Author's Notes: Muchos, muchos, muchos appreciation for those people who, even after seeing that this wouldn't be my standard GSR fare, gave the first chapter a chance. My love and gratitude to you all. I sincerely hope you like the second chapter as much;)
Jewels
by Kristen Elizabeth
"I went out of town on a business trip. I'm a personal assistant and my boss had a conference." Regan paused to wipe away fresh tears. "When I got back into town, my first call was to Maia. She never answered. I went to her apartment. Nothing. Obviously. That was two days ago."
Greg cleared his throat. "You know, you don't have to do this."
"Yes, I do." Straightening her shoulders, she nodded at him to remove the cloth that covered her sister's body.
He lowered it slowly, but nothing could have eased the moment, or prevented the shocked gasp that escaped her throat.
What must it be like, he wondered, to look down at yourself on a coroner's table? Or was she, after a lifetime of being one in a set, so used to having a copy that she could separate herself from her twin even like this?
"Oh Maia…" Regan reached out a trembling hand to touch her sister's limp hair. "What happened to you?"
"That's what we're trying to figure out," Greg answered. "Anything that you can tell us about your sister will help."
"Do you have any siblings, Mr. Sanders?"
"Greg," he corrected her.
"If you do…you might be able to understand that my sister's life was a mystery to me."
He watched her fingers stop just above the deep gash across Maia's throat. "But…she wasn't just your sister. She was your twin."
Regan nodded. "Genetically identical. But that's just biology."
"When was the last time you saw her?"
She pulled her hand back. "Two days before I left for Los Angeles. We had dinner at her apartment and called our parents. They live in Seattle."
"Did she say anything about having plans with anyone while you were gone?"
"Maia always had plans. Big ones. She just wasn't much on follow-through. It was her idea to move out here, you know. She wanted to dance in the shows. With a name like Maia Mays, she figured she was a shoe-in. She ended up waitressing. And I went to UNLV."
Greg hesitated. "Anything more specific than that?"
Regan shook her head. She'd removed her hat on the way to the morgue. Unlike her sister's which was stick-straight, her hair fell in soft waves around her shoulders. It was the only discernable difference between them. Except, of course, for the fact that one of them was dead. "I'm sorry, Greg." His name rolled off her tongue with fluid grace. "I don't know."
They were silent for a long time.
"Did you find her ring?" Regan finally asked, shattering the dead calm.
"We found a ring, yes." He tried not to frown at this. Perhaps it was merely an object of sentimental value and she had no interest in its monetary price. The job was leaving its mark; cynicism was starting to run in his veins.
She looked down at the one on her hand. "Our father gave them to us when we graduated high school."
"Then…can you explain why we found Maia's on her left ring finger? We thought she was engaged."
Regan nodded. "It was her thing. When she was out at a club or a bar and she was hit on by a guy she wasn't interested in…she'd move her ring so she could pretend to be unavailable."
Greg filed the information away. If she'd been found with her ring on her left hand, chances were she'd been out on the night she died. And possibly had run into an unwanted suitor.
"Unless you need it for something, I'd like to have it."
"I'll have to get back to you about that." He paused. "Anything more you could tell us could only help us find who did this."
She closed her eyes. "I can't tell you what I don't know."
Her shoulders were shaking and Greg had to fight to keep from putting an arm around her. She looked completely lost.
"If you think of anything…" He fumbled in his jacket pocket for his card and a pen. Without even thinking about it, he scribbled his home number on the back. "Give me a call. Anytime."
Regan slipped the card into her own pocket. "Thank you, Greg. For taking care of my sister."
He lowered his head. "Again…I'm really sorry for your loss."
"So am I." She leaned over and lightly kissed her sister's cold forehead. "Bye, Mai." When she straightened up, he could see her lower lip trembling. "Can you do something for me?"
"Um…sure."
"Can you say, "Later, Reganator?" A ghost of a smile graced her shapely lips. "I just…need to hear it one more time."
Greg figured he was probably violating some sort of CSI to victim's family protocol, but the pleading look in her eyes was too compelling for him to deny her simple request.
"Later, Reganator."
Tears ran in rivers down her cheeks. She backed away from her sister's body and quietly slipped out of the morgue.
He didn't hear Sara enter a minute later and was a little startled when she asked, "Was she able to tell you anything?"
Greg related the pertinent information, his eyes on Maia the whole time. Sara came up behind him as he talked. When he was done, she put a hand on his shoulder. "Must have been weird. Standing here with both of them."
"I didn't really notice," he lied. "I was focused on her story."
"Do you think it's just that? A story?"
He craned his neck around to give her a look. "I have no reason to believe she's lying."
"You did say she asked about the ring pretty quickly." Sara shrugged. "That would have set off warning bells in my head."
"You weren't here. You didn't see…she's devastated, Sara."
Holding up her hands, she surrendered. But knowing Sara, it would only be for the moment. "Okay. For now, we'll just start with Maia Mays. Find out everything we can about her. Starting with her apartment." She paused. "I assume you'll want to be in on that?"
Greg tugged the sheet back up over Maia's face. "Yeah. I will."
To enter a victim's residence was to invite yourself into their life without allowing them any say in the matter. For most of the unfortunate people whose lives he had to invade this way, the last time they'd left home truly had been the last time. Everything was usually more or less the way they'd left it, on the naïve assumption that they'd be back eventually. It was doubtful that any of them had even the slightest inkling that he'd be there in their place, picking through their pasts to solve their murders.
Maia Mays was no different.
"The woman liked the finer things in life." Across the small area that passed for a living room, Sara picked up a brand new iPod that had been left behind. "Didn't her sister say she was a waitress?"
Greg's eyes roamed over the entertainment center. A plasma TV, a DVD player…all top of the line. "Well, she mentioned their parents. Maybe these were gifts from them."
"I'll go with gifts," Sara mused. "But I'm thinking she had other sponsors besides Mom and Dad. Can you say 'sugar daddy'?"
"There's no proof of that," he found himself snapping. "You're jumping to conclusions and putting the victim's life on trial."
Sara said nothing for a moment. "You know what? I'll take the bedroom. You cool off and then join me."
When he was alone, ran his fingers through his hair, pushing his messy bangs off his forehead. The last thing he wanted to do was piss off Sara. So why was he getting so defensive over the reputation of a dead woman?
Probably for the same reason he'd visited her body three times in the morgue.
Maia Mays fascinated him, first with the contrast between her beauty and the fact that she'd been forgotten, and now with the mystery of her life. Greg wanted to know more about her. And he didn't want Sara passing any judgments before he'd learned everything he could.
Still, he had to play nice. Especially with the woman who was sleeping with the boss.
"Sorry," Greg said as he entered the bedroom a minute later. "I won't insult you by using the excuse that I haven't been sleeping well the past week or so. I'm just…"
"It's okay." Sara looked up from the dresser and flashed him a forgiving smile. "Sometimes I forget that you haven't been doing this for so long that they can't still get under your skin. Just remember…Maia Mays is dead. Nothing that's said about her life can hurt her now."
Greg lifted a shoulder. "Maybe not her. But what about her family?"
"I gather from what you told me that Regan has very few illusions about her twin."
He murmured a non-committal reply. "Find anything?"
"Nothing really interesting. She liked her underwear like she liked her electronics. Expensive." Sara held up a pink compact. "She was on the Pill."
"Think we should check the bed for…um…"
"Foreign DNA samples?" she supplied. "Doc didn't find any semen, right?"
"Still, it might be useful down the line." Greg waited until Sara nodded before he set down his kit and pulled out his ALS equipment. Sliding a pair of red glasses on, he hit the lights.
"Nothing on the bedspread," he announced a moment later. But the minute he turned it down, the sheets lit up. All over. A cold hand clenched his gut. This wasn't the result of one partner, one time, unless the man was a machine. This spoke of many encounters, possibly with more than one cohort.
"Well…" Sara shook her head. "At least we know she wasn't on the Pill just to regulate her periods."
Grissom joined them as they were about to enter the bathroom.
"Come to check up on us?" Sara teased him, an extra sparkle in her eyes. When he said nothing to this, her brow crinkled. "What's wrong?"
He looked at Greg. "What impression did you get of Maia Mays's sister?"
"Identical twin," Greg corrected him. "She was upset. Like any grieving family member. Why?"
"Brass was doing a standard background check on her. Just to confirm her story." Grissom paused. "According to her statement, she was in Los Angeles when her sister was murdered."
"Yeah. That's what she…" Greg stopped when Grissom started shaking his head. "What did Brass find out?"
"She was in L.A. But she cut her trip short. Her boss told Brass that she got a phone call and asked to leave early. Family emergency, she said. The time it would have taken her to get back to Vegas puts her in the city hours before her twin was murdered."
Sara blew out a short breath. "She'd have no reason to lie about that, unless…"
Greg looked Grissom straight in the eye. "Let's bring her in again."
To Be Continued