A/N - Thank you VERY much to everyone for your reviews. Everyone has been
so kind, and encouraging. Daf9- your fine wine comment was greatly
appreciated, you made my day.
Thanks again.
Garnet.
~~~~~~~~~
Las Vegas Morgue
From a distance, it might have been a mirror image. Two men, similar enough in appearance, both wearing nondescript white lab coats, both bent over the table, peering indelicately into the face of the corpse.
"Defiantly strangled." The younger of the two men said, straightening up from his bent position.
The older man remained bent over, something having caught his eye. With out speaking, he reached for the tray of instruments on his right. Choosing a pair of six-inch long forceps, the older man clutched the jaw of the corpse; opening the victims mouth as wide as it would go. The younger man, his interest recaptured bent back down, his face inches away from the dead body's face. The forceps went into the gaping mouth, down in to the throat. Grasping his target, the older man, the ME, slowly pulled the forceps out, dropping the foreign object into the palm of his other hand. Both men bent in closer, examining what had just been in the corpse's throat.
"What the hell is it?" The younger man asked.
Before the doctor had a chance to reply, the doors behind them opened. "Gris" the red head from the hotel boldly strode into the room. Gil Grissom, the younger man at the table turned toward her, only half rising from his bent over position. "We've got a body, it's going to be a press case." The red head, Catherine Willows, reported.
"What is it?" Grissom asked fully straightening up and facing Catherine.
"Dead girl in the Grand."
"Why would the press be interested in it?"
"Because:" Catherine began "She's got a movie stars name branded into her stomach."
~~
Los Angles - January 15, 6:45PM
Alex slapped a sandwich down onto the table next to Bobby. He glanced up at her, dragging himself out of his thoughts, long enough to say "Thanks" and went back to reading the screen of the lap top in front of him.
Alex pulled a chair up next to him and sat down. "More research?" She asked after a moment.
"Even if the perp isn't Mark Price, he knows enough to pose as him. . . ." Bobby paused a moment, turning in his chair to face Alex, his hands flew around in the air in front of him ". . . There's enough information, articles, interviews . . . anyone could say they were him in an email, and be able to get away with it."
"Throw in some star struck girls, who would want to believe a movie star is singling them out," Alex began.
"And you've got perfect victims." Bobby finished. "Look here." Bobby turned back toward the laptop and typed on the keyboard. The familiar home page of the fan group popped up on the screen. Bobby used the mouse, clicking a few times to get to what he wanted to show Alex. "This member. . . uh, KittyKat, was Cheryl." He glanced back at Alex and read her expression. "The paper we found in her car, the one with the directions to Grauman's on it, there was a website time and date stamp on the top of the page. I had them check their records of who got those directions at that time. That ISP lead me to an email address registered to Cheryl Zimmer, and was used as her membership address when she joined the fan group as KittyKat."
Alex raised her eyebrows, surprised only a little. "So," she began, "what'd you lean about Cheryl from her posts?"
Bobby's head ticked, just once, off to the side and back, "She was lonely, that's for sure." With a few more clicks, he brought up all of Cheryl's posts. Pointing to the screen, he explained. "She was posting everyday, sometimes several times a day . ." He paused, his hand raised in mid air, fingers pointing to the screen, twitching as if they didn't know where to point to first. "She doesn't come right out and say she's alone, but if you read between the lines, you can tell she was." He glanced back to Alex. "She never used the word 'we' always 'I'. . ." Again, he paused, the clues and hints he'd found tumbled over each other in his mind, and he struggled for a way to convey them all to Alex.
He didn't get a chance to finish his thoughts. From his desk on the other side of the room, Detective Joel Stevens' called out "Eames! Goren!" They turned toward him, he was standing, his desk phone receiver clutched in his hand, "We've got another one." Joel told them then said something into the phone and hung it up.
Immediately, Bobby and Alex stood and went over to Joel's desk. Fearless joined them seconds later. "Vic is a female, approximately 24, asphyxiated."
"What's the connection to Mark Price?" Fearless asked.
"His name was etched into the skin of her stomach." He pointed to the phone. "That was a Captain Brass with the LVPD, he's been reading about our case in the papers, and called as soon as he heard about their victim."
"LVPD?" Alex asked, stressing the 'V'.
"Yeah." Joel continued. "He's gone to Vegas."
~~
LVPD Capitan Bass walked into Gil Grissom's office and sat down in one of the two chairs facing the desk. "Grapevine says you didn't know who Mark Price was."
"Not until two hours ago." Grissom answered, not looking up from the photos scattered across his desk.
"LAPD has two murders that're probably connected. I called over there, and talked to a" Brass paused while he dug in his jacket pocket and fished out his notebook. "A Detective Stevens. NYPD is also involved."
"NYPD?" Grissom interjected, looking up from the photos.
"First vic lived in New York." Brass explained. "She was found in LA. NYPD thinks she was lured out to Calli by her killer. Over the Internet." He added.
"The Internet?" Grissom considered the possibilities. "What about the other LA victim?"
"Cheryl Zimmer, from San Diego. NYPD, a Detective . . . ." Brass paused again, looking down at his notes "Goren, he traced Zimmer, and the first vic, Jamie Kirkland, back to some Internet fan club of Mark Prices'." Brass stopped speaking and looked up from his notes, waiting for Grissom's next question. When none came, Brass stood up from the chair and began to leave the room. On his way out, he said "Goren and his partner, Eames, are on their way from LA. They should be here in a few hours."
~~~
With the finding of Gabrielle's body in Las Vegas, it had suddenly become the kind of case tabloids beg for. A serial killer, who may, or may not be one of America's favorite stars, preying on young women. Adding to the titillation, was the fact that Mark Price could not be found. His agent made excuses and pretext, but it was soon evident that even he didn't know where his most famous client was. Attention from the press made the mayors of all three cities nervous, and orders were passed down from Mayor to Chief to Captain to Detective. All information was to be shared, nothing held back, it didn't matter who solved the case, as long as it was solved. And solved before any one else died.
At LAX, Smith and Stevens had whished them good luck, asking them to call with any news. Now, in Vegas, Goren ducked his head when he exited the small plane LAPD had arranged. Alex stood waiting for him at the bottom of the steps that had been rolled up to the plane when it came to a stop. Bobby glanced around at the neon lit sky, then trotted down the steps, joining Alex on the ground.
A few yards ahead of them, both NYPD Detectives watched as a man they both recognized as a cop led another man and a woman toward them.
They all came to a stop when their paths met. Brass spoke first "Detectives Goren and Eames?" They nodded. "Capitan Brass, LVPD" he introduced himself, and then pointed to the others. "Gil Grissom and Catherine Willows, Las Vegas crime lab." The two women shook hands and began walking side by side to the waiting vehicle.
Grissom offered his hand. "Detective Goren."
Bobby shook Gils hand. "Mr. Grissom."
~~
Catherine drove, Grissom in the front passenger seat. Bobby and Alex climbed in back. Brass followed behind in his own car.
"What've you found?" Bobby asked as he clicked his seatbelt.
Grissom turned in his seat to face them as best as his own seatbelt would allow. "The carving on her stomach was made by an average razor blade, no way to trace it. The room was registered to the vic, Gabrielle Underwood, and paid for in cash. None of the hotel staff remembers seeing her with anyone, and if anyone saw him leaving her room, we haven't found them yet."
"Photos?" Alex asked.
Grissom turned in the seat, reaching for a large envelope on the dashboard in front of him. He handed it to Alex. She undid the clasp and pulled out the black and white 8x10's, Bobby leaned over where he was able to see better. Even though the sky was pitch black, the bright lights of the strip lit up the Tahoe like it was day, and the graphic images were clearly visible.
Catherine continued the list of evidence as she drove. "We found one hair within the sheets. Black; about an inch long. Synthetic, it came from a wig."
Bobby looked up when she said that, making eye contact with Catherine in the rear view mirror.
"What?" Catherine asked.
Bobby shook his head. "Nothing. I was thinking a wig could point to the killer not being Price, but if it is Price. . . "
Grissom interrupted finishing the sentence. "He'd just as likely be wearing a wig, to conceal his identity." Bobby nodded in agreement then turned his head to stare at the lights of the strip.
"Been to Vegas before?" Catherine asked.
"Just once." Bobby replied, still staring out the window. "My mother brought me here for a couple of weeks when I was 10."
Alex heard the tone of her partner's voice, and glanced over at him. She could see his face reflected in the glass and caught his eye. Bobby gave her a short nod, answering her unspoken question, and turned himself and his attention back to the photos.
"What about you, Detective? Ever been to Vegas?" Catherine asked glancing in the rear view to Alex.
"No, first time. And call me Alex."
"Were there any fingerprints, Grissom?" Bobby asked stretching his neck to look at Grissom in the seat in front of him.
Grissom read from the file in front of him, not answering. His silence drew the attention of everyone in the car. After a moment, Catherine reached out her right hand, placing it on the pages Grissom was reading. Gil looked up startled, "What?"
Catherine shook her head in disbelief, then answered Bobby's question herself. "No, the only fingerprints we found belong to the vic and the hotel maid who found the body."
Grissom watched Catherine as she answered, momentarily confused, then realized Catherine was answering a question he hadn't heard. Outwardly ignoring the lapse, he turned again in his seat to face the detectives. "We've pulled the security tapes from the lobby, elevator and the hallway the vic's room was on. I've got people watching them now."
"Ten to one he waves at the camera." Alex murmured.
Thanks again.
Garnet.
~~~~~~~~~
Las Vegas Morgue
From a distance, it might have been a mirror image. Two men, similar enough in appearance, both wearing nondescript white lab coats, both bent over the table, peering indelicately into the face of the corpse.
"Defiantly strangled." The younger of the two men said, straightening up from his bent position.
The older man remained bent over, something having caught his eye. With out speaking, he reached for the tray of instruments on his right. Choosing a pair of six-inch long forceps, the older man clutched the jaw of the corpse; opening the victims mouth as wide as it would go. The younger man, his interest recaptured bent back down, his face inches away from the dead body's face. The forceps went into the gaping mouth, down in to the throat. Grasping his target, the older man, the ME, slowly pulled the forceps out, dropping the foreign object into the palm of his other hand. Both men bent in closer, examining what had just been in the corpse's throat.
"What the hell is it?" The younger man asked.
Before the doctor had a chance to reply, the doors behind them opened. "Gris" the red head from the hotel boldly strode into the room. Gil Grissom, the younger man at the table turned toward her, only half rising from his bent over position. "We've got a body, it's going to be a press case." The red head, Catherine Willows, reported.
"What is it?" Grissom asked fully straightening up and facing Catherine.
"Dead girl in the Grand."
"Why would the press be interested in it?"
"Because:" Catherine began "She's got a movie stars name branded into her stomach."
~~
Los Angles - January 15, 6:45PM
Alex slapped a sandwich down onto the table next to Bobby. He glanced up at her, dragging himself out of his thoughts, long enough to say "Thanks" and went back to reading the screen of the lap top in front of him.
Alex pulled a chair up next to him and sat down. "More research?" She asked after a moment.
"Even if the perp isn't Mark Price, he knows enough to pose as him. . . ." Bobby paused a moment, turning in his chair to face Alex, his hands flew around in the air in front of him ". . . There's enough information, articles, interviews . . . anyone could say they were him in an email, and be able to get away with it."
"Throw in some star struck girls, who would want to believe a movie star is singling them out," Alex began.
"And you've got perfect victims." Bobby finished. "Look here." Bobby turned back toward the laptop and typed on the keyboard. The familiar home page of the fan group popped up on the screen. Bobby used the mouse, clicking a few times to get to what he wanted to show Alex. "This member. . . uh, KittyKat, was Cheryl." He glanced back at Alex and read her expression. "The paper we found in her car, the one with the directions to Grauman's on it, there was a website time and date stamp on the top of the page. I had them check their records of who got those directions at that time. That ISP lead me to an email address registered to Cheryl Zimmer, and was used as her membership address when she joined the fan group as KittyKat."
Alex raised her eyebrows, surprised only a little. "So," she began, "what'd you lean about Cheryl from her posts?"
Bobby's head ticked, just once, off to the side and back, "She was lonely, that's for sure." With a few more clicks, he brought up all of Cheryl's posts. Pointing to the screen, he explained. "She was posting everyday, sometimes several times a day . ." He paused, his hand raised in mid air, fingers pointing to the screen, twitching as if they didn't know where to point to first. "She doesn't come right out and say she's alone, but if you read between the lines, you can tell she was." He glanced back to Alex. "She never used the word 'we' always 'I'. . ." Again, he paused, the clues and hints he'd found tumbled over each other in his mind, and he struggled for a way to convey them all to Alex.
He didn't get a chance to finish his thoughts. From his desk on the other side of the room, Detective Joel Stevens' called out "Eames! Goren!" They turned toward him, he was standing, his desk phone receiver clutched in his hand, "We've got another one." Joel told them then said something into the phone and hung it up.
Immediately, Bobby and Alex stood and went over to Joel's desk. Fearless joined them seconds later. "Vic is a female, approximately 24, asphyxiated."
"What's the connection to Mark Price?" Fearless asked.
"His name was etched into the skin of her stomach." He pointed to the phone. "That was a Captain Brass with the LVPD, he's been reading about our case in the papers, and called as soon as he heard about their victim."
"LVPD?" Alex asked, stressing the 'V'.
"Yeah." Joel continued. "He's gone to Vegas."
~~
LVPD Capitan Bass walked into Gil Grissom's office and sat down in one of the two chairs facing the desk. "Grapevine says you didn't know who Mark Price was."
"Not until two hours ago." Grissom answered, not looking up from the photos scattered across his desk.
"LAPD has two murders that're probably connected. I called over there, and talked to a" Brass paused while he dug in his jacket pocket and fished out his notebook. "A Detective Stevens. NYPD is also involved."
"NYPD?" Grissom interjected, looking up from the photos.
"First vic lived in New York." Brass explained. "She was found in LA. NYPD thinks she was lured out to Calli by her killer. Over the Internet." He added.
"The Internet?" Grissom considered the possibilities. "What about the other LA victim?"
"Cheryl Zimmer, from San Diego. NYPD, a Detective . . . ." Brass paused again, looking down at his notes "Goren, he traced Zimmer, and the first vic, Jamie Kirkland, back to some Internet fan club of Mark Prices'." Brass stopped speaking and looked up from his notes, waiting for Grissom's next question. When none came, Brass stood up from the chair and began to leave the room. On his way out, he said "Goren and his partner, Eames, are on their way from LA. They should be here in a few hours."
~~~
With the finding of Gabrielle's body in Las Vegas, it had suddenly become the kind of case tabloids beg for. A serial killer, who may, or may not be one of America's favorite stars, preying on young women. Adding to the titillation, was the fact that Mark Price could not be found. His agent made excuses and pretext, but it was soon evident that even he didn't know where his most famous client was. Attention from the press made the mayors of all three cities nervous, and orders were passed down from Mayor to Chief to Captain to Detective. All information was to be shared, nothing held back, it didn't matter who solved the case, as long as it was solved. And solved before any one else died.
At LAX, Smith and Stevens had whished them good luck, asking them to call with any news. Now, in Vegas, Goren ducked his head when he exited the small plane LAPD had arranged. Alex stood waiting for him at the bottom of the steps that had been rolled up to the plane when it came to a stop. Bobby glanced around at the neon lit sky, then trotted down the steps, joining Alex on the ground.
A few yards ahead of them, both NYPD Detectives watched as a man they both recognized as a cop led another man and a woman toward them.
They all came to a stop when their paths met. Brass spoke first "Detectives Goren and Eames?" They nodded. "Capitan Brass, LVPD" he introduced himself, and then pointed to the others. "Gil Grissom and Catherine Willows, Las Vegas crime lab." The two women shook hands and began walking side by side to the waiting vehicle.
Grissom offered his hand. "Detective Goren."
Bobby shook Gils hand. "Mr. Grissom."
~~
Catherine drove, Grissom in the front passenger seat. Bobby and Alex climbed in back. Brass followed behind in his own car.
"What've you found?" Bobby asked as he clicked his seatbelt.
Grissom turned in his seat to face them as best as his own seatbelt would allow. "The carving on her stomach was made by an average razor blade, no way to trace it. The room was registered to the vic, Gabrielle Underwood, and paid for in cash. None of the hotel staff remembers seeing her with anyone, and if anyone saw him leaving her room, we haven't found them yet."
"Photos?" Alex asked.
Grissom turned in the seat, reaching for a large envelope on the dashboard in front of him. He handed it to Alex. She undid the clasp and pulled out the black and white 8x10's, Bobby leaned over where he was able to see better. Even though the sky was pitch black, the bright lights of the strip lit up the Tahoe like it was day, and the graphic images were clearly visible.
Catherine continued the list of evidence as she drove. "We found one hair within the sheets. Black; about an inch long. Synthetic, it came from a wig."
Bobby looked up when she said that, making eye contact with Catherine in the rear view mirror.
"What?" Catherine asked.
Bobby shook his head. "Nothing. I was thinking a wig could point to the killer not being Price, but if it is Price. . . "
Grissom interrupted finishing the sentence. "He'd just as likely be wearing a wig, to conceal his identity." Bobby nodded in agreement then turned his head to stare at the lights of the strip.
"Been to Vegas before?" Catherine asked.
"Just once." Bobby replied, still staring out the window. "My mother brought me here for a couple of weeks when I was 10."
Alex heard the tone of her partner's voice, and glanced over at him. She could see his face reflected in the glass and caught his eye. Bobby gave her a short nod, answering her unspoken question, and turned himself and his attention back to the photos.
"What about you, Detective? Ever been to Vegas?" Catherine asked glancing in the rear view to Alex.
"No, first time. And call me Alex."
"Were there any fingerprints, Grissom?" Bobby asked stretching his neck to look at Grissom in the seat in front of him.
Grissom read from the file in front of him, not answering. His silence drew the attention of everyone in the car. After a moment, Catherine reached out her right hand, placing it on the pages Grissom was reading. Gil looked up startled, "What?"
Catherine shook her head in disbelief, then answered Bobby's question herself. "No, the only fingerprints we found belong to the vic and the hotel maid who found the body."
Grissom watched Catherine as she answered, momentarily confused, then realized Catherine was answering a question he hadn't heard. Outwardly ignoring the lapse, he turned again in his seat to face the detectives. "We've pulled the security tapes from the lobby, elevator and the hallway the vic's room was on. I've got people watching them now."
"Ten to one he waves at the camera." Alex murmured.
