Chapter Five
******
Disney's Contemporary Resort
Room 4924
18:45 PM
"Sara, it's me." Grissom called as he opened the door, not wanting
to take her by surprise. Dropping his wallet and keycard onto the
credenza he heard her respond.
"I'm in here."
She sat on the couch with her back facing him, the TV in front of
her on but muted. Her attention was on the laptop resting across her
legs, her fingers trailing over the keys as she scrolled through
some text. He sat down on the couch next to her, but she didn't look
up.
"Sara?"
She nodded distractedly, her hair falling in her face. She swept it
back behind her ear as an image opened on the screen.
"Is that my computer?" It was a rhetorical question; she didn't
bring hers.
"You know it is." A tiny smile played on her lips. "They finally
sent us the autopsy reports; you were gone so I decided to go ahead
and see if anything unusual showed up. I just looked over the tox
screen..." She trailed off as she realized Grissom's eyes hadn't
moved from her face. She turned her head slowly and met his
stare. "What?"
"My computer is password protected." His voice had an odd tone; If
Sara had to describe it she might say it was annoyed curiosity.
"You weren't here." She said lightly, but with a tinge of
nervousness. "You went to the business center without me, so I
figured I'd be proactive."
"You were in the shower and that doesn't explain the password." He
explained without pause.
Sara bit her lip; Grissom was close enough now that his body heat
was making her skin tingle. "I cracked it."
She was nothing if not honest. "You guessed?"
"I know you better than you think I do, Grissom." She answered,
matter-of-fact. She arched an eyebrow as she minimized a window that
had been open behind the report. "Or maybe not."
Leaning over to look at the display, his elbow brushed the top of
her legs as she tilted the computer away from him. He considered her
a moment. "You only checked email." It wasn't a question. He shifted
closer and watched as she shrugged, her eyes reflecting the light
from the screen. "Really, how did you know my password?"
Sara was aware of his breath on her cheek now; it made forming an
answer that much more difficult. "Baseball. 'All those stats,'
remember?" Off his blank look, she continued. "Roger Maris. He hit
sixty-one home runs in 1961, You have one of his cards framed next
to that singing fish in your office. Maris61."
Grissom didn't know whether to be irritated at her breach or awed by
her deduction. "You scare me sometimes, Sara."
"It took me more than one try." Smiling, she relaxed against the
cushion behind her; their shoulders were touching now. She slid the
laptop toward him so that one half rested on his right leg. "As I
was saying before, I just looked over the tox screen and there was
nothing unusual. No evidence of alcohol or drug use, either."
"Most fatal accidents at theme parks are due to irresponsible
actions while inebriated."
"Right." With a click she brought up an autopsy photo. "We didn't
find any alkali fluids on the tracks, but the blood spatter pattern
seemed to indicate that the vic was killed at the scene. The two
would seem to contradict each other."
Grissom shook his head. "The problem with contradictory evidence is
that they only serve to rule each other out," he reminded her.
"Yes, but not when you have more evidence pointing in a specific
direction." She zoomed in on the image of Josh Holland's nearly
obliterated face and then again on a patch of skin near his left
ear. Sara turned her head toward Grissom, not to avoid the image but
to gauge his reaction. Focusing on the screen, he came to the same
realization she had.
"Yellow skin. He was most likely killed elsewhere." He had suspected
it, but there was still a piece missing.
"So says the coroner, at least. That was his finding." Returning her
attention to the screen, Sara scrolled through another report.
"And the spatter?" He wasn't testing; it was one of her fortes.
"Depends on transport time and speed on impact. If the conditions
were just
right the impact could leave a pattern like the one present on the
wheel. I say we ask the simulation dummies." After a few more
keystrokes she closed the computer and turned to him. Feeling her
gaze, he met her eyes and then averted his own, suddenly aware of
just how close they were sitting to one another. Neither one of them
made an attempt to move.
"We have to meet Steve." Grissom broke the silence.
"We have to eat dinner." Sara reminded. He tended to forget about
such trivialities during cases.
Looking chagrined, he amended. "I'll buy you popcorn."
With a quick eye roll she bent and slipped on her shoes. "I think
I'll raid the concierge bar out there, but thanks."
Watching her go, he reached for his laptop. He stared at the walls
for several moments before deciding on a new password.
~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*
Magic Kingdom
Walt Disney World
20:15 PM
"Steve said eight, right?" Sara stood at the base of the Cinderella
Castle, scanning the crowd.
Sitting on the bench, Grissom watched as Eeyore trudged through a
crowd of children; the donkey looking beleaguered as a young boy
pulled one his ears. He moved his attention to his watch.
"It's only 8:20; he's always running late." Looking at her face
now, he changed the subject.
"You have a sunburn."
"I see daylight maybe twice a month."
He nodded. "There he is."
Steve walked briskly through the crowd; his tall frame made him
stand out among the throngs of children and parents crowding into
the line for the carousel. Narrowly missing a stroller, he
approached and stood across from them. "Sorry I'm late, guys. The
water parks just closed and traffic was bad." He took in Sara's
appearance as he brushed his tan arm against the reddened
skin on her own. "It looks like you got out today."
"Yeah." She didn't know why Steve's attention bothered her; he was
most likely just being friendly.
"Are we ready?" Grissom asked, apparently not in the mood for small
talk.
Motioning toward to their left, Steve led the way. After walking
down a shaded concrete walkway they stopped at a thin wooden door. A
small "cast only" sign was the only thing that
differentiated it from the decorative faux entrances around the
castle. Pushing the door open, he stepped into a dark stairwell,
Grissom and Sara right behind him. Their footsteps echoed as they
made their way down two flights of steps to a wide corridor below.
"Where are we?" Sara looked at the wide expanse of space in either
direction. Bright pink lettering on the wall in front of them
identified the area as Fantasyland. Given the gray stucco
walls and alternative music filtering through the overhead speakers,
Sara found that somewhat implausible.
"Right now? About thirty feet below where we were just standing.
This is the Utilidor. It runs underneath the majority of the Magic
Kingdom. It's almost like a mini-city. These hallways connect
every `land' of the park. You have costuming, a cast cafeteria,
computer labs…It also allows the grounds and custodial cast to move
around without disrupting the guest experience."
Grissom looked up at the metal ceiling. "So this is essentially a
basement?"
"No, a basement implies that we're underground. The park is actually
the second floor of a two-story complex. We're actually slightly
above ground level right now."
Sara looked puzzled. "Are all the parks set up this way?"
Shaking his head, Steve continued walking. "No. Well, EPCOT has a
small Utilidor, but it's not nearly as intricate as this one. This
park is different than the others in that there are several
themed sections. It would be jarring to have costumed Tomorrowland
cast walking through Fantasyland on their way to lunch…" He was cut
off by a loud clattering sound above their heads.
Startled, both Grissom and Sara stared up at the steel tubing that
ran along the ceiling.
Grissom looked at his friend. "What was that?"
"When Walt Disney first opened Disneyland, he took a walk down Main
Street. He stopped at a cart for a soda and after he had finished it
he found himself searching for a garbage can. Not finding one
easily, he mandated that his park have a trash bin every twelve
feet."
Grissom, not seeing the point, gave him a look he generally reserved
for an uncooperative witness.
"And?"
"On a slow day the Magic Kingdom averages 45,000 visitors. They
create a lot of garbage. There are close to 1000 trash cans.
Emptying them manually would be a huge job, not to mention the
environmental issues involved with all those plastic liners. When a
guest throws away a soda bottle or popcorn box or half-eaten
hamburger it drops directly into the tubes above your heads.
It's a pneumatic system. Every thirty minutes the garbage is sucked
outside into dumpsters."
Sara looked impressed, but scrunched her nose. "That would explain
the smell." She had noticed a rather foul odor from the moment they
had exited the stairwell.
"It gets pretty hot up there. Things tend to cook."
After rounding the corner, Grissom and Sara both took an immediate
step backward. Steve laughed as he saw their nearly identical
startled expressions.
Sara looked somewhat disturbed, but still managed a "Cool." Grissom
just looked somewhat disturbed.
"Welcome to the Cage." Steve's voice echoed as he led them through
an area enclosed in chain link. "Every costumed character in the
Magic Kingdom originates from this room."
"I take it Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum have the night off?" Grissom
pointed to their heads, suspended from hooks on the wall. Their
disembodied faces grinned garishly at them.
Sara laughed softy at his comment, but not before stepping a few
feet away. In doing so, she nearly tripped over a large black bag at
her feet. A flattened Pluto looked back up at her; she frowned
back. "Well, that sucks," she said, almost to herself.
"What?" Grissom turned toward her.
"Nothing." She sighed. "What are the bags for?"
Steve kept walking. "It's how they move the costumes from park to
park. In case they have to transport them through guest areas they
want to be as low profile as possible."
"Makes sense." She was irrationally relieved as they left the cage.
The trio continued without speaking for another 200 yards, the only
sound the noise of a distant golf cart and their steps echoing off
the concrete. A petite girl passed them to their right; she
was clad in a t-shirt, shorts, and a pair of large yellow shoes.
"Mickey's a girl?" Sara was irrationally surprised by the discovery.
"Mickey's a girl; I've seen boy Minnies. I know you guys haven't
been here before, but every night during the fireworks show
Tinkerbell flies from the turret of the castle over to
Tomorrowland. Well, the current one is a 12-year-old boy. There's a
strict weight requirement. Not only could the wire snap, but there
are also several cast members holding up a mattress to
catch him on the other side. At nearly 70 miles per hour that could
get dangerous." He laughed; Grissom and Sara stared back with
inscrutable expressions.
They stopped at a door marked Tomorrowland 3. Steve allowed them to
enter before him, watching as they flashed their IDs to the guard at
the desk. Continuing up the steps, the hum of an electric generator
grew louder. The door buzzed; a blast of warm air hit them in the
face as they walked into what appeared at first to be a large
auditorium.
They were surrounded by a maze of steel and concrete, the black
walls lit by countless rows of fluorescent lighting. Sara's eyes
traveled up the metal grids to the skeleton of a roller coaster.
"Space Mountain?"
"Yeah." Steve pointed to the an incline to their left. "That's Alpha
track. The other one is Omega. You like coasters, Gil. After it's
reopened you should go."
Sara eyed the ride. "It looks a little...less than your speed,
Grissom."
"I don't know. It's in complete darkness, there's a theme. It's hard
to find coasters like this anymore."
"Right. You're old school." Her smile faded as she looked closer at
the tracks. "How close together are those rails?"
"Kinda scary, huh? Only looks like you could lose your head. Someone
lost an arm once, but never decapitated."
"That's comforting."
Crossing the platform, they stepped into a freight elevator and rode
in silence until it came to a stop near the utility entrance of the
TTA. The tracks were immediately visible; more so were the
three test dummies propped lifelessly against the wall. Grissom,
pleased to be back in his element, walked quickly to the scene.
Hoisting a dummy over his shoulder, he watched as Sara did
the same. She adjusted her feet to balance its weight and Steve
moved to her side. "Let me help you with that."
"Thanks, I'm fine." She stated with a polite smile, taking a step
away. After walking toward Grissom she lay her dummy next to his and
started to step to the rails below. Without thinking, Grissom
grabbed her arm and pulled her back from the edge.
"Steve, is the e-rail powered down?" They needed the trains
operational for the reenactment; when powered, he knew that the
strip that ran down the middle of the ride path carried nearly 10000
volts of electricity.
Looking down for the telltale light and finding none, he
nodded. "You're clear."
Slanting her eyes nervously at Grissom, Sara hopped down onto the
beam. Still taking care to avoid the middle rail, she pulled the
reenactment dummy down after her and bent on one knee. Her
eyes followed the thin trail of blood and Grissom could see her
calculating the angles. "I think I got it. The point of impact, at
least."
He was impressed. "Go on."
Steve had moved up behind her; she raised her voice so he could hear
as well. "See where the spatter in this area is fine and thin, then
gets longer and more dense? It's almost like a starburst. If the vic
was still alive or was moved here within 30 minutes or so of his
death the impact would create such an effect. Kind of like a splash
zone." She added, mainly for Steve's benefit.
"What about the blood to the left?" The sheriff motioned to a
larger, more dense stain.
Sara turned and grabbed her dummy around the shoulders. "See how
we're on a turn, here? When the train hit his head was forced to the
side like this." She demonstrated, using her palm to snap the
plastic skull to the left. "The lateral cut to his face caused the
blood to pool in that direction; not to mention the slant on the
tracks to counter-balance the cars kept the body from being pushed
to the right. He was effectively pinned in place." Frowning, she
continued. "He didn't have a chance."
Grissom nodded. "I think you're right, but you're talking as if the
victim was still alive. I've still seen nothing here to indicate
that."
"He could have been unconscious."
"What about the beetles?"
Shrugging, Sara stretched the dummy across the track. "That's your
department." She looked up at Steve, who looked back with a
grin. "Can you start the trains?"
"Sure thing." He left and Sara pulled herself up over the rail. As
she sat next to Grissom they heard the soft hum as the current
coursed through the e-rail. They stared at the tracks in a
companionable silence until Sara spoke again.
"Thanks."
Grissom looked at her, confusion crossing his features. "For what?"
"Bringing me along."
Sitting there, inches from her, he didn't know the best way to
respond. "You were the right choice for this case."
She stared at him for a moment before looking away, her shoulders
tensing slightly. Startled, she turned back as the row of blue cars
appeared in the distance. Her voice had a slight edge as stood and
moved to the edge of platform.
"According to the ride plan the cars operate at an average of ten
miles per hour. However, it has to maintain speed on the corners."
She reached behind her and pulled a folder from the kit that
had been delivered to the scene earlier. "At four different
locations the train hits 20. Here, here, here, and here." Pointing
to four red circles on the layout, she stepped back so Grissom
could see.
"Our scene is in an impulsion area."
As if to demonstrate, the train increased in speed as it neared the
turn. Kneeling, Grissom made last minute adjustments to the dummy
before returning to where Sara stood on the ledge. The floodlit
frame of Space Mountain made for a surreal backdrop as the front
car's stabilizing metal wheel made contact with the body's plastic
head. The initial damage was obscured as the rest of the train
passed.
Grissom felt the breeze on his face before the train continued into
the tunnel, its path never diverted. They waited a few moments until
the panel lights went off and they could no longer hear the noise
created by the voltage. Watching as Sara eased herself off the
ledge, he grabbed a camera from the case and followed suit.
"That's quite a nose job." Grissom commented, watching her wince as
she turned the head toward her. The plastic 'wound' was at first
sight similar to the one from the victim, the nose essentially gone
and the eyes appearing detached from the rest of its features.
Snapping pictures, Grissom circled the dummy while Sara stood, lost
in thought.
"There were no restraints or ligature marks found on the victim at
all," she said, after a moment. "The wound is consistent, but if
Holland had moved at all, it could have saved his life. The
circumstances had to be just right for that amount of damage to
occur." She paused. "It doesn't make sense; why would anyone just
wait to die?"
Grissom said nothing; he knew where Sara was going with this.
"Unless he was unconscious at the time of death." She
continued. "The e-rail..." She couldn't believe it hadn't occurred
to her before.
"The coroner didn't mention any burns or charring consistent with
electrocution."
They heard footsteps as Steve returned. Grinning, his voice was
almost jarring compared to the earlier quiet. "Looks like I missed
all the fun."
"There's more where this came from." Grissom handed Sara the
camera. "I'm going to call the lab in Osceola and ask if there was
any sign of scorching--see if they can't take another look." Pulling
out his cell, he glanced at the display and sighed. "Steve, I can't
get reception in here."
If you take the elevator back down you'll see a house phone next to
the door we came in through."
"That's the closest?"
"It's the easiest to find." Steve hedged.
Grissom nodded. He looked to Sara, but she had already walked
several feet in the other direction, her back to them. "Okay." After
pausing a moment, he turned and disappeared into the dark.
Steve approached Sara as she leaned over her kit, searching through
the contents for the notes she had taken earlier. Not finding them,
she slammed the lid and leaned against the wall with a
frustrated sigh.
"Something wrong, Sara?" He tested.
She had forgotten he was there. Straightening her posture, she gave
him a polite "No."
Watching her walk back to the ride path, he tried a different
tack. "There's one thing that bothers me about this scene. The
trains are programmed to stop when they run into interference.
Unless the sensor on the front car was damaged, it should have
stopped long before it hit the vic."
She stared at him a moment before breaking into a small
smile. "That's it."
"Excuse me?"
She put out a hand to silence him and moved to the front of the
train. "The sensors," she bent to her knees before continuing, "are
eighteen inches above the bottom of the base. If Holland had
been standing or even on his side, the impact probably would never
had occurred."
"He would have to have been prone."
"Yeah. It would be more consistent with the damage to Holland's
skull and would be another indication that the body was moved here
post-mortem." Sara ran a hand through her hair, processing the new
information. "It would also get us a step closer to explaining the
bugs and the short spatter." Walking back to the equipment along the
wall, she looked down the dim passage; she was looking forward to
sharing the findings with Grissom.
"So, the case is going well." Steve tried to bring her into
conversation.
"This part of it, at least. We still have to establish the how, the
why. We only really have the who and the when."
"You sound like Gil." Encouraged by the quick smile she gave in
response, he took a step toward her. She took a step back.
Undeterred, he continued. "You two seem to work well together."
"We should; I've worked with him for years." She was confused as to
where the conversation was heading. Steve was deeply into her
personal space now.
"He called you to Vegas?"
"Yes."
Stave's face was inscrutable. "And you moved there for him?"
"He was the one that asked; I moved there for a lot of reasons."
"Such as?"
Sara wanted this line of questioning to end; she hoped honesty would
be a means to that end.
"There was nothing keeping me in California anymore. I saw more
opportunities in Vegas."
"Professional opportunities?"
So much for honesty. "Yes."
Steve took another hesitant step forward; she could feel his body
heat now. "So, you and Gil..."
Sara's eyes darkened almost imperceptibly before widening in relief
as she saw Grissom return.
"Hey, did you talk to the coroner?" She asked, her eyes meeting his
and seeing something unfamiliar there.
"He said that on the second examination they did find some minor
discoloration, indicating that the victim either didn't make direct
contact with the rail or was already deceased."
"Well, Sar and I just figured that part out, didn't we?" Steve's
voice boomed, interrupting Grissom's next statement. Sara winced as
she saw irritation cross his features.
"Care to fill me in, Sar?" Grissom put the emphasis on the last
syllable; his voice held an edge that wasn't there before.
"Yeah." The voice didn't belong to her; it belonged to Steve. He
relayed the new information and ended with her epiphany about the
sensors. His voice was aimed at Grissom, but his eyes never
left Sara.
"Did you take pictures?" Grissom interrupted.
"What? Not yet." Sara hadn't expected praise, but his brusque tone
was new.
He gestured toward the camera. "Take pictures."
"Don't you want to discuss what I found? This could point the case
in a new direction."
"I'm sure Steve can fill me in."
She stared at him, her jaw tensed. "Can I talk to you alone for a
moment?"
Nodding, he followed her until they were out of earshot of Steve.
Standing against the wall, he waited for her to speak.
"What are you doing?"
"I'm not doing anything," he responded, blandly.
Incredulous, she had to make an effort to keep her voice
low. "You're treating me like an assistant."
"I asked you to take pictures. That's part of your job." He didn't
tell her why he had asked.
"So is collecting evidence, but apparently you'd rather hear about
that from Steve."
"I'm your supervisor; I'd like you to take photos." He was looking
over her shoulder now.
She shook her head, as if trying to wake from a dream. "I can't
believe this. It's not about the case at all."
"I have no idea what you're talking about." His voice held a bit of
artificial smugness, but she saw the uncertainty in his eyes.
Thrusting the camera at his chest, she turned to leave. Stunned,
Grissom called after her. "You can't leave a scene, Sara."
"It's not a scene, it's a competition."
And then she was gone.
---------------------------
******
Disney's Contemporary Resort
Room 4924
18:45 PM
"Sara, it's me." Grissom called as he opened the door, not wanting
to take her by surprise. Dropping his wallet and keycard onto the
credenza he heard her respond.
"I'm in here."
She sat on the couch with her back facing him, the TV in front of
her on but muted. Her attention was on the laptop resting across her
legs, her fingers trailing over the keys as she scrolled through
some text. He sat down on the couch next to her, but she didn't look
up.
"Sara?"
She nodded distractedly, her hair falling in her face. She swept it
back behind her ear as an image opened on the screen.
"Is that my computer?" It was a rhetorical question; she didn't
bring hers.
"You know it is." A tiny smile played on her lips. "They finally
sent us the autopsy reports; you were gone so I decided to go ahead
and see if anything unusual showed up. I just looked over the tox
screen..." She trailed off as she realized Grissom's eyes hadn't
moved from her face. She turned her head slowly and met his
stare. "What?"
"My computer is password protected." His voice had an odd tone; If
Sara had to describe it she might say it was annoyed curiosity.
"You weren't here." She said lightly, but with a tinge of
nervousness. "You went to the business center without me, so I
figured I'd be proactive."
"You were in the shower and that doesn't explain the password." He
explained without pause.
Sara bit her lip; Grissom was close enough now that his body heat
was making her skin tingle. "I cracked it."
She was nothing if not honest. "You guessed?"
"I know you better than you think I do, Grissom." She answered,
matter-of-fact. She arched an eyebrow as she minimized a window that
had been open behind the report. "Or maybe not."
Leaning over to look at the display, his elbow brushed the top of
her legs as she tilted the computer away from him. He considered her
a moment. "You only checked email." It wasn't a question. He shifted
closer and watched as she shrugged, her eyes reflecting the light
from the screen. "Really, how did you know my password?"
Sara was aware of his breath on her cheek now; it made forming an
answer that much more difficult. "Baseball. 'All those stats,'
remember?" Off his blank look, she continued. "Roger Maris. He hit
sixty-one home runs in 1961, You have one of his cards framed next
to that singing fish in your office. Maris61."
Grissom didn't know whether to be irritated at her breach or awed by
her deduction. "You scare me sometimes, Sara."
"It took me more than one try." Smiling, she relaxed against the
cushion behind her; their shoulders were touching now. She slid the
laptop toward him so that one half rested on his right leg. "As I
was saying before, I just looked over the tox screen and there was
nothing unusual. No evidence of alcohol or drug use, either."
"Most fatal accidents at theme parks are due to irresponsible
actions while inebriated."
"Right." With a click she brought up an autopsy photo. "We didn't
find any alkali fluids on the tracks, but the blood spatter pattern
seemed to indicate that the vic was killed at the scene. The two
would seem to contradict each other."
Grissom shook his head. "The problem with contradictory evidence is
that they only serve to rule each other out," he reminded her.
"Yes, but not when you have more evidence pointing in a specific
direction." She zoomed in on the image of Josh Holland's nearly
obliterated face and then again on a patch of skin near his left
ear. Sara turned her head toward Grissom, not to avoid the image but
to gauge his reaction. Focusing on the screen, he came to the same
realization she had.
"Yellow skin. He was most likely killed elsewhere." He had suspected
it, but there was still a piece missing.
"So says the coroner, at least. That was his finding." Returning her
attention to the screen, Sara scrolled through another report.
"And the spatter?" He wasn't testing; it was one of her fortes.
"Depends on transport time and speed on impact. If the conditions
were just
right the impact could leave a pattern like the one present on the
wheel. I say we ask the simulation dummies." After a few more
keystrokes she closed the computer and turned to him. Feeling her
gaze, he met her eyes and then averted his own, suddenly aware of
just how close they were sitting to one another. Neither one of them
made an attempt to move.
"We have to meet Steve." Grissom broke the silence.
"We have to eat dinner." Sara reminded. He tended to forget about
such trivialities during cases.
Looking chagrined, he amended. "I'll buy you popcorn."
With a quick eye roll she bent and slipped on her shoes. "I think
I'll raid the concierge bar out there, but thanks."
Watching her go, he reached for his laptop. He stared at the walls
for several moments before deciding on a new password.
~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*
Magic Kingdom
Walt Disney World
20:15 PM
"Steve said eight, right?" Sara stood at the base of the Cinderella
Castle, scanning the crowd.
Sitting on the bench, Grissom watched as Eeyore trudged through a
crowd of children; the donkey looking beleaguered as a young boy
pulled one his ears. He moved his attention to his watch.
"It's only 8:20; he's always running late." Looking at her face
now, he changed the subject.
"You have a sunburn."
"I see daylight maybe twice a month."
He nodded. "There he is."
Steve walked briskly through the crowd; his tall frame made him
stand out among the throngs of children and parents crowding into
the line for the carousel. Narrowly missing a stroller, he
approached and stood across from them. "Sorry I'm late, guys. The
water parks just closed and traffic was bad." He took in Sara's
appearance as he brushed his tan arm against the reddened
skin on her own. "It looks like you got out today."
"Yeah." She didn't know why Steve's attention bothered her; he was
most likely just being friendly.
"Are we ready?" Grissom asked, apparently not in the mood for small
talk.
Motioning toward to their left, Steve led the way. After walking
down a shaded concrete walkway they stopped at a thin wooden door. A
small "cast only" sign was the only thing that
differentiated it from the decorative faux entrances around the
castle. Pushing the door open, he stepped into a dark stairwell,
Grissom and Sara right behind him. Their footsteps echoed as they
made their way down two flights of steps to a wide corridor below.
"Where are we?" Sara looked at the wide expanse of space in either
direction. Bright pink lettering on the wall in front of them
identified the area as Fantasyland. Given the gray stucco
walls and alternative music filtering through the overhead speakers,
Sara found that somewhat implausible.
"Right now? About thirty feet below where we were just standing.
This is the Utilidor. It runs underneath the majority of the Magic
Kingdom. It's almost like a mini-city. These hallways connect
every `land' of the park. You have costuming, a cast cafeteria,
computer labs…It also allows the grounds and custodial cast to move
around without disrupting the guest experience."
Grissom looked up at the metal ceiling. "So this is essentially a
basement?"
"No, a basement implies that we're underground. The park is actually
the second floor of a two-story complex. We're actually slightly
above ground level right now."
Sara looked puzzled. "Are all the parks set up this way?"
Shaking his head, Steve continued walking. "No. Well, EPCOT has a
small Utilidor, but it's not nearly as intricate as this one. This
park is different than the others in that there are several
themed sections. It would be jarring to have costumed Tomorrowland
cast walking through Fantasyland on their way to lunch…" He was cut
off by a loud clattering sound above their heads.
Startled, both Grissom and Sara stared up at the steel tubing that
ran along the ceiling.
Grissom looked at his friend. "What was that?"
"When Walt Disney first opened Disneyland, he took a walk down Main
Street. He stopped at a cart for a soda and after he had finished it
he found himself searching for a garbage can. Not finding one
easily, he mandated that his park have a trash bin every twelve
feet."
Grissom, not seeing the point, gave him a look he generally reserved
for an uncooperative witness.
"And?"
"On a slow day the Magic Kingdom averages 45,000 visitors. They
create a lot of garbage. There are close to 1000 trash cans.
Emptying them manually would be a huge job, not to mention the
environmental issues involved with all those plastic liners. When a
guest throws away a soda bottle or popcorn box or half-eaten
hamburger it drops directly into the tubes above your heads.
It's a pneumatic system. Every thirty minutes the garbage is sucked
outside into dumpsters."
Sara looked impressed, but scrunched her nose. "That would explain
the smell." She had noticed a rather foul odor from the moment they
had exited the stairwell.
"It gets pretty hot up there. Things tend to cook."
After rounding the corner, Grissom and Sara both took an immediate
step backward. Steve laughed as he saw their nearly identical
startled expressions.
Sara looked somewhat disturbed, but still managed a "Cool." Grissom
just looked somewhat disturbed.
"Welcome to the Cage." Steve's voice echoed as he led them through
an area enclosed in chain link. "Every costumed character in the
Magic Kingdom originates from this room."
"I take it Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum have the night off?" Grissom
pointed to their heads, suspended from hooks on the wall. Their
disembodied faces grinned garishly at them.
Sara laughed softy at his comment, but not before stepping a few
feet away. In doing so, she nearly tripped over a large black bag at
her feet. A flattened Pluto looked back up at her; she frowned
back. "Well, that sucks," she said, almost to herself.
"What?" Grissom turned toward her.
"Nothing." She sighed. "What are the bags for?"
Steve kept walking. "It's how they move the costumes from park to
park. In case they have to transport them through guest areas they
want to be as low profile as possible."
"Makes sense." She was irrationally relieved as they left the cage.
The trio continued without speaking for another 200 yards, the only
sound the noise of a distant golf cart and their steps echoing off
the concrete. A petite girl passed them to their right; she
was clad in a t-shirt, shorts, and a pair of large yellow shoes.
"Mickey's a girl?" Sara was irrationally surprised by the discovery.
"Mickey's a girl; I've seen boy Minnies. I know you guys haven't
been here before, but every night during the fireworks show
Tinkerbell flies from the turret of the castle over to
Tomorrowland. Well, the current one is a 12-year-old boy. There's a
strict weight requirement. Not only could the wire snap, but there
are also several cast members holding up a mattress to
catch him on the other side. At nearly 70 miles per hour that could
get dangerous." He laughed; Grissom and Sara stared back with
inscrutable expressions.
They stopped at a door marked Tomorrowland 3. Steve allowed them to
enter before him, watching as they flashed their IDs to the guard at
the desk. Continuing up the steps, the hum of an electric generator
grew louder. The door buzzed; a blast of warm air hit them in the
face as they walked into what appeared at first to be a large
auditorium.
They were surrounded by a maze of steel and concrete, the black
walls lit by countless rows of fluorescent lighting. Sara's eyes
traveled up the metal grids to the skeleton of a roller coaster.
"Space Mountain?"
"Yeah." Steve pointed to the an incline to their left. "That's Alpha
track. The other one is Omega. You like coasters, Gil. After it's
reopened you should go."
Sara eyed the ride. "It looks a little...less than your speed,
Grissom."
"I don't know. It's in complete darkness, there's a theme. It's hard
to find coasters like this anymore."
"Right. You're old school." Her smile faded as she looked closer at
the tracks. "How close together are those rails?"
"Kinda scary, huh? Only looks like you could lose your head. Someone
lost an arm once, but never decapitated."
"That's comforting."
Crossing the platform, they stepped into a freight elevator and rode
in silence until it came to a stop near the utility entrance of the
TTA. The tracks were immediately visible; more so were the
three test dummies propped lifelessly against the wall. Grissom,
pleased to be back in his element, walked quickly to the scene.
Hoisting a dummy over his shoulder, he watched as Sara did
the same. She adjusted her feet to balance its weight and Steve
moved to her side. "Let me help you with that."
"Thanks, I'm fine." She stated with a polite smile, taking a step
away. After walking toward Grissom she lay her dummy next to his and
started to step to the rails below. Without thinking, Grissom
grabbed her arm and pulled her back from the edge.
"Steve, is the e-rail powered down?" They needed the trains
operational for the reenactment; when powered, he knew that the
strip that ran down the middle of the ride path carried nearly 10000
volts of electricity.
Looking down for the telltale light and finding none, he
nodded. "You're clear."
Slanting her eyes nervously at Grissom, Sara hopped down onto the
beam. Still taking care to avoid the middle rail, she pulled the
reenactment dummy down after her and bent on one knee. Her
eyes followed the thin trail of blood and Grissom could see her
calculating the angles. "I think I got it. The point of impact, at
least."
He was impressed. "Go on."
Steve had moved up behind her; she raised her voice so he could hear
as well. "See where the spatter in this area is fine and thin, then
gets longer and more dense? It's almost like a starburst. If the vic
was still alive or was moved here within 30 minutes or so of his
death the impact would create such an effect. Kind of like a splash
zone." She added, mainly for Steve's benefit.
"What about the blood to the left?" The sheriff motioned to a
larger, more dense stain.
Sara turned and grabbed her dummy around the shoulders. "See how
we're on a turn, here? When the train hit his head was forced to the
side like this." She demonstrated, using her palm to snap the
plastic skull to the left. "The lateral cut to his face caused the
blood to pool in that direction; not to mention the slant on the
tracks to counter-balance the cars kept the body from being pushed
to the right. He was effectively pinned in place." Frowning, she
continued. "He didn't have a chance."
Grissom nodded. "I think you're right, but you're talking as if the
victim was still alive. I've still seen nothing here to indicate
that."
"He could have been unconscious."
"What about the beetles?"
Shrugging, Sara stretched the dummy across the track. "That's your
department." She looked up at Steve, who looked back with a
grin. "Can you start the trains?"
"Sure thing." He left and Sara pulled herself up over the rail. As
she sat next to Grissom they heard the soft hum as the current
coursed through the e-rail. They stared at the tracks in a
companionable silence until Sara spoke again.
"Thanks."
Grissom looked at her, confusion crossing his features. "For what?"
"Bringing me along."
Sitting there, inches from her, he didn't know the best way to
respond. "You were the right choice for this case."
She stared at him for a moment before looking away, her shoulders
tensing slightly. Startled, she turned back as the row of blue cars
appeared in the distance. Her voice had a slight edge as stood and
moved to the edge of platform.
"According to the ride plan the cars operate at an average of ten
miles per hour. However, it has to maintain speed on the corners."
She reached behind her and pulled a folder from the kit that
had been delivered to the scene earlier. "At four different
locations the train hits 20. Here, here, here, and here." Pointing
to four red circles on the layout, she stepped back so Grissom
could see.
"Our scene is in an impulsion area."
As if to demonstrate, the train increased in speed as it neared the
turn. Kneeling, Grissom made last minute adjustments to the dummy
before returning to where Sara stood on the ledge. The floodlit
frame of Space Mountain made for a surreal backdrop as the front
car's stabilizing metal wheel made contact with the body's plastic
head. The initial damage was obscured as the rest of the train
passed.
Grissom felt the breeze on his face before the train continued into
the tunnel, its path never diverted. They waited a few moments until
the panel lights went off and they could no longer hear the noise
created by the voltage. Watching as Sara eased herself off the
ledge, he grabbed a camera from the case and followed suit.
"That's quite a nose job." Grissom commented, watching her wince as
she turned the head toward her. The plastic 'wound' was at first
sight similar to the one from the victim, the nose essentially gone
and the eyes appearing detached from the rest of its features.
Snapping pictures, Grissom circled the dummy while Sara stood, lost
in thought.
"There were no restraints or ligature marks found on the victim at
all," she said, after a moment. "The wound is consistent, but if
Holland had moved at all, it could have saved his life. The
circumstances had to be just right for that amount of damage to
occur." She paused. "It doesn't make sense; why would anyone just
wait to die?"
Grissom said nothing; he knew where Sara was going with this.
"Unless he was unconscious at the time of death." She
continued. "The e-rail..." She couldn't believe it hadn't occurred
to her before.
"The coroner didn't mention any burns or charring consistent with
electrocution."
They heard footsteps as Steve returned. Grinning, his voice was
almost jarring compared to the earlier quiet. "Looks like I missed
all the fun."
"There's more where this came from." Grissom handed Sara the
camera. "I'm going to call the lab in Osceola and ask if there was
any sign of scorching--see if they can't take another look." Pulling
out his cell, he glanced at the display and sighed. "Steve, I can't
get reception in here."
If you take the elevator back down you'll see a house phone next to
the door we came in through."
"That's the closest?"
"It's the easiest to find." Steve hedged.
Grissom nodded. He looked to Sara, but she had already walked
several feet in the other direction, her back to them. "Okay." After
pausing a moment, he turned and disappeared into the dark.
Steve approached Sara as she leaned over her kit, searching through
the contents for the notes she had taken earlier. Not finding them,
she slammed the lid and leaned against the wall with a
frustrated sigh.
"Something wrong, Sara?" He tested.
She had forgotten he was there. Straightening her posture, she gave
him a polite "No."
Watching her walk back to the ride path, he tried a different
tack. "There's one thing that bothers me about this scene. The
trains are programmed to stop when they run into interference.
Unless the sensor on the front car was damaged, it should have
stopped long before it hit the vic."
She stared at him a moment before breaking into a small
smile. "That's it."
"Excuse me?"
She put out a hand to silence him and moved to the front of the
train. "The sensors," she bent to her knees before continuing, "are
eighteen inches above the bottom of the base. If Holland had
been standing or even on his side, the impact probably would never
had occurred."
"He would have to have been prone."
"Yeah. It would be more consistent with the damage to Holland's
skull and would be another indication that the body was moved here
post-mortem." Sara ran a hand through her hair, processing the new
information. "It would also get us a step closer to explaining the
bugs and the short spatter." Walking back to the equipment along the
wall, she looked down the dim passage; she was looking forward to
sharing the findings with Grissom.
"So, the case is going well." Steve tried to bring her into
conversation.
"This part of it, at least. We still have to establish the how, the
why. We only really have the who and the when."
"You sound like Gil." Encouraged by the quick smile she gave in
response, he took a step toward her. She took a step back.
Undeterred, he continued. "You two seem to work well together."
"We should; I've worked with him for years." She was confused as to
where the conversation was heading. Steve was deeply into her
personal space now.
"He called you to Vegas?"
"Yes."
Stave's face was inscrutable. "And you moved there for him?"
"He was the one that asked; I moved there for a lot of reasons."
"Such as?"
Sara wanted this line of questioning to end; she hoped honesty would
be a means to that end.
"There was nothing keeping me in California anymore. I saw more
opportunities in Vegas."
"Professional opportunities?"
So much for honesty. "Yes."
Steve took another hesitant step forward; she could feel his body
heat now. "So, you and Gil..."
Sara's eyes darkened almost imperceptibly before widening in relief
as she saw Grissom return.
"Hey, did you talk to the coroner?" She asked, her eyes meeting his
and seeing something unfamiliar there.
"He said that on the second examination they did find some minor
discoloration, indicating that the victim either didn't make direct
contact with the rail or was already deceased."
"Well, Sar and I just figured that part out, didn't we?" Steve's
voice boomed, interrupting Grissom's next statement. Sara winced as
she saw irritation cross his features.
"Care to fill me in, Sar?" Grissom put the emphasis on the last
syllable; his voice held an edge that wasn't there before.
"Yeah." The voice didn't belong to her; it belonged to Steve. He
relayed the new information and ended with her epiphany about the
sensors. His voice was aimed at Grissom, but his eyes never
left Sara.
"Did you take pictures?" Grissom interrupted.
"What? Not yet." Sara hadn't expected praise, but his brusque tone
was new.
He gestured toward the camera. "Take pictures."
"Don't you want to discuss what I found? This could point the case
in a new direction."
"I'm sure Steve can fill me in."
She stared at him, her jaw tensed. "Can I talk to you alone for a
moment?"
Nodding, he followed her until they were out of earshot of Steve.
Standing against the wall, he waited for her to speak.
"What are you doing?"
"I'm not doing anything," he responded, blandly.
Incredulous, she had to make an effort to keep her voice
low. "You're treating me like an assistant."
"I asked you to take pictures. That's part of your job." He didn't
tell her why he had asked.
"So is collecting evidence, but apparently you'd rather hear about
that from Steve."
"I'm your supervisor; I'd like you to take photos." He was looking
over her shoulder now.
She shook her head, as if trying to wake from a dream. "I can't
believe this. It's not about the case at all."
"I have no idea what you're talking about." His voice held a bit of
artificial smugness, but she saw the uncertainty in his eyes.
Thrusting the camera at his chest, she turned to leave. Stunned,
Grissom called after her. "You can't leave a scene, Sara."
"It's not a scene, it's a competition."
And then she was gone.
---------------------------