Chapter Two
Lindsay checked her watch once more, if only to confirm what she was seeing was right. It was some time before nine, and by the CSI's standards, this had to be a first. It was a very rare occasion to find herself strolling into work to start a shift at nine am. Most days she didn't know where she finished to where she began. It was often the case of several days blurring into one and only going home once Mac finally caught her falling asleep on her feet.
Walking through the corridors of the labs, she relished in the moment. She had full intentions of basking in the moment, taking advantage of the notion she was almost working normal hours.
Only three steps shy of the break out room and the cup of coffee she was so eagerly looking forward to, she heard her name being called from the opposite end of the corridor.
"Lindsay!"
Turning around, she saw Stella moving quickly from the now closing elevator doors.
"Hey Stella."
"Have you clocked in yet?"
Lindsay shook her head, "Not yet."
"Good, because you're with me." Stella said as she continued walking.
Lindsay looked down at her watch, eight fifty and already there was work – so much for a normal nine five.
Realising Stella wasn't going to stop, Lindsay picked up pace to catch up with her, "Where are we going?"
The two women walked side by side, passing the glass walls of the labs and the technicians that worked them.
"Morgue."
"What's the case?"
"DB was found in an alleyway between Penn Station and Madison Square Gardens."
"Cause of death?"
Stella shrugged, "That's what we're hoping to find out now."
"Suspicious?"
"Not as such yet. Vic appeared to have no visible wounds, no initial signs of foul play. But dressed in a ball gown and diamond jewellery it doesn't look run of the mill."
"Ball gown?"
"Uh huh."
"I'll never understand this city. So, are we thinking homeless?"
"Not this girl."
"ID?"
Stella shook her head as she held open the swinging door for Lindsay, which would lead to the reception area of the morgue. "None."
"How do we know she's not homeless?"
"Wait until you see her, then you'll know why."
Lindsay pressed the button for the elevator that led down to the morgues below the building.
"You know I don't do the lift to the morgue."
"Come on Stell, its only three floors down."
Stella carried on walking towards the spiral stairs that led to the basement of the building. A habit the older CSI had picked up after the past sweltering summer, where one faulty cable wire resulted in Stella being stuck between floors for a good three hours. Not something she wanted to repeat anytime soon.
"Stairs."
"But–"
"Just think of the workout Lindsay."
Sighing Lindsay shook her head as she followed Stella down the stairs, ensuring she held onto the rail.
"So we're no further than square one?"
"We've got to hope she's somewhere in the system already."
After the lengthy ten-minute jaunt down the steps, Lindsay had been briefed on everything Stella knew. Considering the amount of information they'd collected so far, it didn't take long.
Their entrance into the morgue didn't go unnoticed. Both women smiled when their ME greeted them on duty, Marty Pino.
"Ladies."
"Hey Marty." Stella greeted, grabbing a lab coat from the hook on the wall. "What have you got for us?"
Lindsay followed Stella's lead and tugged on a lab coat also, joining her supervisor at the autopsy table where their Jane Doe was laid out under the harsh glare of the fluorescent lights.
Studying the young woman's face, Lindsay realised that there was no way she could be homeless. Her blonde hair was healthy; its curls framed her face. Eyebrows perfectly waxed and shaped. The manicured hands and feet alone were enough to confirm she was far from homeless.
"I can't give you much, we've not finished full autopsy yet. But what I can tell you is that I have pre-empted your next question." He finished, giving the CSI's a knowing grin.
Stella raised an eyebrow, "And that would be?"
"Blood has already been sent up for a full tox screen."
She smiled, "And fingerprints?"
Marty pointed to the folder at the head of the autopsy table, which Lindsay being closest to, promptly picked up and started flicking through.
"Not good I'm afraid."
"Nothing?" Stella asked dismayed, her smile promptly disappearing as she read the report over Lindsay's shoulder.
Marty shook his head, "No hits in AFIS."
"What's the preliminary so far?" Lindsay asked.
Marty paused for thought, "I've got a couple of theories going, but I've got a few more avenues to check out first before I can give a truly definite answer."
"What are you thinking Marty?" Stella questioned, noticing the ME appeared distant.
"Well, when she came in – the grey skin, blue tinges on the fingers, toes and lips, along with dilated pupils. You're looking at a classic case of hypothermia, I'm waiting on the rest of my examination to confirm."
Stella frowned, "No foul play?"
"I don't know. Something about all this is off. From the initial examination, she was a perfectly healthy young woman. I can't see what would have caused such a sudden case of hypothermia. You see this kind of thing with the homeless, not being able to keep warm enough in the winter months. But this is a different story, judging by what she was wearing when she came in and the time she was found, she definitely wasn't homeless and I don't think she was out there that long."
"On the news they reported that it dropped into the minuses last night." Lindsay commented, knowing all too well how cold it'd become in past months.
"I know," the ME still looked puzzled, "I'm hoping the tox results give us something. I'm sorry I can't be more of a help to you guys at the moment."
Stella gave him a reassuring smile, "Don't worry Marty, I know you'll find us something."
"I'll page you when I get the full reports."
…
"So, this is how it works then?"
Adam raised a puzzled eyebrow as he looked up at the blonde in front of him, "Come again?"
The demure lab technician flicked the paper Adam had open in front of him, his feet swung casually over the spare stool in front.
"I get the joy of working all these DNA and trace samples, while you have the pressing job of reading up on," She leant over to see what it was he was reading, "oh wow, the latest celebrity love triangle."
"I'll have you know–"
"Know what?" She chided playfully.
"I'll have you know Liberty, that this information I'm reading now will have it's use some day. You'll need me and you'll be sorry."
"When exactly?" She asked, tucking a stray platinum curl behind her ear. "The next time NYPD is called out to the Jolie-Pitts household?"
"You'll be sorry."
"I'll be sorry? I think not Mr. I'm getting paid to sit on my ass all day. I think you'll be sorry when you find yourself out on that sorry ass of yours, with no job to speak of if you don't start on that pile of DNA samples Marty sent up."
"Anyone would think you were in charge." He taunted sarcastically, a playful tone to his voice as she rounded the stainless steel station.
"Don't make me pull ranks on you Ross." She warned, with a pointed manicured nail.
He swung his feet off of the stool in front of him and gave a quick salute, "Yes ma'am."
She rolled her eyes, "That's better."
Judging by her appearance alone it was hard to place the young woman as the forensic lab technician manager. Dressed immaculately, full face of makeup, not a hair out of place and always in heels, due to her demure height of five foot five, she was known for the poised elegance she brought to the labs.
By her mantra, and her defence when challenged on the effort she made in the labs when it was 'only work', was that if she was going to spend all her time there, then she may as well get dressed up for it.
It wasn't as if she was going to find the time to show it off anywhere else.
Liberty Vaughn had become the forensic laboratory manager in the leave of her predecessor Jane Paulson at the age of twenty-nine. A young age by any standard, but a well-deserved promotion at that. One that was orchestrated by Jane herself before she left and overseen by the labs chief co-director Rhea Moore.
She's started working at the labs once she left university at the age of twenty-two, after a successful internship in her last year of study. Working her way through various departments, even toying with the idea of becoming a detective, she settled eventually in the forensics department. Showing a keen interest in trace and DNA, two areas that were her main focus of study, it wasn't long before she found a home in the heart of the NYPD labs.
Liberty looked up from the microscope she'd settled behind, blowing a curl out of her face, she propped her hand on her hip.
"Please tell me you're planning on moving Ross."
Adam grinned devilishly, still sat in the seat he'd promised he'd move from only moments ago. At only two years younger than his superior, he knew there was a lot more he could get away with than what he could when Jane had been around, but also knew his limits. By judging the look that was on her face, he gathered he had a good twenty minutes before Liberty's patience ran thin.
He held his hands up in defence, "I relinquish my talents to you."
"Thank you, now get on with it."
"It's a shame," Adam said as he finally stood from his stool, "that this lab can't run without my charisma."
Liberty said nothing, choosing only to give a piercing glare. Pointing at the samples waiting for Adam to process before returning to her microscope.
…
Danny carried the gown in its garment bag through the corridors of the labs; the news that foul play may not have been a factor had indeed reached his ears. Though this didn't stop his determination. He'd originally gone over the dress upon his arrival at the labs some hours ago, but his lack of success only drove him to pull it out once more.
He was set on finding something of substance that would give them some connection to their Jane Doe, if only to give her a name.
She deserved that at least.
He'd only been carrying for a short while, from the drying room to the layout room. A simple five-minute journey down the corridor, but with the weight of the dress hanging above his head he had to admit it was quickly weighing him down.
When the dress was clothing their Jane Doe, it was impressive but once hung up you could appreciate the splendour of the design. The ruby red creation, made from silk lamé and taffeta, had a shaped neckline with a thick boned corseted structure underneath its bodice giving the dress its extra weight. The layers of taffeta and silk beneath the skirt of the dress were endless, pooling on to floor into a cathedral train at the back. It was not a dress that was worn out casually on a Friday or Saturday night out.
But Danny could only imagine dresses like this were made with the intention of making the wearer, miserable, unable to eat or drink anything the entire time they wore it.
Walking past the main trace and DNA labs Danny was thankful when the end was in sight and picked up pace to lay the dress out on the layout table.
…
Liberty half paid attention to the speech Adam was currently giving on the finer points of studying celebrity culture, having long learnt to tune him out and give the corresponding nod or tut of disapproval at the correct intervals to let him know she was still interested. It was while she was searching for a reference sample; turning on her stool to the bench behind her, which faced the glass wall of the lab, did she see Danny in the layout room across from her.
She would have turned back had she not caught sight of the CSI smoothly pull the gown from the garment bag. Her jaw near enough dropped to the floor in disbelief as she watched him lay it out against the artificially lit table. Dropping her clipboard back onto the bench in front of her, she scrambled out of the lab leaving Adam mid conversation and bewildered as he watched her run across to the layout room.
"Uh, Liberty?"
It was too late, she'd already left the room in the time it took him to realise she was leaving.
The door burst open and Liberty nearly fell into the room. Danny looked up casually from the magnifying glass he was using to study the hem of the dress for any trace he may have missed.
"Liberty." He said, watching the blonde technician catch her breath.
"How the hell did you manage to get a hold of a vintage couture designer gown?" She said once she'd fully regained her composure, in awe of the dress that lay before her.
"Vintage what?" Danny asked, watching the lab technician inspect the gown from all angles. The only vintage he had any true knowledge of was wine, and that was limited to what Flack had taught him once before a date that he wanted to impress.
She shot him an incredulous look, "This dress Danny, is worth more than both our salaries combined."
"Tell me Vaughn, how the hell do you know that?"
Liberty raised an eyebrow as she stood up from her inspection of the dress. "Just because it appears I spend my life in this lab doesn't mean I don't try and attempt some form of one when I eventually manage to tear myself away from the building."
Danny smiled, "Ok I get it, so how'd you become miss fashion savvy?"
"Since I saw this dress two days ago." She answered matter-of-fact,
Danny's eyes grew wide, "How did you manage to see a dress that was on our dead body two days ago? Let alone a dress that we're assuming is worth thousands."
"It was at the Fashion Institute of Technology. They've currently got an exhibit of vintage couture showing."
"Couture? So that's important right?" He asked cautiously.
Liberty laughed, "Yes Danny. Mostly one of a kind stuff, couture is fundamentally handmade. High end and only the best fabrics are used, crazy expensive. Put it this way, you won't be seeing another one of these wandering around New York City."
Danny had just found the open lead they were so desperately looking for. The adrenaline rush of new information had him flying around the table he'd been stood behind and grabbing Liberty by the shoulders.
"I'd kiss you if I didn't know what the repercussions would be."
Liberty was unmoved by his sudden euphoria, "I'd keep moving then if I were you Messer." She turned around once he'd let go of her and he had the door to the lab open, "One more thing, just remember to credit me as the one who broke the case."
He gave the blonde his best smile, "Liberty, at this moment I'd give you anything."
"Be careful with what you say Messer, I might just take you up on that one day."