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Chapter Seven
Sara

Well into a double shift exhaustion no longer has its hands on me. The bloody plastic pulled from Trisha Morgan's knife wound got me thinking that maybe I need to consider scenarios outside the box. We know that these women are killed on site because of the large amount of blood present around the body. However, there has been no blood spatter typical of a brutal stabbing found anywhere around the body. It never bothered me before. But when Grissom said there was a great lack of evidence for such a passionate crime, I knew we were missing a big piece of the puzzle.

How do you contain evidence? Well, you can't really contain it. There will always be a clue, even if it is evidence of a cleanup. But you can give it its own environment in order to control it.

He's wrapping the bodies for transport, to minimize transfer from his vehicle. And if he is as smart as I'm starting to think he is, he's also doing it to keep the scene from incriminating him. It explains why the bodies are clean. I've never had a body that didn't have some primary or secondary transfer evidence in some form or the other.

So he beats her, binds her... no. She had no ligature marks on her wrists. She's already weak from the abuse though. It wouldn't be difficult to knock her unconscious for easy disposal. He wraps her body and drives her to the scouted area. He'd want her awake to kill her. He peels her out of the plastic but leaves it underneath her as he kills her. After it's done the tarp is completely removed. She's put on display to his liking and he disappears with the plastic and all the evidence of transfer from him to her. It's perfect. And smart. I may not have thought otherwise for the entirety of the case.

So how did the plastic get in a knife wound?

I haven't figured that one out yet. It's there, but I'll need a new perspective to find it.

"Sara."

I stop in mid-stride to turn around. "Warrick, what's up?"

"Not much. You wouldn't know what Permethrin is used in, would you?"

"It's used in outdoor insect repellants. Um, it's pretty strong stuff. You're not even supposed to spray it on your skin. It's for your hiking gear and clothes."

"How do you know so much about bug killer?"

"I don't know," I smile.

He points down at the items in my hands. "Find something to break your case?"

"You might say that." I hold up the evidence bag. "David pulled this from the last victim's knife wound."

He takes it from me. "Plastic?"

"I'm thinking he's wrapping the bodies to contain evidence."

"That's giving him a lot of credit. Why mess with it? Just kill her and get out."

"It's about more than that," I say taking the bag back. "I just haven't figured out how it got in the wound tract."

"He could be killing them through the plastic."

I shake my head. "No. Murder is too intimate for this guy. He doesn't want the barrier, you know what I mean?"

"Then go to the fallback position. They aren't made of wood," he replies. "If that girl had any life left in her to protect herself, she tried."

"Automatic response to danger is to run," I argue.

"But when you can't run..."

"Shield yourself." The light goes on. "She grabbed the only thing that was in reach -the plastic she was laying on."

The scene plays out in my head. The first blows to her chest. There's shock. She claws for something to grab onto. Anything -a heavy rock to defend herself, or perhaps a lead pipe. Her hands come up empty. The shock turns to pain with the repeated assaults. She clutches onto the plastic she wasn't meant to die on. In a fleeting attempt she pulls it to her chest, perhaps to stop the bleeding or in one last effort to protect herself, like a child's blanket when the monsters in the closet go bump in the night. Regardless the knife descends, puncturing the plastic and her chest for the final time.

His pager goes off waking me from the horrific daydream. "It's Cath. She's got the DNA results back." He looks up. "Hey, thanks."

"Yeah, sure."

I continue along the corridor thinking about the last moments of Trisha Morgan's life and how alone she must have been.

Grissom's rough voice finds my ears even though he isn't talking to me. I look up and see him breaking away from Greg at the other end of the hall. I continue walking in the direction he is currently coming from. We meet somewhere in the middle but no words are exchanged. Our gazes pass each other but that is all.

Stubbornly, I keep up my pace. When I reach the lounge, however, I release a heavy sigh and with it all my bullheaded stamina. The room is empty. Not a soul to talk to or sit with. I realize I don't want to be here anymore and exit the way I came.

::::::::::::::::::::::::

The day is warmer than the last few have been but I still require my light jacket as I comb the crime scene for any other signs of plastic. There are none. I really didn't think I'd be that lucky but it was worth a try. My feet take me farther away from the yellow tape and the red stain on the ground. Since I'm given the bright daylight that I didn't have last night, I decide another perimeter is the next best course of action.

Maybe I'm just killing time.

The terrain is stony and doesn't permit good tracks or shoe prints. In the dark, it looked sandy though. The dark can disguise a lot of things. Ben Caruk even looked menacing in the night. Nonetheless, the well lit earth turns up no helpful hints for my efforts.

I look to the horizon where the sun is melting behind a great white cloud. My eyes close with the overexposed image imprinted on my mind. After a moment I open my eyes to fresh scenery. The Vegas neighborhood on the other side of the quarry comes into focus. I glance over my shoulder to the lone stretch of highway so drastic in comparison to the city. This is probably the way he came in. It's opposite the neighborhood so it's easy drop off and getaway without being seen. He probably carried the body over his shoulder from the car, which was parked along the road.

Does he kill and dump her before or after he picks up his decoy?

My phone rings at my side. It's Grissom.

"Yeah."

"I heard about your plastic."

"Yeah." I quickly give a short report of all my findings. He surprisingly doesn't even question my new theory.

"I want to talk to the delivery boy," is his only reply. "I'll meet you there."

::::::::::::::::::::::::

I hop down from the truck, slamming the door. Grissom ambles up the sidewalk. "Where were you?"

"Revisiting the crime scene," I answer, taking my sunglasses off. "Can I ask why we need to talk to Ben again?"

"I'm ruling him out as an accessory."

"Do you really think he knew there was a dead body a few hundred yards away?"

"Actually, no I don't but we need to be sure. Shall we?"

My lips remain sealed as I follow him up the steps leading to a large porch. He lightly knocks on the door. Mrs. Ellis, the nice black woman I talked to on the phone, greets us with a smile.

"Miss Sidle. Mr. Grissom. How can I help you folks?"

"We were hoping we could talk to Ben again. It should only take a moment."

"Sure, come right in," she says jovially. "Can I get you some tea?"

"No, I'm fine," Grissom answers as he scans the large hallway.

"Mrs. Sidle?"

"No," I reply stepping up beside him. "This is a big house. How many adults do you look after?"

"Ten, but I have my share of help." She leads us to the large kitchen. "Those that aren't eligible for work are taught simple housekeeping. And of course, I have four assistants from the agency to help out. We get along."

I smile.

"Honey, you look ragged. Let me get you some tea. Sit down."

Automatically, I enforce an old habit with Grissom by exchanging a glance. For a second I see something familiar in his eyes, but he speedily takes a seat in one of the many chairs and I dismiss it as quickly as it came.

"I'm sorry Ben had to go through the ordeal of being a suspect," he says.

"Are you kidding? He wouldn't stop talking about it. Actually, he wanted to ask you if he could shadow some of your police friends."

"I'm sure it can be arranged."

"Here." She hands me the cup of tea as I take my seat. "I'll get Ben."

I let the cup warm my hand as I sip it. It's good. Very good.

"Hi, Sara," Ben announces stepping into the kitchen.

I smile. "Hey, Ben. You remember Grissom."

"Hi." He nods and turns back to me. "Mrs. Ellis said you wanted to ask me some questions. I don't remember anything new."

"I just wanted to make sure we got everything," Grissom says. "You said you didn't know what was in the box?"

"No," he says taking a seat across from us.

Grissom frowns. "Are you a fan of Christmas?"

"Yeah," he says cautiously.

I watch Grissom smile. "So am I. Guessing what could be in the presents was my favorite part."

"Hey, yeah, me too." His face loses its defensiveness.

"Sometimes I would even peel back the tape to see what was inside," Grissom continues. "But you know it was never what I expected it to be. Always something I never guessed or never wanted."

Ben smiles. "I want videogames but usually it's just clothes. They are nice but not as fun as games."

He nods. "I don't think anything can keep me from being curious. So Ben, you know I'd understand if you looked in the box. It doesn't matter to me."

Ben lowers his eyes. "There wasn't anything inside."

Grissom folds his hands. "If I found that out I wouldn't stay with a package some stranger left me alone with, especially if he gave me no reward."

There is a guilty pause. "He gave me a hundred dollars."

Mrs. Ellis opens her mouth but Grissom silences it with a finger. "Is that why you got in the car?"

"Yes. I didn't think it would hurt. It was just a box."

"Lord, I knew you boys weren't snickering over a cop story. It was that money," Mrs. Ellis snaps.

"It's okay. Ben didn't do anything I wouldn't have done." Grissom looks across at Ben. "He trusted Piper. There's nothing wrong with that. Did you two talk a lot?"

"He really didn't want to talk much. I talk all the time," he says with a roll of his eyes. "Piper was nice about it though. He didn't tell me to shut up once. Sometimes people are mean. I thought that's why he stopped his car. To laugh at me for missing my bus. But he only wanted directions to the pharmacy. I told him, three lights down. Then he asked if I wanted to make a hundred dollars! Do you know how many Playstation games I could buy?" He nods his head enthusiastically. "Tom would say Christmas came twice this year."

I stare blankly at the young man that left out all of that from his original statement. Silently, I kick myself for my reluctance to question him again. I should have known.

"Can you remember anything else about Piper?" Grissom asks.

"Not really," he shrugs and looks over at me. "Did you call him?"

"Can't find his number," I say with a shrug.

"I should have asked. You would like him."

I grin uncomfortably.

"What you should have done, Benjamin Lawrence Caruk, was tell these officers the truth the first time 'round," Mrs. Ellis says in a strong voice.

His head drops between his shoulders. Grissom swiftly comes to the boy's rescue. "That's all right. No harm done."

"Can I go up to my room now?"

There's a brief pause from Mrs. Ellis when we nod the okay. He says goodbye and walks hurriedly out of the kitchen. I thank Mrs. Ellis for the tea as she shows us the door.

"Oh, you're welcome. I'm just sorry Ben didn't tell the whole truth the first time," she says standing in the doorway. "I thought he knew better."

"We know now and that is all that matters," Grissom replies. "Thank you for your time."

"Have a good day," I say with a polite smile.

"You too." She closes the door.

"Well, we know why he got in the car," Grissom says descending down the front steps.

"How did you know he looked inside?"

"You," he replies, keeping his eyes straight ahead. "Ben doesn't see the world the way we do even if he looks like an adult. You said so yourself."

"But it still doesn't explain why Piper drove almost seven miles into the city to pick him up. Any guy in between would have done it for less than a hundred."

He turns around. "Ben is as innocent as they come. Perhaps Piper was mocking us for arresting the wrong man."

He pulls his sunglasses on. "Can we trace the plastic you pulled from Morgan?"

"Hodges wasn't able to narrow it down further than regular plastic wrap sold in every hardware store," I reply looking out across the street. "So do you think the packages will continue?"

He nods. "Next time, I'm afraid something will be inside."