Chapter 5 Denial (Part 1) Sofia
Sofia was somewhat ashamed and surprised by her gut reaction to part of the crime scene that greeted her. She was a seasoned veteran, one who should've been promoted to supervisor by now, she ruefully reminded herself, feeling the familiar tide of resentment welling up within her again. Yet, this sight was unsettling, and not simply due to the stench of blood. That was part of the job, besides she'd dealt with worse odors before.
Children had been involved. She could barely glance at their poor lifeless bodies, half obscured by their bedding. One victim was so young that he had a cartoon character bedspread with matching sheets. While she never thought of herself as possessing any maternal instincts, she found herself hoping that death had been quick and relatively painless for them, that whatever hell had broken lose earlier that evening in their home hadn't had the chance to register in their innocent minds, that their souls were untainted by the brutal violence which had surrounded them in their final moments.
The original report had been in error, instead of four victims, there were five, three male and two female. Both children were lying in their beds, as if they were merely sleeping; there were no defensive wounds, no signs of a struggle or even marks on their bodies.
On the other hand, the adults had incurred multiple wounds. There were signs of a massive struggle in the master bedroom and in the hallway as well. One of the bodies lay sprawled out unnaturally in the middle of the living room. He had fallen, or been pushed, over the edge of the second floor hallway railing, most likely breaking his neck upon impact and dying instantly. Some furniture had been overturned, lamps were broken into pieces; blood cast off covered the walls. Even one of the master bedroom sliding glass doors had been shattered. At this point, they were uncertain as to which person was the homeowner.
She and Greg were scanning the scene as David started processing the bodies; they were trying to get an overall feel for what might have happened that night. A burglary gone awry could apply, but why kill the children too? Especially since it didn't appear as if they'd stumbled in at an inopportune moment. Unless they were transferred to their beds after they'd been killed. And what had actually caused their deaths?
Even though it was a respectable upper middle class neighborhood, it could have been a drug deal gone awry. Sofia had learned early in her career not to take anything for granted in this business. Just because people lived in fancy homes, it didn't mean anything. Drugs knew no class barriers. And no amount of money would ever abolish good old lust and greed. Only the evidence would answer their questions without bias.
Sofia was anxious to start processing the scene, so she began taking preliminary notes. Yet she respectfully waited for her supervisor before officially starting the show. Of course, he would handle the situation differently than she would. She would prefer to have given even more detailed instruction to her team and examine each piece of evidence personally; she liked more hands on control of her team when she supervised.
Not that Grissom did a bad job, far from it. She had immense respect for the man. But she had her own style, which had been starting to emerge as Ecklie continued to give her brief glimpses at the golden carrot of the daytime supervisor position. Grissom was much more comfortable giving his criminalists plenty of room to run with, he encouraged them to act independently.
She'd heard stories about Grissom over the years. Rumor had it that he was eccentric and that he could be challenging to work with. Members of the day shift had chuckled when they'd heard about some of his bizarre experiments such as his fly infested pig in a blanket, his electrocuted pickle, or poor Greg's foot fungus that he'd complained so hysterically about. She'd heard that Grissom actually challenged the authority of the FBI and the sheriff on separate occasions. He'd even questioned the day shift team's efficiency when he reopened one of their arson investigations.
However, her main source of information had been Ecklie, so she was acutely aware of possible partiality. She wasn't a fool when it came to her ex-supervisor; she was well acquainted with his shortcomings. Yet, she put up with them, covering for him multiple times, rescuing him from looking like an ass on many occasions, quietly gritting her teeth and biding her time, because that was the best way to advance her career, only to have him give the prize position of supervisor to someone else. She could feel her pulse throbbing faster.
Even so, she'd been prepared to dislike Grissom, still subtly biased by Ecklie's influence. Yet, as she investigated his team, she found no impropriety, no indiscretions. Grissom ran a well-oiled machine and his team was sharp. They worked together in a manner that day shift had never been able to achieve. There was a sense of camaraderie and mutual respect; no one played inane games to make himself look better than his co-workers.
Despite Ecklie's unrelenting pressure during the course of her investigation of Grissom, she couldn't lie; she couldn't allow herself to compromise that much, even if it might jeopardize her career advancement, which meant everything to her. Especially since Ecklie hadn't proven himself to be completely trustworthy. Grissom hadn't done anything wrong. And now, as a result of her actions, after doing the right thing, she was essentially demoted.
Then there was Grissom himself…well…perhaps there was a silver lining after all, he impressed her. He was amazingly intelligent and handsome, with those intense blue eyes. His appearance in a tuxedo that evening several months ago in the Olympia hotel had floored her. She liked him, she even found herself attracted to him, despite their age difference.
He liked her too. She could sense it from the huskier tone his voice sometimes took when he spoke with her, the way that his eyes contacted hers, and by the fact that they'd already gone out to dinner together. She was completely confident that he'd thoroughly enjoyed her company that evening, even though he hadn't made any moves to approach her physically. That would come soon enough.
While he hadn't asked her out again, she assumed that he was playing the game; they both knew the rules. It was a subtle dance, you don't show too much interest or you lose face, especially since they worked together. The chase was part of the time-honored ritual.
Yet she wasn't foolish enough to believe that she would ever be able to reach beneath that smooth exterior façade of his. Grissom had secrets, ones that were deeply entrenched, that he didn't intend to share with anyone. And that was okay. She wasn't a little girl who believed in Prince Charming and 'happily ever after'. With her history, she had no illusions about relationships. Especially after her disastrous affair with Jason, she'd been young and far too naïve about men back then. She learned that you enjoyed relationships while they lasted and then you moved on. Theirs would be a brief but exhilarating affair, she was anxious to move forward with it.
Detective Larson stuck his head through the open front door. "Grissom just arrived."
The relatively new detective was an intriguing fellow as well, with his seductive dark Latin looks along with his enchanting smile. There was a man who knew his way around the ladies. However, Sara had captivated his attention, which suited her purposes just fine.
Sofia and Greg hurried out to the front lawn to discuss their game plan with their team. They had a lot of work ahead of them, and the sheriff would soon be demanding answers for the press.
Grissom stepped out of his Denali, wearing a tuxedo shirt and pants. Sofia smiled appreciatively, taking in his pleasing appearance, yet she wondered why he was dressed up, she wasn't aware of any departmental function that evening. But the others didn't notice him. Their eyes were fixed upon the glamorous brunette that got out of the passenger side of his vehicle.
At first, she didn't recognize her. She'd never seen her in an evening dress before. Neither had the other men, based on their comments. Her hair was up, arranged attractively, and she wore sparkling dangling earrings which glistened in the streetlights. Her stomach rumbled uncomfortably as she saw Sara Sidle, looking as gorgeous as any runway model, approaching the crime scene, with, could that be his tuxedo jacket wrapped about her shoulders? It was definitely a man's jacket, no doubt about that, which also effectively blocked the other men's view of her cleavage. She felt as if a heavy weight had just crushed her chest.
The men, those idiots who claimed to be professionals, even the so-called well-educated ones, practically had their tongues hanging out of their mouths as they stared at her. Even the patrolmen had paused to gawk. At least she could take pleasure from the obvious discomfort this undue attention caused Sara, whose deep blush was creeping down her neck.
"Wow Sara, you look hot tonight," Greg stammered.
Oh brother, couldn't you think of a better line than that, Greggo.
Sara stared at the ground, attempting to avoid their prying glances, while pulling the jacket tighter around her body, trying to conceal herself within its folds. Instinctively, she stood closer to Grissom.
David and Detective Larson were also frozen in their tracks, mesmerized by her appearance.
"I thought you were home watching movies tonight," Detective Larson weakly reminded, the glib lothario suddenly at a loss for words.
Before she could reply, Grissom abruptly interrupted and got down to business, while trying to ignore the chaos around him. "Okay, for five bodies we need two in the house and two outside." He took a minute to consider, "Sofia, you take inside, along with…"
It was a lengthy hesitation for him; usually he made up his mind quickly. Why was this such a difficult decision tonight? She'd hoped he'd partner himself with her, for that would be an added bonus, to admire him in his evening finery. But it wasn't meant to be.
"Sara," he chose deliberately. "Greg will take the outside and I'll coordinate and process the bodies with Doc Robbins."
Oh great, her least favorite person to work with, at a complicated crime scene to boot. It was going to be a long night. But Sofia was a dedicated professional who would do her job well, regardless of trying circumstances. And Sara was a hard worker too.
Not that she'd ever consider the woman to be a friend, far from that. Sara had given her glances cold enough to lower the room temperature several degrees. Up until that moment, she hadn't fully understood, or cared, why the woman had given her such a frigid reception.
Greg and Detective Larson jumped at the chance to assist Sara.
"I've got some coveralls in my SUV, I'll get them for you, Sara. You don't want to mess that beautiful gown up with blood stains," Greg eagerly volunteered as he set forth to retrieve them.
"Thanks Greg." Then Sara sighed and wondered, "Where can I change?" She craned her neck, examining the area
Trying to be helpful, Sofia promptly suggested, "I know a trick –"
"No, Sara isn't going to look like some Vegas stripper," Grissom interjected, almost rudely. Turning to Sara, he said, more softly, "Let's see if you can change in the ambulance."
"I can hold up a blanket for a screen," Detective Larson had recovered his wits enough to smoothly step closer to her, about to grasp her forearm.
Sara deliberately eluded his hand, stepping away from the detective, while Grissom simply looked him directly in the eyes and firmly replied, "No. I don't think so." Then he put his hand in the small of her back and escorted her to the ambulance.
Were her ears deceiving her? He sounded defensive; was there a trace of possessiveness in his voice? What was going on here?
XXXXXXXXXXX
Time went by as the women painstakingly collected evidence from each of the rooms involved in the horrendous killing spree. They started with the master bedroom, where there was the most chaos. They snapped photo after photo, documenting the broken objects and blood spatter patterns. A baseball bat, with remnants of blood and hair clinging to, was most likely one of the murder weapons, along with the jagged stem of a champagne bottle. They also discovered a bloody lamp base.
As was her custom, Sofia verbally noted her findings out loud, though she didn't want to discuss them with anyone yet. She realized that this technique was starting to irritate Sara, so she grinned slightly as she continued to do it.
"What a wardrobe, expensive shoes and accessories in every color," she commented as she peeked into the closet. "A packed suitcase is handy by the closet, her clothes only. Perhaps they were going somewhere or had just returned from a trip," Sofia observed.
Annoyed by her droning, Sara volunteered to process the children's rooms, which suited her fine. Looking at those young victims had bothered Sofia more than she was willing to admit.
The children, a boy and a girl, were found in their bedrooms, hidden beneath their covers, clad in T-shirts and sweat pants. Their presumed mother had been strewn like a limp rag doll across her king sized bed; her filmy lingerie shredded as she fought for her life. A man's body was found in the upper hallway, just outside of the master suite, while the other gentleman was sprawled out on the living room floor. Neither wore pajamas; the man in the hallway was dressed in business attire, sporting a blue suit with a light yellow shirt and a print tie, while the other man wore only a pair of faded Levis.
Greg and Detective Larson were investigating the vehicle located in the driveway and searching the neighborhood to attempt to determine if the other man came in a separate vehicle. They also wanted to rule out the possibility that the killings may have been done by an outside person, who had fled the scene.
As she methodically processed the scene, the image of Grissom with his arm practically around Sara, subtly nudged her.
He was just being polite. You're exaggerating. There's nothing there.
Sofia had never been one to go after another woman's property; it had never been worth the hassle. Besides, she was pretty and confident in her own abilities and charm. Although some men were intimidated by her intelligence, she'd never had trouble finding attractive men to date.
Of course, she'd heard the rumors about Grissom and Sara; the entire department was familiar with the gentle flutter of that breeze. Some of them even mentioned a betting pool about when the two of them might get together. However, that was old news.
She'd worked side by side with Grissom and Sara for several months now. As far as she was concerned, if there had ever been a brief spark between them, it had been one sided at best, and it had never been given enough nurturing to survive. Those embers had been quenched a long time ago.
But, why had they been together earlier that evening, dressed in formal wear?Sofia stepped out of the master bedroom, into the hallway, to stretch her aching legs. She heard the ring of a phone, which wasn't her own.
"Sidle," she heard Sara crisply answered from the adjoining room. Being so close, and curious, she couldn't help but peek into the room and listen to Sara's end of the conversation.
"I don't see any indication of a struggle in the boy's room, though I suppose if he was smothered with his pillow, the killer could've just slipped it back under his head. Any trace fibers?"
What a minute, that had to be Grissom. Why was he contacting Sara instead of her? She was the more senior investigator in terms of job classification and in actual years of experience. She'd actually been considered as a prime candidate for the position of daytime supervisor, while even Gil Grissom himself hadn't recommended Sara for the now extinct key position, a tantalizing fact that few people were aware of. Sometimes it paid to be on Conrad's good side.
Sara frowned, "That's odd. That doesn't agree with the TOD for the adults."
After a moment she added, "Are there any signs of abuse?"
She listened then responded, "Yeah, I know, just trying to cover all the bases."
After listening for a minute or two, she asked, "Wait a minute, which man was the husband?"
Her eyes widened with surprise, "Hmm, now that's interesting."
About to close her phone, she said, "Ok, keep me posted."
Another pause, and her voice became softer, "Yeah?"
"Thanks," she smiled, the edges of her mouth curving upward. Then she closed her phone.
"Anything useful?" Sofia stepped closer to ask.
"You remember that the time of death for the adults was estimated to be about 40 minutes before we arrived at the scene?" Sara asked.
She digested the information. "Yeah, it makes sense, the neighbors heard the glass balcony door shattering and then some screaming, it must have been one heck of a brawl. Then they called the cops. Even though the officers made good time, it was all over by the time they arrived."
Sara relayed, "From their liver temperatures, David estimated that the kids had been dead for over five hours."
That got Sofia's attention. "No wonder he took so long to sign off on those bodies. I've been having trouble figuring out how the kids fit into this scenario. This just makes it even more puzzling." She thought, "Could the TOD have been influenced by the fact that their bodies were covered with all those blankets?"
Sara was quick to point out, "Blankets would trap the body heat, so the temperature would be artifactually higher rather than lower. Though if the bodies had been in a freezer or cold water, that could play a role."
Sofia considered the observations. "But that still doesn't make any sense, that would mean they were killed--"
"At six o'clock at night. I know they're young but what school age kid goes to bed that early? I'm thinking that we may be looking at two separate events here – the kids and the adults."
While Sofia was inclined to agree, she had to needle her. Sara's intimate tone toward the end of that phone conversation had rankled her more than she was willing to admit. "Why? On what basis are you drawing that conclusion?"
"Look at that master bedroom, it has every sign of a crime of passion to me. Those people beat each other to death with anything they could lay their hands on. It had to be personal. Why would any robber go to such lengths? A hired killer would've brought a gun or knife so he wouldn't have to improvise with a baseball bat or chair."
Sofia tried to interrupt, but Sara continued her train of thought.
"On the other hand, look at the children's bedrooms. They're in almost perfect order. The children have no marks on them. And while it doesn't appear to make sense, the evidence is suggesting that they died several hours before the adults."
"So what's your theory?" the blonde grinned wryly. "Maybe the visitor had a beef with the husband so he barged in and then things got crazy fast?"
"No, that doesn't work. I just found out that the husband is the man who was wearing the business clothes."
Sofia was amused. "Ah, the classic wife gets it on the side and the husband walks in on them. That works for me."
Somewhat defensively, Sara blurted out, "Why do you say that? Some people have strong marriages. Maybe he's her brother or a friend?"
That struck a nerve. Normally Sara was too smart to say such a thing, her professional mask was slipping. She was vulnerable for she was talking about far more than the case at hand.
Sofia grinned, eager to pop the other woman's unrealistic bubble. "Yeah, I always wear sexy lingerie with my brother and we drink champagne together in my bedroom. Do you know why we usually assume the worst in these situations? Because nine times out of ten, it's true. We've seen it too many times. Don't tell me you can hold to any ideals after being in this line of work so long."
Sara was clearly irritated, but she didn't want to have that discussion. So she quickly pointed out in her defense, "We don't know when he was in the bedroom. He might've jumped in to protect her."
Since Sara wasn't rising to the bait, Sofia got back to business. "We'll find out soon enough, the samples we sent to the lab will verify it. Did you get any new information about the kids?"
"Grissom says the cause of death is asphyxia. There was no water in their lungs, so it's possible they were smothered with their pillows. They're looking for trace fibers at the lab."
Sofia digested the information. "I still can't tie it all together. Let's finish collecting the evidence. Maybe the lab will give us more to go on with the kids."
Sara slipped away to finish processing the children's rooms while Sofia moved to work on the upper hallway.
How naïve. She still believes in true love. She's going to be disappointed. He's not interested in her. Not in that way. He's not the type of man to ever share that much of himself. He'll never do it.
Continued in Ch 6 Denial part 2