Chapter IX
Progress
Much like Nadine Winters, whose body was still in one of his drawers, this victim had her throat cut and she'd been washed and redressed postmortem. Al Robbins processed the girl with a little extra care. Her blonde hair fanned out on his table and her blue eyes stared up at the ceiling. There were some differences, very important differences about this girl though. He documented them and thought for a moment. He knew that he was supposed to call Catherine as she was the CSI with the most seniority on the case. He also knew, however, that this little girl would tug at Catherine's heart strings. She probably already had. She looked just like Lindsey. So, steeling himself for a scathing attack later, he paged Sara Sidle.
Sara left the trace work with Hodges. There was more of that powder. She had told the tech that it was priority and had cut him off when he'd started to toot his own horn. She was tired, grumpy and Catherine was riding her at every turn, she did not need David Hodge's usual song and dance thrown in on top of everything else.
When Robbins paged her, she sighed and finished off what must have been her thirteenth cup of coffee of that night. The walk back to the morgue was quiet, the techs and CSIs were all working in the warren of labs and layout rooms. The dim glow of monitors and the eerie ALS flashed across her face, casting strange shadows in the hall. Sara reached the morgue and looked around. Lying out on the center table was the girl that Greg was desperately trying to find in the LVPD's assorted databases. She looked very small and pale in the dim light.
Robbins came around the corner of the lab. "Sara." She gave him a small smile. "Hey Doc, what can you tell me?" He went over to the table, his ever present crutch making small scraping and tapping sounds as he went.
"The COD is the same as the Winters girl, she bled out from a long slash to the jugular. She was bathed and redressed post mortem." Sara nodded, "Is that all?" He shook his head. "No. I looked at her mouth, hoping to find some orthodontic scarring or other dental work. I didn't find any, but" He motioned her over and they looked into the girl's mouth. There was a film of white residue covering her back molars and throat. Sara wrinkled her nose, "What's that?" The ME looked at her, "I've got some on a slide, but I can tell you what it is right now, Ivory soap." Sara blinked, "That's more soap than what would get in there during a bath, even post mortem." He nodded, "There was also trace amounts in her lungs." Sara blinked again, "But the COD was the neck wound, right?"
He nodded and looked at her, "Sara did you ever use foul language as a child?"
The question struck Sara as odd. She had grown up in a less then perfect environment and profanities had been part of her every day life. She'd never cursed, though, because she had a very clear memory of her father beating her brother for uttering the word "fuck" just once. "No, not really, why?" He looked up at her, "When I was oh, I don't know, eleven or so, I cursed in front of my mother. Do you know what she did?" Sara shook her head. "Washed my mouth out with Ivory soap." Sara raised an eyebrow, "Really?" He nodded, "I never used that particular word in her presence again." Sara frowned and looked at the dead girl. "But there was no soap residue in the Winters girl." Robbins nodded, "If you'll help me turn her over, I'll show you something else." Sara nodded and together they turned the girl to her side.
The marks on her backside were sadly familiar to Sara. "Hand prints." Robbins nodded, "A good old fashioned spanking." Sara grabbed her camera and took photos of the bruised and battered bottom and they put the girl back. She took pictures of her mouth and then sighed, "He punished this girl." Albert Robbins nodded, "From the bruising and stiffening, I'd say these blows were delivered less then two hours before the TOD." Sara looked down at the girl one more time. She was gangly and her cheek bones were a little too prominent. Calluses on her feet spoke of too much time in ill fitting shoes and her hair was in desperate need of a trim. This girl hadn't led the upper-middle class life that Nadine Winters had. No, this girl had known poverty and probably hardship.
Greg finally found her in a 'Protect Your Kids' database that had been set up two or three years before. The picture was a few years old, but the finger prints matched perfectly. Their second victim was Molly Danielle Black.
Sofia Curtis and Sara Sidle approached the Black residence at eight am. The lights were on and the people inside were bustling around. Sofia knocked on the door and they waited.
The woman who answered the door was rough around the edges to say the least. She was wearing a waitress's uniform that had seen better days and her peroxide-blonde hair was teased into a poof that had been popular in the eighties.
Sofia looked at her, "I'm Detective Curtis with the LVPD." The woman grunted, and began to yell, "BOYS!" She turned a tired eye back to them, "Which one of them are you looking for?" Sara rubbed the back of her neck, trying to figure out exactly what to say, "Ma'am, are you Amy Black?" The woman rolled her eyes, "That's what the name tag says, honey." Sofia sighed, "Ma'am, you have a daughter, Molly Black?" The woman did a double take. "What do you want with Molly? She's the good kid." Sofia's hand automatically rose to rub the tension out of her forehead. "Ma'am, I'm sorry to inform you, but your daughter was found last night." The woman scowled, "Found? What did she do and how much is it going to cost me to bail her out?" Sofia looked over at Sara and the brunette stepped closer. "Ma'am, there's no easy way to say this, but your daughter was found last night, murdered." Amy Black went pale under her makeup, and in the early desert morning she looked exactly like what she was, a tired, used up woman who'd left her glory days far behind her.
"Oh God, come inside."