Disclaimer and Summary in Chapter 1
The fluorescent lights were alarmingly bright in the conference room. Nick entered to find Sara sitting in a chair, elbows on the table, her fingers massaging her temples. "Hey, Sara, are you all right?" Sara started, straightening herself and yanking her hands away from her face. "I'm fine. Grissom send you here?"
"Yeah. He told me to join you in here. What do we have?"
Sara inhaled deeply, reaching for a large manila envelope on the table. Exhaling slowly, she opened the envelope and began extracting photographs. "Not much, Nick."
She began showing Nick the photos of the crime scene and summarizing the evidence gathered earlier in the evening. Nick's eyes focused on the small body in the photos, lying motionless on the desert floor, yellow cones marking the height of the victim in relation to the terrain. "Jesus," he breathed. "He's just a kid."
Sara arched her eyebrow, trying to judge the emotion in Nick's face. "True. But now, he's a victim."
Nick stood his head and met her gaze. "Right. You're right." He thought for a moment and sighed. "Should we call Catherine?"
Sara knitted her brows, then abruptly shook her head. "No. Let her have the night with Lindsey. We'll fill her in tomorrow."
"OK. Let's get started."
"Blow to the back of the head, fractured skull, swelling of brain tissues. There's your cause of death." Robbins gingerly turned the boy's head to the left for Grissom to see the injury. "Small pieces of gravel or something like it around the wound, along with a few fibers."
Grissom tilted his head in inquiry. "Blow to the head? How? Why isn't there any blood?"
Robbins continued, turning the boy's head back to the table to rest face up toward the lights above. "Blow was made with a large, flat, hard object. I found abrasions on his arms and elbows, as well as his knees. Same pieces of gravel stuck in the wounds."
"Gravel." Grissom blinked, filing the information away for his report to his team. "How could he scrape his knees and elbows that badly without ripping his clothing?"
"Given the lack of blood, I'd say his clothes were changed after he died. Your age assessment is right; I'd say he's between the ages of 10 and 13. Time of death: about 6-8 hours ago."
"From 5-7pm. The body hadn't been there long." Grissom blinked again, forehead crinkling. "Flat object, abrasions-hit by a car, head struck the pavement?"
"There's no other bruising or injury to suggest recent impact."
"Anything else?"
Robbins hesitated. "I took a few x-rays of his head to determine the extent of the swelling, and I found a thin healed fracture behind his forehead." Robbins could see Grissom's jaw begin to clench, but continued. "Also a previously broken clavicle. I haven't had a chance to x-ray further."
"Please do," Grissom replied, lips pursed in a grim expression. "Any idea how old the fractures are?"
"Hard to say. A few years, at least. I should have more in a few hours."
"Give me a moment to collect some of the gravel and the fibers. When you finish, page me."
Grissom headed back to the lab, his brain searing at the events and information of the evening. Boy found dead, possible abuse, only fibers, hairs, and gravel to go on. He clenched his jaw again, grinding his teeth as he strode quickly through the halls. This was going to be difficult, he realized, very difficult to put away in the morning when—
"Hey, Grissom!"
Grissom stopped and looked up, startled, to find Greg standing in front of him. He gritted his teeth once more. "What is it, Greg?"
"I got a hit on the hairs." Greg held a piece of paper in his hand, stretched out toward Grissom. "Terrier."
Grissom blinked at Greg, taking the paper. "Dog hairs?"
"Yep. Terrier. Maybe Yorkshire. Can't stand the little runts myself-"
Grissom cut him off, taking a step forward. "Thanks, Greg. Here's a another group of fibers we found," he said, handing Greg a small clear plastic bag. "Let me know when you get done with everything." He walked away, leaving Greg standing alone in the hall outside his DNA lab.
"You're welcome," Greg mumbled, stalking back into the lab.
Grissom and the others gathered around the conference room table to begin piecing together their latest case. Grissom cleared his throat and began referring to his notes. "OK, here's what we have from Robbins so far. Blow with large, flat object to the back of the head, gravel and white fibers stuck to the wound. Probable cause of death is cerebral hemorrhage due to skull fracture. Nick," Grissom continued, tossing Nick a small vial, "find out what that gravel is."
"Sure thing."
Grissom continued with his evidence checklist and assigning tasks. "Warrick, keep working the partial shoeprint we collected. Sara, check the clothes for anything that can tell us what happened. Greg's working the fibers found, and got a hit on the hairs—"
Warrick sat up. "All right! We got a suspect?"
"Not unless our suspect was a Yorkshire terrier," Grissom replied, leaving Warrick to slump back in his seat. "Sara, did AFIS return anything from our prints of our victim?"
"Nothing."
"All right. Look for anything that can give us an ID. Nick, see if you can get a hit from Missing Persons." Grissom removed his glasses and placed them on the table. "This is going to be tough one. I'll analyze photos. Page me if you get anything." Grissom picked up his notebook and the manila envelope of photos and exited the room.
The fluorescent lights were alarmingly bright in the conference room. Nick entered to find Sara sitting in a chair, elbows on the table, her fingers massaging her temples. "Hey, Sara, are you all right?" Sara started, straightening herself and yanking her hands away from her face. "I'm fine. Grissom send you here?"
"Yeah. He told me to join you in here. What do we have?"
Sara inhaled deeply, reaching for a large manila envelope on the table. Exhaling slowly, she opened the envelope and began extracting photographs. "Not much, Nick."
She began showing Nick the photos of the crime scene and summarizing the evidence gathered earlier in the evening. Nick's eyes focused on the small body in the photos, lying motionless on the desert floor, yellow cones marking the height of the victim in relation to the terrain. "Jesus," he breathed. "He's just a kid."
Sara arched her eyebrow, trying to judge the emotion in Nick's face. "True. But now, he's a victim."
Nick stood his head and met her gaze. "Right. You're right." He thought for a moment and sighed. "Should we call Catherine?"
Sara knitted her brows, then abruptly shook her head. "No. Let her have the night with Lindsey. We'll fill her in tomorrow."
"OK. Let's get started."
"Blow to the back of the head, fractured skull, swelling of brain tissues. There's your cause of death." Robbins gingerly turned the boy's head to the left for Grissom to see the injury. "Small pieces of gravel or something like it around the wound, along with a few fibers."
Grissom tilted his head in inquiry. "Blow to the head? How? Why isn't there any blood?"
Robbins continued, turning the boy's head back to the table to rest face up toward the lights above. "Blow was made with a large, flat, hard object. I found abrasions on his arms and elbows, as well as his knees. Same pieces of gravel stuck in the wounds."
"Gravel." Grissom blinked, filing the information away for his report to his team. "How could he scrape his knees and elbows that badly without ripping his clothing?"
"Given the lack of blood, I'd say his clothes were changed after he died. Your age assessment is right; I'd say he's between the ages of 10 and 13. Time of death: about 6-8 hours ago."
"From 5-7pm. The body hadn't been there long." Grissom blinked again, forehead crinkling. "Flat object, abrasions-hit by a car, head struck the pavement?"
"There's no other bruising or injury to suggest recent impact."
"Anything else?"
Robbins hesitated. "I took a few x-rays of his head to determine the extent of the swelling, and I found a thin healed fracture behind his forehead." Robbins could see Grissom's jaw begin to clench, but continued. "Also a previously broken clavicle. I haven't had a chance to x-ray further."
"Please do," Grissom replied, lips pursed in a grim expression. "Any idea how old the fractures are?"
"Hard to say. A few years, at least. I should have more in a few hours."
"Give me a moment to collect some of the gravel and the fibers. When you finish, page me."
Grissom headed back to the lab, his brain searing at the events and information of the evening. Boy found dead, possible abuse, only fibers, hairs, and gravel to go on. He clenched his jaw again, grinding his teeth as he strode quickly through the halls. This was going to be difficult, he realized, very difficult to put away in the morning when—
"Hey, Grissom!"
Grissom stopped and looked up, startled, to find Greg standing in front of him. He gritted his teeth once more. "What is it, Greg?"
"I got a hit on the hairs." Greg held a piece of paper in his hand, stretched out toward Grissom. "Terrier."
Grissom blinked at Greg, taking the paper. "Dog hairs?"
"Yep. Terrier. Maybe Yorkshire. Can't stand the little runts myself-"
Grissom cut him off, taking a step forward. "Thanks, Greg. Here's a another group of fibers we found," he said, handing Greg a small clear plastic bag. "Let me know when you get done with everything." He walked away, leaving Greg standing alone in the hall outside his DNA lab.
"You're welcome," Greg mumbled, stalking back into the lab.
Grissom and the others gathered around the conference room table to begin piecing together their latest case. Grissom cleared his throat and began referring to his notes. "OK, here's what we have from Robbins so far. Blow with large, flat object to the back of the head, gravel and white fibers stuck to the wound. Probable cause of death is cerebral hemorrhage due to skull fracture. Nick," Grissom continued, tossing Nick a small vial, "find out what that gravel is."
"Sure thing."
Grissom continued with his evidence checklist and assigning tasks. "Warrick, keep working the partial shoeprint we collected. Sara, check the clothes for anything that can tell us what happened. Greg's working the fibers found, and got a hit on the hairs—"
Warrick sat up. "All right! We got a suspect?"
"Not unless our suspect was a Yorkshire terrier," Grissom replied, leaving Warrick to slump back in his seat. "Sara, did AFIS return anything from our prints of our victim?"
"Nothing."
"All right. Look for anything that can give us an ID. Nick, see if you can get a hit from Missing Persons." Grissom removed his glasses and placed them on the table. "This is going to be tough one. I'll analyze photos. Page me if you get anything." Grissom picked up his notebook and the manila envelope of photos and exited the room.