ID-ed
Nick ran the woman's picture through various databases, and came up with a hit. It was a driver's license photo, and based on the information with it, the woman was a new resident in Nevada. Her name was Paige Landry, and she was a co-worker of Patterson's.
Nick pulled up to her residence, with Vega just seconds behind him.
Vega knocked on the door, and a tall brown-haired woman answered.
"Yes?" she said, her eyes glancing over the men in front of her.
Nick immediately felt it. Something was off. She was guarded, which wasn't unusual. But as they followed her inside the house, it became more than that.
She didn't argue or act too nervous, but the whole air of her confidence became . . . unnervingly composed. Nick studied her as Vega asked the questions.
"Did you have a relationship with the deceased?" Vega asked. Miss Landry shook her head, that brown hair tossing from side to side.
"Not beyond work," she said. "We've worked together for a few months now." She ran a hand through her hair, pushing back long bangs. Her dark eyes fell on Nick, and he couldn't help but feel there was a smirk in her expression.
"Where were you last night from 7 to 1 a.m.?" Vega asked next. Before she could answer, Nick started thinking.
Why was the time of death and video footage inconsistent? Are we even on the right potential suspect?
His gut told him he was—or at least something was up with this woman.
"Dinner with friends and a movie after that," Miss Landry answered. Her fingertips grazed her skin as she tapped them against her chin. Her skin was soft, youthful. She couldn't have been more than thirty years old, if that.
Nick frowned at her.
"You didn't stop by work?" he asked. Landry turned her gaze to him, her eyes directly aimed at his. He felt his heart speed up at her boldness.
"I forgot something," she said simply. "You know I was there; otherwise you wouldn't be here."
"What did you forget that was in Christian Patterson's office?" Nick challenged. She was lying, and everyone knew it.
"Christian and I worked together," she said, cocking her head to the side. "We shared files."
Nick shot a look at Vega, who nodded back.
"Would you be willing to provide a DNA sample voluntarily?" Vega asked. Paige Landry shrugged indifferently.
"Why not."
Nick moved closer to her and reached for her hair. "If you don't mind, I'd prefer hair," he said with a very fake smile. She didn't move a muscle. Nick proceeded to grab a strand and pull hard on it.
She never flinched. Nick examined the hair quickly to make sure he got a skin tag, and then bagged it. He nodded at Vega.
"Thank you for your time," Vega said. The detective and CSI stood to leave.
"Have a good day, Mr. Stokes," Paige Landry said. Nick almost froze at that. She had singled him out, and something about it was . . . He didn't look back, but quickly made his way out of the woman's home.
He stared at the microscope. The two hairs were a visible match. But he knew it didn't prove much.
She worked with Patterson. It's feasible that her hair got transferred to his body But her story is as fake as can be.
Paige Landry claimed she scurried back to the office to grab a file near midnight. What couldn't wait until the next morning?
The time issue brought up Nick's doubt of the time of death. He leaned away from the microscopes and braced his weight with his palms against a table. Why would the time of death be wrong if I'm right about the suspect? Is it even wrong?
In his mind, he replayed yesterday night in his mind. He remembered the feel of death as he walked out onto the 17th floor. And then the shudders he felt as he walked into the office . . .
It was cold.
Nick put the hair samples away and quickly left the lab. He sped quickly to the Phoenix Telecomm building.
He flashed his ID a few times and made it to the 17th floor. He paid close attention to the temperature of the rooms.
Patterson's office felt no different from the rest. He felt a surge of disappointment.
"Mr. Stokes," he heard behind him. Nick turned to see the office manager. "Is everything all right?" The man wore a nervous expression on his face, but more so because of the unexpected visit than anything else, or at least that's what Nick suspected.
"No, actually," Nick said, turning back to the office. He moved over to the temperature control for the room. "Did anyone touch these controls recently?" The temperature was set at 72 degrees Fahrenheit.
"Yes, I did." Nick looked up sharply at that. The manager continued. "It was freezing in here, so I raised the temperature to what the office default."
"What was it at before?" Nick asked. The manager frowned, trying to recall the detail.
"It was at . . . 55 degrees, I think," he said. "It's not good for the A/C systems, so I—"
"—raised it," Nick filled in. "Thanks for your time." He left the office quickly and made his way to the elevator.
That explains the time of death conflict. The temperature was lower in the room, bringing down the body's temp.
The elevator arrived, and Nick stepped in. He pushed the lobby button and waited for the doors to close.
They were about to, when a hand stopped them. Nick looked to the newcomer.
And saw Paige Landry. She didn't say a word when she recognized him, but simply stepped inside and leaned against the elevator. Nick didn't say anything either. For some reason, he felt it wasn't a good idea.
The ride was long, in Nick's opinion. He glanced over periodically to the woman, but she was never looking back. Yet Nick felt like he was being watched, studied even. It was unsettling, especially from a woman who seemed as beautiful as she was potentially murderous.
Beautiful? Get a grip, Stokes. He grimaced at himself. You just found out she could very well have killed Patterson in the revised TOD range, and you're thinking about how attractive she is.
Damn. He did it again.
The elevator finally touched down, and Nick quickly stepped out. He heard Landry's footsteps behind him as he made his way out to his SUV. He tried not to focus on it, but the footsteps hadn't deviated, even as he was at his car.
Nick whirled around to see Paige Landry just feet away from him. Her lips were pursed in a dare, and it was then that Nick realized she hadn't stopped her pace. She advanced on him, and Nick had to step away until he had nowhere else to go. His back was up against his SUV, and Paige Landry left only inches between herself and Nick.
Nick felt his pulse race and his breathing stifle. He tried to say something, but suddenly her hand covered his lips.
"Mr. Stokes," she said quietly. Even though it was quiet, her tone commanded respect, and for a brief moment, Nick felt something akin to fear and wonder. "Did you find anything interesting from my hair?"
Nick jerked his head away from her hand, but was painfully aware of how close she was still to his body.
"Miss Landry—"
"Paige," she corrected, a gleam in her eyes.
"P-Paige," he said slowly, his accent drawing out more than usual. "I can't discuss the findings of an ongoing investigation."
She smirked at that, her brown eyes gleaming again at his company line. Nick swallowed.
"That's a round-about way of telling me you don't want to tell me what you found," she said. Her eyes seemed to have found something of interest on his face, and suddenly her fingertips were brushing his cheek. "I'll catch you later."
She turned quickly and strutted gracefully to her own vehicle. Nick just watched her, stunned by the encounter. After a few seconds, he managed to unglue himself from the side of his car.
He sighed and headed back to the lab.