Greg threw himself into his stool and spun it around once. "Okay," he began. "Here's what I've got for you." And from a stack of nearby papers, he pulled one off the top. "That dried blood that came from the wrench? It's from the same source as the blood in the hallway."
"No surprise there," said Sara with a nod. "She was covered in it, it was in her pocket..."
"Well, here's something you might wanna know. Brass was at the hospital with the old woman. He sent over a sample of her DNA. The blood on the couch cushion is hers."
At this, Sara was kind of surprised. She exchanged a glance with Nick, who appeared to be just as much so.
"But... we found her upstairs," said Nick. "She wasn't bloody. On the outside, anyway..."
Greg shrugged. "I don't know. That's just what the system's telling me. Her name's Dawnel Freila."
"She has a rap sheet?" asked Sara incredulously.
"No. She reported a stalking back in 1987. Some guy she claims was following her around the city. He turned up dead, and she was found innocent because of a plane ticket."
Nick raised his eyebrows at Greg inquisitively.
"What?" replied Greg defensively. "I like to research old cases in my spare time."
Nick shook his head. "Whatever, man. What else you got?"
"Quite possibly the grossest thing yet," said Greg. He spun on his stool and took a new sheet of paper off the pile.
"You really like the nasty things in life, don't you?" remarked Sara, at the sight of the grin on Greg's face.
"Only in the lab," said Greg. "Now, the gross thing is this biological fluid. It's semen... and it belongs to the victim's husband. Mark Kenley."
He slid over and gestured to the screen with one hand. Sara looked to Nick, but he stepped back to allow her to get through. With a brief smile, she scrolled down the computer screen to look at the rap sheet of their prime suspect...
"'Mark Kenley'," she read aloud. "Arrested for drunk and disorderly outside of a liquor store."
"There's a shock," said Nick sarcastically. "With all the destruction he left behind in that house, I wouldn't be surprised if he's STILL tanked when we catch up with him."
"Tanked and raping another victim," interjected Greg, a somber tone in his voice all of a sudden. "That semen was found on the rug, right? There by the couch where the old woman's blood was..."
The implications of Greg's words seemed to creep up on Sara like a pool of cold water the first time one jumps in. She stood up and looked over at him with the most disgusted look on her face she could muster.
He shrugged. "Sorry," he said. "But I couldn't help wondering."
"Yeah, but did you really have to share that one?" said Nick.
"It could be pertinent to your case," defended Greg.
"I doubt it, but..." Sara started to argue, and then gave up, "...whatever. Okay, Nick?"
He looked from Greg to her in an instant. "Hmm?"
"Where does this leave us?"
"Well, I'd say it puts Mark Kenley at the top of our suspects list. If not our ONLY suspect. Guilty for murdering his wife AND the transsexual at the hotel."
"Mandy's probably got something for you, too, by now," said Greg, pointing at her through the glass wall. "You might want to go ask her."
"We'll do that," said Nick. "Thanks, Greggo."
"Yeah, thanks," added Sara sarcastically.
"I aim to please," responded Greg. And then he spun his stool back around to face his computer.
As they crossed the hall to the printing lab, Sara and Nick exchanged glances of unreadability. What were they going to do with Greg...?
"There you are!" exclaimed Mandy when they entered. "I told Greg to send you my way."
"He did, he did," assured Nick. "Calm down. He had to give us his, uh... theories."
Sara raised her eyebrows. That's one way of looking at it... she thought.
"Is that so?" asked Mandy with a knowing tone in her voice. "Well, maybe I can help scrub them from your mind."
And then, like Greg, she took a sheet of paper from a growing pile. Sara couldn't resist a slight smile as she remembered the ever-towering collection of papers on Grissom's desk from earlier that night...
"So, your prints from the wrench and the bottle of hair coloring belong to the second victim's husband," explained Mandy. "A Mark Kenley, arrested for–"
"–drunk and disorderly," finished Sara and Nick together.
She arched one eyebrow in obvious irritation. "Yep. But these smaller prints on the plate are harder to pinpoint." She raised the lifted prints and folded the plastic back down over the backdrop. "I can't find anything in the system, but I'm gonna guess that's because whoever made them... was too young to be in it."
Sara scratched her throat, where a lump was slowly building. "Uhm..." and she cleared it, "yeah, that's probably because they came from a child."
She felt a strong pulling from around her shoulders, and an instant later, she realized Nick had put his arm around her again. She gave up at once, and dropped her head down on his shoulder with a sigh.
Mandy looked around uncomfortably. "Well, I won't be able to confirm until... we get those prints from Doc Robbins' autopsy."
In the corner of her eye, Sara saw Nick nodding. "Okay," he said. "Alright, then we'll, uh–"
Suddenly, his phone rang. With the arm that wasn't around Sara, he extracted it from his pocket and flipped it open.
"Stokes," he said formally into the mouthpiece.
Sara grinned...
"Hey, it's Brass," she heard from the other side. "Listen, I just thought you and Sara would wanna know that Dawnel Freila woke up about fifteen minutes ago."
"Oh!" exclaimed Nick. "Yeah! Yeah, we do wanna know that."
"Great. Then she's waiting for you, for all intents and purposes. Just flash your IDs at the front desk, the nurse'll take you right to her."
The phone was already half-flipped closed when he answered hurriedly with, "Okay, thanks." Then he turned to Sara. "The grandma's up."
"Okay, let's go, then."
They both waved at Mandy before borderline jogging off down the hall.
Of the two general ways that people thought about hospitals, Sara'd always figured she was in the camp that found their chrome sterility to be disturbing rather than comforting.
Or maybe it was just the nature of her job. Either way, she kept as close to Nick as she figured she could without walking all over him as they inched through the surprisingly crowded hallways. As they maneuvered, she noticed a young woman in a wheelchair who appeared to be having a visit with her family. She looked awfully upset, and upon taking a second glance, Sara recognized the color of the band around her wrist – it signaled a sexual assault victim. She shuddered, and gripped Nick's bicep under the pretense of trying not to get separated in all the people. He smiled back at her for a fleeting moment and led her through the streaming crowd by the hand.
It felt like an eternity later, but they finally found Brass by the front desk. He waved at them in a professionally formal way as they approached. He appeared quite engaged in the conversation he was having with the doctor in front of him, but as Sara and Nick came up close, the doctor was called away by a nurse who tapped him on the shoulder.
"Hey," greeted Nick. "Where are we?"
"Doctor Jay is presiding over Dawnel Freila. He's just given me the skinny on her medical condition. Apparently, she's a very healthy woman. Tests all come back positive consistently, good diet, lots of age-appropriate exercise..."
She knew she shouldn't, but she couldn't help looking back at the woman in the wheelchair while Brass' ramblings continued. Nick would take care of it for her. He promised he would...
It seemed the victim of the assault had come to life a little, as a man who looked to be about her age suddenly became visible to Sara amongst the sea of people. He went right up to her, knelt down by her chair, and embraced her. Her body wracked with sobs. It was only then that Sara noticed the conditions surrounding her. There were two children playing with the hospital offered toys in the corner, while a middle-aged woman looked like she was on the verge of an emotional come-apart. Whoever the man hugging the woman was, the children came running up to him as soon as they noticed him. Sara didn't realize how her bottom lip was trembling until after he had hugged them both, too. Then she heard him refer to them as her children, his nephew and niece. So it WAS family... coming together to support whatever had happened to their beloved relative... Sara couldn't help wondering, who had done whatever they'd done to her – was it another relative of theirs, or maybe the father of the two children, or had she just accidentally caught the wrong person's eye on the street...? And why...? Why did it have to turn out like that...?
"So, she's pretty shaken up, to say the least," came Brass' distant-sounding monotone to Sara's ears. "If she gets too upset when you're talking to her, go ahead and leave. We'll find another way to get what we need to know. I've already got a statement, but I promised her I'd be there."
"Got it." That was Nick... right? "Thanks, Jim," he continued. Then she saw him turn to her in the corner of her eye. "Ready for this one, Sara?"
She sighed. "I suppose."
He leaned his head a little closer. "You sure?"
"Uh huh. Come on, Nicky, let's just go do it."
"Alright," he surrendered, and offered her his hand. "Come on."
She took it, and they formed a chain of three. Sara could see an overhead view of them parting the waters of people in her mind. It was an amusing image, and she smiled to herself at it.
They found the battered looking elder woman sitting up expectantly in her hospital bed. She was obviously jumpy, and understandably so at that. When they entered, Sara noted that her eyes immediately went to Brass... and she sighed a barely audible sigh at once after that. Her expression changed into a much softer one as she regarded Sara and Nick, who both thought it best to wait by the door.
"MRS. FREILA," said Brass loudly, "THESE ARE CSIs NICK STOKES AND SARA SIDLE."
Nick waved with a short "hi", but Sara just smiled. And inwardly shook her head at Nick's constant eagerness.
"THEY'RE THE ONES WHO FOUND YOU IN THE HOUSE," continued Brass. "AFTER YOU WERE ATTACKED. THEY'D LIKE TO ASK YOU A FEW MORE QUESTIONS, IF THAT'S ALL RIGHT."
"Oh," replied Mrs. Freila. "I suppose that will be all right. But... I really don't think I can tell you anything else that would help you."
"That's alright," said Nick reassuringly. "Sometimes, things we might not think can help us eventually do."
She seemed to understand this. She nodded, anyway, and over looked them from top to bottom. When she was done scanning Sara, she squinted her eyes.
"You look very familiar, young lady."
Sara couldn't help looking down at her feet. She clasped her hands behind her back and took a deep breath. "Yes, Mrs. Freila. I remember you..."
"Oh!" the old woman suddenly exclaimed. "Oh, Sara! From the park!"
Sara grinned, and nodded in a way that she hoped was encouraging rather than impatiently. "That's right."
And suddenly, Mrs. Freila seemed to tire out. She lay back on her large pillow and looked up at the ceiling. Her hands began to shake, and Sara crossed the room in a step driven by compulsion to sit with her. She registered Nick and Brass' exchanged glances as an afterthought.
"You were there the day that I took Penny out... on the anniversary of her father's death."
Sara scratched her uncomfortable feeling throat. "Uhm... yeah," was all she could say, in a soft tone of voice.
"Is it... is it true, then?" asked Mrs. Freila.
She looked at Sara with an expression that caused Sara's mouth to drop open a little and her senses to fade. Mrs. Freila's experienced eyes sparkled, as if dangerously closed to tears. Her long white hair, tied back in a ponytail, rested on her shoulder. Her hand shook a little within Sara's... The faint hope that lingered on her face did not seem to be enough that she expected an answer any different than the one Sara knew she must give.
It still didn't make it any easier. "Yeah, Mrs. Freila," she answered, and swallowed once. "I'm afraid Penny's... gone."
Rather she had already let it all out or it just hadn't hit yet, Mrs. Freila did not cry. Her face became suddenly calm. But she did look away, and her hands didn't stop shaking.
"I see..." was all she said for a moment, and she did not look back at Sara.
Sara looked over at Nick. He was standing with his hands on his hips and his soft eyes making small movements as they observed her. She exhaled sharply, and turned back to Mrs. Freila.
"Mrs. Freila..." she began cautiously, "...how did... you and Penny get in to that house."
"It's my daughter's," answered Mrs. Freila. Her voice sounded a little less composed... "My daughter Janice's, and her husband Mark's."
She didn't seem inclined to continue, and Sara was not sure if she should ask again.
Then Nick was there. He knelt down next to Sara, and when he talked, he sounded like he comforting a wounded animal.
"Ma'am, your last name is 'Freila'," he stated. "But the Mark and Janice who own the house you're talking about is 'Kenley'."
"By way of marriage," explained Mrs. Freila. "Janice accepted Mark's last name. I remember the wedding to this day. They all seemed so happy... They had just found out they were expecting their first son."
At this, Sara's head jerked around to Nick and then Brass automatically.
"Wait a minute," said Brass. "There were children there?"
"Oh, yes," said Mrs. Freila. "Why...?" And she paused, surveying each of their faces in turn while the truth of the situation slowly seemed to come to her. "Don't... aren't they safe?!"
Brass did not answer. He turned and roughly shoved a man who happened to be passing the room they were in away from the door on his way out. With the other hand, he was already reaching for his radio.
"Dispatch, this is Jim Brass! We have missing children, last name of Kenley. Presently presumed in the hands of their father, Mark Kenley, a current murder suspect. Requesting backup at the Kenley residence immediately."
