Chapter Nine – Kung Pao
The essence of sweet and sour chicken, Chinese vegetables, and pork fried rice permeated the halls of the crime lab. Inside the conference room, the CSIs from the graveyard shift fixed their eyes on the table as it had been transformed into a Chinese buffet. Working around each other, looking for individual orders, the criminalists dug into their favorite Asian cuisine and an unusually long double, undoubtedly soon to be triple shift.
Upon leaving Grissom's office earlier that morning, Sheriff McKeene had made an unannounced visit to the office of Conrad Ecklie. While there, he'd made it abundantly clear to the lab supervisor that all overtime from graveyard was to be fully compensated until the Harris case was solved. It was upon that request that Ecklie had paid an equally unannounced visit to Grissom's office, subsequently interrupting his study of the Collins case, informing him of the sheriff's wishes in regard to the new overtime policy.
So, now in the interests of the Clark County sheriff and Ecklie, the patron saint of kiss asses, Grissom assembled his team to go over notes from the crime scene. With photos fresh from the dark room displayed around the room, the CSIs worked through their own notes in order to make an informed report to the team.
"The sheriff's pushing us hard on this one," Grissom was saying as Jim Brass came breezing into the room. He looked remarkably refreshed and clean. There was evidence of a renewed vitality, a renew energy, and his hair was wet. Damn it, the man had showered.
"Sorry, I'm late," the detective shook his head an apologetic grin plastered on his face. "What'd I miss?'
"Other than Greg spilling an entire quart of Chinese vegetables down his pants? Nothing," Sara smirked handing the detective his sweet and sour pork.
"Greg peed his pants," Nick smiled.
"Pea pods are of the devil anyway," the young CSI got defensive. "No one deserves to put that in their body."
"Damn, I'm always late to the show," the detective shook his head.
"We were just getting started," Grissom spoke up from his spot at the head of the table. He held a fork in his right hand, a carton of fried rice in his left. "And since you're here, why don't you tell us what you've gotten so far."
"Well, when Nicky called me an hour ago, I had about as much then as I've got now, and it's not a hell of a lot," he started removing his sport coat and hanging it over the back of his chair as he took a seat opposite the shift supervisor. Nick and Warrick sat to the right of the detective, Sara, Catherine, and Greg to his left. "Nicky called me with the adoption papers he and Warrick found."
"You found the papers?" Catherine asked nearly choking on her egg roll. "Where?"
"Frank Harris's study," Warrick offered around a mouth full of chow mein.
"The room had been decimated," Nick added. "Somebody really gave it a work over."
"So, what have you found out?" Grissom asked getting back on track, his eyes returning to Brass.
"Like I said, not a hell of a lot. I've got a call into the adoption agency who worked their cases. Called them right after I got off the phone with Nick, about an hour ago. I'm still waiting to hear back from them."
"What's the name of the agency?" Warrick asked.
"Forever God's Family Adoption," the detective read from his notepad, "it's…uh…it's an internet based ministry," he quoted from his notes.
"I've actually heard of them," Sara nodded upon hearing the name. "It's a faith based organization to help women in their unwanted pregnancies. I think they have a field office here in Vegas."
"Only the teenagers were adopted?" Grissom asked.
"As far as I can tell," Brass nodded. "No papers on the little girl?"
"None that we found," Nick shook his head, "I was going to head on over to the hospital when we got done here. Thought I'd ask Emily a few questions and acquire a DNA sample." He turned his attention to the shift supervisor. He wasn't looking for permission or approval for his impromptu field trip. Well, not really. Someone needed to get Emily's DNA. Someone needed to try and find out what she knew. Someone needed to find out what happened. He knew that and he knew Grissom knew that as well. He was more hoping that the man didn't have someone else in mind for making the visit, someone like Sara or Catherine. Something inside him told him he needed to be the one to make the trip. He needed to be the one.
"Good," the supervisor nodded, much to the relief of the CSI. "What else?"
"Well, I got a decent shoe impression from the mud just outside the garage window," Greg leaned forward placing his half eaten carton of chicken on the table. "I'm still waiting for the cast to dry."
"Take a hair dryer to it," Warrick pointed his fork at him. It hadn't been too long ago he'd taken the same advice from his superior.
"We'll need those impressions," Grissom nodded in agreement.
"Well, Greg and I both looked at those prints. Something definitely seemed off about them," Sara shook her head meeting Greg's line of sight and quickly looking to Grissom.
"Off how?" Catherine asked.
"Well, when Greg and I were outside, the ground was still soaked from the rain. It had only quit raining a few hours before we found the impressions. I mean, Greg and I both left our fair share of tracks around the yard. And well, for the size of the shoes, the impressions were rather shallow."
"A farce?" Brass asked.
"Maybe," Sara nodded picking up her chopsticks and returning to her carton of steamed vegetables. "It was really wet out there. The prints should have been deeper."
"From the size of the impressions, a male size twelve, and the indentation in the ground, the male would have only weighed around 90 pounds and been around five feet tall," Greg swiveled in his chair to look over the photos on the wall behind him.
"Maybe a female in men's shoes?" Nick asked.
"Or a kid wearing his dad's shoes," Warrick added.
"Well, I lifted some prints from the garage window sill. I got a couple partials and a palm. They weren't a match to any of the family members. They're running through AFIS as we speak."
"You thinking they entered through the garage?" Brass asked.
"Maybe," the young CSI shrugged.
"No way. We processed every inch of that garage," Warrick shook his head, his elbows propped on the table as he wiped his hands off on a napkin. "There were boxes stacked in front of that window. None of them had been disturbed. Sure, they could have put the boxes back, but before you ask," he looked at Grissom, "we didn't find any prints either, especially muddy shoeprints."
"Well, you saw the house as well as I did," Sara added. "The killer worked to clean up after himself. Out of a half dozen rooms we found, what…only a couple workable prints?"
"Yeah, I know," the tall criminalist nodded. "The guys a real pro," he smirked.
"Nick what'd you get from the bedrooms?" Grissom asked.
"Not a lot," he leaned back in his chair. "I found a blood stain in Hannah's bedroom, on her bed sheets. Other than that, a couple hairs from the bed, a few prints off the desk. They're being processed as we speak."
"That's the oldest daughter?" Grissom asked.
"Yeah," the CSI nodded. "In Nathan's room? Nothing really. I found a few stains on the bed sheets, brought them in for DNA. I bagged his computer as well as Hannah's, and a couple iPods. Archie's backlogged in A/V though, with all the family videos. It could be a few days before we get anything."
"That is if there's anything to get," Warrick snickered.
"What about the little girl's room?" Catherine asked now.
"Emily's room? That was a little more…interesting. There were a dozen or so different medications on her dresser, and a couple IV hookups dispensing morphine. The girl was on some hefty pain meds around the clock."
"She must have been in a lot of pain," Sara shook her head.
"I ALSed the room, found some blood on the carpet near her bed. I took a swatch of the carpet, preserving the stain, Wendy's working on it now."
"Could be the girl's blood," Sara shrugged. "Leukemia patients tend to bleed rather easily. The white blood count is significantly lower in leukemia patients, the red blood cells need somewhere to go."
"Another reason to get a DNA sample from her," Grissom nodded.
"I did find a crawl space in her closet," Nick picked back up on his findings pointing to the photos he had taken of the crawl space. "I'd say the space was just big enough for her to hide in until the killer left. I found urine stains on the floor. Hodges is working the sample now.
"I did manage to recover a couple footprints from the floor in the closet. One was a bare foot clearly belonging to Emily Harris. The second belonged to a male…size twelve. I compared the print to the one I recovered from the master bedroom. At first glance, they're a match. I'll have to go a little deeper to make a complete match."
"What size shoe did the father wear?" Brass asked.
"Ten," Grissom responded matter-of-factly. "Anything probative in the upstairs bathroom?"
"Greg processed the bathroom," Nick shrugged his eyes trained on the younger man.
"The bathroom was pristine," the once-spiky-haired-lab-tech spoke up, "I mean, I found a few prints, mostly partials, and trace amounts of seminal fluid from the toilet. It's nothing out of the ordinary."
"What about the perimeter?" Warrick asked, "Other than the muddy footprints."
"Well, I found a cigarette butt by the back door," Sara shot up, "as well as a used match. DNA was able to get a workable sample and has it running now. We should have a workable profile by end of shift tonight."
"That quick?" Warrick asked.
"Greg, what'd you find in the front of the house?" Grissom shook his head.
"Wait a second here," Nick sat up straighter. "This…this cigarette butt, where exactly did you find it?"
"By the back door," Sara responded. "It was in the bushes next to the back patio," she responded watching Nick's reaction turn to their boss.
"Seriously?" he turned to his boss who in return offered a silent nod. "Griss, come on…"
This couldn't just be a coincidence.
"Let's not jump to conclusions. Greg, the front of the house?" the supervisor turned his attention back to the younger CSI.
"Nothing," he shook his head. "There wasn't a single workable print on the doorbell, the door knocker, or the door knob. Any shoe treads on the sidewalk were washed away in the rain," he shrugged. "Tire treads in the driveway belonged to the Harris' vehicles and emergency response. Sorry."
"Catherine what's the condition of the girl?" Brass asked remembering she had first made a stop at the hospital before reporting to the crime scene.
"She has Acute Myelogenous Leukemia. She went into remission about…nine months ago but relapsed back in January."
"What are they doing to treat it?" Sara asked.
"They're keeping her comfortable," Catherine shrugged somberly, her ponytail sashaying as she shook her head.
"Hence the ample supply of morphine," Greg added.
"She's quit responding to chemotherapy," Catherine nodded. "Her only chance of a cure seems to be finding a viable bone marrow donor. With her siblings being adopted, the chances of finding one are slim to none."
"Weren't the parents tested?" Greg asked.
"First thing," she nodded.
"Have you had a chance to review the blood patterns in the master bedroom?" Grissom asked.
"I'm still in the early stages of it," she again shook her head. "Ask me tonight and I can give you more."
"Alright. Warrick?" Grissom turned his attention to the final CSI to report.
"The kitchen," he leaned forward over his notes, "had been wiped clean. I found a trace amount of blood in the drain, but it's compromised."
"Compromised how?" Brass asked.
"Oh, it's mostly animal blood, probably from the raw hamburger I found in the food disposal trap," the CSI shrugged. "If there was any human blood to be found, I couldn't find it. I did find blood in the family room, though."
"Yeah, talk about weird," Sara nodded.
"Sara and I used Luminol, found blood leading from the kitchen into the den, most of it concentrated on the recliner. Found trace amounts on the remote controls, too."
"So what, the killer just hangs around the house to take in a midnight movie?" the detective asked, distaste thick in his voice, the bitterness of the idea unpleasant on his tongue.
"I know," Warrick nodded. "I also found several stock receipts and bond certificates. I'm running credit checks on the family bank accounts, see if there's anything that catches my eye. Obviously this thing wasn't a robbery gone bad. Nick says you found almost a half mill in the upstairs safe?"
Grissom offered another silent nod, his eyes focused on the file in front of him. He could already feel a migraine starting to take hold, teasing him from within the inner sanctums of his brain. Slowly he removed his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. Things just weren't adding up.
"Okay, here's what we're going to do," he started slowly. "Sara, stay with DNA on the cigarette you found. So far it seems to be the major link between our two cases," he started.
"Whoa, wait a second," Catherine raised a hand attempting to slow the turning of the man's wheels. "What two cases? You thinking this thing is linked to another case?"
"I don't know what to think," Grissom shrugged leaning back in his chair.
"Come on Cath," Nick spoke now, "you remember the Collins case as well as the rest of us. It can't just be coincidence that an entire family was murdered, and similar, damn near identical, evidence pops up. They have to be connected."
"Okay…well, what about a copy cat? Has anyone considered that?" she responded.
"Look, as far was we know Tina Collins and Jesse Overton are still behind bars," Grissom interjected, effectively breaking the near rampant passing of questions between the members of his team. His eyes traveled the length of the table meeting the detectives.
"They are," he nodded in concurrence. "I can arrange a meeting," he shrugged loosening the tie around his neck.
"Do that," Grissom pointed a finger, "Did you get any witnesses, other than the one neighbor?
"I'm still working on it. I have an interview with a possible witness at five."
"Good, take Sara with you."
"Wait…I'm all for interviewing witnesses, and hunting down this phantom killer, but what about the DNA I'm running? You just said you wanted me sticking with it," she asked her gaze shifting between the two men.
"And you just said it won't be ready until tonight," Grissom turned to face his colleague, "and that may be pushing it. If Wendy gets something before then, have her page you," he shrugged.
"Anyway, Sara, DNA takes time to process," Greg offered a half smirk. "Wendy's not me, after all."
"Greg, follow up on those prints from the yard," Grissom instructed, casting a warning glance in the young man's direction as he started the process of collecting the papers in front of him. "Nick you're headed to the hospital?"
"Yeah."
"Good, and Warrick you're on bank accounts?"
"You got it."
"Look into their phone records, too. If the Harris' were expecting company for dinner, maybe this mysterious dinner guest called before he arrived."
"Or she," Sarah offered.
"You got it," Warrick nodded.
"I want to know everything as soon as you know. I've got Ecklie breathing down my neck and the sheriff not too far behind," he grimaced standing from the table. "We're all on the clock until this thing gets solved."
"Hey Gil, what will you be doing?" Catherine asked finishing the last of her egg roll.
"Doc has finished posting and I want to take a look at those adoption papers," he shot back as he exited the room. "I want to talk to this agency. Keep me posted."
Slowly, the team roused themselves from the table. They each had their assignments, and the more time they sat staring at the empty cartons of Chinese food, the longer they sat without answers.
"Come on, Sarah," Nick cocked a half grin, "you honestly think a woman could have pulled off binding and gagging a family and then slitting their throats?"
"Hey, it's possible," she shrugged. "Woman may not make up the majority of serial killers, but they're out there. In fact, of all women serial killers, eleven percent of them have used stabbing as their method."
"Yeah well, the Harris' had their throats slit. And, I didn't tell you I found semen on the victims, did I?"
"Semen?"
"Doc found evidence of sexual trauma on both the mother and the daughter," Greg interjected with a nod.
"Guess that blows your theory," Nick shrugged standing from his chair.
"Well, what do you guys say we do this thing?" Warrick sighed leading the parade to the trash can and back out into the lab. "I'll see ya guys later."
"Where you headed?" Nick asked tossing his trash away.
"Frank Harris's firm. I want to get into his office, and check things out. And then I'll pay the friendly people over at Bank of America and nice little visit."
"Yeah, good luck with that. Well, I'll see you guys later," Nick turned to Catherine, Greg, and Sara. "Oh and Sara, good luck with, uh, DNA," he laughed running down the hall, successfully evading the punch thrown his direction.
"Funny." She couldn't help but smile.
Quickly, quietly, Grissom maneuvered through the halls of CSI, his office his primary destination. He had too many questions, and not enough answers, and the migraine that had threatened at the beginning of his team's meeting was forcefully beginning to let its presence be made known. It wasn't coming at a good time, not that there ever was a good time. Doing his best to ignore the pain, he grabbed a bottle of water, popped a couple Excedrin Migraine tablets and turned to his laptop computer.
He needed answers and quite uncharacteristically, even for him, he wanted them now.
He had some research to do on Forever God's Family Adoption agency.