Chapter IV

Getting Freaky

The Vegas Central Police Station was home to one of the top rated forces in the country. It was, like most police and fire stations, slightly behind the times. That meant the large locker room was on an informal time-share system. The lockers were split; women's to one side of the room, men to the other. Of course the men's half was much larger than the women's, so the men tended to forget the rules about sharing.

All in all, it didn't bother Sofia Curtis too much. As long as a rookie didn't peek down her row to catch her with her shirt off, she was fine. Being a Detective, though, she didn't change her clothes every single day like SWAT or Street cops did. That didn't mean her locker was empty. The blue steel locker was stuffed with the odds and ends of her life and the job she did. As a CSI, she had learned to have at least one complete, down to the shoes, spare outfit that would do just as well on camera as it would in a dumpster. Her vest had also been shoved in along with her gym bag, an LVPD windbreaker, baseball cap and a bulky gun belt complete with cuffs, club, spray, and holster she'd saved from her uniform days. The eye level shelf held a mini-pharmacy, everything from extra strength Advil to shampoo to concealer and lipstick, and her box of plastic wrapped toothpicks.

The inside door of the locker had a small mirror and a few pictures taped to the inside. One of hers and her mother's before things had become too tense between them to even fake smiles.

Sofia stared at the Polaroid for a minute. She had just come back to Vegas, just joined Jim Brass's Homicide Squad. It was a hell of a way to start a new page of her jacket. She had expected Vice -- they were always looking for female badges -- or White Collar. She had been more than pleased to land Homicide. Then again, she'd been working Homicides for years from the Forensic side at least. Hell, she had been acting supervisor of Days at one point and her mother had hated that. Granted she hadn't wanted to be a CSI, but it had been a challenge. A challenge she had taken on head-first. Too bad Ecklie had decided to shove his nose in where it really didn't belong. Being packed off to the third shift had been a demotion, an undeserved one. That had been when the tension had started to get at her. Her mother's constant commentary on her life had bared down on her. Leaving for Boulder City had been a relief.

Not to say that all of her time on the Graveyard Shift had been bad. A small smile slid across the Detective's face. Another picture on the inside of her locker reminded her that there had been some good things. It was of some party back when she was at the Crime Lab. Damned if she could remember whose birthday it had been, but Greg had been trying to feed her cake, or maybe it had just been a handful of icing. Sara, who looked innocent and oblivious in the snapshot, had actually been blocking her in so Greg could get her. On the far left, Jim was trying not to laugh and failing miserably.

She had made friends during her stint on Nights. Greg Sanders for one. He was like a goofy puppy growing into his big paws. It was almost sad to see him mature into a serious CSI. Some days she missed his constant chatter and, yes, even his not-so-subtle come-ons. There had also been Gil Grissom, Greg's polar opposite in so many ways. Mysterious, intelligent, and just a little over-obsessed with creatures that had far too many legs. Then there was Sara Sidle. In the photo, her face was half cast in shadow. Sofia personally thought that was right. The moody brunette always seemed to hold parts of herself back, as though she was afraid to come out into the light completely. The picture had caught her mid-laugh.

Laughter wasn't something Sofia had heard or done a lot of lately. There were two other pictures on the inside of the locker door. She had photo-copied the ID photos of Officers Bell and Kamen from their jackets. Those pictures reminded that the decisions made every day could be the difference between life and death.

The picture of her mother was to remind her of what was expected of her. The pictures of Bell and Kamen were to remind her of her responsibilities. The picture of her friends was to remind her that in the midst of death there was life and laughter. Luckily for her, this was not one of the days she desperately needed to remember any of those important things. Of course, she was just coming on to shift. Sofia gave one last glance to the mirror before shutting the door. At 37 she didn't look bad at all.

Since she'd timed her arrival right she didn't have to navigate past a gaggle of half naked cops on her way out; that was a definite relief. The walk from the locker room to the Homicide Bullpen was filled with quick greetings and acknowledgments. She skirted around perps being marched down to central booking and, out of habit, checked to see which interrogation rooms were in use.

Unlike the locker room, the collection of rooms and floorspace assigned to Homicide, one of the largest departments within the LVPD was loud and bustling, chugging along at its normal, chaotic pace. Her desk was neat and ordered, just as she'd left it, but her in-box was crammed full. She shuffled through the papers and sorted them out by level of priority. A few desks over, Vega was putting a case to bed. He was slowly filling a thick binder with the photos, notes, forms and other assorted flotsam of a case.

Sofia couldn't see the name or case number on the binder that was the murder-book. "Close one?"

Vega looked up and she saw the circles of fatigue under his eyes. "We found the Montinegro girl in a freezer today."

Sofia blew out a sigh. She hadn't been on the case, but it was always a blow to have a Kidnapping turn Homicide on you. Vega closed the book and put it in a box that would join the Forensic Evidence to be hauled down to the District Attorney's Office.

A combination of knowing Vega's personality and what must have been going through his mind kept Sofia from commenting. She took care of some quick paperwork, and wrote down a quick note on her month-at-a-glance calendar. She was testifying on the Pendansky Case and the trial date had finally been set, so she would be testifying somewhere around the twenty-fifth of the month. Of course, she was scheduled off on the twenty-fifth, no shock there. She had been at her desk about fifteen minutes when Jim came out of his office with a handful of case assignments in his hand. He first went to the squad rooms coffee maker and filled his mug with the caffeinated sludge that kept them all going.

Captain Brass looked them all over a moment and then put his mug down. She didn't pay attention to most of the assignments. Only when her name was called did she look up from her paperwork. He had only one sheet left in his hand. "Sofia, you're with me."

As always when they worked together, Jim let her drive. She pulled out of the lot and shot him a sidelong glance. "So what have we got?"

They saw the blue lights before anything else. Sofia held back a sigh. The crime scene was practically in the middle of The Strip. "Damn Sam Braun."

It was the newest LVPD curse. Sam Braun's empty lot, the one that had been home to The Rampart, had become a criminal playground. The construction had halted while his legal matters were handled. Between building supplies, open trenches that would soon hold cement and steel footers for a foundation, rubble and construction crew trailers there were plenty of hidey-holes for drug deals, hookups, hold ups, and body dumps. Sofia pulled into the now familiar area that had been cordoned off for parking.

She and Brass got out of the unmarked Sedan and she asked the first and most useless question, "Where was security?"

Brass chuckled. The question was a Department joke. The one night security guard was never around, obviously.

Sofia went into her trouser pocket and pulled out one of the toothpicks, slid it out of the wrapper and flicked the empty plastic back into the car. "How many bodies have we caught out of this dump?"

The shadows and reflections of neon played games across the expanse of equipment, trailers, and debris. Brass only shook his head, "I've lost count." So had she. The gravel crunched under her boots as they walked across the lot to the yellow tape. A uniform that she knew by face but not name lifted the tape. Usually the big brave men of the force told her if it was a messy scene. To her surprise the uniform reached out and touched Brass's shoulder. "Um, Captain, I just wanted to warn you, it's a messy scene."

Brass chuckled at the sentiment and they both ducked under the tape.

Someone, she guessed one of the uniforms, had set up floodlights to light the way. It wasn't long until they saw David Phillips, the coroner, and another group of uniforms. The only officer standing close to the body with Super Dave was a female. The men were several feet away.

The scene was grisly, but Sofia had seen much worse. A man and a woman, both dead. The woman was mostly nude and the man had his pants down around his ankles. What kept this from being a "normal" John Gone Wrong was the position of the bodies. The woman was lying prone on the ground, only her shoulders and head were propped at an odd angle against what appeared to be an electrical building. The John was lying on top of her. Their corpses were still in the position. It was like walking in on one of the morbid sex turned murder scenes from the slasher films of the seventies and eighties.

She moved the flashlight down and suddenly understood why most of the men were standing back. The two bodies weren't simply posed to appear they were mid-coitus, they were mid-coitus. The man's penis was still inside the woman and there was at least a liter of blood between their legs.

Beside her Jim laughed weakly, "I've heard of them having teeth, but this is-" He didn't even finish.

Sofia looked around, "CSIs here yet?"

An unusually pale David shook his head. "Not yet, and I wish they'd hurry."

Sofia crouched down by the two bodies and was immediately hit with the stench of blood, urine and feces, the wretched and nauseating stench of murder. "Do you have a T.O.D yet?"

David looked up at the dark sky as if that would give him answers. "The male registers at 91.56 and the female at 91.36, taking the day's heat in account, two degrees for the first hour and a degree and a half for every hour there after, these two have been dead about four and a half hours, give or take for biological irregularities in temperature. Now I can't be sure, but I'm pretty sure that she died first and was quickly followed by him."

Sofia nodded and looked at the scene again. "How are they still connected? He should have gone flaccid shortly after death, I've never heard of rigor mortis doing this." She waved her toothpick around the connected couple to illustrate her point. Sofia scowled down at the large puddle of blood on the ground then back at David.

The Coroner wiped the long thermometer he'd used. "I don't know. All I do know right now is that they're stuck together."

Sofia blinked, "Excuse me? They're stuck?

He nodded, "When I was taking temps I tried to move him to get a better angle and there was resistance."

"So what you're telling me is that he can't… that you can't pull him out?"

David nodded and Sofia chuckled. Just when she thought she'd seen everything, Las Vegas proved her wrong

Authors Note: Well that was a strangly enjoyable chapter to write. I liked 'Dead Doll' but after that the episodes have been hit and miss for me. So I'm picking out the bits I like and leaving out the bits I don't. So Sam's Playground was born. Speaking of being born, my sister is about to make me an aunt, again. That's what happens when you have four sisters and two brothers, it never ends. So early welcome to Chase Jayden. Now I'm going to sniff out some left over Halloween candy.