XI - THE MARK OF CAIN
"'I don't know if they're still alive.'" The voice was so soft, Nick and Sara had to strain to hear it. "'The car is off the road about 200 feet. I don't know if they are still alive.'" The sound of sobbing and hitching breaths, "' Can you give me your name, ma'am?'" The calm voice of the 911 operator broke through the sobs. "' No. No names. I shouldn't have called. He shouldn't have been with her. I hope they're still alive.'" The sound of a dial tone, and the operators quite voice " ' Ma'am - ma'am?'"
Nick looked at Sara, who was chewing her lip. Brass was sitting on the corner of his desk, shaking his head.
"So that's the 911 call."
"She didn't give much information, but at least she left the name of the road. It sounds like maybe she was there when they were killed - she said she hoped they were still alive." Sara's voice was tight. "Can we have the tape, Brass? Grissom will want to hear it and we're going to need it."
Brass shrugged. "I had a copy sent to the lab already, along with date and time the call was made. She wasn't on long enough for us to trace though."
Nick sighed. "What did she mean, 'He shouldn't have been with her?' Why shouldn't he have been with her?"
"You saw the card Nick. According to our perpetrator, he shouldn't have been with her because she was white. I don't understand the Mark of Cain reference though." Brass' was tired, and he grimaced in frustration. "Mobley's already got his shorts in a knot because of the New Age murders and the Lifestyles murders - now this? Whatever happened to straight forward crime, like shooting your husband because he was cheating on you?" His tone was grimly ironic. "C'mon. I'll walk back to the lab with you, talk to Grissom. Mobley wants a report on the other two crimes, so let's hope they found something."
* * * * *
They had managed to pull three separate palm prints from the two paintbrushes found in the paint can. Greg had already determined for them that the blood in the can was, indeed, pig blood - not that anyone was surprised. What had been surprising was the clarity of the prints they had managed to pull from the brushes.
One of the brushes had two palm prints, overlapping each other at opposite angles. Greg had managed to separate them, and the top one was currently running through AFIS. The bottles had been trickier, as there were prints from several different people on them. Warrick was currently sorting through the prints they had pulled thus far, and was trying to organize them - putting the same prints together. The job was going to be a tedious one.
Catherine was also sitting in the lab, looking at a list of butchers and slaughterhouses in and around Las Vegas. There were no pig farmers per se, and only one slaughterhouse that specialized in pigs. Every once in a while, she would sigh in exasperation, her breath pushing her bangs from her face in feathery wisps. Grissom was studying the latest pictures, included the blood drops on the floor and the partial footprint.
He looked up when Sara dragged herself into the lab, followed by Nick and Brass.
"We're back."
"I can see that." Grissom responded. "Tell us about the lastest crime scene."
Sara shrugged. "Not much to tell, yet. Bodies are down in autopsy, and we're heading there next."
"Was it another hate crime?"
Sara nodded and looked at Nick, who responded to the question. "It was bad, guys. Two victims - I'd say late teens, early twenties. The male victim was beaten badly, stabbed and his hands were skinned. The female victim was garroted. Uhm - crime scene pictures are in the can. We found ID in the car, O'Reilly was going to go notify the parents." Nick's voice was tense. "We have a fair amount of promising evidence - a taped 911 call - Sara managed to lift a few footprints - some unidentifiable fibers found on the clothing - the ropes used to tie them up - the wire used to garrote the girl."
"How was it a hate crime?" Warrick was still looking at the fingerprints when he asked.
Brass sighed. "The male victim was black, the female white. We have a printed brochure that was left at the site on the dashboard of the vehicle - looks like it was printed from a home computer. Nick has it in his field kit. Basically, it condemns inter-racial relationships, all minorities, and white women who have relationships with said minorities. Real broad minded stuff." His voice was sarcastic. "Anyone know what the "Mark of Cain' is?"
"According to the Bible, Cain committed the world's first murder when he killed his brother Able." Grissom's tone was thoughtful. "When God found out he exiled Cain, marking him so that others would know what he had done. The mark would have saved Cain from the revenge of others, but also made him vilified, branding him as a murderer and condemned by God."
Warrick had twisted in his seat, surveying the others grimly. "It also has racial connotations. Some people believe that the Mark of Cain is black skin, so all colored people are descended from a murderer and therefore condemned by God."
Grissom looked at Warrick. "I hadn't heard that before."
"I have. Believe me, when you're mother is white and your father is black, and you're a little kid growing up in the 70s, you hear a lot of things you probably shouldn't. I've been called every name under the sun." Warrick's tone was matter of fact, and he turned back to sorting through fingerprints. "If people can find a reason to hate you, they will."
* * * * *
Grissom went with Nick down to autopsy, leaving Sara to search for a tread- match on the bloody footprint from Lifestyles.
Doctor Robbins smiled at them absently when the walked in. "Just in time, gentlemen. I thought I'd start with our female victim first - thought you might like the wire embedded in her neck."
Nick stood well back of the autopsy tables, his face stoic, as he watched Robbins work. Every once in a while, the doctor would speak into a small tape recorder, or motion for Grissom to take a closer look at something. Grissom, of course, was right beside Robbins, asking questions and making observations of his own. Nick, however, stayed as far away as possible. He hated being in the autopsy room, and didn't understand how Doc Robbins did this day in day out. Nick wasn't a squeamish man - with his line of work, he couldn't afford to be - but autopsies left him cold. He often viewed them as the final indignity placed on the victim - their bodies scoured in the name of science.
He jumped when Grissom turned to him. "Nick. Grab me a bag."
Stepping forward, bag open, Nick tried not to look at the gaping wound in the young girls' throat. Doctor Robbins had flushed it very gentle with a warm solution of some sort, and had managed to dig the wire out of the skin from around her neck. Grissom dropped the wire into the bag.
"Looks like piano wire. Just like Lifestyles." Grissom muttered. Nick lifted it up, eyebrow quirked as he studied the strand through the clear plastic, grimacing at the sickly silver glow through the darkness of the blood.
"It was the wire that killed her." Robbins inserted. "From first glance, anyway. There are no other marks on her body - she wasn't beaten. Just the wire - but it cut almost clean through her jugular. Let's take a quick look at our other victim." He stepped over to the young man, gently lifting an arm and studying one of the hands. "Whoever skinned his hands did a good job - they knew what they were doing. There isn't a lot of tearing along the muscles, and the cutting around the wrists is very precise." He pointed out the wounds to Grissom. "Notice the slight bruising around this area - just above the cuts. I'd say he was still alive when this was done."
"Would this have caused his death, or do you think it was the beating?" Grissom's voice was neutral.
Robbins shrugged. "I'd say a combination of both, perhaps. I'll have to do a more thorough review, but all the bruising in the upper chest suggests several broken ribs. There are various contusions on his face and head as well, and he would have lost a fair amount of blood from his hands. I'll let you know what I find, but right now it's impossible to determine if there's one specific cause, or a mixture."
* * * * *
Grissom and Nick met Greg walking down the hallway as they left autopsy. Greg looked flustered, but he smiled when he saw them.
"I've got some interesting news," he started. "I've found a match to one of the palm prints on the first paint brush - the bottom palm print, to be precise."
Grissom looked at him and smiled. "Finally, we're getting somewhere. What's the name, Greg?"
"No name. That's the problem. The palm print matches our unknown victim from Lifestyles. He helped paint the walls before he was killed."
______
"'I don't know if they're still alive.'" The voice was so soft, Nick and Sara had to strain to hear it. "'The car is off the road about 200 feet. I don't know if they are still alive.'" The sound of sobbing and hitching breaths, "' Can you give me your name, ma'am?'" The calm voice of the 911 operator broke through the sobs. "' No. No names. I shouldn't have called. He shouldn't have been with her. I hope they're still alive.'" The sound of a dial tone, and the operators quite voice " ' Ma'am - ma'am?'"
Nick looked at Sara, who was chewing her lip. Brass was sitting on the corner of his desk, shaking his head.
"So that's the 911 call."
"She didn't give much information, but at least she left the name of the road. It sounds like maybe she was there when they were killed - she said she hoped they were still alive." Sara's voice was tight. "Can we have the tape, Brass? Grissom will want to hear it and we're going to need it."
Brass shrugged. "I had a copy sent to the lab already, along with date and time the call was made. She wasn't on long enough for us to trace though."
Nick sighed. "What did she mean, 'He shouldn't have been with her?' Why shouldn't he have been with her?"
"You saw the card Nick. According to our perpetrator, he shouldn't have been with her because she was white. I don't understand the Mark of Cain reference though." Brass' was tired, and he grimaced in frustration. "Mobley's already got his shorts in a knot because of the New Age murders and the Lifestyles murders - now this? Whatever happened to straight forward crime, like shooting your husband because he was cheating on you?" His tone was grimly ironic. "C'mon. I'll walk back to the lab with you, talk to Grissom. Mobley wants a report on the other two crimes, so let's hope they found something."
* * * * *
They had managed to pull three separate palm prints from the two paintbrushes found in the paint can. Greg had already determined for them that the blood in the can was, indeed, pig blood - not that anyone was surprised. What had been surprising was the clarity of the prints they had managed to pull from the brushes.
One of the brushes had two palm prints, overlapping each other at opposite angles. Greg had managed to separate them, and the top one was currently running through AFIS. The bottles had been trickier, as there were prints from several different people on them. Warrick was currently sorting through the prints they had pulled thus far, and was trying to organize them - putting the same prints together. The job was going to be a tedious one.
Catherine was also sitting in the lab, looking at a list of butchers and slaughterhouses in and around Las Vegas. There were no pig farmers per se, and only one slaughterhouse that specialized in pigs. Every once in a while, she would sigh in exasperation, her breath pushing her bangs from her face in feathery wisps. Grissom was studying the latest pictures, included the blood drops on the floor and the partial footprint.
He looked up when Sara dragged herself into the lab, followed by Nick and Brass.
"We're back."
"I can see that." Grissom responded. "Tell us about the lastest crime scene."
Sara shrugged. "Not much to tell, yet. Bodies are down in autopsy, and we're heading there next."
"Was it another hate crime?"
Sara nodded and looked at Nick, who responded to the question. "It was bad, guys. Two victims - I'd say late teens, early twenties. The male victim was beaten badly, stabbed and his hands were skinned. The female victim was garroted. Uhm - crime scene pictures are in the can. We found ID in the car, O'Reilly was going to go notify the parents." Nick's voice was tense. "We have a fair amount of promising evidence - a taped 911 call - Sara managed to lift a few footprints - some unidentifiable fibers found on the clothing - the ropes used to tie them up - the wire used to garrote the girl."
"How was it a hate crime?" Warrick was still looking at the fingerprints when he asked.
Brass sighed. "The male victim was black, the female white. We have a printed brochure that was left at the site on the dashboard of the vehicle - looks like it was printed from a home computer. Nick has it in his field kit. Basically, it condemns inter-racial relationships, all minorities, and white women who have relationships with said minorities. Real broad minded stuff." His voice was sarcastic. "Anyone know what the "Mark of Cain' is?"
"According to the Bible, Cain committed the world's first murder when he killed his brother Able." Grissom's tone was thoughtful. "When God found out he exiled Cain, marking him so that others would know what he had done. The mark would have saved Cain from the revenge of others, but also made him vilified, branding him as a murderer and condemned by God."
Warrick had twisted in his seat, surveying the others grimly. "It also has racial connotations. Some people believe that the Mark of Cain is black skin, so all colored people are descended from a murderer and therefore condemned by God."
Grissom looked at Warrick. "I hadn't heard that before."
"I have. Believe me, when you're mother is white and your father is black, and you're a little kid growing up in the 70s, you hear a lot of things you probably shouldn't. I've been called every name under the sun." Warrick's tone was matter of fact, and he turned back to sorting through fingerprints. "If people can find a reason to hate you, they will."
* * * * *
Grissom went with Nick down to autopsy, leaving Sara to search for a tread- match on the bloody footprint from Lifestyles.
Doctor Robbins smiled at them absently when the walked in. "Just in time, gentlemen. I thought I'd start with our female victim first - thought you might like the wire embedded in her neck."
Nick stood well back of the autopsy tables, his face stoic, as he watched Robbins work. Every once in a while, the doctor would speak into a small tape recorder, or motion for Grissom to take a closer look at something. Grissom, of course, was right beside Robbins, asking questions and making observations of his own. Nick, however, stayed as far away as possible. He hated being in the autopsy room, and didn't understand how Doc Robbins did this day in day out. Nick wasn't a squeamish man - with his line of work, he couldn't afford to be - but autopsies left him cold. He often viewed them as the final indignity placed on the victim - their bodies scoured in the name of science.
He jumped when Grissom turned to him. "Nick. Grab me a bag."
Stepping forward, bag open, Nick tried not to look at the gaping wound in the young girls' throat. Doctor Robbins had flushed it very gentle with a warm solution of some sort, and had managed to dig the wire out of the skin from around her neck. Grissom dropped the wire into the bag.
"Looks like piano wire. Just like Lifestyles." Grissom muttered. Nick lifted it up, eyebrow quirked as he studied the strand through the clear plastic, grimacing at the sickly silver glow through the darkness of the blood.
"It was the wire that killed her." Robbins inserted. "From first glance, anyway. There are no other marks on her body - she wasn't beaten. Just the wire - but it cut almost clean through her jugular. Let's take a quick look at our other victim." He stepped over to the young man, gently lifting an arm and studying one of the hands. "Whoever skinned his hands did a good job - they knew what they were doing. There isn't a lot of tearing along the muscles, and the cutting around the wrists is very precise." He pointed out the wounds to Grissom. "Notice the slight bruising around this area - just above the cuts. I'd say he was still alive when this was done."
"Would this have caused his death, or do you think it was the beating?" Grissom's voice was neutral.
Robbins shrugged. "I'd say a combination of both, perhaps. I'll have to do a more thorough review, but all the bruising in the upper chest suggests several broken ribs. There are various contusions on his face and head as well, and he would have lost a fair amount of blood from his hands. I'll let you know what I find, but right now it's impossible to determine if there's one specific cause, or a mixture."
* * * * *
Grissom and Nick met Greg walking down the hallway as they left autopsy. Greg looked flustered, but he smiled when he saw them.
"I've got some interesting news," he started. "I've found a match to one of the palm prints on the first paint brush - the bottom palm print, to be precise."
Grissom looked at him and smiled. "Finally, we're getting somewhere. What's the name, Greg?"
"No name. That's the problem. The palm print matches our unknown victim from Lifestyles. He helped paint the walls before he was killed."
______