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Chapter Three
Sara pushed open the doors of the morgue. The room was cold, and always had a faint smell of decomposition, making her nose crinkle up a little, as used to it as she was.
"Sara." Doc Robbins greeted her, smiling.
"Hi, Doc." She headed over to the autopsy table in the middle of the room, her eyes falling to the body in front of her. "What's C.O.D?"
"Traumatic asphyxia, due to compression on the throat," he motioned to the girl's neck, now in the bright lights of the morgue, the finger marks of the killer were clear on her pale skin. Thumbs pressing down on her windpipe, the other fingers round the back of her neck, pressing against the spine.
"Time of death?"
"Judging by the commencing dissipation of rigor mortis, I would say Wednesday evening."
"Any defensive wounds?" Sara looked up at him, and then back down at the body. The girl was very pretty, defined cheek bones, toned muscles, shiny hair. Sara imagined what a smile on the girl's face would have looked like. She would never smile again - someone had taken that away from her forever, taken the life from her body.
"… Sara?" Doc Robbins nudged her, "There are no defensive wounds on her. I've collected an S.O.E.C kit, it was one of the worst I've seen."
"Where's her nightdress?"
"On the side, with the kit." He motioned with his walking stick to the table behind her. "I already dropped off fingerprints with AFIS technician."
Grabbing the bagged nightdress and the rape kit, Sara left the morgue. She quickly made her way back to Greg.
"Hi S—"
"Greg, can you process this ASAP?"
Greg stared at her, and she felt her blood begin to boil as a small smile crept on his lips, "What's the magic word?" he asked.
She put the S.O.E.C kit down on his table, "I don't care what anyone else has, or says, this is your first priority, you got it?" she snapped.
"Sure." He looked rather sheepish at his teasing, but persisted with his questions. "Have you cleared it with Grissom?"
"Of course." She lied, it was her and Grissom's case, so she had no reason to ask him anyway - of course he'd want it to be a priority. "Text me when you're done with the kit."
Heading into the next lab room, she didn't even have to ask Joanna for the prints, she passed them information straight over; obviously she'd heard Sara's snapping at Greg in the adjoining room.
Sara read the paper aloud, "Prints on the door handle – victim. Prints from noodle box – victim."
"Sorry I couldn't be of more help." Joanna smiled lightly.
"The bastard. He must have worn gloves." She let out an exasperated sigh, her phone interrupting her thoughts, and she quickly grabbed it from her pocket – Greg surely couldn't have processed the rape kit that quickly? It was a text from Brass.
DB, 128 Rosemont Av. Same M.O.
Sara's legs had already started making their way down the corridors of the lab by the time she'd finished reading the message. Walking past the evidence room where Grissom sat, she realized she was still holding the victim's nightdress. She placed it in its polythene bag on the table with the rest of the evidence. "Are you coming?" she asked Grissom.
He nodded, and picking up her evidence collection case on the way, they both climbed into Grissom's car. The car ride was silent, Sara scribbling down evidence notes in her notebook.
Pulling up outside another apartment block, Sara glanced down at the clock on the dashboard – 1am. She followed Grissom as they approached the building's entrance, Brass stood outside.
"I'll show you upstairs." He said, skipping pleasantries.
Sara and Grissom followed him up the staircase to the third floor, to room 345.
"Neither are Murder Central." Grissom glanced at Sara and she nodded. The apartments of the victims were both in the middle of corridors, other apartments either side.
The apartment block they were currently in was a considerable distance from the previous one, Sara guessed somewhere about ten miles apart, and was completely different in décor of the building, and surroundings outside, this one was in a built-up busier area of town, but as Brass pushed open the apartment door, she knew instantly it was the same killer.
The woman's body lay on the bed in much the same position as the previous victim's. T-shirt still on, but any clothing from the bottom half of her body was on the floor. The apartment was small, a studio flat, with a sofa bed, television, some books and not much else. The victim's wallet was left out on top of the television; Sara picked it up with now latex-covered hands.
"Susan Apple."
"He likes to know their names." Grissom made his way into the bathroom of the apartment.
"Wallet is full, not interested in their money, just them." She looked over at the still body on the bed; her heart and soul ached at the sight.
"Police had to break the door in. Landlord is away on holiday until tomorrow so no key access. Neighbour heard screams, called the police, by the time they arrived there was no sign of the killer. Neighbour stayed inside their apartment, so no didn't see anyone leave."
"Any CCTV in the corridors?" Sara asked.
"No CCTV anywhere in the building."
"Can you take a full statement from the neighbour, Brass?" Grissom came out of the bathroom, and went into the kitchen. Brass nodded and left the room.
Sara shone her light over the woman's body, searching for fibres or hairs that the killer may have left behind. Thin, brunette, no defensive wounds. Blood had pooled on the bed below the victim, another rape. The marks around her neck were the same as before. "This is all the same, Grissom."
He came and stood next to her, "I think our murderer has just turned serial."