Warrick stepped quickly towards the workroom, where he could still see Catherine's blond head bent over the window. "Catherine, just the person I wanted to see," he said, smiling broadly.

Catherine looked up at Warrick. "Good news?"

"Yes," Warrick replied. "We've traced the fingerprint found on the knife left at the church."
"Whose is it?" Catherine asked.

"It belongs to Ryan Kirk."

"Ryan Kirk? The gardener? But he wasn't at the church."

"He said he wasn't," Warrick corrected. "He said he was at his grandmother's."

Catherine sighed. "Then I guess we call her and check it out."

Twenty minutes later, having called both Holly Kirk, Ryan's sister, and Esther Kirk, his grandmother, Catherine returned to the workroom. Warrick was successfully sliding a piece of amber-colored glass into the window's outline. "Both Holly and Esther confirm Ryan's story. He was at Esther's house that night, and then drove her to Holyoke the next day."

"So it wasn't Ryan," Warrick said, looking up. "But his print was on the knife."

Catherine shrugged. "He did say he was missing a knife. Someone could have taken it from the church garage and used it to kill Father Carollan-O'Malley."

"Right," Warrick agreed. "But we don't have any other suspects, so Mr. Kirk seems like a plausible lead."

"Bring him back in, Warrick," Catherine suggested.

"I'm on it," Warrick promised, and ducked out of the workroom.

Grissom swung into Greg's lab. "Any matches on the carpet sample from Mr. Sharpe?"

"Nope," Greg said. "And his DNA doesn't match any you picked up at the compound, either."

Grissom frowned. "Great."

Sara ducked into the lab. "Hey! Grissom! I just got off the phone with Detective O'Reilly, and he said their other driver who sometimes did the cult route, Jim Bernhard, just got picked up on a DUI and we can interview him."

"Good," Grissom said. "Where's Emily?"

"Still studying."

"Has she been to sleep yet?"

Sara shrugged. "I don't think so. Shift's over at noon, we'll go home then."

They went down the hallway to the first interview room on the right. A short, balding man in an ugly pinstriped shirt and a clashing brown tweed blazer worn jauntily with brown polyester pants and scuffed wingtips was seated at the metal table. His hair was thinning and combed-over. His eyes were blue and watery. He managed a small smile as Sara and Grissom entered the room.

"Jim Bernhard?" Grissom asked. The man smiled in acquiescence. "We'd like to ask you some questions about the Gate of Heaven group."

"I don't know nothing about them," Jim said. He put his hands on the table and began cracking his knuckles, one by one. "Haven't seen them for two weeks."

"Right. Was anything amiss when you were at the complex last?"
"Don't think so. But you know, there's not really any way to tell. They keep that place so secluded, there could have been a mass murder there and you'd never know."

Sara glanced at Grissom, who glanced back.

"But nothing's wrong with them, right?" Jim asked. "I just got picked up for drunk driving. This has nothing to do with those folks, right?"

"Mr. Bernhard, where were you on Tuesday night?" Grissom asked in return.

"At my wife's house," Jim said, a bit sheepishly. "We just got divorced, and it's been really hard on me. I drove over to Kathy's to see if I could just talk to her."

"Is this the same wife who has a restraining order against you?" Sara asked, noting the paper in the man's file.

"Yeah," he replied, still sheepishly. "I just wanted to talk to her. I sat outside for about an hour and a half, but Kathy wasn't home."

"So you were nowhere near the Gate of Heaven complex?" Grissom questioned.

"That's right. I went to Kathy's and then I went to a bar down on the Strip. Sat there for about two hours drinking martinis and feeling sorry for myself."

"All right, Mr. Bernhard," Grissom said. "We just need a DNA sample from you."

"A DNA sample? What's that for?" Jim asked.

"We're just trying to rule out possible suspects."

"Suspects for what?"

"Are you willing to give us the DNA sample?" Grissom countered.

"Of course. I haven't done anything wrong."

A few minutes later, the DNA sample collected, the very confused truck driver left, and Grissom turned to Sara. "Get this to Greg," he said, "and then you and Emily should go home."