Note: thanks for sticking with this...a few more crime scene chapters...things are starting to roll. Thanks for the reviews...hope I hit all of you with a reply...if not sorry...I get ya next time: )
Chapter Six – Wallpaper Personalities
Nick had been standing in the bedroom of Nathan Harris for nearly a half hour, his eyes slowly taking in everything, when he felt someone behind him. Turning, he saw Catherine standing in the doorway, a look of concern and wonder on her face.
"Hey Cath," he nodded offering his best smile of reassurance. "Griss is down the hall," he pointed with a gloved hand.
"Yeah, you alright?"
"Yeah, fine," he nodded turning back to the bedroom.
It hadn't really been a lie. He was fine…for the most part.
In all honesty? Standing in Nathan Harris' bedroom was like stepping into an alternate dimension, like stepping back in time. Standing in the center of the kid's room was like returning to his childhood room back in Texas. It was like he was back in high school again. Baseball trophies lined the shelves along the wall, college pennants adorned his closet doors, and a massive poster, an aerial shot of Wrigley Field at night, took up much of the wall just above his computer desk.
Dark green gingham wallpaper gave the room a plain, yet masculine feel. A twin bed sat tucked back in the far left corner of the room, just under the large window overlooking the front yard. A dark green comforter lay undisturbed, un-messed, over plain white sheets. A large cork board adorned the wall just above the bed of which news clippings, photos, and sports statistics covered every square inch.
Just to the left of the door, a computer desk sat against the wall; it took up just a little more wall space than the poster hung over it. Text books cluttered the top of the cherry furniture; Physics, Calculus, English Lit. They sat next to a rather impressive looking laptop computer.
It seemed as good a place to start as any, Nick thought as he turned and began sifting through the drawers. Opening the center drawer he found a stack of college acceptance letters, a letter from UNLV topping the pile. From the looks of things, Nathan had been accepted to every major university on the west coast, recruited heavily by the baseball teams at UNLV, UCLA, Stanford, and Berkley. From the presentation of paraphernalia around the room, it was clear the boy was leaning heavily toward UCLA.
Continuing his search of the desk there seemed to be no sign that anyone other than Nathan Harris had been at the desk, let alone inside the room. Hell, there was little evidence that even he had been in his room within the past twelve hours. A black messenger bag sat haphazardly discarded on the floor against the desk chair. Crouching down to get a closer look, Nick found two notebooks; one labeled Physics, the other English Lit, and a video iPod.
Returning to an upright position, he reached for his cell phone dialing a number he knew by heart.
"A/V Lab," came to voice of Archie Johnson, the lab's resident computer nerd.
"Archie, its Nick. Look, I've got a video iPod and a Dell Notebook."
"I've got time."
"Glad to hear it," Nick allowed the smile to come through in his voice. "I've still got a room and a half to process. I'll have it to you in a couple hours."
"Great, see ya then."
Nick closed the call and resumed his search.
"Finding anything?" Grissom asked from the doorway.
Nick turned to face his boss. "Man, the kid's room is cleaner than any teenager's room I've ever seen. I mean, I've got some college acceptance letters, the kid's homework…but, the room's clean, not even a porn magazine under the bed. There's nothing probative to our investigation so far," he shrugged. "I'm taking in his computer and iPod for Archie, but other than that… I was about to ALS and then move on to the sister's room."
"Okay. Catherine's taking over for me. She's in the master bedroom," the man pointed over his shoulder. "I'm headed back to the lab."
"Yeah, okay," Nick nodded putting on his orange safety glasses and reaching for the light switch. The corners of Grissom's mouth curled upward as he reached in closing the door behind him. There was always a determination, a dedication bestowed by the CSI. There was a drive, something special behind his ability to do his job. It was rarely any different from case to case. But as Grissom descended the stairs, he couldn't help but feel, to know that this case was different. On so many levels this case was different. This case was special.
The blue of the ALS filled the room, the beige carpet taking on a bright white glow. Nick crossed the room, carefully examining the bed and the surrounding area. Taking the better part of thirty minutes, he scanned every inch of the bed and carpet, looking for the slightest hint of…anything.
Other than a few predictable stains on the bed sheets, he came up empty handed. But, serving his awareness to the case and warranting all suspicions, he bagged the sheets for DNA analysis. Always better to be safe than sorry.
Frustration or relief, he wasn't sure what he was feeling as he stood from his knees and began gathering his gear.
There was one more room for him to process.
Exiting Nathan's bedroom he glanced down the hall and slowly headed toward the parent's bedroom. Catherine stood in the dark, her light scanning the wall.
"The walls talking?" he asked leaning on the door jam.
"Have you checked out this spatter?" she asked with excitement in her voice, the life in her eyes renewed and on fire.
"Yeah," he nodded solemnly. "Did Grissom share his photos with you?"
"Got 'em here," she nodded patting the digital camera that hung around her neck.
"So, what are you thinking?"
"Well, check this out. Most of this is arterial spray, but this…this isn't," she trailed off, her hands sweeping over the area of focus. The blood stains sat about five feet from the floor. "This is cast-off. Whatever happened, it was violent, brutal," she shook her head turning to face the room.
"Murder usually is," Nick nodded turning to make his way down the hall. "Hey, Grissom tackled the bathrooms right?" he turned back.
"He was finishing this one when I got here," she nodded. "He left you the one in the hall."
"Perfect," he nodded pulling out his cell phone once more. "Did he find anything?"
"Blood in the wash basin."
"Substantial amount?"
"Only trace," she shook her head.
"Killer tried to clean up?" Nick asked with an arched eyebrow.
"Hell of a job he did," Catherine smirked. "Found bleach in the drains."
"Yeah," Nick nodded turning from the room. Flipping open his cell he dialed another familiar number.
"This is Greg."
"Greggo!" Nick chided with forced enthusiasm. "You about finished down there?" he asked leaning over the banister at the top of the stairs.
"Just now, why?"
"I've got a job for you. Come on upstairs," he closed the connection.
Within seconds Greg was standing with Nick, field kit in hand, in front of the hallway bathroom presumed to be shared by the three Harris children.
"I have processed a bathroom before," Greg smiled reassuringly accepting Nick's instruction.
"I know that," Nick raised a defensive hand. "Just help me out, will ya?" he smiled slapping the younger man on the shoulder. "I'll be in the sister's room if you need me."
"Yeah, okay."
The bathroom was like any ordinary bathroom multiplied by three. The thing was huge.
Switching on the light, Greg was met with a stark white room, white tiles glistening under the overhead light both on the walls and the floor.
"Now, this is a bathroom," he whistled between his teeth. His entire apartment could most likely fit inside the massive Jacuzzi alone.
Standing in the doorway he let his eyes scan the room before snapping photos. Just to the left of the door, a triple sink lined the wall. A wall length mirror hung from the ceiling to the top of the counter, efficiently adding to the already spacious feel of the room. The Formica countertops were bright white, and at first glance pristine; Greg would run the ALS over them for any chances of finding trace or DNA.
Just beyond the sinks, between the counter and the toilet, there was a tall cabinet. White like the rest of the bathroom, Greg found the bottom shelves to be piled with towels and wash cloths.
Easy access for Emily, he smiled
The remaining shelves were filled with basic bathroom accoutrements; hair brushes, hair ties, barrettes, toothpaste, face wash, soaps, lotions, and razors.
The bathtub/Jacuzzi took up much of the rest of the room. A shelf built into the tile wall displayed numerous toys and shower accessories; shampoo, conditioner, body wash, and soap.
Greg smiled as his eyes fell upon a set of soap crayons similar to the ones he remembered playing with as a kid. His mom had done anything and everything to get him clean. He used to hate taking baths.
Turning back to the sink he stooped to take in the cabinets under each sink. Extra soap, extra shampoo, feminine hygiene products, and a trash can. There was nothing out of the ordinary about this bathroom.
Taking his Maglite he began his second layer of the search process, DNA evidence would be needed. It would be torture trying to distinctly match DNA, weeding out any unrelated strains, but thankfully that wasn't his job anymore. He just had to gather the evidence and then heap the burning coals onto the head of Wendy Simms.
As he'd expected, there were several hairs on the countertops and floor. A few even had follicular tags still attached. A couple blonde, a couple black. Chances were they belonged to the kids.
"Good luck, Wendy," he smiled to himself as he bagged the hairs for DNA analysis.
Offering a sigh of resignation, Greg shut the bathroom door, closing himself in the room, and shut off the light while at the same time turning on his ALS. He'd always been confused by Grissom's fascination with Formica and tile surfaces, but as his blue fluorescent light began to scan the white surfaces, he was given overt clarity and answers to all of his questions. The surfaces really were remarkable for holding stains.
Many of the stains proved to be of little interest. The few stains of blood attracted much of Greg's attention. Though the samples were minimal, nothing overtly suspicious, he swabbed them and took it into evidence.
Making his way to the toilet, he searched the tank, the bowl and the surrounding area. Besides a few urine and semen stains, all of which he swabbed for comparison, he came up empty. His search of the bathtub resulted in much the same.
Satisfied with the job that had already taken him the better part of an hour, Greg switched the lights back on and began the painstaking task of fingerprinting the countertops, faucets, doorknobs, and anything else the killer may have touched were he to have entered the bathroom. Within minutes he had several workable prints, many of which clearly belonged to Emily Harris. He did, however, find a few decent adult prints, and would take prints from both parents in order to make a comparison.
Finishing his tape lifts, he proceeded by bagging a few more items for DNA. Starting with the toothbrushes, placing them in individual bags, he also collected hairbrushes and razors. Nothing like being thorough.
"The bathroom's clean," he stopped outside Hannah's room upon exiting the bathroom.
"Okay, thanks Greg."
"No, I mean…the bathroom's really clean. I've never seen a bathroom that clean before. I mean, I got a few samples for DNA and a few fingerprints, but man that was one sterile bathroom."
"Well, the little girl has Leukemia, Greg, maybe they kept it that way on purpose," Nick shrugged.
"Maybe," Greg nodded. "So, you finding anything useful in here?"
"Not much. I found a journal on the bedside table. That's about it so far. I was just about to ALS, mind hitting the lights?"
"Sure," he nodded turning the lights off as he stepped in to close the door. "Looks like she was into ballet," he noted the poster of a Prima ballerina above the girl's bed.
"Yeah," Nick nodded as he commenced his search over the bed. "Found an acceptance letter to Julliard on her desk. She was supposed to enroll in the fall. I found a calendar, too. Looked like she was taking classes three times a week."
"Did she have a class last night?"
"Modern dance from four to seven," Nick nodded, his attention drawn to the sheets at the foot of the bed.
"What have you got?"
"Blood," Nick thrust out his right hand. "Hand me a swab."
Greg crossed the room, curious. "It's a trace amount, could have come from anyone," Greg shrugged. "I mean, the girl was a dancer. I'm sure she got injured her fair share of times. I dated a girl once, a dancer," he started his story, Nick's attention now focused on him. "She was a Pointe dancer, you know the ballerinas that dance on their toes? See, they use special ballet shoes that have hard blocks at the toe to give the dancer support and balance. Anyway, this girl used to practice so hard her toes would get bloody and blistered. She'd come over after rehearsals and want me to massage her feet," he cringed at the memory. "It was really gross."
"This coming from the guy who took samples of DNA from his dates. I had no idea you were so well versed in the art of ballet, Greg," Nick smiled, as he stood upright upon collecting his sample.
"I'm just full of surprises. Anyway, I'm just saying," he shrugged self-consciously, "the blood could be from the victim practicing so much. I mean she was accepted into the countries best dance school, she has a dance bar in her room for Christ's sake," he motioned toward the apparatus. "Obviously she's dedicated."
"Yeah," Nick nodded, his own eyes falling on the dance equipment. "Well, we won't know it's our vic's blood until we run comparisons," he shrugged labeling the blood sample and securing the evidence.
The two CSIs stood silent in the girl's bedroom.
The sunshine yellow walls held little information, yet screamed with the girl's life. The room itself, though fairly orderly, was typical of a teenage girl. A ballet bar lined the far wall just under the large picture window looking over the back yard. The girl's queen-size bed sat snug against the right wall, just to the right of the door. The deep navy blue comforter spread across the bed added just enough contrast to the brightly lit room. A matching footlocker sat at the foot of the bed. Inside Nick had found dance leotards, dance shoes, and several dance magazines.
The room layout was identical to Emily's bedroom, though the personalities of each child were evident in their own unique ways. Like writing on the walls.
"Did you check the closet?" Greg asked.
"First thing," Nick nodded placing his hands on his hips. "Nothing probative," he continued shaking his head as his eyes fell upon the closed closet doors. When closed, a stenciled image of a crescent moon and three stars appeared on the white hinged doors. The characters were painted the same navy blue as the bed cover and footlocker. It was that image on which Nick's eyes rested now.
"What?" Greg asked, his gaze following Nick's.
"Nothing," he shook his head. It wasn't right, teenagers becoming victims, children meeting an untimely end to life. There were just so many things wrong with him standing there, at that moment, in Hannah's room, in the Harris's home.
Slowly, he collected his gear, bagging the bed sheets, Hannah's journal and date book.
"So, what now?" Greg asked stooping to pick up his own field kit and following Nick into the hall.
"Hey, Cath you done in there?" Nick called down the hall. "For now," she nodded exiting the room. The three CSIs filed down the stairs, joining Warrick and Sara in the front foyer.
"So, where are we?" Warrick asked his camera still in hand.
"Well, the bedrooms upstairs, minus the primary scene, didn't give us much," Nick shrugged. "I've got a few samples to run through DNA, a few hairs, some latent prints. That's about it. You guys come up with much?"
"Sara and I just finished processing the family rooms," the tall CSI nodded.
"Found blood on the floor and in the recliner," Sara chimed in.
"I've still got the father's office and garage to process," Warrick sighed.
"Well, I need to get back to the lab," Catherine spoke up.
"I'll ride with you," Sara nodded, obviously keen on the idea. "I want to get rolling on the cigarette I found in the backyard."
"Cigarette?" Nick asked, his mind immediately flashing back to the Collins case.
"Yeah, I know," Sara nodded recognizing immediately the look in Nick's eye.
Greg nodded in consensus with the females. "Yeah, I want to get DNA running on the kids."
"Well, I'll stay back and help Warrick," Nick shook the previous thoughts from his head as the other three began to gather the collected evidence and file out the front door. He quickly helped Warrick carry the den rug to the Denali.
The sun had been up for nearly two hours, the clock in the hallway chimed telling them it was nearing the nine o'clock hour. Nick and Warrick stood on the front porch watching the SUV pull away. They'd already been on the scene over six hours.
From the looks of things it promised to be a beautiful day. The clouds had cleared, giving way to a deep blue sky. The crowds had long since dwindled, the media had moved on, perhaps even now hovering just outside the lab waiting for any report that may leak out. Parents were now busy getting their kids off to daycare or school and were heading to work themselves.
Life went on, after all.
"Ready for this?" Warrick asked putting a new roll of film into his camera.
Nick nodded turning to follow his partner back inside. Silently he crossed the threshold, closing the door behind him, "Let's roll."