Nick stared at the dead person, then at the others, then back to the one Gil had identified as being different. What the hell did Gris mean?
They were all dead.
They were all sliced up, had bled to death.
They were scattered around the room without any obvious pattern.
Three girls, two guys.
They all had died right here on the spot.
So what was different?
Clothes?
Not really.
All dressed in black.
Then he could feel it, like a tingling in the back of his skull. An idea. Vaguely only but it would form and surface if he managed not to focus on it right now.
Keep looking, Nick!
Grissom watched Nick intently. Would the younger man find out?
All white people, all in their early twenties. This one was a guy, like the bartender who was probably the oldest victim. So many cuts...
"So many cuts..." Nick whispered, "So..." one hand raised up the Texan froze. Then the idea popped up and he spat it out: "He's not curled up... if you bleed out slowly, you usually curl up like the others; this one lays here spread-eagle and there's only one cut through the throat, nothing else."
"Yes." Gil beamed with contentment, "This one welcomed his death, he embraced the darkness, he celebrated it. Good work, Nick. We're done here. I'll hold any bet we'll find more clues during the autopsy."
They cleared the scene and returned to the lab where Warrick had just been brewing fresh coffee to keep their systems running.
They were all dead.
They were all sliced up, had bled to death.
They were scattered around the room without any obvious pattern.
Three girls, two guys.
They all had died right here on the spot.
So what was different?
Clothes?
Not really.
All dressed in black.
Then he could feel it, like a tingling in the back of his skull. An idea. Vaguely only but it would form and surface if he managed not to focus on it right now.
Keep looking, Nick!
Grissom watched Nick intently. Would the younger man find out?
All white people, all in their early twenties. This one was a guy, like the bartender who was probably the oldest victim. So many cuts...
"So many cuts..." Nick whispered, "So..." one hand raised up the Texan froze. Then the idea popped up and he spat it out: "He's not curled up... if you bleed out slowly, you usually curl up like the others; this one lays here spread-eagle and there's only one cut through the throat, nothing else."
"Yes." Gil beamed with contentment, "This one welcomed his death, he embraced the darkness, he celebrated it. Good work, Nick. We're done here. I'll hold any bet we'll find more clues during the autopsy."
They cleared the scene and returned to the lab where Warrick had just been brewing fresh coffee to keep their systems running.