Amy stares at the dry erase board in front of the office, to the pictures of the victims and the crime scene, to what little facts they had about the situation. She continually went over it all in her head, in almost a military sense. Places, people, weapons. Over and over in her head. Soon enough it morphed into going through her artillery with the rest of her squad, making sure everyone had what they needed, and what they were capable of using.
Sanchez notices the newer addition to the division deep in thought. He walks over, sitting next to her, "Notice anything we skipped over?"
She jumps a little, glancing over to him, "Sorry, but no."
He nods slowly.
"I do think it was someone who worked there though."
"How do you figure?"
"Well," Sykes tucks a stray hair behind her ear, "Not to be racist, but they're all latino. So...there's that."
"Yes, they are." He smiles a little, nodding, "Want to hear what I think?"
"Yeah." She glances to him.
"I think it was someone who works in the club."
"Why?"
"They knew what rooms had cameras. They knew where they could get out and barely be noticed by the cameras. They knew their way around the club. They knew where Tony Prince and his partner would be at that time of night." He smirks, "I could go on."
"No, I agree with you." She nods, "But there's only so many people that work there. One fits the description, and he had to have an accomplice. How many people do you know who have best friends who are the same height or taller than you?"
"I have plenty of friends who are taller than me."
"Of course you do," She grins, "But not when you're over six foot."
"So, we should question the people that work there that are over six foot."
"Correct." Sykes nods, looking back to the board.
He nods, sitting there another moment. Sanchez isn't sure if he should say anything, or if he should just leave her to her own devices. He decides to do the second as it would be easier that her explaining all the things going through her head.