The small pile of information that had been gathering on the break room table was steadily, and thankfully growing. Alex had shuffled off to process some day-shift stuff, remaining on standby for anything the team dug up.
Nick and Sara had already met with on of the victim's teachers, who helpfully gave them a list of his friends, along with telephone numbers for each of them. The ball was properly rolling now, and fast.
Warrick was eagerly processing the victim's room, having been given access by the dean of the university, whom he contacted earlier. He knew the victim wasn't likely to have actually been killed in his own room, unlike the Harris case. No, a planned murder wouldn't be that sloppy. He'd have taken him somewhere far away, somewhere no-one would expect. But still, he thought that the killer might have left some evidence of himself in the room, or he could uncover something. Anything...
After much rummaging and searching he found nothing. The victim's belonging, most of which were packed, gave him nothing. Just ordinary clothes, toiletries, books; no notes, messages on his phone, nothing. Nada. He sighed realising the room was going to lead him nowhere, only hoping that Nick and Sara were able to come up with something.
Still feeling somewhat dismayed, he flopped down on the bed, massaging his temples, trying to ease away the beginnings of a headache. He jumped as his pager bleeped, then smiled as he read the message that simply said:
Mrs Noble has arrived.
'Mrs Noble, is this your son?' he asked her gently, lightly touching her arm encouragingly. She winced as his voice echoed through the eerily silent morgue. This isn't something a mother should have to face twice she thought, tears beginning to well in her eyes once more.
She gulped as the coroner pulled back the white sheet. Oh God. No. She gripped her eyes shut to block out the horrific sight, and merely nodded, allowing herself to be gently towed away but the kind faced man who had brought her down there. She had known it would be her son, of course it would? What was she expecting? For it to have been some sort of sick joke?
At the door she looked back, seeing Doc Robbins sliding her son, her baby, out of sight once more, then she turned back to Grissom and looked into his warm eyes, tears now spilling out of her own, as she let the tears flow freely now.
'I'm going to do everything I can to find out who did this to your son,' he said, as they always do.
She looked back at this man, into his kind eyes and honest faith, yet she still found it hard to find faith in his words.