Disclaimer: They're not mine! Want to sue me? Can't get blood from a turnip!
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2
His mind whirred and his heart still beat in his throat as he crouched again in front of the victim. He just stared, stunned at the resemblance. He had calmed while he was outside with Sara, but now his heart raced again faster than it had before. No matter how many times he told himself that this woman was not Sara, he couldn't suppress the need he felt to solve this case. No, it wasn't her lying there, but if he didn't figure this out soon he might lose his mind before he got the chance to tell her how glad he was that it wasn't.
He was lost in thought when Catherine walked into the bathroom. He never saw the swoosh of light from her flashlight over the woman's face and wondered if she saw him jump when she spoke, "One thing I can never get over with this job. Anything can happen to anybody."
"That's why we're here." Silently, he thought about the truth in her statement, wishing that he couldn't. That was what scared him the most. That could be Sara lying there. She went home every night to an empty apartment. At any time someone could break in and she could be killed. He wanted to believe that she was strong and could overcome her attacker, but he knew that wasn't necessarily the truth.
Again, Catherine interrupted his thoughts, "Bet this bathroom is the reason she bought this place."
Finally, he tore his gaze away from the woman on the floor, knowing that he needed to continue working. He had to get this whole thing behind him; if not, it might be the end of him. Letting his skills take over, "What am I smelling?"
"Cleanser. Bleach, maybe." Catherine turned her attention to what she did best, analyzing the blood spatter. Flashing her light over the glass partition to the shower, she spoke her mental notes out loud, "Arterial spray is neck-high. Indicates she was standing when she was attacked." As she spoke, the scene flashed before his eyes, "And the highest gush of blood has the most volume."
From the floor he observed, "Definite lack of lividity. She must have bled out."
"The killer had to get something on him. Had to be a bloody mess. There's no footprints, there's no handprints, no smears."
He stood, "She looks like she was placed in this position."
"What's the message?"
"You can chase a butterfly all over the field and never catch it. But if you sit quietly in the grass it will come and sit on your shoulder."
In silence, they both went to work, hoping not a butterfly but a key piece of evidence would come to them. But after finding both blood and bleach in all four drains in the bathroom, they only found more questions.
After spraying almost the entire bathroom with luminol, he realized his earlier assumption had been correct. This guy was smart, "He cleaned everywhere but inside the shower."
"We're never gonna know where the blood ends and the bleach begins."
And they were faced with yet another question, "Where's all this blood comin' from?" Catherine shrugged and left the bathroom.
He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. The pending migraine threatened to disable him, but he pushed the thought away. Walking to his kit, he extracted a small bottle of water and a travel pack of Advil. After emptying the contents of the bottle, he went on the hunt for Catherine. Her voice carried very faintly down the hallway, "No cleansers, no rags, no sponges, no paper towels."
He walked into the kitchen as Warrick responded, "You'd think that she'd restocked when she went shopping."
Catherine continued as he walked to the trashcan, "Well I'm thinking the killer used everything the victim had."
Looking in the trashcan, "And then disposed of it."
The three of them walked out the back door without another word. After removing their crime scene booties, they walked into the alley behind the house. Catherine was the one to open up the victim's trash receptacle, "Nothing."
In turn they all looked into other trashcans and found nothing until he spotted a swarm of flies gathered around a particular can. Warrick and Catherine gathered around him as he opened the can and swatted the flies away. When he pulled out the Ziploc bag filled with blood and body parts, Catherine snapped a few pictures.
A few hours later they were all lined along the alley each in front of their own trashcan pulling out bags of evidence.
Warrick spoke first, "I think I found the victim's internal organs." Then, almost to himself, "This guy meant business."
After picking up her own bag, Catherine added, "I think I can confirm that the victim's male."
He picked up a vacuum cleaner bag, "It seems he vacuumed to remove any trace from the house."
Catherine continued, "Then he picks up the evidence and spreads it all over the dump."
"We have the victim's clothes, very neatly folded." Then Warrick stated what the other two were thinking, "You know, if this is our boyfriend then…Brass is lookin' for a ghost."