Nick lead them out to the railroad tracks, a mere 800 feet from Starr's location. When Sara saw the second body, she had started. Even Nick looked white. The words "cheating Hector" were written in the gravel bed of the railroad tracks with blood.
"Uhm, I think we found Hector." Nick commented just before he pressed the back of his hand across his mouth. "Of course, we really have no way to figure that out..."
Someone, in the style of an old silent movie villain, tied "Hector" to the railroad track. The train decimated his body, leaving parts scattered around, Grissom walked up to stand over Nick, who was going through a wallet. He met the other man's eyes for a split second before a card flitted in front of his face.
"Look's like you need to make another trip to Lady Heather's." Nick's ever present smile was gone. He offered the card again at Grissom's reluctance to take it. "I mean, unless you want me-"
Grissom snatched the card from the younger man. "Sara and I are taking this one. Just bag him-"he looked around "Call Warrick to bring out more bags..."
"Already did, we have a bet going with how many this is going to take." The smile lit his face again, while his left pant leg was stained from the knee down in blood.
Sara couldn't help but laugh at him, he was like a little brother, even though he was older then she was. "That's just sick..."
Before Nick could respond, Grissom beckoned her away.
While they were talking back in the labs, it was clear Candy Lane had left an impression on Sara, giving her agitation an outlet for the time being. She leveled her bright eyes at him when he told her the name of the woman that called Starr in as a missing person- Fox Trail, "so, are we going to talk to Suzy Highway and Quincy Road too?"
Grissom remembered smiling at her, but he didn't laugh like she seemed to want him to. "No, I think that this is the last avenue we need to cross."
That earned a blink. "You- you ah, just made a joke."
"Sometimes these things happen. Would you like to talk to Trail?"
The look crossing her face was enough to answer that for him. "Right, I'll find Trail, you talk to Lady Heather?"
At first Sara looked like she was going to say no. But then she nodded, the determined set coming to her jaw. He asked her if she had been sure and she responded curtly. Like he knew she would. Sara could do anything, the only trick to getting her to do so was telling her she couldn't.
Grissom sighed as he looked down at the address he had printed out. Sara, as he knew she would be, had been difficult to work with. He made a sound of agitation as yet again his thoughts strayed from his job to Sara. He hadn't wanted to alienate her, he really hadn't. However, he knew what stood in his way with relationships. It was one thing, simple to pinpoint and impossible to ignore.
Grissom was a scientist.
He had overanalyzed things ever since he was a boy. To his teachers it made him brilliant. To the rest of humanity it made him flawed. Sara had looked up to him, most of the staff did, he was the sure headed one, the one they ran to with issues. He was the rock of his CSI unit, even if they didn't need him all the time. This, of course, led to another problem. Where did the rock go for support when it was unsure of itself?
Lady Heather. Whenever support came up her name was the first one to pop into his head. She mystified Grissom as much as she scared him. There was something about a woman that in control of herself that was enough to make anyone suspicious of her. They had such amazing conversations, until- of course- he had remembered he was a scientist. Then, after accusing her of murder, one she was innocent of, he lost her. It had been no real secret to Brass or some of his CSIs that he had a strong friendship with Lady Heather.
The one thing he had to always screw up, relationships. He was desperately trying to salvage one with Sara now. Even though he didn't know what relationship he had with her, he didn't want to loose it.
Grissom slammed the door of his SUV shut as if he could cage his personal life in the vehicle while he worked. He felt he would need his wits about him with Ms Trail. It was her legal name, oddly enough, she had moved to Nevada in 1997 from Tennessee. Even there her name was still, Fox Trail.
The place he stood in front of was a nice enough house, an older style, snugged in close to its neighbors overlooking the busy street. The flowers in front of the building weren't indigenous to Nevada, for some reason this took him by surprise. The rolling sprays of mint and thyme added for a distinctly relaxed front, despite the noise from the street behind him. Before he knocked on the door, a sign drew his attention. "Unless you are the cops, don't knock. If you are the cops, please go away."
He laughed at the irony before pushing the door open. The house could have been cramped if messy people lived there. Down a hall, directly in front of him was a kitchen. Grissom could view the sink and the black handle of a pot sticking up from it. To his left was a stairway, across it was a rope declaring "no admittance". To his right was his destination, an obvious lobby, bookshelves dominated the room. Grissom restricted his curiosity over the volumes to passing glances before stopping in front of a door. This time there was no sign, he knocked.
The moment the door opened a woman started talking, even with her back turned to him. She was short, at Grissom's best guess she couldn't have been over five foot two, it did nothing to help the fact that she looked barely over the age of seventeen. "You caught me just before lunch, can you-"she shut the door behind her and locked it before turning to face Grissom, who already had his badge out. Her dark eyes narrowed at the item before darting up to him. "Can't you read?"
Nonplused, Grissom answered her with a question. "Are you Fox Trail?"
She sighed leaning against the door. "Do you have a warrant?"
"No, but I can get one if you really want to make me angry and we can turn this place upside down."
She glared up at him, the youthfulness fading from her face. "Your people skills are staggering, you know that?" She pushed past him, striding through the lobby. "Regardless, I am going to make my lunch; you can join me or stand there."
Grissom followed her into the kitchen, watching as she began to mix a drink. "Want a seven and seven?" She asked conversationally.
"I can't drink on the job." He responded, crossing his arms over his chest.
She began to mix one. "Exactly, have a seat."
Pursing his lips, Grissom sat down. He tilted his head at the whisky bottle. "Canadian whisky?"
She slid the drink in front of him, taking a sip of her own and digging in the fridge before answering him. "Best kind." She pulled out some meat, cheese and mayonnaise, then closed the refrigerator door with her heel. "What do you want with me officer?"
"Grissom." He supplied his name. "You called in a missing person's report on Starr Clain?"
She replaced the mayonnaise before responding. "Yes, she didn't beg me for another extension on her bill this weekend, nor did she beg for another loan." An auburn eyebrow arched up over her eyes. "You find the deadbeat?"
"Funny you should call her dead..." Grissom started, taking a sip of the drink.
"She's dead?" Fox let out a breath. She sat down in front of Grissom at the table. "Did you guys find Hector?"
"Dead too."
She took a swig of her own drink. "Great, now I'm out eight hundred bucks."
Grissom looked at the glass before leaning forward a bit. "You don't seem very upset about the fact that two people are dead."
Fox took a bite of her sandwich. "Let me be totally honest with you, there are two things I hate more then anything in this world. Sleazy men that think they know women and the stupid women who let them think that way. Now the world is short one of each, I'm not going to loose sleep over it."
"But they did owe you money." Grissom interjected.
"Yeah, but it wasn't enough to kill someone over." Fox responded, unperturbed. "What happened to them?"
"I can't really get into that, but they were left outside of the Tally Ho." Grissom responded.
"So they got dragged somewhere?" Fox swirled her glass, leaning back in the chair.
"Yes." Grissom responded, and the moment he did he realized why Fox had asked him that.
She laughed. "So you are insinuating that five-foot-one, one-hundred-pound me, dragged five-foot-nine, however much she weighed, Starr; and Hector, who I would put at over two-hundred-pounds easy, somewhere they didn't want to be?"
He sighed, finishing the drink. For some reason, talking to Fox made him feel like he needed one. "I'm following all the leads. Can you give me names of anyone else who would have a beef with them?"
"Every club in the area has someone in it with a beef for one of them." Came the flat response. "Is there anything else?"
"Do you have any names to give me?"
Finishing her own drink, Fox took both glasses and her plate to the sink; she started filling it with water. "Look, we both know my line of work has questionable clients. However, they ARE my clients; I'm not telling you anything without a warrant." She poured soap into the water and turned to face Grissom. "If this is all you wish to talk about, Grissom, you have overstayed your welcome in my house." She spun, facing the sink to wash the dishes.
"Thanks for the drink; I'll be keeping in touch." He stood up, looking at Fox's back.
Without turning around, the short woman responded amiably. "Can't say I am looking forward to it, Grissom. You can leave the same way you came in."