While I reviewed information about hydrochloric acid and what kind of
people might have access to it on a regular basis, Nick did a trace of the
disc from the tazer. It wasn't really a surprise to have the cartridge
traced back to the LVMPD, or that it had been reported stolen along with
three other cartridges and a tazer gun. But at least that told us
something.
Each cartridge spewed out a random amount of those discs as it was shot; somewhere between twenty and forty. Each disc had the serial number of the cartridge that it came from and the manufacturer of the cartridge was require by law to record who each one was sold to. Each tazer gun also recorded how many times it had been fired and for how long. The standard length of time a suspect would be tazed was approximately five seconds. As part of the training we went through, each police officer and each CSI was required to be tazed for approximately a half of a second. Plenty of time to feel pain, and let me tell you, half a second was enough for a lifetime.
Because we had only found one disc from the cartridge, we assumed the suspect we were looking for had at least some background in law enforcement or knowledge of tazers in general. The average criminal wouldn't know that the discs could be traced that precisely to bother collecting them, especially with the danger of being exposed to hydrochloric acid, which led us to believe they knew enough about chemicals that they probably wore personal protective equipment, explaining why we didn't find any prints at the scene.
Doc Robbins did in fact find two small puncture marks on Chelsea Smith's body. The distance between the marks suggested that the tazer had been fired at her from about ten feet away. This was the approximate distance between where the vic had lay and where Nick had found the disc. He also indicated that while the hydrochloric acid had burned thirty-five percent of her body, that it was more than likely that the fumes from it had actually asphyxiated her due to glottic edema. Her death ensured the death of her baby, which was far enough along to have survived if help had been summoned in time; this pretty much cleared the now deceased Mr. Williams from any suspicion in her death. It also gave us even more clues about the killer. Whoever it was knew about chemicals and had access to hydrochloric acid. Many industries used them, but in the Vegas area it was most likely someone who worked in the production of fertilizer or metal salvage or a similar industry.
I kept playing different scenarios out in my mind, wondering what kind of monster we were dealing with that would kill a pregnant woman and her child in such a painful deliberate manner. A voice interrupted my thoughts as I sat at the table in the break room mulling things over. I glanced up. Nick stood there in the doorway with a forced smile on his face. I could tell this case was getting to him.
"Want to grab a bite to eat?" He suggested. I knew he needed a break from the case, and if truth be told, I needed one too.
I nodded and stood up; replacing the information I'd been going over in a file folder. "Just let me put this back and I'll meet you in the parking lot."
He nodded and turned on his heels without saying a word.
After I'd returned the file, I grabbed my jacket from my locker and headed out to the parking lot to meet Nick. He stood there leaning against his Denali and as soon as he saw me, he climbed into the driver's seat. I climbed into the passenger's seat and glanced at him with a bit of concern on my face as we threaded our way through a few side streets to the diner that was a department favorite.
We slipped into the booth, still not having said a word to each other since the break room. The waitress came over smiling and we both nodded when she asked if we would be having our usual orders.
I studied Nick for a moment before speaking. "Nick, are you ok?"
He glanced up at me a bit distractedly. "I'm sorry, I just needed a break."
I wrinkled my brow thoughtfully. "This case seems to be getting to you. You mind telling me why?"
"And it's not getting to you?" Nick replied a little too harshly. He was right, it was getting to me, but I could handle me most of the time, what I couldn't handle is if steady-as-a-rock Nick Stokes fell apart on me when I was about to lose it myself.
I let out a deep breath. "It is, but you don't usually seem so affected. I'm worried." I hoped he knew that I was sincere and that I wasn't judging his ability to do the job.
He nodded and glanced down at the table for a moment before looking back up at me. "My grandfather was on the USS Arizona, Sar."
My mouth formed a silent 'O'. I didn't know what to say.
"He was lucky, he only lost a leg. Not that he'd tell you he was lucky. When I got older, he told me that he would have traded places with almost anyone that died that day. Survivor's guilt." Nick explained. I knew that his grandfather had passed away last year and it had been difficult for him.
I nodded. Not that Nick knew, but I knew firsthand what it was like to experience survivor's guilt. Not that anyone knew. I'd never shared my darkest secret with anyone in Vegas.
"It just pisses me off that someone who has already lived through hell on earth, has to go through something like this." Nick continued.
I just studied him and let him talk.
"Sara, did you know that the Arizona sank in nine minutes?" Nick's voice sounded pained.
I nodded then shook my head, again not really sure what to say.
"Then that baby. It didn't even have a chance." A tear slid down Nick's cheek.
I reached across the table and took Nick's hand, giving it a squeeze. I had never seen my strong friend from Texas so upset. I'd seen him shell shocked before, right after Nigel Crane had stalked him, but even then, I hadn't seen him cry; even though I was sure he had.
The waitress looked at us quizzically as she brought our order. I glanced at her and tried to smile. "Can you wrap those up to go?"
She nodded at me silently and glanced at Nick with concern. A few moments later, she brought them back to us wrapped up and ready to go and we got up and left the diner, leaving more than enough to cover our meals and a tip on the table behind us. I wasn't really sure where we were going, but after driving a short distance, Nick pulled into the parking lot of a park along a man made lake.
He glanced over at me and tried to smile as another tear slid down his face. "Thanks."
"No problem. That's what friends are for." I just sat there, unsure of what to do. Nick had been a rock of a friend and here he was falling apart in the middle of a case that I was doing all I could to keep it together emotionally.
He glanced over at me and gave me an apologetic look through the tears that continued to spill down his face. "I'm sorry, Sara."
I knit my brows together and reached over and placed my hand on his arm. "Nick, you don't need to apologize."
"We're supposed to remain objective and professional." He sounded like he was trying to convince himself.
"Nick, you're human." I tried to reassure him.
He swore under his breath. I could tell that he was frustrated that not only was he falling apart, but here I was witnessing it. I took my seatbelt off and reached between us and flipped up the console on the front seat. I scooted over and did the only thing I could think of. The thing I would want if I were in his shoes. I put my arms around him and hugged him.
My rock of a friend fell apart on my shoulder and I just made shushing noises as sobs choked his body. When they finally subsided, whispered to him tentatively. "What's going on, Nick?"
Nick chuckled nervously as he pulled away from me and wiped his tear stained face with the back of his hands. "I guess I owe you an explanation after a display like that."
I shook my head, but I'm sure that concern was evident on my face. "You don't have to tell me anything, Nick, but you are my friend and I care about you. You can trust me."
He smiled at me. It was a genuine smile. "I know, Sara. I'm just embarrassed to be losing it like this in front of you."
"Oh, and I've never done the same in front of you." I hoped he picked up on the sarcasm in my voice as I attempted to lighten the mood in the Denali. I tried to restrain my smile as I studied him.
He started to chuckle. "Ok, point taken. I figure I've got at least a dozen more of these to go before we're even."
I laughed in spite of myself and could feel my face flushing. I hated it when I fell apart emotionally, and I hated the fact that Nick seemed to be there every time it happened. Not that he ever told anyone, or was anything less than supportive. But I was Sara Sidle, and I was strong. I didn't like having my weaknesses exposed to anyone. It was safer that way. Still, here was one of my closest friends relaying those same feelings of not wanting his weakness exposed and I understood exactly how he felt, even if for different reasons.
I scooted back over to my side of the front seat to give Nick his space. He smiled at me and reached for my hand, giving it a squeeze. "Thanks."
I just smiled at him and let go of his hand after squeezing it in return.
"I want to explain though. I want you to tell me if you think I'm over my head on this one." Nick was heading into territory I was unfamiliar with. He was volunteering to be limited on a case; something that I would never do. I would just go full throttle ahead and only back off if I was forced to.
I just nodded at him, not sure of what to say.
He looked at me intently. "My grandfather is only part of the story, Sara."
He had my attention.
"I think seeing that woman Chelsea like that reminded me of Kristy Hopkins, I mean her death was so senseless, not that any murder makes sense, but I just don't understand the mind of a man that could do that." Nick began to explain, an earnest expression on his face.
The more I thought about the victim, I realized that she did bear a striking resemblance to Kristy. "I guess I didn't realize that she looked so much like her until just now." I hoped he knew I was trying to be sympathetic.
He glanced at me, his brows deeply furrowed. "And that baby. Damn that just makes me angry."
Nick had always been deeply affected by crimes against children, probably more than any of us except maybe Catherine. I had never asked him why, but maybe I should have. "Nick, can I ask you something?"
He nodded at me; I think he could tell what I wanted to ask him.
"Why do crimes against children affect you so much? Was someone you knew hurt?" I queried him, hoping that he wouldn't be offended at me asking.
He was quiet for a few moments. His face reflected an inner turmoil. Finally, he turned and faced me. "I was hurt, Sara. I was the victim. When I was nine, I was molested by a babysitter. That's why I have such a hard time when I see victims who are kids. I know the hell they're going through firsthand."
My face fell. I hadn't expected this. I hadn't even considered this. I knew that Nick had been a victim; a victim of Nigel Crane stalking him, of threatening to kill him, but I had no idea he'd been victimized as a child by someone he should have been able to trust. I couldn't find my voice for a few moments and then I reached for his hand, squeezing it. "I'm so sorry." My voice was barely a whisper.
"It's not your fault, its part of who I am. I can't change that." He sounded much more accepting of what had happened to him than I thought anyone could be.
"I'm still sorry, Nick." I truly was. I was angry too, angry that someone would rob the innocence of my dear friend, that someone would do something so unspeakable to him.
Silence prevailed in the Denali for a few moments. Nick gave my hand a squeeze, I hadn't realized I hadn't let go of it, before releasing it. "We should head back."
I nodded. I was deep in thought and before I knew it, we were back in front of the lab, pulling into the parking lot. I looked over at Nick with a serious expression on my face. "Nick, I won't tell anyone what you told me."
"I know." He trusted me. I could tell that.
"You need to work this case. No one understands better than a victim." With that I descended from the vehicle and headed inside, but not before noticing the expression on his face as he studied me; an expression that told me that he knew I had a secret too.
At that moment, more than anything, I just wanted to be alone.
Each cartridge spewed out a random amount of those discs as it was shot; somewhere between twenty and forty. Each disc had the serial number of the cartridge that it came from and the manufacturer of the cartridge was require by law to record who each one was sold to. Each tazer gun also recorded how many times it had been fired and for how long. The standard length of time a suspect would be tazed was approximately five seconds. As part of the training we went through, each police officer and each CSI was required to be tazed for approximately a half of a second. Plenty of time to feel pain, and let me tell you, half a second was enough for a lifetime.
Because we had only found one disc from the cartridge, we assumed the suspect we were looking for had at least some background in law enforcement or knowledge of tazers in general. The average criminal wouldn't know that the discs could be traced that precisely to bother collecting them, especially with the danger of being exposed to hydrochloric acid, which led us to believe they knew enough about chemicals that they probably wore personal protective equipment, explaining why we didn't find any prints at the scene.
Doc Robbins did in fact find two small puncture marks on Chelsea Smith's body. The distance between the marks suggested that the tazer had been fired at her from about ten feet away. This was the approximate distance between where the vic had lay and where Nick had found the disc. He also indicated that while the hydrochloric acid had burned thirty-five percent of her body, that it was more than likely that the fumes from it had actually asphyxiated her due to glottic edema. Her death ensured the death of her baby, which was far enough along to have survived if help had been summoned in time; this pretty much cleared the now deceased Mr. Williams from any suspicion in her death. It also gave us even more clues about the killer. Whoever it was knew about chemicals and had access to hydrochloric acid. Many industries used them, but in the Vegas area it was most likely someone who worked in the production of fertilizer or metal salvage or a similar industry.
I kept playing different scenarios out in my mind, wondering what kind of monster we were dealing with that would kill a pregnant woman and her child in such a painful deliberate manner. A voice interrupted my thoughts as I sat at the table in the break room mulling things over. I glanced up. Nick stood there in the doorway with a forced smile on his face. I could tell this case was getting to him.
"Want to grab a bite to eat?" He suggested. I knew he needed a break from the case, and if truth be told, I needed one too.
I nodded and stood up; replacing the information I'd been going over in a file folder. "Just let me put this back and I'll meet you in the parking lot."
He nodded and turned on his heels without saying a word.
After I'd returned the file, I grabbed my jacket from my locker and headed out to the parking lot to meet Nick. He stood there leaning against his Denali and as soon as he saw me, he climbed into the driver's seat. I climbed into the passenger's seat and glanced at him with a bit of concern on my face as we threaded our way through a few side streets to the diner that was a department favorite.
We slipped into the booth, still not having said a word to each other since the break room. The waitress came over smiling and we both nodded when she asked if we would be having our usual orders.
I studied Nick for a moment before speaking. "Nick, are you ok?"
He glanced up at me a bit distractedly. "I'm sorry, I just needed a break."
I wrinkled my brow thoughtfully. "This case seems to be getting to you. You mind telling me why?"
"And it's not getting to you?" Nick replied a little too harshly. He was right, it was getting to me, but I could handle me most of the time, what I couldn't handle is if steady-as-a-rock Nick Stokes fell apart on me when I was about to lose it myself.
I let out a deep breath. "It is, but you don't usually seem so affected. I'm worried." I hoped he knew that I was sincere and that I wasn't judging his ability to do the job.
He nodded and glanced down at the table for a moment before looking back up at me. "My grandfather was on the USS Arizona, Sar."
My mouth formed a silent 'O'. I didn't know what to say.
"He was lucky, he only lost a leg. Not that he'd tell you he was lucky. When I got older, he told me that he would have traded places with almost anyone that died that day. Survivor's guilt." Nick explained. I knew that his grandfather had passed away last year and it had been difficult for him.
I nodded. Not that Nick knew, but I knew firsthand what it was like to experience survivor's guilt. Not that anyone knew. I'd never shared my darkest secret with anyone in Vegas.
"It just pisses me off that someone who has already lived through hell on earth, has to go through something like this." Nick continued.
I just studied him and let him talk.
"Sara, did you know that the Arizona sank in nine minutes?" Nick's voice sounded pained.
I nodded then shook my head, again not really sure what to say.
"Then that baby. It didn't even have a chance." A tear slid down Nick's cheek.
I reached across the table and took Nick's hand, giving it a squeeze. I had never seen my strong friend from Texas so upset. I'd seen him shell shocked before, right after Nigel Crane had stalked him, but even then, I hadn't seen him cry; even though I was sure he had.
The waitress looked at us quizzically as she brought our order. I glanced at her and tried to smile. "Can you wrap those up to go?"
She nodded at me silently and glanced at Nick with concern. A few moments later, she brought them back to us wrapped up and ready to go and we got up and left the diner, leaving more than enough to cover our meals and a tip on the table behind us. I wasn't really sure where we were going, but after driving a short distance, Nick pulled into the parking lot of a park along a man made lake.
He glanced over at me and tried to smile as another tear slid down his face. "Thanks."
"No problem. That's what friends are for." I just sat there, unsure of what to do. Nick had been a rock of a friend and here he was falling apart in the middle of a case that I was doing all I could to keep it together emotionally.
He glanced over at me and gave me an apologetic look through the tears that continued to spill down his face. "I'm sorry, Sara."
I knit my brows together and reached over and placed my hand on his arm. "Nick, you don't need to apologize."
"We're supposed to remain objective and professional." He sounded like he was trying to convince himself.
"Nick, you're human." I tried to reassure him.
He swore under his breath. I could tell that he was frustrated that not only was he falling apart, but here I was witnessing it. I took my seatbelt off and reached between us and flipped up the console on the front seat. I scooted over and did the only thing I could think of. The thing I would want if I were in his shoes. I put my arms around him and hugged him.
My rock of a friend fell apart on my shoulder and I just made shushing noises as sobs choked his body. When they finally subsided, whispered to him tentatively. "What's going on, Nick?"
Nick chuckled nervously as he pulled away from me and wiped his tear stained face with the back of his hands. "I guess I owe you an explanation after a display like that."
I shook my head, but I'm sure that concern was evident on my face. "You don't have to tell me anything, Nick, but you are my friend and I care about you. You can trust me."
He smiled at me. It was a genuine smile. "I know, Sara. I'm just embarrassed to be losing it like this in front of you."
"Oh, and I've never done the same in front of you." I hoped he picked up on the sarcasm in my voice as I attempted to lighten the mood in the Denali. I tried to restrain my smile as I studied him.
He started to chuckle. "Ok, point taken. I figure I've got at least a dozen more of these to go before we're even."
I laughed in spite of myself and could feel my face flushing. I hated it when I fell apart emotionally, and I hated the fact that Nick seemed to be there every time it happened. Not that he ever told anyone, or was anything less than supportive. But I was Sara Sidle, and I was strong. I didn't like having my weaknesses exposed to anyone. It was safer that way. Still, here was one of my closest friends relaying those same feelings of not wanting his weakness exposed and I understood exactly how he felt, even if for different reasons.
I scooted back over to my side of the front seat to give Nick his space. He smiled at me and reached for my hand, giving it a squeeze. "Thanks."
I just smiled at him and let go of his hand after squeezing it in return.
"I want to explain though. I want you to tell me if you think I'm over my head on this one." Nick was heading into territory I was unfamiliar with. He was volunteering to be limited on a case; something that I would never do. I would just go full throttle ahead and only back off if I was forced to.
I just nodded at him, not sure of what to say.
He looked at me intently. "My grandfather is only part of the story, Sara."
He had my attention.
"I think seeing that woman Chelsea like that reminded me of Kristy Hopkins, I mean her death was so senseless, not that any murder makes sense, but I just don't understand the mind of a man that could do that." Nick began to explain, an earnest expression on his face.
The more I thought about the victim, I realized that she did bear a striking resemblance to Kristy. "I guess I didn't realize that she looked so much like her until just now." I hoped he knew I was trying to be sympathetic.
He glanced at me, his brows deeply furrowed. "And that baby. Damn that just makes me angry."
Nick had always been deeply affected by crimes against children, probably more than any of us except maybe Catherine. I had never asked him why, but maybe I should have. "Nick, can I ask you something?"
He nodded at me; I think he could tell what I wanted to ask him.
"Why do crimes against children affect you so much? Was someone you knew hurt?" I queried him, hoping that he wouldn't be offended at me asking.
He was quiet for a few moments. His face reflected an inner turmoil. Finally, he turned and faced me. "I was hurt, Sara. I was the victim. When I was nine, I was molested by a babysitter. That's why I have such a hard time when I see victims who are kids. I know the hell they're going through firsthand."
My face fell. I hadn't expected this. I hadn't even considered this. I knew that Nick had been a victim; a victim of Nigel Crane stalking him, of threatening to kill him, but I had no idea he'd been victimized as a child by someone he should have been able to trust. I couldn't find my voice for a few moments and then I reached for his hand, squeezing it. "I'm so sorry." My voice was barely a whisper.
"It's not your fault, its part of who I am. I can't change that." He sounded much more accepting of what had happened to him than I thought anyone could be.
"I'm still sorry, Nick." I truly was. I was angry too, angry that someone would rob the innocence of my dear friend, that someone would do something so unspeakable to him.
Silence prevailed in the Denali for a few moments. Nick gave my hand a squeeze, I hadn't realized I hadn't let go of it, before releasing it. "We should head back."
I nodded. I was deep in thought and before I knew it, we were back in front of the lab, pulling into the parking lot. I looked over at Nick with a serious expression on my face. "Nick, I won't tell anyone what you told me."
"I know." He trusted me. I could tell that.
"You need to work this case. No one understands better than a victim." With that I descended from the vehicle and headed inside, but not before noticing the expression on his face as he studied me; an expression that told me that he knew I had a secret too.
At that moment, more than anything, I just wanted to be alone.