When the Cat's Away, Chapter 5

Wednesday afternoon.

Emily worked in the Lab, processing the shoe prints she had found. Laying the prints out on the table, she took the one she had found in the girl's bedroom and put it in the scanner so that she could cross reference it. She found the shoe print in the girl's bedroom came from a Nike Mavrk shoe. She measured the print; it was a man's size 11.

She did the same for the other two shoe prints and found that another man, wearing Nike Doernbecher Air Max Rivals, size 10, and a woman, wearing Nike Air Riovera Sandals, size 8, was also at the scene.

Next she ran a search on the partial number that she had found. The database found over three hundred possible matches in Miami. She rested her head on the coolness of the table and closed her eyes. Her headache was coming back and she was frustrated.

"Got anything?" Ryan asked as he walked in through the glass doors.

"Yeah. I've got two men and a woman, possibly, wearing these shoes in these sizes, at the Scene." She said as she handed him the photographs and the measurements.

"I also ran the partial phone number, and I got three-hundred possible matches in Miami."

"Well we can narrow that down." Said Ryan.

"How?"

"Well, we'll cross reference the phone records for the household and see if this number matches any of those."

Ryan pulled up the numbers and ran it. He had three matches.

"This is weird." He said, gazing at the computer screen.

"What?"

"Two of these numbers occur frequently, incoming and outgoing calls that suggest that they are to a family friend or something. This one," he said pointing to the third match. "Is only incoming and the conversations were very short."

"Interesting…"

Eric walked in. "We just brought in the foster parents for an interview."

Emily needed no further instruction. She gathered her papers in a file and stormed down the hall to the interview room.

"Mr. and Mrs. Mingen. I am Emily Taylor, CSI." She said shaking their hands.

"Are you going to tell us what happened to Annie?" Mrs. Mingen said. Emily searched her face; it was streaked with tears. Her eyes were sad, at least at first glance, but there was something else there that Emily couldn't place. Steel, maybe anger? Resolve? She couldn't tell but it was something that shouldn't be there for a woman in grief.

"Yes, hopefully," Emily said, stepping back. "But first, I need your help."

She slid the printout of the three phone numbers towards the couple, noting the husband's stoic silence.

"Can you tell me who these numbers belong to?"

Mr. Mingen took the printout and looked it over carefully. "These top two are our family friends, the Browns and the Sykes. They have kids. We would take Annie to play with them."

Emily nodded. "What about the third number?"

The husband's eyes went from honest, to closed and angry. Emily noted the change.

"I don't know." He said evenly, sliding the paper back towards her.

"Now that's where you're wrong Mr. Mingen. These calls were all accepted, multiple times, and they all lasted for at least three minutes. I would be more willing to believe you if the calls had been for less than one minute, however, three minutes suggest conversation. Also, you had three calls from this particular number the day before your foster-daughter died."

"Listen, you have no right…" Said Mr. Mingen, half rising to his feet.

"I do have a right. You see Mr. Mingen, we can already hold you for possession with intent to sell."

She tossed one of the little leather pouches across the table. A small bag of Heroin spilled out.

Emily looked at the couple again. She noticed the immediate change in both of their eyes. They turned angry, and protective.

"How old are you?" Asked Mr. Mingen, glaring at her.

"Sixteen."

"How the hell did you get this job?"

"Listen," Mrs. Mingen interjected, touching her husband's arm. "We loved Annie! We would have done anything to protect her!"

"Then where were you when she died? Why do you have a huge stash of Heroin in your house? How could you let such a brutal death happen to a helpless little girl?" Emily shouted, leaning over the table.

"We did not just let something like this happen!" Mrs. Mingen yelled back.

"You did, and if it is the last thing I do I am going to put you in jail!" Emily yelled.

"Emily!" Eric said storming into the room. "Can we talk? Outside?"

Emily shot a final glare at the parents and stormed out the door.

"What are you doing in there?" Eric said angrily. "You can't just yell at our only witnesses."

"They left a little girl alone in her room to die as far as we know." Emily said angrily.

"Look, let me finish up from here. Go back to the lab and try to trace that last number on the list." Eric said.

Emily turned on her heel and stormed off, angry at the world.