The moon was high in the sky, sitting fat and sassy in its celestial throne, and shining so brightly in the crystal clear inky sky you could read a book by it. As if in spiteful competition, down below on the ground shone bright doorway security lights, reinforced by the spotlights brought to the scene and the red-blue circus of police car lights.
Warrick stood in an alleyway behind a liquor distributor warehouse on the east side of Vegas, Nikon strung around his neck, staring at the most recent recipient of his unwelcome services. Super Dave was with the body, currently taking a liver temp.
He heard footsteps approaching from behind and looked back to see Catherine's arrival, followed closely by Greg, carrying a heavy equipment bag with some apparent difficulty.
"Hey, Cath. Newbie on Board, huh?"
"Yeah, well with Nick out I figured he could team up with you. You could groom him to be Grissom's next Golden Boy," she said with a smile and a nudge to his shoulder.
"Yeah, as if. So, Greggo! What ya got there? You're gonna have to learn to pack your equipment better. You look like you're gonna tip over. Split it up into two bags if you have to," he said with a small headshake.
"Sorry, Rick. So… what happened here?"
"That's our job- to find out, Greg," he said with a pointed look of exasperation at Catherine.
She merely smiled at him. "I'll leave you kids to it, then. Vega is on scene for you. Give me a call if you need anything." She strolled back to her Denali with a slightly exaggerated shake in her caboose and a backwards wave. Warrick's eyes lingered for a moment, then he gave a small half laugh.
"Okay, Greg. So what all did you bring in that monstrously large bag?" He listened for a few moments as Greg listed just about every piece of equipment the lab had, then stopped him when he mentioned a test used for soil sampling. "Hold up. Now you should have known this being a call to a Vegas alley that a soil kit wasn't needed." Sighing, he grabbed a hold of a chunk of his curly locks, pulled on it, then let go to leave it standing a bit ruffled, leaving him looking a bit like an addled professor. It didn't last long. His long fingers quickly ran through it, combing it back into place.
He looked like he was going to continue the lecture, but he was interrupted by Dave's return to his side to report his findings.
"She's been dead about twenty to twenty four hours. She's been beaten up pretty badly and there are signs of sexual trauma as well. I'm ready to take her in when you are. I'll go grab a gurney."
"Yeah. Thanks, Dave. Okay, Greg. Why don't you walk the grid? Remember, tight concentric circles outward. Call me if you have any questions. And let me know if you find any soil, yeah?"
Greg nodded and gave him a sheepish smile. Eyes pinned to the ground he began his walk of the scene looking for any forensic evidence.
A back alleyway like this was bound to yield an awful lot of unrelated crap, and Warrick knew this would keep the young Level One occupied for a long time.
His gaze returned to the victim, taking a final series of photos to document her appearance after Dave's work. The flash bounced off her white muslin peasant shirt, covered in large splotches of dried blood, and the white and blue flowered linen skirt that was rucked up around her waist. The skirt had blood on it as well, and it looked like a strip of fabric had been torn from the bottom.
After finishing with the pictures he picked up the edge of her skirt and pulled it back down over her torn underwear to give her a bit more dignity. She was young. Maybe late twenties, early thirties. Long curly dark hair. Caramel skin. She'd probably once been pretty. Several of her teeth were broken and her lips were split under smeared hot pink lipstick. Livid bruises closed both eyes and covered her cheeks and jaws. More bruising around her neck said she was probably strangled, but it was left to Dave and Robbins to tell him if that was the cause of death. The presence of bruises meant she was alive for the beating, he realized with dismay.
Looking up and scanning the area he mentally took in his surroundings. Dumpsters piled high with garbage and trash piled on all sides. The building they were behind was a liquor warehouse, according to Vega, but the door on the back of the building was unmarked and locked from the inside. Probably had an emergency push bar inside, automatically locking when the building was exited. No handle on the outside meant one-way access.
He snapped some pictures of the trash she was laying in. Mostly empty liquor boxes marked Estrella del Oro Tequila - Producto de México. High school Spanish was the best he had, but he recognized the translation as Gold Star tequila, made in Mexico.
Dave was returning, pulling behind him a gurney with the aid of a coroner's assistant. Detective Sam Vega accompanied him. Vega's grey suit was rumpled, and his necktie had been loosened in deference to the heat of the night.
"Hey, Vega. What'd you find out?"
"No ID on the girl. And if she's undocumented, she's gonna be tough to identify. In this neighborhood, no one's gonna talk to us."
"Pretty girl like that. Someone's gotta remember that face…"
"Yeah. They might know her. But they won't tell us. I'll make the rounds and ask about, just don't get your hopes up, 'kay?"
"Yeah. I get you, Man. So, anything on the warehouse?"
Vega consulted a small worn leather notebook. "City's got it listed as owned by a Carlos Orozco. Address here on the East side over on 28th and Saguaro. I'll pay him a visit in the morning. You guys about done here?"
Warrick looked over to observe Greg surreptitiously picking up a cigarette butt with a pair of tweezers. He hadn't gotten very far in his travels.
He sighed and rubbed at the back of his neck. "Nah. We're gonna be here a while I think. Probie CSI on duty tonight."
"Yeah, I thought I'd been seeing Sanders out in the field more lately. Seems to be doing pretty well. Considering the lead he's gotta follow from you guys. It's weird though, not seeing Stokes out here with you. He off tonight?
"Yeah. He put in for a few days comp time. Mr. Mysterious didn't say a word to me. Just told Cath he had 'personal business'. I'm hoping he found himself a girl," he said with a laugh. "That boy has had a dry spell to rival the Mojave out there."
Vega chuckled. "Whatever he's doing, it's gotta be better than standing out here sweating our cajones off. I've got some work to do back at the precinct. I'll leave a uniform here for you guys. Catch you later, Brown."
"Yeah. Back at ya."
He watched Vega turn about and return to his police issue Crown Vic.
'It's weird though, not seeing Stokes out here with you.'
Thinking on it, it was weird being out here without his usual partner. His friend had been very secretive lately, but seemed to be in good spirits. Better than usual. 'Til recently, more often than not Nick had been grim and short-tempered. His usual joking had stopped. He'd become a lot more sober. Somber. Hell, downright dour at times. But there been a bit of the old Nick humor and geniality back the last few weeks.
Probably a girl. It's gotta be a girl.
Sighing, he began walking over to help Greg out. Otherwise we'll be here 'til dawn…