The graveyard shift were gathered in the break room, sipping cups of coffee and browsing newspapers as they waited for Grissom. Sara Sidle glanced over at Nick Stokes with a slight smile.
"You alright? You look tired."
He looked up from the newspaper with a shrug.
"Yeah, I'm fine. Just didn't get much sleep today is all."
Warrick Brown grinned as he glanced up from the report he was writing.
"You been entertaining a new lady friend?"
Nick smiled and shook his head.
"I wish, man, I wish!"
Grissom marched into the break room, carrying a file and a small stack of papers.
"Right, assignments. Catherine, you and I are sticking with the DB from the strip."
She stood, taking the file he passed to her and started looking through it. Grissom moved over to the table and handed Sara her assignment.
"Sara, you need to head over to Desert Palms. A woman on the critical list there was shot during what looks like a home invasion gone bad. Neighbour lady called it in. Apparently, she heard gun shots and shouting while she was doing her laundry. The husband's dead in the house over in Henderson and the wife's probably not going to make it."
Sara nodded slowly as Nick got up and crossed over to her.
"I'll take a piece of that."
Grissom nodded as he passed over to Warrick at the table.
"Good. Warrick, I know you've got court so when you've finished preparing for that, I'll need you to give me and Catherine a hand."
"Sure. I'm prepared for the prelim so I should be available pretty soon."
Grissom headed for the door.
"Good, so let's get to work."
Nick and Sara travelled to Desert Palms Hospital practically in silence, but it was comfortable rather than awkward. Nick tapped his fingers on the steering wheel in time to the classic country songs playing in his head while Sara stared out the window. He glanced over at her now and then but she seemed deep in thought.
Arriving at the hospital, they went to the front desk. While waiting in the queue, Sara glanced around her. Turning to Nick, she realised that he was staring off in to the distance at something. His jaw was clenched tight and he looked almost pale.
Sara laid a gentle hand on his arm and he blinked rapidly, as if he was just realising where he was.
"Nick, are you ok?"
He turned his eyes to her and she was surprised by the intense emotion there. He opened his mouth to speak but all Sara heard was a female voice.
"Can I help you folks?"
Sara nodded, turning her gaze from her friend to the receptionist.
"Hi, yeah we're with the Las Vegas crime lab. We're looking for a Mrs Joanne Davenport? She was brought in about an hour ago with a gunshot wound to the head."
The receptionist typed rapidly in to the computer and nodded.
"She's in the ICU right now. Doctor Pirelli is the attending physician if you have any questions. Just take the lift to the third floor and turn right."
"Thanks."
Sara turned, about to ask Nick what was wrong but he looked fine again. He simply nodded and led the way to the elevator without another word. Sara decided not to press it. She knew that she was hardly best friends with the guy so he may not want to talk about whatever was wrong. She knew there were plenty of things that she would never say to him.
Reaching the ICU, the pair quickly found who they were looking for. Nick marched over to him.
"Dr Pirelli? I'm Nick Stokes from the crime lab, this is Sara Sidle. We're here about Mrs Davenport."
The doctor nodded, tucking a clipboard under his arm as he spoke.
"Of course. I'm afraid you're a little late though. Mrs Davenport died a matter of minutes after she got here."
"Cause of death?"
"Well, the gun shot to the head left the bullet lodged in her brain. Even if she hadn't of bled out, she would have been a vegetable. There were a number of broken ribs too, which contributed to massive internal bleeding, not to mention the spinal injuries. We haven't moved her as yet though so if you need to process her, she's just through here."
They followed him in to a small room. A gurney stood in the centre with the figure of a woman shrouded by a sheet. The doctor excused himself as Sara placed her field kit on the counter. Nick pulled on a pair of gloves and shot her a look.
"You know she may have been cleaned when she got to the ER. We may not find much."
Sara shrugged as she turned, facing him across the gurney.
"Well, a little is all we need." She waved a hand over the sheet. "Shall we?"
"We shall."
He pulled the sheet down past the victim's shoulders with a flourish and let out a low whistle. With the obvious exception of the large gunshot wound through her head, Mrs Davenport was exceptionally pretty. She had perfect cheekbones and her chestnut hair had a red tint. It was obvious that she took great pride in her appearance.
Sara delicately brushed a few tendrils away from the entry wound, examining it carefully.
"It looks like we've got some unburnt gunpowder here and possibly a muzzle stamp where the gun was pressed against her head."
Something caught her eye and she used tweezers to delicately remove tiny pieces of evidence from her hair. Nick glanced up at her.
"What've you got?"
"It looks like shards of glass. From a window maybe."
"Perhaps she went through one."
Sara arched an eyebrow at him as she dropped a couple of shards into an evidence envelope.
"Based on?"
He raised the woman's right hand off the table, showing that her whole arm was a bloody mess.
"She has wounds all over hands and her forearms. They're filled with glass fragments. Wait a minute…"
Nick looked closer at her hand and grabbed a small evidence envelope.
"It looks like there's skin under her nails."
Sara grinned.
"Bonus! Told you all we needed was a little and we've got a lot here."
Nick smiled at her and nodded.
"Right as ever, Sara. Bet there's even more over at the house."
"Lead the way cowboy."
He snapped the latex gloves off his hands and Sara could have sworn he winked at her.
"Yeeha!"
Catherine entered the autopsy room where the woman from the Strip was laid out on cold steel, Grissom and Dr Robbins looking over her while deep in discussion about a new article in the Forensic Science Journal. She couldn't help but roll her eyes.
"Sorry about that, guys. It was Warrick on the phone. He's done in court and he'll meet us back in the lab. Where're we up to on the Jane Doe?"
Doc Robbins handed her a thin manila file.
"Well, first of all, she's not a Jane Doe anymore. We got a hit off the dental records. Her name is Michelle Winters, a student at UCLA who was here on vacation. She was reported missing about two weeks ago when she failed to show for the new semester. We'll still need a positive ID from the family though. Her parents are flying in from LA."
Grissom nodded slowly.
"Any ideas on cause of death yet, doc?"
"Well, I've only conducted a preliminary exam so far but she has a number of what appear to be knife wounds across her torso."
He pointed down at her chest to each of the six wounds. Catherine leaned in for a closer look.
"Did she bleed out?"
Doc Robbins shrugged.
"Right now, I don't think so seeing as the wounds seem to have miraculously missed all her vital organs and major blood vessels. They seem to be consistent with some kind of sharp weapon, probably some kind of knife. The bruising round the entry wounds show that hilt hit her skin, implying a lot of force was used."
Catherine glanced at him.
"Well, stabbings are usually personal meaning the guy would be angry so a lot of force is pretty standard."
"Exactly. The worse looking injuries though have actually been inflicted on her eyes. Some kind of thin, sharp object was inserted into the tear ducts and surrounding area. It would have seemed like she was crying tears of blood."
Catherine examined the dead woman's face.
"Maybe a syringe or some kind of needle? Could it have penetrated the brain?"
"I'll know more when I've conducted a full autopsy but I have seen something like this once before. A man tried to give his girlfriend a frontal lobotomy."
Grissom arched an eyebrow in surprise.
"A frontal lobotomy? Why?"
Doc Robbins shrugged.
"She was a paranoid schizophrenic. He was apparently trying to drain of the voices in her head. Why it would have happened in this case, I have no idea. I've sent some samples up to trace for you though. I found what appears to be adhesive residue on her wrists and ankles."
Grissom took a closer look and then raised his eyes to his colleagues.
"She was bound. There seems to be ligature marks as well."
Robbins nodded and pointed to the young woman's head.
"Not to mention that there's something in her hair, some kind of fibres. I was about to examine them more carefully when you two arrived."
Grissom and Catherine both moved to the head of the table. He leaned in close with a magnifying glass as she handed him a pair of tweezers. Slowly and carefully, he removed a number of brightly coloured fibres from her hair. Catherine squinted at them and sighed.
"Any ideas, Gil? They look pretty thick for clothing and I hardly think anyone has orange, red, green and purple carpet. Well, unless they're stuck in the psychedelic seventies."
He shrugged and dropped it into an evidence bag.
"Take it over to Trace and we'll soon find out."
She nodded and headed to the door, pausing halfway into the corridor.
"Aren't you coming?"
Grissom let a half smile spread across his lips.
"We were just about to use Doc's new bone saw to see if we can extract an old bullet from a decomposing body. It's complicated but fascinating."
Catherine just grinned at them as she left, shaking her head as she strolled up the corridor.
"Boys and their toys…"
Nick and Sara pulled up outside the Davenport house and both stared at it in disbelief. Sara shook her head.
"It's… It's a mansion."
Nick nodded quickly, his mouth hanging open.
"Uh huh. Makes you wish we got the big bucks, huh."
Sara arched a sarcastic eyebrow at him.
"Hey, you're a CSI level 3 remember? You already get paid more than me."
Nick shrugged as they climbed out of the Tahoe and made their way up the paved driveway.
"With all that overtime you put in, I'd say we're pretty much equal."
Sara just grinned, already used to the jibes about her commitment to the job.
"What can I say? I love my work. Hey Brass."
Brass glanced up from his notebook with a grim smile.
"Hey guys. DB inside the bedroom is a Mr James Davenport, 46 six years of age. Gunshot wound to the head. Looks like forced entry through the front door."
The pair followed Brass into the house and immediately stopped on the threshold, crouching down to examine the muddy footprints leading through the hall. Nick laid down evidence markers and pulled out a tape measure.
"They look like boots, ball parking it at a size eleven."
Sara nodded and snapped photos of the tracks while Nick looked at the damage to the door. Another muddy footprint was obvious which, coupled with the broken lock and shattered wood, showed that someone had kicked the door in. Brass simply raised an eyebrow.
"Subtle, don't you think? The muddy brick road leads all the way up to the bedroom."
Nick started up the stairs as Sara continued processing the hallway and the front door. Careful to walk close to the walls, he crossed the landing and followed the boot prints in to the master bedroom. He paused, taking in the whole scene.
The husband lay face up on the bed, almost spread-eagled. The sheets around his head were soaked with blood and splatter had been cast across the headboard and the wall above. Typical bedroom objects were strewn across the floor all around the bed, including broken lamps, trampled clothes and jewellery. To the left, a television set had been smashed to pieces. On the right, the door to the bathroom stood ajar, casting a shard of light across a blood pool on the carpet and more splatter on the wall near where Nick was standing. Brass appeared behind him.
"I already checked out the bathroom. There aren't any obvious signs of disturbance or any blood. It looks like the couple were in bed when the guy broke in. He came straight up here, shot the husband on the bed and then the wife where that stain is on the carpet. Looks like he ransacked the place too, but nothing's obviously missing. All the valuable stuff just seems to be smashed to pieces. None of the other rooms have been touched. What are you thinking?"
Nick glanced over his shoulder at him.
"I'm thinking how did the intruder know exactly where the bedroom was?"
"He'd been here before?"
"I'd bet on it. So that might make this whole thing personal instead of burglary."
"Or that the guy cased the joint before hand. Either way, I'll see if anyone had a grudge against them."
Brass disappeared back down the stairs and Nick carefully entered the room. Sara arrived behind him, slipping the print lifts she had taken into evidence envelopes as she walked.
"Looks like someone had a tantrum."
Nick glanced up at her and pointed to the lamp on the floor.
"Look at this. The muddy footprints stop here before moving off towards the bed at a slightly different angle and the lamp is just to the left of them. There was a lamp on either side of the bed but the right one is missing."
Sara nodded slowly, the scene playing out in the mind.
Mr and Mrs Davenport are asleep in bed. A creak outside the bedroom makes them stir and Mrs Davenport sits up, just as the door flies open and a man enters. She screams and throws a lamp towards him. The intruder ducks and it misses by a mile.
"So the guy walked in the door and either Mr or Mrs Davenport threw a lamp at him?"
"I think so."
"Not much use if he's pointing a gun at you."
Nick moved to the right corner of the bed, eyeing the space between Mr Davenport's body and the bloodstain on the carpet.
"So, if he shot the husband in bed, why did Mrs Davenport get shot way over there?"
Sara followed Nick's gaze and then turned to the doorway behind her.
After throwing the lamp, Mrs Davenport is terrified and jumps out of the bed. Mr Davenport sits up and the intruder walks straight towards him, the gun pointed towards his head. One shot rings out and Mrs Davenport screams, running towards the open doorway.
"She was heading away from it all, trying to escape."
"But he would have been stood right about where you are, Sara. With a gun. She must have known that she'd get shot too."
Sara shrugged, her eyes focused on the pool of blood.
"She just watched her husband get shot. She was panicking. Fight or flight instinct takes over. If she can get past him, there's a chance she'll live. If she stays, she knows she'll end up like her husband."
"Which is why we've got a DB at Desert Palms."
Sara carefully made her way across to the bathroom, slowly opening the door. Leaving Nick behind her to process the bed, she looked around the gleaming white surfaces.
"This bathroom is almost as big as my apartment."
She heard Nick laugh from the other room.
"Tell me about it. But just remember Sara, money can't buy you happiness. I think the Davenport's prove that."
Sara was examining the sink when something caught her eye. She pulled a swab from her evidence kit and gently swiped it across the tap. She dropped some phenolphthalein on to it and it turned purple. Next, she swabbed the inside of the drain and did the same process. Again, it turned purple.
"Positive for blood in the sink. I'm thinking the killer washed up in here before he left."
She looked around the bathroom again with a slight frown.
"He took the towels too."
She exited the bathroom and grabbed the ALS. Turning out the lights and putting on the orange glasses, she started to scan the room. There were swirls of blood in the sink and drips on the tiles beneath it. She continued on towards the toilet, lifting the lid to find a deep glow.
"I got semen."
Nick appeared in the doorway.
"Down the toilet? From someone throwing their rubber jacket away you think? It could easily be the husband though."
Sara pulled a face as she lowered the swab down the toilet to get a sample of the stain.
"We'll soon find out. You got anything?"
Nick gestured back over his shoulder.
"The blood splatter on the headboard and the wall suggests that Mr Davenport was sat up when he was shot. And he was surrounded by glass."
Sara looked up at him.
"Glass? We found that all over his wife."
"Exactly. The ceiling above the bed was mirrored. I'm thinking the intruder fired a warning shot, letting the glass shatter all over the Davenports, maybe before the wife threw the lamp at him."
Sara shook her head.
"But that doesn't explain how the wounds on her arms were filled with glass. Mirrored glass has that kind of silver backing to make it reflect."
Nick turned back to the bedroom, grinning at her over his shoulder.
"Well, we've only just got started. And anyway, everyone loves a mystery."