*
"Is my driving that bad?" she asked as his fingers tightened around the armrest for the third time.
"What? Oh, sorry," he replied, realizing what she noticed. "I'm still not used to driving on the right hand side of the road."
She laughed at his expression. "I guess this is a bit of a culture shock, huh?"
"You could say that," he agreed. "Though I suppose if you live here you get used to it?"
"Get back to me in about ten years. I've lived here for three and it still surprises me."
"What, the city or the fact that you're still living here?"
"A bit of both!"
"Looks like you found a reason to stay."
"Yeah, I love my job," she replied honestly. When she saw his amused expression, she playfully narrowed her eyes at him. "Did I mention earlier to not go there?"
Tony held up his hands in mock surrender. "Say no more."
His hands quickly returned to the newly indented armrests as Sara took a sharp left. "Okay, now it's your driving," he laughed.
"Next time I'll get Nick to drive you."
"I bet he minds every rule of the road," Tony stated.
"He does!" Sara exclaimed. "Drives me crazy. Holds his hands at ten and two. Even does a walk around the truck before we go anywhere." Her curiosity got the best of her and she asked, "How did you know? About Nick, I mean."
"I get the impression that he's not the quickest of you all. I don't mean that as a criticism, since it's obvious that you are all very bright, and quite frankly would have to be to get where you are. But I think that Nick may often feel a bit inferior. So he compensates with efficiency. And when he fails at that, it's a real blow to his confidence."
Sara nodded thoughtfully. "Yeah, we had a case about a year ago. He messed up on a chain of evidence procedure. He was so mad at himself."
"But I bet he's gone to great lengths to avoid doing it again, because he takes it as a personal failure."
"You're good. Tell me more," she grinned.
"You know, I'm a psychologist, not a psychic. Generally, I need a bit more than a ten minute staff meeting." He saw she wasn't budging. "All right," he feigned defeat, "but this stays between us."
Sara made an 'x' over her heart. "I promise."
"So who would you like to know more about?"
Her mouth twisted in thought. "Oh, I don't know. Tell me more about… Catherine."
"When you really want to know more about Mr. Grissom?" She raised an eyebrow, but didn't bite. "Right then," he smiled, "Catherine it is." He took a moment to review the bits of evidence he had been given.
"Most evident is her independence," he began. "Notice how she was the only one to come into the room and not address anyone. She likes to feel in control, even in the smallest detail. There was a notable shift in her body language once she knew who I was. Knowledge is a form of control. Without it, and in this case, without knowing who I was, she felt on uneven footing. Another reason to stay back. It gave her time to find out the information she needed." He stopped to note Sara's rapt attention. He smiled. "Are you writing all this down?"
"Yep," she answered, tapping her forehead.
Tony shook his head in amusement. "She's a mother or the oldest child in a single parent home or fairly large family."
Now Sara's eyes widened. "She's a single mother. How did you know that?"
"I didn't. Remember, what I'm telling you is not knowledge of a person, but a profile of who I think the person may be. I joked earlier that I wasn't a psychic, but it is a serious point to remember." When she nodded her understanding, he continued. "There was a quick yet revealing moment between Catherine and Nick in the break room. Did you see it?"
"No," she admitted.
"It gave me the sense of protectiveness on her part. Almost maternal. And I suspect that's very difficult for her, to balance her natural tendency to protect and her professional need to be independent. It must be difficult being a woman trying to play in the boys' club. In that regard I bet you two have a lot in common. I can't imagine how hard it must be at times."
"You have no idea. Most of the time I don't notice, which probably makes it worse."
"What's that?"
"Those moments when I realize that my gender has come before my ability."
Tony nodded sympathetically. "One day I'd like to introduce you to my friend, Carol."
"Is she a profiler, too?"
"Worse. She's a cop!" Their laughter filled the vehicle.
*
As they pulled up outside the church, Sara turned to Tony. "Can I ask you something?"
"Of course."
"What do you think you're going to find here? I'm not offended or anything, but I think I covered the scene pretty well."
"I have no doubts that you did," he smiled. "To be honest, I'm not really looking for anything in particular. I think there's only so much reading and analyzing you can do from behind a desk. I often find it's helpful to go to the crime scene. Puts things in a clearer perspective."
"Now that I understand," she agreed. As he unclipped his seat belt, she asked, "Did you want to be alone? Should I stay in the truck?"
He shook his head. "No, please. I'd be happy if you came in with me." She grinned and he knew that was the response she was waiting to hear. As they climbed out of the vehicle, it was his turn to grin. "You're just like a sponge, soaking up all the information you can, aren't you?"
Her grin grew wider. "I aim to please and I live to learn."
"That's a good motto to have." He held the heavy church door open for her and took a look at the city skyline before following her in. "I can't imagine the electricity bill for this city."
He paused for a moment to allow his eyes to adjust to the dim interior, which was in sharp contrast to the extravaganza of lights just outside. Despite there being no physical evidence to establish that a horrible crime had been committed, the church was eerily quiet and bereft of life, as if paying homage to the victim.
"It happened over there," Sara pointed to a small, enclosed booth twenty feet away. She began walking up the aisle when she realized Tony wasn't following her. Rather than ask him why, she quietly took a seat in a nearby pew and simply watched.
Tony looked at the confessional, then to the door behind him, and back to the confessional.
"You wouldn't walk up the aisle because that's the path with the greatest risk of detection," he said almost to himself.
Following another more covert route, he walked silently behind the pews and up the farthest aisle on the left hand side. When he reached the confessional, he slipped inside and closed the door behind him.
"So what did you do next?" he whispered softly. "Did you have to wait long in this little box? Or did you wait outside? No, that means someone would have been on this side and that would have meant a witness. Photos show a pull back blood splatter outside this door when you pulled the knife out of his stomach. So what did you do while you waited here?" Tony glanced around the suffocating confessional suspecting its smothering darkness elicited declarations of guilt to sins not even committed by the confessor. He hated the dark and he hated enclosed spaces. He was ready to admit to just about anything himself.
"Did you confess what you had done?" he asked. "Did you try and get a confession out of Father Douglas? What happened next?" He felt the sweat begin to trickle down his neck and pool in the hollow of his throat. Despite his outward appearance, his throat was desert dry. It didn't help that he was breathing through his mouth in an attempt to keep the oxygen going to his lungs. It was an act that not only stole the moisture from his throat, but edged him dangerously close to hyperventilation. The dank air was a breeding ground for guilt and fear. It was stifling.
He very nearly broke down the door in an effort to get out. In any other situation, the moment might have been a funny one, as both Sara and Tony jumped back in surprise.
"What are you…" he breathed, startled by her nearness.
Regaining her own breath, she said, "Sorry. I… I got worried. You were in there for a while and it spooked me."
His heart rate returning to normal, he replied, "Consider us both spooked."
She saw the tension behind his eyes. "You okay?"
"Yeah." Her look of worry remained. "Yes," he repeated with more conviction than he may have felt. "I don't like small spaces." In an attempt to lighten the mood, he added, "Though perhaps it's just the guilty Roman Catholic in me." Her face softened and he was glad of it.
He raked his fingers through his short dark hair, leaving it lying at odd angles, as he stood silently for several minutes, absorbing his surroundings.
"Why this church?" he finally whispered.
"It's where the victim worked," Sara offered.
"But I found no reports of abuse filed against the victim. In fact, he had only been here for eight months. No prior reports. I doubt our man found out much more in the time he had."
"Then why come all this way? I'm sure he could have found any number of potential victims in England, guilty or not."
Tony's eyes snapped up from the floor to Sara as an idea came to him. "Because I suspect he almost got caught the last time. Carol had the scene photographer take pictures of the crowd. There were four people in the crowd we couldn't track down. Perhaps that sent him here."
"So he comes across the ocean just to continue his streak?"
"Remember what I said; the pattern often becomes more important than the reason behind the killings. I don't think the victim is important any longer. Just his vocation, because it perpetuates the pattern."
Sara nodded eagerly, picking up Tony's line of thinking. "It's not the injustice that started this that fuels him now. It's the need to complete the pattern. A drive towards the magical number nine."
"Exactly. He doesn't need to sell himself on the reason behind it. He's beyond that. No justification is necessary."
"Well, I don't think he chose a place called 'Sin City' for nothing, either."
He surprised her with a laugh. "Touché."
She smiled and then copied Tony's position by looking around and asking, "So again, why this church? I mean, it's dark enough, but it's not all that isolated for the type of thing he had in mind.
Tony's face lit up. "That's it. The lights. Not isolated." Sara tilted her head in confusion. "He doesn't know Las Vegas the way he knows Bradfield and the surrounding countryside. If you'd never been to Vegas before, where would you stay?"
"Somewhere on the Strip. Totally geared for people visiting the city."
"And how far are we from the Strip right now?"
"You saw the lights when we came in," she said. "We're what, about four, five blocks away." She saw Tony smile. "I get it. He doesn't want to stray too far because he doesn't know the area."
"I think that's it exactly."
She made a fist and said, "Yes!"
Warmed by her enthusiasm, he asked, "So what's our next step?"
Her pause was brief. "We gotta go back to the lab. See what Nick's found out." She winked. "See if he's lived up to his efficiency standards."
Tony gestured to the door. "Lead the way, driver."
*
