What Did You Do?
Chapter Eleven
Nick Stokes was in a very good mood. He hummed to himself and sang random little snatches of song as he swung his SUV through traffic towards the Las Vegas crime lab. He had slept better than he had slept in ages, and somehow had woken up without a single kink in his back. And he had a really good feeling about his case. He knew he was going to put the human stew to rest this shift. The ex-lover of the owner of the expensive suitcase had gone mysteriously missing, not showing up for work for the last week. Nick would pick up the warrant waiting for him at the lab and head out to the man's apartment to collect items for DNA comparison. Because the man had been missing, the warrant also extended to any signs of foul play. He'd hook up with either Brass or Vartann on the way. As much as someone being murdered was never funny, Nick couldn't hold back a small chuckle. If the ex-lover really was the man in the suitcase, his name was actually Stewart. He became human Stewie.
Warrant obtained, boss checked in with, Nick sat parked in his vehicle outside Stewie's place, waiting on Brass. He fiddled with the radio, checked his watch, and eventually let his mind wander. He smiled to himself when he realized his mind was wandering back to a quirky CSI wearing Star Wars pajamas and some serious bed-head. Cripes, Nick had it bad, if blood shot eyes and rumpled p.j.'s turned him on. But he wasn't just turned on by the guy, it felt different than that. Softer, yet sharp at the same time, and in a different part of his anatomy. Something that made Nick smile to himself all the time without realizing he was doing it.
Nick jumped as a stern-faced Brass knocked on his window. He turned off the engine and got out, grabbing his kit on the way. Brass raised an eyebrow and studied his colleague, never having known him to be prone to wool-gathering. Brass shook some keys at Nick, and Nick gave his Stokes's puzzled #2. "I was able to charm the keys out of the land lady, so no breaking in doors necessary today. Warrant?"
"Yeah, Brass, got it right here. Let's go see if this guy is our guy in the suitcase."
Several hours and dozens of evidence bags later, Nick was done with the apartment. Something had been done to someone in this apartment based on the amount of blood evidence Nick had found, both the small samples visible to the naked eye that the killer had missed, and the large pools the killer had clumsily tried to clean. He would have to wait on DNA results to see if that someone was Stewie. He had also found several really good prints. He didn't have the suitcase owner's prints on file to compare them to, so he'd have to get a warrant to obtain them. Shouldn't be hard, though, connecting the dots from missing ex-lover to owner of the suitcase. Should be enough to get a warrant. He had even found a slam dunk print in blood. He thanked the crime scene deities for that. An ex-lover had a reasonable explanation for prints in the man's apartment. A print in blood- if the blood was his- meant she had been there during the murder or soon after.
Nick gathered himself and his evidence and headed back to the lab. He dropped off blood samples with Wendy and prints with Mandy. Wendy looked exasperated with the sheer volume of samples, but dug right in. Mandy, however, took a moment to give her long-time coworker a once-over. "You look different somehow. Happier. What's up with you?" she asked. Nick just smiled and shrugged "I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about, Mandalay. Can you get on my prints now? I gotta go work on a warrant for a comparison sample." Mandy smiled. Nick hadn't called her that in ages. In fact, now that she thought about it, that had been Greg's onetime nickname for her, not Nick's. Something shifted in the back of her brain and a small smiled teased the side of her mouth. "If you are talking about suitcase lady, I do have a sample. Catherine pulled her coffee cup when she came for the first interview. I only have her right hand, but it's a start." Nick smiled. Things were going his way today. To bad for suitcase lady, they didn't seem to be going hers.