"Damn it!" Sara's voice cut across the scene, causing Grissom to look up
from the body and find her. She was standing, camera hanging loosely in
her hand, looking at something on the ground. "Damn it, damn it, damn it!"
"What it is?" he asked when he reached her side.
Sara sighed heavily, gesturing towards what appeared to be a footprint. It was a large smudge in the dirt, with no tread marks and, while it looked to be about the size of a shoe, it was an oval. "You know why we haven't found any fibers, or hairs, or any trace except for what's consistent with the vic?"
"Why?"
"Check out the footprint."
"Looks like a print you'd get from a HazMat suit."
"Close enough. You've heard of those crime scene suits? They were developed to prevent anything from the CSI-hairs, fibers-from getting deposited at the scene. Great idea, right? No one's going to argue against a scene that's less likely to be contaminated, no matter what the cost."
"Some of the bigger departments have them," he mused. "It's an excellent idea, except for that the suits are hard to work in, and they're expensive."
"You spent ten thousand on a Super-Sniffer," Sara pointed out. "The sheriff nearly had your ass for that."
Grissom shrugged. He wasn't one for politics, he couldn't remember if he'd voted in the last elections. Turning back to the print, he asked, "So what do these suits and your print have in common?"
She gave him a slow smile. "One of the forensics magazines did an article on the suits a couple of months ago. The article came with shots of the prints the suits made, so that there wouldn't be confusion if one of the suits left a print. It matches. Perfectly."
"Good job," Grissom complimented.
"I'll check the journal's pictures to be sure, call the manufacturer to see if we can borrow one, get a list of all the Nevada owners," Sara suggested. "But, Gris? Somebody's out there with a crime scene suit killing people, and we have no evidence but this suit."
"When are you and Gris going to buy a house?" Nick drawled as he read the sports section.
Sara glanced at the Texan, then shrugged and returned to her book. "I don't know."
"I thought you knew everything," he teased, spearing a French fry from his take-out container. "Between you and Grissom.there's nothing you don't know. Your children are going to be encyclopedias."
They were on lunch break. Grissom, Catherine, and Warrick were still getting food at the deli; her husband had called a few minutes ago asking if she wanted anything-Sara had declined, choosing to eat the salad she'd put in the refrigerator yesterday.
"I don't know the future," she offered. "Why do you ask?"
It was Nick's turn to shrug. "I don't know.I guess it's pretty standard to buy a house after you're married a while."
"A house does not equate security, or a happy marriage," Sara pointed out. "Besides, when have Grissom and I been standard?"
Nick chuckled. "Guess you're right. How long have you been married, anyway?"
Sara thought for a long time, before giving him a slightly panicked look and said, "I'm not sure."
"Not sure about what?" Grissom asked as he entered the room, trailed closely by Warrick and Catherine. All three of them were holding brown paper bags with the deli's logo on them.
"Gris, how long have we been married?"
He too looked slightly stricken. Checking his watch, Grissom said, "Two years, five months and seven days. You want how many hours, too?"
His precision made Sara grin as she shook her head. "No thanks."
"Okay," Grissom said, taking out and unwrapping his sandwich, turkey with pesto. He took a bite, relishing its flavor. He noticed Sara staring at it hungrily, and asked, "Want a bite?"
She shook her head. "I'm vegetarian, remember? It looks really good, though."
"Hey, Sara?" Nick asked. "Do you miss anything about meat since you turned herbivorous?"
Nick was honestly curious, and Sara knew it would take an act of God to change his meat-loving Texas mind to vegetarianism. "Steak," she offered. "Hamburgers. Beef jerky. But I can't eat it, I've tried. I see a burger and it transforms into a charred body. I can't even go near pork after that night Gris and I stayed up with that pig."
Her phone rang at that moment, barring any response. "Sidle," she answered. Sara listened to the caller, nodding periodically, saying, "Thank you," before hanging up.
"Who was that?" Catherine asked.
"Manufacturer of those crime scene suits. Company's called Forenstech, short for Forensic Technologies, Inc. Bad news, Grissom, they're not as rare as I thought. Almost a hundred in Nevada."
Grissom shrugged. "Could be worse."
"Grissom, they're spread out all over the state!"
He shrugged again. "So we'll have to make a lot of phone calls."
"But-" She was interrupted by Grissom's phone ringing. He answered and listened, then said, "I'll tell her," and hung up.
"Time to go," he said. "That was Brass, someone found another body. Similar MO."
"Another one?" Sara exclaimed. "Are you serious?"
"Two in one night," Grissom replied calmly. "Guy's busy." He looked at his sandwich with regret, and sighed. "I didn't get to finish my lunch."
"Give me the keys. I'll drive," Sara requested. "You can finish your sandwich," she added with affectionate amusement.
As they walked out, bumping into each other with every step, Catherine looked at Warrick and Nick and said, "Youngest old-married-couple I've ever seen."
"What it is?" he asked when he reached her side.
Sara sighed heavily, gesturing towards what appeared to be a footprint. It was a large smudge in the dirt, with no tread marks and, while it looked to be about the size of a shoe, it was an oval. "You know why we haven't found any fibers, or hairs, or any trace except for what's consistent with the vic?"
"Why?"
"Check out the footprint."
"Looks like a print you'd get from a HazMat suit."
"Close enough. You've heard of those crime scene suits? They were developed to prevent anything from the CSI-hairs, fibers-from getting deposited at the scene. Great idea, right? No one's going to argue against a scene that's less likely to be contaminated, no matter what the cost."
"Some of the bigger departments have them," he mused. "It's an excellent idea, except for that the suits are hard to work in, and they're expensive."
"You spent ten thousand on a Super-Sniffer," Sara pointed out. "The sheriff nearly had your ass for that."
Grissom shrugged. He wasn't one for politics, he couldn't remember if he'd voted in the last elections. Turning back to the print, he asked, "So what do these suits and your print have in common?"
She gave him a slow smile. "One of the forensics magazines did an article on the suits a couple of months ago. The article came with shots of the prints the suits made, so that there wouldn't be confusion if one of the suits left a print. It matches. Perfectly."
"Good job," Grissom complimented.
"I'll check the journal's pictures to be sure, call the manufacturer to see if we can borrow one, get a list of all the Nevada owners," Sara suggested. "But, Gris? Somebody's out there with a crime scene suit killing people, and we have no evidence but this suit."
"When are you and Gris going to buy a house?" Nick drawled as he read the sports section.
Sara glanced at the Texan, then shrugged and returned to her book. "I don't know."
"I thought you knew everything," he teased, spearing a French fry from his take-out container. "Between you and Grissom.there's nothing you don't know. Your children are going to be encyclopedias."
They were on lunch break. Grissom, Catherine, and Warrick were still getting food at the deli; her husband had called a few minutes ago asking if she wanted anything-Sara had declined, choosing to eat the salad she'd put in the refrigerator yesterday.
"I don't know the future," she offered. "Why do you ask?"
It was Nick's turn to shrug. "I don't know.I guess it's pretty standard to buy a house after you're married a while."
"A house does not equate security, or a happy marriage," Sara pointed out. "Besides, when have Grissom and I been standard?"
Nick chuckled. "Guess you're right. How long have you been married, anyway?"
Sara thought for a long time, before giving him a slightly panicked look and said, "I'm not sure."
"Not sure about what?" Grissom asked as he entered the room, trailed closely by Warrick and Catherine. All three of them were holding brown paper bags with the deli's logo on them.
"Gris, how long have we been married?"
He too looked slightly stricken. Checking his watch, Grissom said, "Two years, five months and seven days. You want how many hours, too?"
His precision made Sara grin as she shook her head. "No thanks."
"Okay," Grissom said, taking out and unwrapping his sandwich, turkey with pesto. He took a bite, relishing its flavor. He noticed Sara staring at it hungrily, and asked, "Want a bite?"
She shook her head. "I'm vegetarian, remember? It looks really good, though."
"Hey, Sara?" Nick asked. "Do you miss anything about meat since you turned herbivorous?"
Nick was honestly curious, and Sara knew it would take an act of God to change his meat-loving Texas mind to vegetarianism. "Steak," she offered. "Hamburgers. Beef jerky. But I can't eat it, I've tried. I see a burger and it transforms into a charred body. I can't even go near pork after that night Gris and I stayed up with that pig."
Her phone rang at that moment, barring any response. "Sidle," she answered. Sara listened to the caller, nodding periodically, saying, "Thank you," before hanging up.
"Who was that?" Catherine asked.
"Manufacturer of those crime scene suits. Company's called Forenstech, short for Forensic Technologies, Inc. Bad news, Grissom, they're not as rare as I thought. Almost a hundred in Nevada."
Grissom shrugged. "Could be worse."
"Grissom, they're spread out all over the state!"
He shrugged again. "So we'll have to make a lot of phone calls."
"But-" She was interrupted by Grissom's phone ringing. He answered and listened, then said, "I'll tell her," and hung up.
"Time to go," he said. "That was Brass, someone found another body. Similar MO."
"Another one?" Sara exclaimed. "Are you serious?"
"Two in one night," Grissom replied calmly. "Guy's busy." He looked at his sandwich with regret, and sighed. "I didn't get to finish my lunch."
"Give me the keys. I'll drive," Sara requested. "You can finish your sandwich," she added with affectionate amusement.
As they walked out, bumping into each other with every step, Catherine looked at Warrick and Nick and said, "Youngest old-married-couple I've ever seen."