"Okay, so what Hodges found was that the molds of the large dent in the kitchen table matched the hair dryer used to kill the victim," Sara reaffirmed.
Back at the original crime scene, Nick slammed the door to the GMC shut behind him. Something of what she'd just said stuck with him, somewhere... but he was having a hard time focusing. His nerves were beginning to feel fried.
"So, it didn't happen in one blow," Sara continued. "Whoever killed him must have missed the kitchen table, at one point or another."
"That's right..." Nick mused. "Which would imply that the victim was at least sober enough to know he was being attacked. He was able to evade it at least once."
"Matches David's findings in autopsy."
They crossed the yard and entered the front door with purpose. He could tell his every step was calling for one and a half from Sara, but he didn't care as much as he probably should have. He whipped his flashlight out like a baton, and clicked the beam on before it was even edged out of his vest's holder.
"So, where did you start?" inquired Sara. "Before you sent us away, you were by the body..."
Nick bit down on his tongue. Literally...
"I'm guessing you spread to the kitchen? After you were done looking upstairs with Morgan?"
"Yeah..." His mind automatically re-ran his path through the scene; he could see the evidence where it had been as clearly as if he were gathering it up again. "Here was the wood splinter-paint chip combo. Over there, I started finding bits and pieces of Clara..."
She was watching his every finger point like a hawk. He began to feel self-conscious, and his tone rose a little.
"Uhm... that was the mold of the dash on the kitchen table. But over in the living room, there should be a marker by the blood stain on the carpet, and the weird plant particles by the love seat, there..."
Sara nodded, and her eyes seemed to roam over the darkening room by themselves. "So, what do they not have?"
Nick rubbed the side of his neck. "Uh... the, uh... The plant particles."
Sara sighed, resignation all over her tone with her next sentence. "Somebody stole it, Nick. While you were here, somebody stole some of your evidence, at some point."
Nick looked up from the stain of blood. First at the ceiling, and then at her. "Yeah," he admitted. "Yeah... Somebody stole it."
She clicked her tongue. "Okay, then..."
A sinking feeling settled in him. And not just in his stomach, where it usually would. His arms felt limp. His shoulders felt heavy. His eyes would not seem to stay up. This was it: if he had skirted the bounds of the rules before in his career, there was no way around it, now.
"I'm screwed..." he muttered. His hands came up to his hair, and he exhaled a breath he hadn't noticed he was holding. He spun around a couple of times, and looked wherever his eyes fell.
He heard Sara's footsteps clanking on the floor, before he felt her hand clutch his shoulder. He turned, and looked right at her. He could feel the tension of his eyebrows pulling together. His facial muscles ached a little. His leg would not stop bouncing, nervously. And why not...? If there was room for a minor meltdown with anyone, it would have to be her. No one else had been there for so long. Even if they would understand, it wouldn't be the same...
Sara, however, didn't seem to notice the signs on his anxiety. Or at least, she didn't speak like she did... "You are not. We'll find them, Nick. And they know you. They know that these things happen, sometimes. I'll be a witness. It's going to be okay."
His bottom lip tightened, and his entire jaw tensed. Like a dog holding on to a bone too strong for it to chew through. For a moment, anyway...
But then: "Okay." And another relieving exhale. "Thank you, Sara. We got this."
Her toothy smile was extra noticeable in the faint sunlight still streaming through the windows. Along with the rest of her...
The call came from Brass shortly after they left the house. The original plan had been to go and find Martin Trem; their young rookie had offered his contact information as a bargaining chip for getting to go home for the night. Sara had figured the first hand experience with a case crisis would be good for him, at first... but she could hardly blame Nick for his reasoning.
"We'll file the formals after the fact," he had said. "He has a potential life time of this kind of headache ahead." And then, to their learner: "Go and get some rest, man."
She smiled at him through the side of her vision. He had agreed to let her drive while he jotted down all the details of the missing evidence. When the call had come through from Brass, his tone had changed rather abruptly – harshly... into one of business. She frowned at the steering wheel she was operating, and stole another glance over at him. He clicked the pen he was writing with in and out a couple of times.
And then put it to paper with a mumble of, "Found... the blood... by the kitchen..."
She grinned out the windshield, as she brought her attention back to the road. Dedication was no problem for tricky Nicky...
She frowned as she realized how odd that would sound if she'd said it loud. "Hey, Nick?"
"What?"
"Did you ever think of someone in a weird way? That you wouldn't say out loud?"
"Sure. I had the weirdest thought about Warrick, once. After he died..."
That changed her focus... Suddenly, her curiosity went through the roof. A considerably lengthy ride, given the height of the GMC... "Really? Like what?"
He grinned at the paper he was writing on. "I thought we said it was the kind of thing we wouldn't say out loud."
"Well, yes, but it's all fun and games until you drop a hint like that."
His teeth peeked out of his ever-widening smile. "Uh huh... Ask me some other time. I swear, I'll tell."
She giggled. "I'm holding you to that."
"Oh, I know..."
They rolled into the parking lot with ease. She was proud of her handling of such a large vehicle. She barely remembered Greg having made fun of her, the first time he'd ridden with her... It was kind of freeing to realize that he wasn't around to offer such "humor"...
She clicked the transmission in park, and undid the keys from the ignition at the same time. Realizing what her next question would have to be, she took a deep breath, first; if he said "yes", she would have to accept it...
"Are we splitting up?" she asked. "I'll go help Morgan and Hodges, you do the interrogation?"
His head shot up, and his answer came without a beat. "Not a fucking chance."
She leaned back a little behind his back, while he flung open the passenger door and hopped out. Her eyes widened a bit... But her cheeks also did that thing. Where one doesn't want to smile at something they don't understand, but can't help feeling like there's a reason they can't stop it.
Perhaps because he commented on it, it lasted all the way to the interrogation room. Which was extremely icy as they looked in... Leaving little doubt in Sara's mind about what to expect from Clara before they even began asking her questions: bitchiness.
"I do not understand this, Miss Sidle. I've been very cooperative. Why am I being brought in like a criminal?"
Sara opened her mouth to speak.
But Nick got there first. "Because you're a liar."
Clara regarded him like a fish on the beach. "And you are...?"
He leaned forward and folded his hands in front of him. "Nicholas Stokes. Case lead, and former customer... And I've got some questions for you. I want honest answers, this time."
She had stiffened up a bit. She gave one prominent blink, and began to address Sara again.
"Where is the other lady you came to the store with?"
The false concern in her voice set Sara's teeth on edge. "She's preoccupied. Don't worry; Nick has seen all the facts."
"Forgive me, but apparently not," said Clara. "Or else I don't think I would be under suspicion."
"We catch liars in this business, Clara," Sara shot back. "That's what we do. And we found some real holes in your story. We need answers. Real ones... Like Nick said. So explain to us how we found blood, and vaginal lubrication – all matched to you – in the kitchen at our crime scene?"
Clara made a odd movement with her head. Like she was sneering at the very suggestion... "What are you talking about? I was never told where your crime scene was at?"
Sara smiled derisively in a different direction.
Nick took it from there. In a rather dangerous tone of voice... "I don't think a jury is going to believe that your personal, intimate DNA just happened to be at the house of the man whose murder we asked you about. You told us you talked to an old lady. The home owner... who's been found dead, too. And the grandson... who you've claimed to have turned down an indirect offer to... is distraught by the loss of his family members. So quit screwing around, and tell us what you know about the situation."
A shudder shot up and down Sara's spine. And eventually settled in her legs rather uncomfortably...
Clara must have felt something, too. "Alright," she gave in, through a watery sounding voice. "I was there. I knew him. I may have been involved with him, just for an evening... It was too much; I couldn't let such a chance pass me by. Do you know how long it had been...? Almost a year!" And she turned to Sara. "Can you imagine a year without any kind of... physical intimacy, Miss Sidle?"
Sara flicked her eyebrows up, and looked away awkwardly. But not before catching Nick's tongue poking the inside of his bottom lip.
"When that gentleman came in, I... I just couldn't help it! He was so very nice looking... I had to accept it... My shift had ended, and I was free to go. I followed them to the house after I closed up."
Sara's torso had stiffened, slightly. Her eyes seemed to narrow themselves... "And you slept with him."
"I did. He– I... Well, we... Yes. All over..."
Under the table, Nick's hand clenched where it rested on his thigh. His leg was up in a bow shape, ankle rested on the opposite knee. He glared. "Why wouldn't you just tell us that?"
"Because of the– Because of what I woke up to the next morning..."
Her voice had dropped dramatically. Like she had just broached something nobody would blame her for not talking about. And for a moment, she didn't seem too inclined to continue.
Nick and Sara looked at each other for a second. And then back to the stifled young woman. Sara fought not to laugh when Nick angled his head towards her, lips jutted out inquiringly. "Yes...?" he pressed.
Clara's foot could be heard stamping once underneath the table. "Please, sir..." she beggingly whined. "I may have committed an... indiscretion, but I don't like unclean things. I don't want to talk about them."
Nick drew and released his next breath within the same half second. "Well, I guess that's just the way the cookie crumbles, huh? We need to know. I don't think you understand the serious legal implications, here. The man you were having a vigorous one stand with died in the same house that you both had it. Probably within the same time proximity... So you're gonna need to give me some details about the state of the house when you woke up."
She chewed on her bottom lip. "What if I refused?"
"Then we have great grounds for a warrant to search every known aspect of your life," Sara rattled out. "This won't be pretty either way, Clara."
The young woman seemed to be fastly approaching the realization of that unpleasant fact. She gave her foot another stamp, and then leaned forward with her head in her hands.
"Oh, alright... Okay." She gave a false sniffle, and brushed the bottom of her nose. "When I woke up, Mrs. Samekey was nowhere to be found. She had gone to bed quite soon after we had gone to the house. So, the next morning, I went downstairs, and there was a young man in the kitchen. And there were bruises all over him. He was crying... I felt so sorry for him, I just had to embrace him."
When the new tear rolled down the suspect's cheek, Sara squeezed her hands to dig her nail tips into her palms. What a bunch of shit...
"He told me that he couldn't find his grandmother, or his uncle. But there were a lot of alcohol bottles by his feet. So I asked him if there was anything I could do. And I left when he would hear of no help from me."
There were one or two details that stood out to Sara, but the first one to come to mind was cut off by Nick. "What was so horribly unclean about a bruised up–"
"–wait... You mean, it wasn't Brandon that you slept all over the house with?"
She eyed Nick like something strange again. "Oh, no. No, no, he was nothing like the gentleman that had brought Mrs. Samekey to the store. So large and strong... Such an awful drinking problem. But no troubles using the good Lord's gift to men that–"
Sara cut her off, too. "Thanks, Clara, we're good on that."
And then Nick turned to her, as she was rubbing her weary eyes for a moment. "That means Brandon didn't tell us the whole truth. If this is true... he was there before he came running up to the house this afternoon."
He seemed disappointed, but Sara was not surprised... Nevertheless, she thought comfort would be the more diplomatic approach, if she was to keep Nick going much longer.
"Nick..."
"'He was there'?" quoted Clara. "Oh, yes. Yes, he walked in on us in the kitchen. He most certainly knew..."
Nick sighed, and let his head bounce down on the table. Sara patted his back lightly, and looked to the wide-eyed Brass, standing by the double-edged wall that she knew Morgan was watching them through.