It had been the perfect night. Girl meets guy. Guy buys girl a couple of drinks. They dance and have fun. And what do you know, they end up back at the guy's apartment. Rolling over to face her night's companion, she stared at him for a long time. Sighing heavily, she sat up, scratching the back of her neck before she swung her legs over the side of the bed.
Leaning forward, she closed her eyes and just rocked back and forth for a second, regretting last night terribly. She knew she shouldn't have done it. She hadn't been that drunk, she could have refused. But everything at that point had just been so tempting. It had been so long. She couldn't refuse an offer from a man like that.
"Hey, that was great," he said, stretching. He leaned over to stroke her naked back, smiling.
"Don't get used to it," she said, standing up and taking the sheet with her to hide her naked form. She wandered around the room, picking up her clothes and slipping them onto her slender frame.
Then her cell phone rang. Walking over to the night stand, she flipped it open and held it to her ear. "Willows."
"Hey Cath, we've got a homicide here," Warrick said. "Gris said to have you come down."
"I'm on my way," she said after Warrick gave her the phone number. Shutting it and putting the phone in her jean pocket, she grabbed her jacket.
As she headed out the door, he grabbed her thigh. "Do I get to see you again?" he asked, grinning.
"Don't count on it," she said, breaking free of his grasp and walking out the door. She saw her car in the driveway, parked in a crooked fashion. She had been drinking and driving, or maybe she was just in a hurry to get inside. She couldn't remember which one.
Opening the door, she slipped inside and started her car. She pulled out of the driveway and drove off, not giving the man's house another glance as she headed off to work. Work always came first.
The crime scene was only a few blocks away, so she was there within a few minutes. The yellow police tape had been set up, and officers were scattered around the area. Getting out of her car, she opened up the back and got out her kit before she scanned the group of Law Enforcement Officials for Warrick.
He was within the boundaries of the tape, already processing the body. Thanking the officer that held the tape up for her, even though she still had to bend down to avoid it, she set her kit next to Warrick's and crouched down. "What do we got?"
The woman's face was swollen and puffy, bruises discoloring her face. Poor girl. She had to of had to suffer a major beating, and pain, before she died. Catherine sighed, looking at the silver watch on Warrick's wrist; three in the morning.
"Marissa Jones from Kansas," Warrick said, reading the driver's license he found in her wallet. Fiddling with her wallet, he pulled out a stack of receipts tucked away in a pocket. "She racked up quite a bill at the Monaco," he said, looking threw the receipts. "Quite a few bills, actually."
"Signs of struggle," Catherine commented, putting on her latex gloves and examining the woman's wrists which had abrasions on them.
Catherine looked up and down the large alley, watching cars go by. "People were close enough to where they could have seen this girl being beaten to death," she said in slight disgust.
"People in this town don't want to get involved in stuff like this. It's easier to look the other direction," Warrick said, but sounding equally disgusted. "It's Vegas."
"Yeah, It's Vegas alright," Catherine said, sighing heavily. Hitting Warrick gently on the shoulder, she motioned down the alley. "I'm going to take a look around, maybe the killer dropped something."
"Or killers," Warrick said. "Those were some major wounds that girl had."
This disturbed Catherine greatly. Greg was already in the hospital for suffering a similar fate along with two others, and one had died. A mere group of teenagers and a single adult who thought that beating tourists to death would be fun. But those kids were caught, weren't they? Or had they just influenced others, as the story had been all over the news. Along with the video from the cell phone, which didn't help anything.
She walked carefully down the ally, making sure to not over look everything as she directed her flashlight across the pavement. "I've got a blood trail," she called, crouching down to swab the little droplets of blood she found. "You think she got part of her killer?"
Warrick scraped under her nails, putting the substance into a small brown envelope and setting it neatly into his kit.
"Do you think we got all of the fanny smackers, or whatever they call it," Catherine said, walking back to Warrick's side and looking down at him.
"Well," he said, standing up. "The original group took their belongings. All of the money in her wallet is there, along with those expensive rings and her watch," he said, motioning to her hands. "I'm not sure what to make of this."
"Think that's her COD?" Catherine asked, motioning to the vic's battered face.
"I believe determining the COD is my job," David said, kneeling down next to the body, two coroners standing idly behind him. "The abrasions to her face and body could be fatal. But COD is undeterminable until the autopsy," he said, looking up brightly and motioning to the coroners. They put her in a body bag and carried her to the ambulance, and then they'd transport her to the morgue.
"Give me a call when Doc's done," Warrick said as David left, waving his goodbyes. Turning back to the scene, Warrick swabbed a trace of blood on the pavement. "You think our vic ran?" he asked, motioning to the street. The evidence so far supported it, but they just started the case.
Catherine had wandered off again, depending on her flashlight to see everything, although the street lights did prove to be a help also. She opened a dumpster, holding it open with one hand while she held the flashlight with the other.
"I've got something," she said, waiting for Warrick to take a hold of the dumpster lid before Catherine leaned forward to pull out a bloody towel. An officer came up with a big brown envelope, and Catherine set it in there. She took it from the officer, nodding her thanks as she turned back to Warrick. "Let's get this stuff to the lab."
Nodding, Warrick picked up his kit, but grabbed Catherine's arm before she got into the car. "Can I hitch a ride with you? My car's at home," he said with a sheepish grin.
"How'd you get here?" Catherine asked, quizzical.
"Wife dropped me off," he said, getting into the passenger's seat after they put their kits in the back of the car. He put on his seatbelt and shut the door, tossing a glance at her. Warrick's wife wasn't a prime subject for conversation between them. "She was on her way to her sister's," he said before Catherine could ask. "Things aren't looking good, Cath."
"You'll work it out," she said encouragingly. She backed out of the ally and headed towards the office, trying to ignore the awkwardness in the silence that had befallen on them.