Chapter Ten
Warrick tenderly stepped over the pile of wreckage. His shoes dug into a wet mass of indeterminate nature. A voice inside winced as he realized he might just have compromised an evidence.
"Only two CSIs working on the scene?" Nick came up from behind him.
"That would be Harper's team." Warrick said grimly. "The guy's a second Ecklie. His people are probably sticking their faces to the media cameras."
"While the evidence dissolves." Nick shook his head in disgust. "I'll go speak with the Fire and Rescue Chief out there."
Warrick noticed Sara making her way towards the core of the scene. He had been a little surprised to know that Grissom had allowed her to work on the case. Not that he doubted her efficiency. Her expertise as a CSI was beyond question. What he feared was her emotional condition on seeing the explosion site.
"Sara?" He called out. Why, he didn't know.
She half turned towards him.
Questions, consolations and other such statements played at the base of his vocal chords. But he only managed to say, "You want to take the area near the mall building? I'll do the exteriors."
She gave a slight shrug. "Okay."
"Warrick Brown?"
Warrick turned to face the voice. He almost rolled his eyes when he saw who had addressed him.
"Arnold Harper, how are you?" Warrick greeted him wryly.
Harper gave a practiced sigh. "I'm grieved by this tragedy. But otherwise, I'm doing quite well."
Harper was a second Ecklie alright. His pressed Hugo Boss suit, well-slicked hair and 100-watt smile made for a perfect magazine picture. Warrick gave a brief glance towards the man's shoes and immediately knew how much time Harper must have actually spent working on the scene. The black shoes gleamed.
"So, what are you guys doing here? Weren't you supposed to be at a marriage?" Harper had on an innocent look.
Warrick quickly looked around to see if Sara was nearby. He was relieved to see she was too far away to have heard the ass' comments. He turned back towards Harper, his nostrils flared in anger.
"Look Harper, if you don't want trouble, you better keep your horseshit comments to yourself. One of our own might be in there and you are standing here mocking?"
"Whoa, buddy, I'm the last person who wants trouble out here." Harper raised his hands. "All I'm saying is, this is my crime scene. What are you night owls doing here, snooping around?"
"Yeah, I can see how well you're handling the scene." Warrick shot a deliberate look at the unprocessed area and the two bored CSIs.
"Okay, okay, back off both of you." Brass laid a restraining hand on Warrick. "Harper, orders are for complete cooperation. If you have a problem, you take it up with the director."
The man looked from Brass to a fuming Warrick and gave one of his fake smiles. "I have no problem. I'm all for cooperation."
"Thanks." Brass returned sarcastically. As Harper sauntered away, he patted Warrick's shoulder. "Hey War, don't mind him, ok? You have far more important things to do."
Warrick curled his fingers into a ball. "Yeah."
Sara picked up a damp piece of metal. Despite the blackened surface, she recognized the Chesapeake blue car paint. Stuck along the edges were what looked like burnt human tissue with blood glued on it. She bagged it. She tried to not put a face to the tissue. But it was harder than usual.
"Hi, you are Sara Sidle, am I right?" A young woman, probably fresh out of forensic academy, was smiling down at her. The name tag on her CSI vest read, "Simmons".
"Yes." Sara replied.
"I'm Janet Simmons." The woman stretched out her hand for a shake. Then she realized that Sara was in her gloves and blushed sheepishly. "I'm sorry."
Sara shrugged, eager to return back to her work.
"I used to work at the San Francisco Crime Lab. You are quite a name out there. Particularly with Dr. Todd."
The name Todd struck a vague bell in Sara's mind. However, she neither had the purpose nor the inclination to pursue it.
"Do you have a theory on what happened here?" Janet asked.
Sara scooped up what looked like mud but on closer inspection was a mixture of char, blood and dust, all soaked in rainwater. "An explosion." She answered passively.
"Oh no, I don't think the bomb caused all that much damage." The younger CSI knelt down. "We have found bits and pieces of the explosive. But according to Bomb Squad, the explosive couldn't have been very powerful. You see that?" She pointed towards what looked like a remnant of plastic. "It's a piece left over of a butane tank."
Sara looked at the white plastic in Janet's hand. She knew what it meant. The bomb had provided just the spark to ignite the fuel. "Do you know how many of these tanks were here?"
"We talked to the owner of the truck. According to his estimate, around fifteen."
"Around fifteen." Sara repeated in such a low whisper that Janet wondered whether she had really spoken at all.
"Whoever planted the bomb must have known the truck's going to be here… or…" Janet waved her hands around the devastation. "This was an extremely unfortunate coincidence."
"I don't believe in coincidences."
Janet frowned perplexedly. Along with Sara's forensic skills, her interpersonal deficiencies were also legendary. But she hadn't expected such a cold reception from Sara.
No, not just cold – Janet observed. There was something in Sara's countenance that reminded her of Dry Ice: painfully freezing and highly unstable.
Nick stopped himself from cursing loudly when the sky began pouring once again. Barely two hours of dry weather had passed since the last rainfall. The Bomb Squad Chief was going through all the possible scenarios while his men scanned for the source. Nick found the information muddling inside his brain and that unsettled him. He was usually able to concentrate with unadulterated attention when on a crime scene. But this time, the destruction all around him was more than just distracting.
Wherever he turned, all he could visualize was Catherine's blown up remains.
"Hey, I think we found something." He heard someone shout out.
"What is that?" Nick stared at the badly burned leftovers in the man's hand.
"By the texture, I would say a tire, most probably a spare tire. These are the bomb shells. Here's the fuse, or what's remained of it."
Nick gingerly touched it. Pieces of powdery ash fell off on impact with his fingers. "So, you are saying the bomb was in the car."
"Yep."
Nick bagged the remains. If he could get the tire shreds to trace, there was a good chance he could track it back to the original vehicle. He peered over at the ground. The metal scraps scattered all over definitely looked like remnants of a car. "If someone was driving this car, there's a good chance I'll find their DNA."
"That's your job." The Chief remarked.
Nick crouched down, careful to not move around much. With the rainfall and the degree of dispersal, important evidences were caked all over the floor. He moved aside what he guessed was a fragment from the car door. A solid, curve-shaped substance was stuck through shattered glass. Its surface was covered in dark burgundy.
Nick carefully bagged the steering wheel. He looked around and felt a bout of nausea. Despite the shredded seat covers, metal and other ruined material spread all over, it wasn't all too difficult to identify torn human flesh soused in pools of blood. He placed one gloved hand over his nose and swallowed. At this point, it was hard to determine whether these were remains of one person or multiple. However, if he had to guess, he would say one. Not that, it made the horror any less.
He looked around and saw huge birds circling the air. Scavengers were extremely rare in urban locations like these. But even they can smell the lure of blood from a distance and fly towards their feast.
The gray clouds, the ominous flying creatures and the huge tear-like drops spattering on the ground – Mother Nature was expressing her sorrow.
On the other side of the crime scene tape, reporters and bystanders wrestled against each other to get a better view. Standing amidst them, a man removed his parka hood and let his hair soak in the rainwater. He felt an overwhelming sense of peace, gotten through a job well done. His first set of plans had run smoothly and now he couldn't wait to witness the aftereffects.
