UNLV."
"And what are you studying?"
"I'm doing my Graduate Studies in Forensic Sciences."
"So, that means that you..."
"I completely understand to what I am granting you access. Again, once I'm discharged from the hospital, I will get it to you in writing or sign any forms that you require from me."
Cavaliere nodded then answered, "Alright. I'll be waiting for you at the station. Catherine? Constable Martinez will accompany Miss Radisson in the ambulance, you can follow them in your truck." Catherine opened her mouth to protest, but he wouldn't hear any of it. "She is still technically being detained as a Person of Interest. That means that she can't go anywhere without a police escort."
The CSI still didn't look happy, but she abandoned all of her arguments when she saw a terrified look forming in her victim's eyes. "Nicolette? Don't worry. I"ll be right behind the ambulance and I"ll be there the whole time you're at the hospital. I promise you that I will."
Nicolette nodded quickly and whispered, "Cole... everyone calls me Cole. I'll see you there Miss Willows."
With that said, she wrapped the blanket more tightly around herself as she made her way to the Constable's side. Since she wasn't allowed to move about freely, she was sure that she was going to be placed in handcuffs before she was placed in the ambulance. With that in mind, she started to drop the blanket from her body to give the officer easier access to her wrists.
"No, Miss Radisson," Constable Martinez stated as she pulled the blanket back over her shoulders. "I don't believe that you are going to be a flight risk at all, so I don't feel that I need to place you in cuffs. Do I?"
Cole smiled then answered, "No, Ma'am. I don't either. I'm happy to cooperate."
The Constable partially wrapped her arm around Cole's blanket clad shoulders to help her walk as she lead her outside. As they began to move, she looked over her shoulder to say, "We'll see you there CSI..."
"Why isn't she in cuffs! Where the fuck do you think you're going KILLER!?" A familiar shrill voice screamed from a partially opened door. "You won't get away with this! You...!"
Her threats were quickly cut off by more than once officer running over to slam the door shut to the bedroom where she was being held for questioning. Constable Martinez hadn't paused at all and kept Nicolette moving so they were out in the hallway en route to the elevator during the majority of her 'friend's' tirade.
Catherine watched them leave before she moved over to her kit to repack it. Once that was done she gave the Detective a cheeky smile before she said, "Best of luck to you with that one."
He threw her an unimpressed look and replied, "Yeah, yeah. The glamorous life of a homicide detective."
Catherine paused at the entrance of the door before catching up to the other two women so that she could issue her last cutting remark of, "Viva Las Vegas!"