They entered the break room side by side. Catherine smiled at Sara in approval. Nick and Warrick sipped coffee and idly scanned some of the forensics journals that littered the table near the television. The game controllers were nowhere in sight.
"Sorry I'm late, guys," Grissom announced. "Here are the assignments." Peering at the sheaf of slips in his hand, he started reading. "Warrick, you're with me. Dead body in the dessert."
Warrick snatched the paper from Grissom's hand. "Nice. I could use some time away from the bright lights." He nudged Sara with an elbow. "Convince Griss we should be a team. You're way better looking than he is."
Catherine pressed her hand over her mouth to cover her laugh as Sara gave Warrick a wide-eyed look. "'Rick, you can't compare Sara to Gil. That's just wrong," she teased. "I mean, a scruffy, absent-minded professor and –"
"Before we get lost in admiring Sara, I have more assignments." Grissom smirked. "I'm turning over a new leaf…becoming the supervisor I never wanted to be." He looked at the next pink form. "Sara, this will help me get back in the running. DB in a dumpster." The paper rattled as he flourished it.
"Great," Sara said unenthusiastically. What was it about being low man on the totem that ended up in dumpsters and sewers? "Glad I dressed down today." Taking the slip Grissom thrust her way, she read the address. A dumpster and a long drive. How long until the weekend?
As she strode to the door, Catherine's voice drifted through the room. "Not even garbage would make Sara less beautiful, Gil. Plus, garbage-covered means a shower when she gets back."
All thoughts of the dumpster faded. "Cath?" Sara felt glued in place. The normal sounds of the lab faded. Even the chuckles and comments from Nick and Warrick didn't make an impression.
Catherine appeared off-balance for a moment, and a pale pink tinted her cheeks. "Hey," she replied, tossing her hair, "I call it like I see it." Waving a hand at Grissom, Catherine continued, "You versus Gil. You win every time." Her blue eyes met Sara's for an instant and then flickered away.
That…wasn't what Sara had secretly hoped. Shoulders slumping slightly, she forced a grin. "Depends on what you're looking for, I guess. I can't match Grissom's five o'clock shadow, that's for sure. Later." She waved and walked into the hallway.
As she left the building and climbed into her vehicle, Sara ruefully acknowledged that she was officially a fool. In Vegas for less than a week and already lusting after a straight, completely unavailable coworker. Shouldn't age bring wisdom…or at least the need to avoid more pain?
The engine roared with more force than necessary as she toed the accelerator. With a soft thud, the Tahoe dropped into reverse, and Sara pulled out of the parking space.
It didn't matter. Catherine was a friend. She could live with that – and admire her friend's beauty when no one was looking. Sara wheeled the big SUV into traffic and forced her concentration back onto her job.
The smell reached Sara the second she got out of the Tahoe. God, she hated dumpster diving. Even with the move, she had seniority over Nick. Why wasn't he the one pulling overalls over his clothes? Grumbling to herself, she zipped up the shapeless blue outfit, grabbed her kit, and dodged puddles and trash as she walked around the coroner's van.
Detective Evans stood illuminated by the strobing red and blue lights of the police cruisers.
"Hey," Sara greeted him. "Got a name on the vic?"
A grin appeared briefly on Evan's face. "Sorry, Sara. It's not like she was carrying a purse."
What did that mean? Hooker? Drug dealer? Sara sat her evidence kit on the ground and pulled on two pairs of latex gloves. A face mask beckoned. Reaching out, she stroked the item. No. Smell was an important part of the job. The mask might block something important. She closed the kit and turned, planting one foot on the front of the dumpster.
A hand cupped her butt.
Sara's muscles tightened, her breath coming faster. The already-dark alley dimmed further.
"Here, let me help you." Detective Evans' other hand wrapped lightly around her hip. "Swing your leg over. I'll make sure you don't fall."
The light returned to the alley. "Thanks," Sara said softly, hoping the lack of volume would hide the tremor in her voice. It took two tries to straddle the top of the dumpster; her knees were shaky and her energy was depleted from the adrenaline surge.
As soon as she got settled, Sara peered into the trash below. A woman's body, wrapped in clear plastic, lay nestled on top of the refuse. Snapping a few pictures, she commented to Evans, "I see your point about the ID. Any information at all?" The flash whined loudly as she continued to take shots.
"Nothing. Not a lot of foot traffic…or any traffic here this time of night." Evans leaned on the dumpster near her thigh. "Anything good in there with her?"
Chuckling, Sara shook her head and looped the heavy camera over her neck and shoulder. "Too dark. I'll need some techs to bag the top twelve inches of trash and haul it back to the lab. Maybe the killer dropped something when he dumped the body." She removed the leg on the inside of the dumpster and jumped to the ground. "For now, let's get her out."
Wiping her hands on her pant legs, Catherine tried to regain her composure after Sara left. It wasn't easy. Nick and Warrick were still snickering and watching her.
Gil, of course, was completely clueless. "Here, Cath. You and Nick take this one. Verbum Dei Charter School. Four-twenty homicide. The school dean was killed in his office. The suspect called it in; could be self-defense." Another pink slip waved in the air as he held it out.
Not wanting to deal with the smirking Nick, Catherine took the paper. "You know, it sounds fairly routine. I can spare Nick if you and Warrick need another pair of hands."
Damn. Even Grissom caught the thread of unease in her voice. "Everything OK, Catherine?"
"Fine." Her reassurance came out too fast and too emphatic. Trying to modify her tone and get Grissom's eyebrows out of his hairline, Catherine smiled. "Just trying to be helpful, boss. You know me…always looking out for the team."
That set off another round of laughter.
Ignoring Warrick and Nick, Grissom nodded slowly. "Take Nick."
"You got it." Waving goodbye to her hopes of avoiding questions, Catherine gestured to Nick. "Let's go find out which rich kid offed the dean with his silver spoon."
She started for the door.
"Oh, it wasn't a student," Grissom called after her. "It was the woman who founded the school."
Catherine waved an acknowledgement but didn't stop. She heard Nick scrambling behind her, his sneakers squeaking on the polished floor.
He finally caught up as she hurried past the receptionist desk. "So, Cath…"
Wanting to close her eyes, Catherine braced. Here came the questions.
"Me and Warrick. We look at Sara. I even had that shower thought." Nick opened and held the door for Catherine. "You? That was a surprise."
She had to stay cool. "Why? Just because I'm a woman doesn't mean I can't recognize female beauty, Nick." Maybe if Nick drove, he'd been too busy to probe more. Abruptly changing her path, Catherine navigated around the front of the Tahoe and opened the passenger-side door. "Here." Digging in her front pocket, she pulled out the keys and tossed them at Nick. "You drive."
"Now I know there's something going on," he teased. "You never let anyone drive your vehicle."
Luckily, Catherine had been right about the talk dying off as Nick drove. She stared sightlessly out the window and thought about the day. What was going on? She'd never responded to another woman, not even the few women who'd come to the club when she'd danced. Was it knowing that Sara was a lesbian?
Her thoughts halted.
Did she know Sara was a lesbian? There hadn't been any big announcements. All she had were suspicions.
The bright, flashing lights from the patrol cars at the scene of the crime interrupted her musings. Self discovery would have to wait. Catherine slipped out of the Tahoe as soon as Nick shut off the engine. Despite the late night activity, the school campus was quiet. Catherine scanned the darkened area as she went to the back of the SUV and opened the rear door for her kit.
Minutes later, weighed down by the heavy metal case in her hand, Catherine followed Nick into a plushly decorated office. Detective Kane stood with a pair of deputies, scribbling in a small notebook. He looked up and waved when he noticed them in the doorway.
"Hi," Catherine greeted him. She carefully picked her way across the room. "Wow. It's a mess in here."
"You said it." Kane grunted. "Vic's over there," he pointed at a sofa several feet away, "and the suspect's in another office waiting for you guys."
Nick set his kit down with a thump. "You want to do the questioning, Cath? I'll start with pictures and do a walkthrough."
"Yeah. That's good." Female suspects sometimes responded better to a female interrogator. Catherine looked back at Kane. "What do you have so far?"
Rubbing a hand over his ultra-short hair, Kane admitted, "Not much. Vic's name is Vernon Wood. Forty-nine. Single. He's got multiple blunt force trauma wounds to the head."
Nick had walked closer to the actual crime scene. "Got a trophy or something over here. Probably hit with that." Then he whistled. "Man, look at all the blood spatter."
Catherine wandered over and examined the body on the floor and the tide of red staining the white walls. "Oh, yeah. That looks like more than self defense. That was up close and personal with a lot of passion involved." As she stepped away from the couch, she told Nick, "Get started here. I'll check on the suspect."
Kane jumped in before she could get any further. "Her name's Kate Armstrong. She called 911 herself. Says Wood attacked her."
"That's not what the evidence suggests." Catherine grinned, pulse picking up.