Here is chapter two.

Disclaimer: I have nothing to do with this TV show except for the fact that I am writing a story about it. :}

Sara Sidle walked through the hospital at a brisk pace. Thankfully, the doctor was standing outside of Zoë's room, flipping through his clipboard and scribbling on a sheet of paper. Sara grabbed him before he could walk away.

"How is she?" That was the most important question.

The doctor smiled wearily, as if he had had a long night. "Yes, yes, she is fine—physically at least. There are some cuts on her arms but they were nothing more than scrapes, though one on the back of her arm needed a few stitches. It might have been grazed by a knife; it is not serious."

A defensive wound, thought Sara. She probably put her arms up to block her face and the attacker only lightly touched her.

"There is a good size lump on the back of her head from hitting the floor, but it is just a minor concussion. Thankfully, there were no other signs of assault," finished the doctor.

Sara nodded. "Can I have Zoë's clothing to bring back to the lab?"

The doctor returned the nod. "Of course. I will have a nurse retrieve them for you."

After getting the man's approval, Sara went into the hospital room to talk to Zoë, who was now conscious. However, when she opened the door, all she saw was an empty, but messy bed. The TV, which hooked onto the wall high above her head, was still on, softly playing the results of baseball games. The remote was sitting on the bed, right where someone's hand would be, ready to change the station if necessary.

"Zoë?" called Sara.

Seconds later the sound of a flushing toilet reached Sara's ears and the adjoined bathroom door opened to revel the girl she had been looking for.

"I just had to use the bathroom," said Zoë as she fixed her hospital gown. "You don't have to get worried that I was abducted or ran away." She rolled her eyes as she plopped back onto the bed. "So, who are you?"

Sara raised an eyebrow at the girl. She seemed completely calm even though she was being what Sara considered rude. "Hello, I'm Sara Sidle and I am with the Las Vegas Crime Lab."

Zoë's eyes glazed over for a second before she spoke again. "Look, can't I just go home? I hate hospitals. I hate talking to people I don't know, answering there weird questions. I want to see someone I know. I want my mom." Her face hardened as she spoke.

Oh, no, Sara thought. She does not know about her mother…

"Zoë, there is something that I have to tell you," Sara did not want to be the one who had to tell this girl that her mother was gone. She never wanted to be the one to tell someone that his or her loved one was gone….

"She isn't alive." Zoë stared at her bare feet. "I know. I was there when she was stabbed. I saw it all—or at least until I was knocked out. There was so much blood," whispered Zoë, whether in disgust or fright Sara could not tell. "It splattered onto me… I wanted to run to her… but I never made it there." She brought her hand to the back of her head where she had landed. The girl's voice came out in short gasps. "Yeah, I know she's… gone."

She could not bring herself to say the word dead.

Zoë jumped up from the bed and ran into the bathroom, slamming the door behind her. Sara could hear her retch and then her choked sobs. All she could do was wait until Zoë came back out.

Fifteen minutes later she did.

"Sorry," the teenager muttered as she wiped her eyes with her arm.

"It is okay," said Sara softly. "It really is…. But do you mind if I ask you a few questions?"

"No."

From her bag, Sara pulled out a piece of paper in case she had to write something down. "Do you know who it was that attacked you?"

Zoë crossed her legs over one another and pulled the blanket up into her arms. "No, I couldn't see his face—he was wearing a ski mask, but I know that it was a man from the stature."

"Can you remember how tall he was? Did you see any features or hair color?"

Shaking her head, the girl replied, "No, I couldn't see his hair, but he did get close to me when he pushed me. I might have—"

"He pushed you?" Sara interrupted.

"That's how I fell and hit my head on the floor," sighed Zoë. She tapped the back of her head again. "Like I was saying, I should have seen the color of his eyes when he got close, but I… I just cannot remember. It happened too quickly." She rubbed her temples slowly. "He saw about average height, I guess, maybe 5' 8''."

"Is there anything else you remember about the man?" asked Sara. "Maybe his voice or something strange about him?"

"No." Zoë glared at the wall, as if it was what had caused all of her pain. "He might have talked—I can't even remember his voice. He seemed average! There was nothing about him that stood out." Her voice was rising with each word she spoke, until she finally stopped talking altogether. "I want to go home," she said after a minute of silence.

Sara bit her lip. It was still hard to tell a fourteen-year-old that she could not go home, no many how many times she had to say it. "I'm sorry, but your home is evidence now; you can't go home, Zoë…. Your father must have been contacted about this."

"My father doesn't care." She sounded defeated. "He lives in New York and I have not seen him since I was two-years-old. The only family I have are my grandparents."

I hope that they are able to take this girl, Sara thought. That would be the best thing for her, I believe. "Thank you, for telling me these things; it must be very hard…. Hopefully we won't have to talk like this again."

Zoë just stared at her.

On her way out, Sara collected the girl's clothing. It was time to get back to the lab.

***

"There she is," Jim Brass said pointing toward the car. "She's all yours."

Nick Stokes and Warrick Brown walked under the crime scene tape and to the smashed car. The body was still in the driver's seat. The woman was young, barely in her twenties by the look of it. Her head was slumped up against the cracked window shield.

"Nice car," Nick said, as he looked it over. "And from the looks of it, it is new too. However, it's totaled now. A waste of a good corvette."

"So far she is a Jane Doe," Warrick said as he peered into the car. "Hey, Nick come here." He motioned for him to look inside the car. "See anything strange?"

"It's more like what I don't see," Nick said. "There's no blood. With the impact, there would be blood everywhere. Are you thinking that she was already dead when she hit the tree?"

"Yeah, that's what I think. The crash had to happen post mortem."

"Then how does a dead woman drive a car into a tree?" Nick started to walk around the car, hoping to find some type of clue.

"I think that your answer is in here," Warrick called. On the driver petal was a brick.

"So, our killer placed our Jane Doe in here after she was dead and then put the brick on the petal so it would look an accident. But we would have found the brick anyways, unless they were hoping that the car would catch on fire."

Warrick pushed his hair back thoughtfully. "Maybe that means our killer doesn't know what they are doing."

"If that is true," said Nick, "then, hopefully, it will make our jobs a lot easier."

To be continued…

Yes! Another chapter done! I hope that there will be a few cases going on at once. :}

Please tell me what you thought.

R&R