Chapter 4

Catherine Willows was already busy processing the crime scene when Sara Sidle walked in, field kit in hand.

Sara stopped in the doorway of the home's master bedroom in shock.

"Hey, Cath," she called her supervisor's attention. When Catherine looked up at her, she continued, "This the Preston case from two months ago, all over again."

Catherine straightened, "Who worked the scene with you on that one?"

"Ray," was Sara's simple response. "Damn!" she went on, "Every shred of evidence we pulled on that one lead no where. We had fingerprints, DNA, even shoe prints. There was nothing in CODIS or IAFIS. We ruled out most of our suspects, but haven't been able to track down the others."

Sara didn't usually lose her cool, but to walk in on the handy work of the same killer a second time shook the veteran CSI to her core.

"I'm going to call Ray in to help process this one with us," Catherine said, reaching for her cell phone. "Go out and find Brass, he's canvassing the neighbors. Tell him we're looking at a possible serial."

"Sure," Sara complied, setting her kit down and turning to find Brass.

Neighborhood surrounding the Scott/McDermitt residence

Captain Jim Brass was striding toward the home to the right of the crime scene. He'd already been to the house on the left, talking at length to the homeowner.

He was about to ring the doorbell and rouse the household from sleep, when Sara called to him as she ran up the sidewalk.

"Brass!"

"Sara?" Brass inquired, seeing the disturbed look in her eyes. "What is it?"

"Remember the Preston case from a couple of months back?"

A smirk crossed Jim's face, "That's not one I'm going to easily forget," he replied, thinking of the swinger party he'd interrupted, and subsequently broken up. That had been loads of fun!

"It's the same guy, Brass. Walking in that bedroom was like walking into the Preston bedroom all over again."

It was hard for Sara to tell in the dim light, but she thought Brass's face paled.

"Thanks for the heads up," he replied, then stood there for a moment, watching her walk back to the scene.

Jim then turned and pushed the doorbell with a little more force than was truly necessary.

A few minutes later, the light above the door came on, and the door opened.

The man standing in the doorway was just typing a robe around his pajama bottom clad body. His eyes were sleep blurred, and his shaggy brown hair was tousled.

Jim held up his badge, "I'm Jim Brass, Vegas crime lab. Did you hear anything from your neighbor's house tonight? Anything unusual?"

The man let out a sleep befuddled, "Huh? Do you know what time it is?"

"Crime never sleeps, buddy! Did you hear anything?" Jim was getting annoyed, his tempter rising. "There are three dead bodies next door!"

That seemed to pull the man out of his half asleep state. His eyes suddenly widening, "Sarah? Bobby? Dylan?"

"They're the threesome who live over there, right?" Jim asked, pointing to the house containing the dead bodies.

"Yeah! What happened?" the stunned man wanted to know.

"They were murdered," Jim didn't believe in mincing words. "When was the last time you saw them?"

"I saw Dylan when I left for work this morning, around eight thirty. I think he was going grocery shopping."

"Today's Thursday. None of them would have been leaving for work?" Jim asked, making a few scratches in his notebook.

"All three of them work from home. Something about keeping a low profile, I think."

"Who in the neighborhood knew about their relationship?"

"Pretty much everyone, I think. There were a few people who didn't approve, but they kept their views to themselves." Laughing nervously, he said, "I mean, they can't say much when most of this neighborhood attend a swinger party at least once a week."

"Yes, I'm sure they didn't want to be known as hypocrites. I'll need those names."

"Yeah, sure," the man replied, rattling off a few names.

"Hey, there wouldn't happen to be one of those parties tonight, would there?"

The man glanced at him strangely, then said, "Look, Mr. Brass, my wife and I aren't into that lifestyle, so I really wouldn't know."

"Okay, thanks," Jim replied, holding up a hand placatingly. "Did you hear anything earlier tonight? Even if it seemed insignificant at the time?" he went on.

The man's eyes took on a far away look, as he tried to recall anything from the evening before. Finally, shaking his head, he said, no nothing."

"Here's my card, in case anything comes to you," Jim said, handing the sleep befuddled man his LVPD card.

"Okay, sure,"

Jim turned away as the man closed his front door and the front light was extinguished.

Continuing down the road, Jim knocked on doors and talked to rudely awakened residents – those that were actually home, that is.

There seemed to be an inordinate amount of empty homes for the time of night, so Jim wasn't too surprised when he was greeted at the door of the next home by an extremely drunk, scantily clad woman of perhaps forty.

"Come in an' join the party!" she slurred loudly.

Jim could see into the livingroom behind her, where both men and women were in various states of undress and were involved in various acts of passion. There was also drug paraphernalia on the coffee table.

The woman had just started fingering Jim's sport coat – angling to sidle up against him – when Jim pulled his badge and held it up for her to see. "I wouldn't do that."

"Oh, shit!" she cursed, taking a step back, suddenly more sober.

Motioning two deputies in with him, Jim raised his voice for all to hear, "Okay, folks! Show's over!" Pointing at a man who had been about to try to conceal the drugs, Jim said, "Don't touch that!" The man froze.

The two deputies checked the rest of the house, and soon all the partiers present were huddled in a group in the kitchen.

"There was a murder across the street tonight," Jim began.

There were gasps, and most of the women had raised their hand to their mouth.

Several people asked, "Who was it?" at the same time.

"Sarah and Bobby Scott and Dylan McDermitt were murdered in their home. I understand they occasionally attended these little shin digs. I also understand that not everyone here was down with their life choice. We will be collecting DNA samples, and fingerprints from everyone here. The sooner you cooperate, the sooner you get to leave."

A few people let out an outraged, "You aren't getting anything from me!"

Jim quickly squashed that with, "If I have to obtain a warrant, we'll be here for another four hours, at least!"

Several hours later: LVPD morgue

David had just finished helping Doc Robbins lay Sarah Scott's body on the autopsy table, when an exhausted Sara Sidle walked in.

Doc Robbins gave Sara a sad smile, "Hey, Sara! Long night all around."

"You said it!" she agreed. "Please, tell me you have a case breaker for me!"

"Wish I could. We've already finished up on Bobby Scott and Dylan McDermitt. Just getting ready to start on Sarah Scott."

"Well, what have you got so far?" Sara asked, stifling a yawn.

"Cause of death was exsanguination. Vics bled to death from multiple lacerations and stabbing. I sent blood to tox, but I'm pretty sure they were drugged with Ambian, like the first three."

"Did they have fibers in their teeth from being gagged with a towel?"

"Just like the first vics," Doc Robbins affirmed.

"Okay, Doc. Thanks! Let me know if you find out anything else," Sara replied, heading towards Catherine's office to tell her the news.