Twelve hours earlier.
"Oh, God" Lindsay said under her breath.
Like a twisted little joke by nature, perhaps God himself, Lindsay Monroe processed her fourth suicide-like crime scene this month.
Ironic. Just last night she sat in her bed with a handful of sleeping pills, trying to get the voices in her head to shut up. But then she got the call out.
As her camera's light bulb flashed, she assesses the crime scene and concludes why this case has been ruled out as a suicide. Young woman had slashes on her wrists. But she had bruises --- just above the wrists and on her arms. She was a lovely Asian woman, probably just out of her teens.
"What you got, Montana"
Lindsay turned around and she felt both better and worse. Danny Messer walks in the door, in the green long sleeves shirt which is Lindsay's favorite.
She felt better because Danny is the sweetest creature in the world --- a contrast to his brusque exterior --- who never failed to show just how much he liked her, even to just throw a random compliment.
And she also felt worse because she couldn't reciprocate that sweetness into something more than everyday, work-related flirting.
See, Lindsay has a deep dark secret. A secret that has damaged her insides, in more ways than one.
"Suicide vic apparently" Lindsay said, pointing to the spread-eagled woman on the floor. "Name's Catherine delos Reyes".
"Delos Reyes" Danny said. "Mexican? Spanish?"
Lindsay stood up and scanned the room. She looked at the kitchen. "Filipino".
"You can tell by just looking at the kitchen?" Danny said as he swabbed the blood on Catherine's wrists.
"Engraving of The Last Supper" Lindsay said, pointing at the mural hanging above the fridge.
Danny laughed. "There's a mural on the wall and you think she's Filipino".
"I had a Filipino rape case in Montana" Lindsay answered "All the tell-tale signs are here. Rice cooker on the counter top. We got some dried mangoes here. And my personal favorite" Lindsay picks up a small bottle filled with a reddish brown paste "Shrimp paste. Here, take a sniff"
Danny stands up and takes a whiff of the bottle. He immediately recoils in disgust. The shrimp paste smelled of decomposing fish mixed with salt. Lindsay laughs.
"Ugh! Why'd you have to do that?" Danny said.
"You should try this with tuna and lemon grass. Phenomenal" Lindsay takes a sniff and then closes the bottle.
"Pass" Danny said. He sees something on the floor, a circular white paper of some kind, about half an inch in diameter.
"What the hell is this?" Danny asked. "Sticky substance on one side".
Lindsay walks up to him --- almost too closely, but Danny doesn't mind --- and looks at the object. "Odorless. Let's get that back to trace".
"Who found the vic?" Danny asked as he put the circular paper in an evidence envelope.
"Fiancee, Edward Bledel" Lindsay said.
The man Lindsay pointed to was an overweight, unattractive man. He looked close to 240 lbs. He also looked like he was in his fifties.
Danny looked at Catherine's corpse and looked at the man. Danny's eyebrows frowned. "You're kidding".
"Only means one thing" Lindsay said.
"Mail-order bride" Danny concluded.
Lindsay makes a search of the woman's pockets. She found her wallet, with a California ID. "This ID's fake" Lindsay said. "It's made of cheap plastic, too light. And the colors have too much contrast, like it was photocopied".
"Illegal immigrant." Danny said "Forced to marry Jabba the Hut for a visa".
"This will up the weirdness factor" Lindsay pulls Danny by the arm, towards the door. At the end of the hall, on a bench, sat a 12-year old boy. He looked skinny and frail. He had an odd calmness in his face.
"When Edward Bledel found the body, that boy was looming over it, blood in his hands" Lindsay said, pointing to the boy.
"What's so weird about that?" Danny asked.
"That boy" Lindsay said, looking at Danny for a reaction "claims that he's Jesus Christ"