A/N: This is my last posting for a while as I'm off on holidays. I'll do my best to update at least once while I'm away. Thank you as always for reading and reviewing.
Fade in.
SCENE 15:
"I heard Vartann's got the daughter's boyfriend in custody?"
Nick turns, sighs and finishes stirring the cup of coffee he's just poured himself. "Yeah, he has," he says, taking his cup to the table.
Greg nods and moves over to pour himself a coffee.
"We arrested the daughter too," Nick adds. "They had opportunity, means, each other as alibis. He kind of fits the description too. I found black clothes, the rubber mask in his room; he even confirmed it was his. Everything's pointing at him, but―"
Greg looks over his shoulder. "You don't think he did it."
Nick shrugs. "I don't know. He doesn't have any outward signs of injuries, no limp, no chemical burns on his skin from the airbag deploying or bruising on his chest from where the seatbelt would have restrained him."
Greg joins Nick at the table, takes a seat across from him. "Well, we know he wore gloves and long sleeves. As for the rest, it'd depend on how fast he was travelling."
"I know. He gave us a sample of his DNA which is being compared to the DNA we got from the airbag, so we'll know soon enough." He pauses, takes a sip of coffee.
"What about the clothes?" Greg asks. "Anything on them?"
"No so far, but I've only done half of what I collected. Some of the clothes I'm not even sure are his. It's taking freaking ages, man. You're welcome to help if you want."
"I think I'll pass," Greg replies with a wide smile, "Your turn to do some of the hard graft for a change. My butt's still numb from all the video watching I did last night. I got my hands full anyway."
Nick scoffs, then sips at his drink. "Oh, you got your hands full, alright."
"With what?" Sara asks as she comes into the room and heads straight for the fridge.
Greg's eyes widen and he shakes his head at Nick.
"Nothing," Nick says pleasantly.
Sara sits down next to Greg, takes the lid off a yogurt pot and dips her spoon in it. She begins to stir but then stops mid-move. She's looking distracted, downcast even. Even Greg notices something's not right with her and watches her with the same concern Nick is showing. They share a look, shrug their shoulders.
"How did it go this afternoon?" Nick asks her.
Sara looks up at Nick with a start. "This afternoon?"
"Your Jane Doe."
"Oh." Sara's eyes lower to her yogurt, and she resumes stirring. "We got a positive ID," she says, bringing a spoonful of yogurt to her mouth, and goes on to explain why her family hadn't reported Daniela missing, how they came about the name of the free clinic in North Vegas and Brass's theory about a prostitution or trafficking ring.
"That took some guts," Greg says. "Coming forward, I mean."
Sara nods. "Brass's put out some feelers. We'll see what comes of it. It's up to PD now."
Nick nods, lowers his eyes and finishes his drink. He can't help thinking that Sara should be more upbeat about getting an ID for her Jane Doe, even if the circumstances are unpleasant and the likelihood of getting a conviction for her murder slim. Something else is weighing on her mind; that much is clear. "Greg and I," he says out of the blue, and looks up at her, "we're meeting for breakfast after shift―"
"We are?" Greg's surprise is evident in his tone.
Nick narrows his eyes at him, and then with a smile to Sara, "You coming with?"
Sara shrugs, and Nick knows she's looking for a way out.
"My shout," he adds before she can turn the offer down.
"All right!" Greg exclaims, rubbing his hands together in an overzealous display that brings a smile to Sara's face.
"All right," she says eventually, her smile widening, "If you're buying. It's not like I have anything better to do anyway."
Nick watches her closely. "I'll ask Finn if she wants to come along, even out the numbers a little."
Sara nods, smiles and Nick beams at her. Greg's phone beeps with a text message. He checks it and pushes to his feet. "Hodges," he says, downing the last of his cup of coffee. "I'd better not leave him waiting." He winks at Sara and saunters out of the break-room.
"What about your cup?" Nick calls after him in good-humour, "Who's going to put it away?" but gets no reply.
Sara's smile lingers on her face as she turns her attention back to her half-eaten yogurt, before it vanishes altogether and her perpetual frown returns. Her eyes take on a distant turn, and it's not long before she looks troubled and conflicted again.
Once again Nick wonders if Finn is right, whether Grissom's absence is still taking its toll on her after all these months. Maybe he should say something, ask if she's heard from him. He almost asks how she's doing, but conscious that she'll give him her stock answer reaches for her hand on the table instead. He squeezes it warmly, and she looks up at him with surprise, gives him a smile.
"Sara," he says, giving her hand a gentle pat, "You know you can talk to me, right? If something's bothering you then…" Nick's words tail off when Sara's gaze suddenly whips to the door. Letting go of her hand, he turns toward the door and watches Mandy rush determinedly toward them.
She stops at the break-room door, breathless and papers in hand. She glances toward Sara and hesitates. "Nick," she says, her tone earnest and urgent, "Greg said I'd find you here. I know you're on your break but…" She pauses to catch her breath, "I need to talk to you. It's urgent."
Nick gives her an easy smile. "Sure, what's up?"
Her eyes flick over to Sara, then back to his face, the message in them clear, but left unspoken. "In private?"
Nick's smile fades. It's not like Mandy to act like this, all secretive and cagy. She's edgy, clearly uneasy about something. Something she doesn't want to elaborate on in front of Sara. Without another word Mandy turns on her heels and heads down the corridor away from where she came from. Nick turns to Sara, a mixture of puzzlement and concern written all over his face, shrugs his shoulders and then unfolds himself out of his seat.
"Good luck," Sara says, mischief in her tone. "I don't know what you've done, but I've only seen Mandy riled up like this once before…and it wasn't pretty."
"Thanks Sara," he says dryly and puts his and Greg's cups in the sink before following Mandy out. He hasn't got far to go, because as soon as he rounds the corner out of sight of the break-room, he finds the Print tech there pacing the corridor, waiting for him. She opens her mouth to talk, then closes it again and looks all around them. "Let's go somewhere quieter," she whispers even though there's no one around.
Nick's frown deepens. Before he can speak, ask her what the matter is, Mandy has set off again, and Nick has to jog to catch up with her. The door to DB's office is open. Mandy glances in, goes straight in when she finds it empty.
"Sweetie, what's wrong?" he asks, as she quickly closes the door after him, and then in a lighter tone, "What's with all the cloak-and-dagger, huh?"
Mandy blows out a deep breath. "Oh, this is huge," she says, looking distraught.
"Mandy?"
She stares at Nick, then opens her mouth only to close it again and wipes a shaky hand over her face. "Where do I start?"
Nick takes her by the arms to the couch and sits her down. "At the beginning," he says quietly, and lowers himself down beside her.
Mandy takes a breath, nods her head. "I've finally got round to processing the sports bag used in the convenience store robbery." She pauses, and Nick waits with bated breath. "As I expected, I got no usable prints from the bag itself or the handles on account of it being made of canvas, and only smudges over smudges from the zipper pull. Nothing I can use."
"That's okay," Nick says supportively, "don't worry about it. We expected that. We'll get our perp some other way."
"That's not it," she says. "There was one print – a partial on the underside of the plastic window on the name tag."
Nick's brow creases. "Enough to get a match?"
"Enough to get a hit in AFIS."
"Yeah?" Nick's puzzlement intensifies. "But that's great."
Mandy slowly shakes her head at him, then pinches her lips and thrusts the printout she's been clutching all this time at him. "And before you ask," she says in a whisper as he reads, clearly on the defensive, "I checked and rechecked my results. I haven't made a mistake. I wish to God I had but I haven't."
Nick looks up, nods, then reads the results again, needing to make sure. It doesn't make any sense at all. "And you're absolutely sure you lifted that particular print off the bag used in the robbery."
"I'm absolutely sure. It's a partial of his thumb, lifted from the inner side of the plastic window on the name tag."
Nick's gaze drops back to the printout, and he shakes his head. He knows Mandy hasn't made a mistake, or she wouldn't be this upset. "How is it possible?" he wonders aloud, and then silently, How can Grissom's print be on a piece of evidence recovered at a crash scene and used to commit a robbery?
"There's more," Mandy says, her tone even more urgent, and Nick refocuses abruptly on her.
"More?"
Her shoulder lifts in an apologetic shrug as she produces a second printout. Nick's eyes widen at the name on the sheet – a rap sheet listing one arrest over seventeen months ago and a subsequent conviction in Jefferson County, Texas.
"You don't think he's involved in the robbery, do you?" Mandy asks, fearful now. "I mean, I don't but―" She stops talking abruptly and shrugs her shoulders. "How can his print be there? There has to be an explanation, right?"
Nick shakes his head, refocuses on her. He is shaken, speechless. He opens his hands in a helpless gesture and drops them again. "There must be," he says.
"Do you think Sara knows?" Mandy's voice is barely above a whisper.
Well, knowing could explain Sara's depressed mood and inability to let go of the relationship. It would certainly explain the breakup of her marriage. "I don't know," he says at last, and lets out a long breath, "I really don't know. But if she does, she never said anything – not to me anyway." He lifts his shoulder. "I don't know."
"You going to tell her?"
"What choice do I have?" He sighs. "But Mandy, you mustn't tell anyone, all right? I mean it. This stays between you and me."
"What about Greg? It's his case too."
Nick slowly shakes his head. "No, not even Greg. Not until I've spoken to Sara. The print is irrelevant to the investigation; we're agreed on that, right? I don't know how it got there, but Grissom can't have put it there, not in the recent past anyway."
Mandy sighs, nods her head. "What am I going to put on my report?"
"Can you hold off on that until I've spoken to Sara? I'll speak to her and we'll go from there."
Fade to Black.
