Chapter 5

Later that evening Sarah caught up with Nick in the layout room.

"Hey Nick, what'ya doing?"

"Um, nothing," replied Nick as he quickly closed a manila folder.

"I spoke to Sofia Nick, I know what you're doing and it's okay. I'm here to help."

Sarah recounted her conversation with Sofia and explained their theory about an inside mole.

"I was thinking the same thing," said Nick. "I came across some evidence which doesn't add up." He opened up the manila folder and handed it to Sara, "Take a look at this."

As Sara leafed through the pages she started to frown. How come she hadn't spotted this at the scene? Was she losing her touch? Nick talked her through his research, "I lifted this partial print off Sofia's house keys. It's not a match for her. I put it through CODIS but no hit."

"This means someone either mishandled it at the scene or Sofia didn't let herself in to her apartment that night," said Sara.

"I ran it against everyone who worked the scene, no match," said Nick. "And take a look at these pictures." Sara studied the scuff marks in the photos. "Any idea what could have caused them?" asked Nick.

Sara thought for a moment. "Wait here one minute." She jumped up and ran out of the room. A few minutes later she returned with her own manila folder.

"I took these photos at the scene, I thought it was a little strange at the time," said Sara, handing Nick the folder.

"Sofia's boots," said Nick. "The heels are scuffed." Nick compared the two sets of pictures. "These pavement scuff marks match the marks from Sofia's boots."

Sara nodded. "There's no way she could have made those marks herself, she was dragged."

"This is all good stuff but so far it's sketchy at best. Have we anything more concrete?" said Nick.

"No," sighed Sara. "But I still don't have all the evidence. I'm waiting for the blood spatter report, but I have the rape kit results right here."

Nick looked up sharply, "Any sign of rape?"

Sara shook her head. Nick released a long breath. He was surprised by how worried he'd been about that. Working this off-the-books case had shown him a different side to Sofia and it awakened feelings in him he hadn't expected.

"There's something else though," said Sara, looking confused. "There were black and red fibers in Sofia's hair."

"Any idea where they came from?" asked Nick.

"No," replied Sara, "but I pulled black and red fibers from her clothes too."

"Well there's no black and red carpet in Sofia's apartment," said Nick, "so this could be something. Anything back from trace yet?"

"Let me check." After a quick phone call Sara discovered that the fibers pulled from Sofia's clothes were from the carpet of a car trunk.

"Sara," said Nick, "Sofia was set up. We gotta tell Grissom."

Sara and Nick quickly gathered up the evidence and rushed to Gil Grissom's office. They found him sitting in his chair reading a forensics journal. They talked through all the evidence and explained their theory about the inside job. Grissom didn't speak but listened intently, the only sign of recognition was the occasional twitch of his lower lip. Having considered the data for a few minutes he eventually spoke.

"The evidence is compelling and there's no doubt that Sofia was set up. But it's not enough to exonerate her, it's all circumstantial. We'll need something more definite if we're to get her out of this. Have you anything else to show me?"

"Only the photos I took of Sofia today," replied Sara. "But it's just bruising, nothing special." Sara paused for a moment as something occurred to her, "Except for this one set of pictures. She had a mark on her back, I couldn't make it out."

"Let me see," said Grissom. He poured over the photos, frowning in concentration. "A footprint," stated Grissom matter-of-factly. "Have you tried to match it with prints from the crime scenes?" he asked.

"No, I'll get right on it," said Sara as she turned to leave the room.

Grissom and Nick spent the time working through all the evidence, trying to find definite proof of Sofia's innocence. Their current theory was that Sofia was taken from the bar, probably drugged, tied up and put in the trunk of a car. From there she was taken to the judge's house where evidence of her presence was planted; things such as finger and footprints, as well as hair strands. It's likely she even shot the judge, but probably only when he was already dead. That would have left the trace gunshot evidence on her hands, not to mention the blood spatter on her shirt. Afterwards she was taken back to her apartment – roughly based on the bruising around the wrists, arms and ribs – where both she and the blood evidence were planted, thus completing the frame-up.

Nick called Archie to see if he'd finished checking the street cameras and CCTV of the areas around the bar, the judge's house and Sofia's apartment. Archie had found a suspicious car which was placed near each scene, but nothing that definitely linked it to the crime. The timing from the cameras showed that the car was in the vicinity of the bar first, then the judge's house and finally near Sofia's place. He had a make and model – a blue Buick Regal – but no number plate. Nick thanked Archie and hung up. His next call was to David Hodges.

"Do you have a car make from the fibers on Sofia's clothes?" Nick asked.

"Well, the fibers are black and red which is nothing unusual in itself," replied Hodges. "In fact, it's found in several hundred car makes and models."

"That's not much help," groaned Nick.

"I wouldn't be so sure," said Hodges. "I measured the fiber thickness and compared it to the specifications from each car manufacturer. The carpet is used by GM cars, Cadillacs and Buicks to be precise."

"Thanks Hodges," said Nick as he snapped closed his cell phone. He turned sharply as Sara rushed into the office.

"I checked out the footprint," she stuttered, out of breath. "It's a match to prints found at the judge's house and outside Sofia's apartment. I also checked the internal database to see if I could match the partial finger print."

"And..?" asked Grissom.

"Take a look for yourself." said Sara slapping down the report on Grissom's desk. Nick and Grissom read the sheet. "Jesus," cried Nick, "I don't believe it. Plus he drives a Buick!"

Grissom's expression turned grim. He picked up his phone and roughly punched numbers on keypad. "Brass, it's Grissom. Sofia's in danger. We need to get her out of here, now!"