Author's note: The test performed in this chapter is real, however, in reality it cannot be performed with as small a sample as is indicated by this story. Please excuse my boo-boo.
Chapter 10
Nick left Alex's apartment and headed for the lab. He wasn't due in to work for a few hours, but what he wanted to do couldn't wait.
He pulled the evidence from the murders and began to examine the hair samples that were collected. He had remembered from the report something that hadn't sat right with him.
He measured all the hair samples again. The hairs from Heather James and from Erin Foster, the second victim found, but first chronologically, were the same length. Nick noted that this was odd since Doc Robbins had put the time of deaths two weeks apart. In two weeks, the hairs should have grown approximately half a centimeter.
Next Nick measured the hair sample that was taken from Alex when she was arrested. It was a full centimeter longer than either of the crime scene samples.
Nick knew the DA would explain the length differences away, so he decided to do a drug test on the samples also. Well, he decided to have tox do the drug test. If he were to perform it himself, the validity of it might come in to question.
Before he got the results, he was sent out to a scene. The scene was a mess and so he didn't get back to the lab until after 3 am, but the results were waiting for him. The samples from the crime scenes both had Diazepam with in the first centimeter of length meaning she had taken it with in the month before the hair was separated from Alex's head. In the sample taken from Alex at her arrest, Diazepam didn't show up until the second centimeter. This coincided with Alex's statement that she hadn't taken any Valium in the last month. Nick was now sure the hairs at the crime scene were planted.
He wanted to talk to Alex about the evidence and without thinking about what time he was, he called her cell phone. After a few rings her voicemail picked up and he left a message.
"Hey Alex, it's Nick. On a break, just wanted to make sure you're ok. I'll talk to you later," he spoke into his phone and then hung up.
He was hopeful she would call back soon, but for now he would take his findings to Grissom.
He finally found Grissom in the video lab with Archie. They had found some video from Viva's parking lot and had located Heather James and her boyfriend, Craig Waldron.
As Nick walked in, he saw the video. A woman, who looked like Alex wearing dark pants and a backless shirt, was talking to Heather and Craig. But when she turned her back to the camera, Nick noticed something, or rather, noticed something missing.
"That's not Alex," Nick told them.
"Nick, I don't want it to be her anymore than you do, but—" Grissom started.
Nick interrupted, "It's not her." Then to Archie he said, "Roll the footage back to where she turns her back to the camera."
Archie did as Nick asked.
"Right there," Nick said pointing to the frame. "Alex has a tattoo on her lower back. That woman doesn't have one."
Grissom and Archie both studied the woman's back for a moment and then nodded in agreement with Nick: no tattoo.
"You're sure Alex has a tattoo?" Grissom asked.
"Definitely," Nick replied. "And this should convince you further it's not her." He handed Grissom the folder with the results of the hair tests.
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The ringing of Alex's cell phone cut its way through the darkness in her mind. It at first didn't register what the noise was; all she knew was it was causing her head to throb.
She opened her eyes only to quickly shut them again. It seemed every light in the room was on. She blindly reached towards the sound of her phone and felt around until she located it.
"Hello?" her voice was hoarse.
"Alex?" the voice questioned.
"Yeah," she replied, only half awake, trying to figure out who it was.
"Are you ok?" the voice sounded concerned.
"I'm apparently alive," she responded. "So I can't be that bad. Why?"
"Alex," she finally recognized the voice as Nick's. "It's 9 pm. Where are you? No one's seen or heard from you all day."
Alex bolted upright on the bed, which caused her head to swim. She groaned and put her hand on her forehead. Then she tried opening her eyes again, this time with some success.
"Alex?" Nick wasn't sure if she was still there.
"Yeah, I'm here," she said. "But I'm not sure where here is."
She looked around the room, squinting from the bright light, not recognizing anything. She could tell from the set-up though, that she was in a hotel.
"What?" Nick asked.
"I appear to be in a hotel but I don't know how I got here."
"Excuse me?" he wasn't sure he heard her correctly.
"Nick, I have no idea what's going on," she told him, as she unsteadily stood. "I went to see a band last night, ran into Greg, went home and then…." Her voice trailed off as she tried to remember what happened after she got home.
"And then?" Nick tried to get her to continue.
"And then I woke up here," she paused as she fumbled towards the desk where the phone was. She wanted to find the name of the hotel. "And here is apparently The El Cortez, room 315."
"I'm on my way," Nick responded.
"No, it's ok," Alex didn't know if there was anyone else here. She didn't want Nick to walk in on something he shouldn't. "I can get a cab," she said as she walked towards what she assumed was the bathroom.
"Alex, I'll come get you," he insisted. "I need to talk to you anyway."
She was right about the bathroom and flipped on the light. Its brightness caused her to look towards the floor. She turned the faucet on, wanting to splash some water on her face.
She sighed. She didn't want or need Nick coming to her rescue—again. "Seriously, I'm—" she stopped as she looked in to the mirror and saw a terrible reflection.
She turned around, not believing the reflection she was seeing. But as she turned around, she found it was true.
Her mouth fell open in shock and a small scream escaped. She dropped her phone as she moved her hand to cover her mouth.
"Alex? Alex?" she could hear Nick's voice getting softer as the phone fell to the floor.
She collapsed to the floor staring the horrible sight in front of her. Lying in the bathtub full of red water was a dark-haired woman. There was blood smeared on the walls of the shower.
She reached for the phone. "Nick," her voice was shaky. "Bring the police, the coroner and a couple CSIs." She hung up the phone and started to cry.
Nick had started to ask her what she was talking about when he heard the beep that indicated she had hung up. He was confused and worried and did as she asked.
Alex was sitting on the edge of the bed, trying to remember the night before when Nick knocked on the hotel room door. She stood up, calling out to them.
"I'm coming," her voice was steadier than she thought it would be.
After nearly falling twice, she finally made it to the door. She opened it to Nick standing square in the doorway. Behind him were Sophia, David, Sara and Warrick. Brass had come too, but he was at the front desk, interviewing the clerk.
Nick's concern grew as he saw the ragged Alex answer the door. Her clothes were stained with what appeared to be blood, her expression was blank, and she didn't look steady on her feet.
"Are you ok?" his trepidation evident.
As he spoke to Alex, Warrick, Sara and Sophia began to search the room. David stood to the side, not sure what to do without a body.
"Bathroom," Alex stated flatly, lifting her arm to point.
The quartet headed towards the grisly scene as Nick tended to Alex.
"Are you ok?" he repeated his question, trying to get her to focus.
This time she heard him. "I'm…I'm…" she stammered, looking him square in the face. Then she started to mumble, "I didn't do it. I couldn't have done it. Did I do it? I couldn't have done it."
He wanted to hold her, but knew he couldn't. He might contaminate the evidence on her clothing. Instead, he held her hand. "You didn't do it," he reassured her.
She calmed down as his reassurance. "There was a knock," she said.
"A knock?" Nick questioned, not understanding.
"I…I got home and right as I shut the door, there was a knock," Alex clarified.
"Last night?"
Alex nodded. "After I got back from Greg's there was a knock on the door. But I can't…remember opening the door."
Nick's heart sank a little when Alex said 'Greg's place.' She had mentioned running in to him before, but he didn't realize they'd spent the evening together. However, he was glad she was remembering a little bit more.
Sophia, David, Warrick and Sara each looked in the bathroom in turn. Warrick went in first, taking photos of the room. Sara followed, collecting anything of interest that she found.
After carefully documenting the body, David came in and examined the body.
"Well, she's cool to the touch," David observed. Reaching into his bag, he pulled out his thermometer. "And judging by liver temp, she's been dead about 6 hours," he added reading the thermometer.
"I've got the bathroom, Sara, why don't you go collect Alex's clothing?" Warrick suggested.
Sara nodded and walked out into the main room with Sophia following behind her. Sara watched as Nick tried to comfort Alex and couldn't help but wonder if there was more to his caring. Everyone knew Nick had a big heart, but the look in his eyes—it said something different. Sara rolled her eyes at the thought. She was so beyond fascination with Alex.
As Sara was eying Nick and Alex, the front desk clerk at the hotel was eying a picture of Alex. Brass asked some preliminary questions and then showed the picture to the young woman.
"So is this the woman you saw early this morning?" Brass questioned.
The woman stared at the picture and slowly nodded. "Yeah, that looks like her, but don't you have a more recent picture?"
"More recent?" Brass was unsure what the woman meant. The picture Brass had was Alex's mug shot.
"Yeah," she replied. "I mean, this looks like her, but like 10 years ago."
Her statement brought pause to Brass. He remembered Craig Waldron had said the woman who approached Heather and him in the parking lot looked older than the Alex they had met in the bar. Brass had dismissed his comment previously because he thought Craig's alcohol soaked memory was playing tricks on him. After all, Craig had picked out the picture of Alex. But now that a second person had made the same statement, he was beginning to wonder.
"So, if I were to tell you this picture was taken last week?" Brass asked, holding his hands palm up in question.
The woman looked at the photo again. "If that's her last week, I'd have to say she's either had one hell of a week, or it's not her."
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She sat in a bar, somewhere in Vegas. She was sucking down beers like she hadn't had a drop to drink in years and chastising herself. She knew she had talked to the hotel clerk for too long. But she was so pretty and young. Just like her—the woman with whom her husband had cheated.
She had stood there, debating whether or not to make the clerk her next victim or stick with the woman she and Alex had picked up at the bar. Well, Alex didn't really do much of the picking up; she had been too drunk. It was a pain in the ass trying to get two drunken women in a car and then in a hotel room. If she could have convinced the clerk to come up, it would have been a lot easier. But the clerk didn't bite and could now probably distinguish between her and Alex.
She drank another beer, wondering what her next step should be. Her only hope now was that the drugs she had slipped Alex worked and she wouldn't remember last night because if she did, the jig was up. Alex knew her face, knew her name. And that information could put her behind bars for a very long time.