On the way back to headquarters, Nick collected Krystal's clothes from David Phillips, the coroner's assistant and then headed to an empty lab room at CSI headquarters. Since they hadn't found much in the way of physical evidence at the scene, he decided to go over her clothes before everything was released to her family. He inspected the clothes Grissom had bagged from her car first and found nothing of concern. Some change in one of the pockets of the jeans. No stray hairs or fibers on any of the clothes. Her uniform was standard issue from McDonalds, nothing usual about that. He started with the turquoise polo shirt. It was fifty percent polyester and fifty percent cotton, like every other fast food chain in the country. While Nick was going over every inch of the shirt with clear tape and a magnifying glass, his brain started remembering the first time he met the young woman.
Nick had been wandering around the parking lot crime scene for about an hour when he noticed a young female standing by the yellow crime scene tape taking notes. He'd walked over to Detective Ray O'Riley, the detective on the scene, and asked, "Hey, who's the girl? Not some reporter I hope."
O'Riley grinned. "Nah, just some UNLV student."
Nick walked over to her. "Hey, what 'cha up to?" he asked as he approached.
"Just taking notes, that's all," the woman replied.
"Is it required for a class or something?" he inquired, stepping closer to the tape.
She glanced up at him. She had the most intriguing brown eyes. "Or something," she replied with a smile. "It started as a class assignment, but I'm way done with that. Plus, the profs would never encourage us to go out and visit the night shift. They're all Eckly's followers." She shuffled the notebook in her hand and said, "My name's Krystal by the way. I'm hoping for an internship in the fall."
Nick smiled. Ah, the coveted internship at the Las Vegas Crime Lab. It was very hard to come by. "Well, good luck," he said. "Oh, and I'm Nick. Nick Stokes."
"Nice to meet you Nick. Good luck on the case."
Nick had gone on to solve the case but never forgot Krystal. But then again, it was hard to forget her when she showed up at almost every crime scene. If she wasn't there, he knew it had to be because another call had come in at the same time. But not tonight. Tonight had been different and it rattled him to the bone.
After searching the entire piece of fabric for anything, all Nick found was grease probably from the fryers. He also found tan dust on the back of the shirt. They were almost crumb-like. He gathered the crumbs and placed them in a tiny envelope. He then sent the crumbs to trace for analysis. Nick then went on to the black cotton slacks and pulled out everything that was in the pockets. A folded up piece of paper and a standard men's wallet. Inside the wallet were her Nevada driver's license, her UNLV campus identification, and about five dollars in cash. Nick then moved over to the paper and carefully unfolded it. It was from the Clark County Health Department's clinic there in Las Vegas. They offered low cost examinations for those who couldn't afford health insurance. Nick read over the paper and saw that it was results from a pregnancy test. The test had been positive, dated just the day before. Nick got up quickly and took the paper with him. He headed off in search of Grissom. He would want to know this. This was a possible motive.
Checking the break room and finding only fellow investigator Warrick Brown there, he asked if he had seen their boss. "I think he's doing a post," he replied.
"Thanks," said Nick as he hurried off to the morgue before Warrick could ask any more questions.
Dressed in a light blue lab coat over his work clothes, Gil Grissom walked into the autopsy bay. He said hello to Al Robbins, the gray haired coroner. "So..." Girssom prompted.
Robbins stared at Grissom across Krystal's dead body. "She died of asphyxiation by strangulation. Based on the bruising on her neck and lack of rigor mortis, time of death was approximately two in the morning." Grissom nodded. "The ligature marks suggest a cord of some kind. No fibers were found, so it wasn't a rope. Also the bruising on the wrists suggest a struggle. Did a kit on her and sent it to DNA for you." Robbins held up her left hand. "Found skin under her fingernails. Sent it to trace for you."
Grissom was still trying to get over the fact that he was staring down at Krystal Davies' body on that metal autopsy table. "Thank you," he absentmindedly said.
"I found minor cuts on her hands and a white crumbly substance in the cuts." Robbins held up a piece with forceps. "I sent that out as well. I did a pregnancy test and found that she was approximately eight weeks pregnant," Robbins told the head CSI.
Grissom raised an eyebrow just as Nick Stokes came plowing into the autopsy bay. "Gris, Krystal was pregnant," he said, trying to catch his breath.
Grissom turned to the younger man. "I know, Nick." Grissom then turned back to the coroner. "Anything you can tell me about the killer?"
"I'll know more later," Robbins replied.
"Thank you."
As Nick and Grissom walked out of the autopsy bay, Grissom asked how Nick knew Krystal was pregnant.
"She had a letter from County Health about it in her uniform pocket," Nick told Grissom as he handed over the letter. "It was probably so she could show her boss or something."
"Probably," was all Grissom said as they rounded a corner. After several moments of silence, he spoke up again. "Have you looked at the prints yet?"
"Not yet," Nick told his boss. "I figured you'd want to know about the pregnancy thing. The prints are next on my list."
"Good." Grissom then headed off to his office and Nick went the other way back to the lab.
In the lab, Nick scanned the cast of the shoe print into the computer and got that it was a size thirteen, left foot of a non-skid shoe. The search was only narrowed to about five thousand employees in the food service industry in the city of Las Vegas. The shoe itself was too common. Every restaurant in town required their employees to wear non-skid shoes. The size however was unique. Also the fact that it was found outside a restaurant narrowed the search. Nick figured it had to be someone working there at that particular McDonalds on East Lake Mead Boulevard. Nick ran a hand through his short brown hair. This case was bothering him, as it would have rattled anyone. Finding someone you know dead is an experience that Nick didn't really like about this job. Granted it didn't happen often, but every now and again it did.