Grissom threaded his way through the apartment complex breezeway. Cops and curious neighbors dressed in various forms of sleeping gear lined the edges. One of the women wore a thick faded pink robe that she clutched at the base of her throat, despite the heat, bashful in the presence of so many strangers. Nick and Greg followed, each carrying their own field kit.

Grissom stopped just outside the closed front door of the victim's apartment. He exchanged a few words with the officer placed there to guard the door, and when Nick and Greg caught up, Gil's hand was on the knob, with a glance over his shoulder, he opened the door and walked in.

Even in the darkness, the shape and rooms of the apartment could be made out. Built in the form of a capital L, the living room and kitchen were in the short leg, and, just inside the front door, they found themselves standing in the living room.

The only light on in the apartment came from the longer leg of the L, down what was probably a hall and from the rapid flickering and slight changes of color, Nick could tell the light came from a TV, in what he guessed was the bedroom. The three of them stood in the entrance niche for a moment, quiet after Grissom's instruction to Greg to shut the door behind them.

"What do you see Greg?" Gil asked, his voice not quite a whisper.

"Not much." Greg answered sarcastically. "Why can't we ever turn on the lights?"

Grissom took a breath. "I like to see the scene as the killer left it" he explained patiently.

Greg, behind him, and in the dark, mouthed 'Oh' as his only reply.

"Well?" Grissom asked.

"Well what?"

Nick closed his eyes in exasperation. "What do you see Greg-o?"

This time, Greg's 'Oh' was out loud. He shone his flashlight taking in as much of the room as he could in the thin steam of illumination. "Wine glasses, but no bottle in sight." Greg continued to look around the room, seeing nothing out of place. "Looks like a typical women's apartment to me."

"Yeah? And how many women's apartments have you actually seen?" Nick asked teasing.

"The carpet Greg" Grissom interrupted, returning the tone to professional. "What about the carpet?"

All three flashlights shone on the floor, circles of light moved in a back and forth motion.

"Looks like she just vacuumed." Greg answered.

"Or the perp did." Nick added.

"Make sure we take the vacuum with us." Grissom told both of them.

"Would you gentlemen care to see the body?" Captain Jim Brass, LVPD, stepped out from what Nick had guessed was the bedroom, his form blocking the light from the flickering TV.

"Coroner pronounce?" Grissom asked.

"Just missed him."

Gil gave one short nod and headed toward the bedroom.

"Hit the light, would ya Jim?" Gil asked. All four men squinted in the sudden brightness of the overhead light.

"Meet Jan Taylor." Brass said.

The floor was scattered with two or three day's worth of abandoned clothes. She was naked, and laid out on the foot of the bed, horizontally. Her arms bent at the elbow, hands rested on the mattress by her ears, legs at awkward angles. The plug to her alarm clock nestled near her left ear, the cord wrapped around her throat. The clock itself hung off the edge of the bed.

Gil twitched his head to the left, and angled it down a few degrees.

"What'd you see boss?" Nick asked, observing the familiar head movement.

"What's she lying on?"

A flash of red fabric spilled out from underneath the woman's body, the bright color a direct contract to the white sheet. Snapping on his gloves, Nick moved over to the bed, crouching at the victim's feet, and fingered the material. "Dress. Skirt maybe."

Grissom set his field kit down, opening it to pull out his own pair of gloves. "Greg" he glanced over his shoulder to the training criminalist, "check the bathroom. Take photos first, dust for prints, and look for anything out of place." Greg nodded before turning and walking out of the room.

Nick had moved from his crouched position at her feet, and now stood bent over the victim, his face inches from hers. "Strangled" he said, examining the electrical cord imbedded in her neck.

Brass rolled his eyes. "Really Sherlock? Gee, so glad you're here." He raised his eyebrows when Nick glanced over at him.

"Nicky, check the sheets." Grissom interrupted before the banter could escalate.

Using the ALS, Alternative Light Source, a colored flashlight type tool that makes invisible stains detectable, Nick methodically ran the light over the sheets, stopping every so often to tweeze up a stray hair, placing each one in it's own small envelope. Her purse lay on its side, half on her pillow, he bagged it too. "Found some hairs, short and red, may all be hers."

Grissom, bending over the body, didn't answer.

Nick shook his head at Grissom's lack of an answer. Someone else might have thought it a rebuff, or would have repeated themselves assuming they hadn't been heard, but Nick had learned long ago his boss had heard him, he just didn't have anything to say in answer. Stretching his back, he made his way into the bedroom closet. "She lived alone" he called out into the room, noting there were no men's clothes.

"No ring on her finger" Grissom answered from the bedroom. Poking through a cardboard box he found on the closet shelf, Nick heard the steel thumping of the ME's gurney, and abandoning the box, walked back into the bedroom in time to see the attendants lifting the body and putting her gently down onto the gurney.

From his position at the foot of the bed, Grissom watched reverently as they rolled her out of the bedroom. Once they were out of sight, he turned his attention to what was now evidently a dress laid out on the bed.

Nick was still holding his ALS in his hand, and he repeated the same actions on the newly empty end of the bed. While Nick worked, Grissom left the bedroom and walked down the short hall and into the kitchen.

It was clean, and neater than his own, he admitted to himself. A white trash bag sat in the corner, tied at the top in a double knot. He checked cabinets, the fridge, and the dishwasher, finding nothing unusual. Opening the cabinet under the sink, the odor of wine immediately hit him. He pulled out the blue plastic can and peering inside, found several pieces in varying sizes of what was probably once a wine bottle and numerous paper towels stained with deep red purple splotches. Grissom bagged the contents.

"Gil" Brass called from the living room. He had turned on a light, and Grissom could now see a well appointed, if smallish, living room. A couch and armchair, both a matching dark blue, faced the television. The two wine glasses Greg had observed earlier were set on the coffee table. Greg was right, there was no bottle with them, but at least he knew where it was. Gil ticked his head to the right. "What?" Brass asked mildly amused at the look on the criminalist's face.

"I think she might have had a date." He jerked a thumb over his shoulder, toward the bedroom. "Red dress laid out like she was about to put it on, wine glasses sitting at the ready." He paused a moment, thinking. "Who found her?"

"Co-worker at the casino, came over after the shift ended, said Jan had left her eyeglasses, he came over to return them." He walked over to the front door. "Lemme go ask if the vic mentioned having a date."

Greg stepped out of the hallway at that same moment. "Found a few useable prints, but mostly smudges. The shower walls are wet, like she showered before she died."

Or the perp did, Grissom thought to himself.

"Or I thought, maybe the killer showered to remove any trace," Greg went on "so I swabbed the drain. I did find these." He held up a small clear plastic bag. Grissom bent to take a closer look. Inside were two small blue fibers.

"Where'd you find them?" Grissom asked.

"Toilet handle. I photographed it before I collected them" he answered before Grissom could ask the question. Grissom gave him a small smile of approval.

Nick walked out, setting his field kit down at his feet. "Bagged the dress. Her bra and panties were tangled in the sheets" he slightly lifted his arms, indicating five brown paper bags, three in one hand, and two in the other.

Grissom nodded acknowledgement. "Greg, you wanna call it?"

Greg looked from Gil to Nick and back again. "What? Are we done?"

Grissom suppressed a sigh and glanced at Nick, giving him the go-ahead with his eyes.

"Well" Nick began "I'm thinking she had a date" Grissom twitched a smile, but allowed Nick to continue. "Dress laid out on the bed..."

Stepping through her apartment door, she kicks her shoes off even before she closes the door behind her. Grateful to be home, she sighs deeply and rolls her neck as she walks the short distance to her bedroom. Dumping her purse on the bed, she pulls her sweater off and tosses it onto the floor. Slipping across the hall into the bathroom, she pees then turns on the shower. Back in the bedroom, she steppes out of her skirt and pantyhose in one motion, leaving them where they fall at her feet. In her closet, she pulls her new red dress off its hanger, tugging the price tags off. Tossing the dress on to her bed, she pads in to the kitchen to throw the tags in the trash. The bag is full, and she admonishes herself for not having taken it out that morning. Pulling the liner out of the can, she ties the bag shut and sets it in the corner of the kitchen. The box of liners sitting next to the can is empty; 'Shit' she mumbles and shoves the can back to its place underneath the sink, banging the cabinet door closed. Remembering the shower, she heads into the bathroom, and removing her underwear and watch, she steps in letting the hot water trickle down her back.

After, she dries off; she puts on her panties back on and blow-dries her hair. A few minutes later, her hair and body now dry, she starts to put on her makeup when a knock on her front door makes her grab her watch realizing how late she's running. 'Shit' she mumbles again as she slips into her robe and quickly looks at herself in the mirror before rushing off to answer the door.

"Hi" she says brightly opening the door wide and letting him in, she realizes she didn't cinch the robe with its tie and she clutches it closed just below her breasts.

"Am I early?" he asks, his brow furrowing.

"Nope, I'll just be another few minutes, have a seat, make yourself at home." She turns to head back to her bedroom when she feels him behind her, the crook of his arm is around her neck, he's pushing her into the bedroom, and her brain won't let her understand what's happening. He tares the robe off her and pushes her onto the foot of the bed. With one hand on her throat he rips her panties off of her. Everything is happening in slow motion to her, and it feels like eternity before her terror breaks and she opens her mouth to scream. He stifles her with his free hand.

"You have to be quiet," he says in a voice that she is surprised to find is so calm. "Be quiet, and you'll be alright." He lets his words absorb. "Understand?" She nods, tears filling her eyes. "Good" he says and cautiously takes his hand from her mouth. They stare at each other, and he keeps staring as he reaches down to undo his fly, one hand still on her throat. Her tears spill over and it's hard to breathe, his grip on her neck is so tight.

"After he was done, he ripped the clock radio from the wall and strangled her with the cord." Nick finished his monologue.

The air around them had grown heavy during the recount, and Nick took a moment to breath and reallocate himself.

Grissom nodded in agreement, "But you forgot one thing."

"What's that?" Nick asked, his eyes narrowing.

Gil held up the two evidence bags that contained the broken wine bottle and paper towels he'd found in the trash. The glass pieces clinked against each other. "I found the wine."

"Well, there wasn't any blood on the vic or the bed, he didn't hit her with it, how'd it get broken?"

"Maybe he dropped it when he went after her." Greg chimed in.

"And he cleaned up after himself? With a dead body in the next room?" Nick asked skeptically. Greg shrugged in answer.

"Who said he brought it?" Gil asked. Both of the other men looked at him. "That's why I bagged it."