A/N: What would a copycat copy if the copycat copied the copycat? Lol. Just a weird thought. Back to the case we go :P
A huge thank you to my current Pat reon supporters – Nat, Mrs Crabby, Dbackfan, AliceC, ChristineS, DawnS, Jillian, IngridT, Tracer85, NiniZ and NancyB.
Always, my gracious thanks to calim for the beta, suggestions and friendship :)
On we go…
Chapter 19
The next day
Max sipped on her strong black coffee as she waited for someone to answer her call. It rang half a dozen times before someone picked up.
"Hello?" a male voice asked.
Stiffening, Max put the coffee down.
Oh, hi," she replied. "May I speak with Doctor Vincent Lurie, please?"
There was a moment silence.
"This is he," Lurie replied. "Who is calling?"
"Doctor Lurie, my name is Doctor Maxine Roby. I'm the director of the Las Vegas crime lab."
More silence.
"Okay," he finally replied.
Max knew she had to play this right. Nice and polite, Max. Get him on your side.
"I was calling to see if you wouldn't mind coming down to the office. And I'd like to apologize for breaking into your vacation time."
Lurie cleared his throat. "You've spoken to the hospital?"
"I have," Max admitted. "I called them first. They advised you were off on vacation."
A sigh came. "What is this about, Doctor Roby?"
"We very much need your help on a current case."
"And is this mandatory, Doctor Roby?" Lurie asked calmly.
"Not at all," Max said swiftly. "But it would help us if we can eliminate your name from our investigation."
"What investigation?" Lurie immediately questioned.
Picking up her coffee, Max took a quick sip.
"It would probably be best to discuss that with you in person."
A light chuckle came down the phone making Max's eyebrows rise.
"Forgive me," Lurie continued. "But I am not in the habit of paying social visits to the Las Vegas crime lab. At least not without a very solid reason. I'm sure you are aware of my… previous encounters with your establishment."
Max thought for a second, considering her options. It was unlikely he'd talk to them without at least some information.
"We are currently investigating a murder case and it appears we have a copycat killer replicating previous crimes."
"And what does that have to do with me?"
"Our most recent discovery is a replication of the scene and the victim, Debbie Marlin," she told him.
Now there was a much longer silence followed by Lurie clearing his throat.
"I see," he said flatly.
"So perhaps now you can understand why talking with you would be essential to our investigation?" Max asked.
"I was cleared of any involvement in that, Doctor Roby," he insisted.
"Yes, you were," she agreed promptly. "And, as I said, this is more routine to remove you from the equation. I'm sure you can understand that. Plus, you are a surgeon, and our victim has possibly been murdered by someone with surgical skills. Perhaps you could offer us your professional opinion?"
"Okay, fine," he agreed. "When?"
Max picked up a pen. "Whenever is convenient for you but the sooner the better really."
"I could come down at some point later this afternoon," he said. "I'm not sure exactly what time though."
"I'll be here," she replied, scribbling on a piece of paper. "I'll let the main desk know to expect you".
"Then I'll see you this afternoon. I assume I don't need to bring my attorney?"
If this had been someone else and not a guy Max knew had gotten away with murder, she might have smiled. But not this time.
"You won't. Bye, Doctor Lurie."
As she hung up, a knock sounded at the door. Looking up, she watched Grissom and Sara enter.
"Not disturbing you are we?" Sara asked.
"Erm, no," Max quickly said, getting up. "How are you two this morning?"
Both turned their heads together to look at each other.
"We're doing okay," Sara replied, giving Grissom a smile before returning her attention to the younger woman. "Where do you want us?"
Leaning back against her desk, Max folded her arms.
"Well, Josh and Catherine got in super early, and they are on their way to the garbage depot. I plan to have the others continue processing but I still need someone to speak with Meryl Jones' mother if your offer to do so is still open?"
Again, the couple exchanged a look.
"We can do that," Grissom agreed.
"Great. I'll grab the address," she said, moving back to her desk and the small stack of papers sitting there.
"Any news on the vault?" Grissom asked.
Finding the information she was looking for, Max looked up.
"Some fingerprints, hair samples but as we know it's going to be very difficult to pinpoint it to a suspect."
"Yeah," Grissom sighed, biting on his lip. That was certainly true.
"Anyone who goes in there has to sign in right?" Sara pointed out. "And sign items out."
"Yes," she said as she stood. "But, if we're looking for someone who has had sticky fingers in the past six months, that's hundreds, if not thousands of people who could have been in there. If we knew roughly when it would be a totally different story."
Grissom rubbed his chin. "I don't suppose they were stupid enough to just walk out with said items in full view either."
Frowning, Sara looked at him. "There is CCTV at the reception."
"Yeah," Grissom agreed, "but they would have concealed what they took. Likely just walked out with it in another box as if they were taking something for an investigation. Plus, going through six months' worth of CCTV footage just in case they weren't conspicuous enough?"
"Good point," Sara agreed.
Grissom nodded. "What was the Undersheriff's reaction?"
"Well," Max began, clearing her throat, "I'm surprised you didn't see the flames shooting out of his nostrils when you walked in. Not only do we have a huge breach but said person doing the breaching could be among us. "
"Last time we had a breach everything got locked down," Sara pointed out. "Why hasn't that happened this time?"
Max looked over their shoulders. "Close the door so we have some privacy. Take a seat and I'll explain."
CSICSICSICSICSICSICSI
Driving to Northridge where Meryl Jones' mother lived, Sara was having a hard time grasping the idea that someone in the lab, right now, could be involved in all this. It made her skin crawl.
Grissom, on the other hand, took the news with a pinch of salt. At that point they had no way of proving who may be involved. So instead of wasting energy or their nerves on 'what if' he'd rather they concentrate on getting the proof they needed to find said person. And ultimately, hopefully, their killer.
Instead, he focused on what Max told them about her discussion with the Undersheriff.
He'd been pissed that his lab had yet again become compromised. And this one was so much worse than Anson Wix. Taking multiple pieces of actual case evidence from the premises without anyone noticing to, again, use in another murder?
It was crazy.
It was a very tricky situation. The Undersheriff had to inform IA. But Max made the case to him that if IA came in all guns blazing throwing accusations around, their perp would sink into a hole and they might never find them. Their best play, in her opinion and even though risky, was to keep it as quiet as possible and let their killer think they were still in control. Even if technically they were, shouting from the hills they knew someone in the building was involved wouldn't help them. Max knew it and thankfully the Undersheriff knew that, too. And after Wix, he couldn't be made a fool of, again.
He'd agreed to speak with IA about keeping their find under wraps. Whether they agreed, he didn't know but speaking with Nora Cross would probably help. At least Max knew she was on their side. So, for now, all they could do was wait to find out what the decision may be.
So, on with the investigation.
Giving Grissom a quick look as she turned onto the next street, Sara dropped a hand to his knee.
His head turned in her direction and she flashed him a quick smile making sure she didn't take her eyes off the road for long. The last thing they needed at that point was to have an accident.
"Any dizziness this morning?" she asked him.
He frowned. "Um… no…"
Pulling up at a stop sign, she looked at him again.
"I know you and even though I didn't mention it yesterday, I know you were struggling." He swallowed but all she did was smile again. "Please don't keep me in the dark, okay? If you need support you have to tell me."
Managing a weak smile back, he nodded.
"Good," Sara said, pulling away.
Clearing his throat, Grissom pointed to the right. "Should be just over here."
Checking the GPS, Sara noted her husband was indeed correct and pulled up outside the house. Killing the engine, she took a breath.
"Been a while since we had to do this." Her eyes again found his as they looked at each other.
"Yeah," Grissom agreed. "A long while."
Nodding her agreement, her eyes flicked to the mirror to see the chaperoning patrol car pull up behind them.
"Ready?" she asked him.
He nodded and they both got out of the car, Sara giving the two officers standing by their car a wave.
"You guys should be okay to wait here. We can holler if we need you."
"No problem, Sara," one of them called back.
The couple headed down the front path and towards the front door, Sara pressing the doorbell when they reached it. After a few moments the door opened and a middle-aged women, long brown hair, glasses and looking rather tired stood in front of them.
"Mrs. Jones?" Sara asked softly.
"No," the women answered. "You'll be looking for my sister. Are you from the crime lab?"
"Yes," Sara answered softly. "I'm Sara Sidle and this is Gil Grissom."
"Mia Cole," she said. "Come on in."
Sara nodded and the couple entered the house, Mia closing the door behind them.
"Emma needed some support," she said, "so I stayed with her last night."
"How is she?" Sara asked, giving her a sympathetic look vaguely noticing Grissom looking around.
"Devastated," Mia told them. "We're still all in shock to be honest."
"We're sorry for your loss," Grissom said sadly.
"Thanks." Mia pointed behind her. "She's in here?"
Following Mia through the house, they entered a living room with a television on, spying a woman sitting on the couch.
"Emma," Mia said, placing a soft hand on her sister's shoulder. The woman looked up. "The people from the crime lab are here to speak with you, honey."
She blinked.
"Oh," she answered, her head turning towards Grissom and Sara. "Um, sorry."
Slowly rising, she turned to look at her visitors.
"We're very sorry," Sara said sympathetically. "And we appreciate you speaking with us. We know this is a very difficult time for you."
"Thank you," Emma said quietly. "Please take a seat."
CSICSICSICSICSICSICSI
Showing her ID to the security officer in the booth at the main gate, Catherine pulled her car into the depot. Parking in a spot not too far from the main office, she spotted a sign on a large billboard above it.
"Republic services of Southern Nevada."
Folsom repositioned his sidearm in its holster and straightened his jacket.
"For all your garbage needs," he added with a smile.
"Well," Catherine began as they got out of the car, "what we need right now is a suspect, so let's hope this trip isn't just a load of garbage."
Smirking, Folsom watched as Serena pulled her vehicle in next to theirs.
"I can think of better places to spend my morning," the detective said, sniffing the air as she got out. "Garbage smells better than death though."
"You should go to the landfill," Catherine suggested. "Nostril overdrive."
"I think I'll pass on that one for today," she said with a smile as they headed towards the building.
As they reached the main door to the office building, they stopped and looked around when hearing what sounded like water running.
They saw multiple parked garbage trucks. At least 12. One guy started hosing down the exterior of one of them. A little further away were several other buildings and what looked like a storage warehouse of some sort. Multiple employees trotted about doing one thing or another.
"Well, I'm not sure we'll get any evidence from the trucks," Folsom pointed out. "Even if we had to look there."
Catherine's eyebrows rose as she looked at him. "Good job the killer left us the bodies then," she said with a smirk.
Opening the office door, the trio walked inside. It was pretty small. A couple of desks with computers, water cooler, filing cabinets and certainly no air-conditioning. Hot as hell was the best way to define how it felt in there.
As Catherine waved a hand in front of her face to stave off the heat, the only man in the office looked up from his desk.
"Can I help you folks?" he asked, getting up.
"I hope so," Catherine answered pulling out her ID. "Las Vegas Crime lab."
"Ah, yeah," he said looking closely at the ID. "My assistant spoke with someone briefly yesterday who said you needed to ask some questions about the route my boys take? I'm Jeff Cox, the depot manager. What can I help you with?"
"Are you familiar with the garbage collections along Madison Avenue?" Serena asked him.
Giving a nod, he leaned against the desk. "Of course. I've being doing my job for over 20 years. Pretty much have every street etched into my brain."
"How often do you collect the garbage there?" Catherine queried.
"Every two weeks."
She nodded. "And when should the next collection be?"
"Day after tomorrow."
Folsom looked impressed at his speedy answers. "You really do know your job."
"Of course," Jeff confirmed with a hint of pride. "I make a good living organizing your trash but what does that have to do with the LVPD?"
"We're investigating a double murder," Catherine informed him. "At a property on Madison avenue."
Jeff frowned. "Oh."
"One of the bodies was put in the trash in the alleyway behind the house," Serena added.
Now Jeff looked well and truly confused. "So, because someone put a body in a trashcan you think someone here could be involved? That's ridiculous."
"Just some general inquiries," Folsom assured him. "We have to scratch off every possibility because the body had been there a while."
Still looking confused, Jeff shook his head. "What does that mean?"
"It means there is a possibility someone knew when the trash collection was," Serena said. "Which means we have to eliminate the people aware of said collection."
Shrugging his shoulders, Jeff moved around the desk and sat in a chair.
"Still sounds a bit farfetched and I don't think any of my boys are who you are looking for."
Tapping on the keyboard for a few moments, the jitter of a printer sounded. Taking hold of the paper, he held it out to Serena.
"This is a plan of the route, and each garbage can location. I'm not sure what else to tell you."
Serena looked at Folsom and then Folsom's eyes flicked to Catherine.
Clearing her throat, Catherine wasn't sure how far she'd get with her next request.
"Can you give us a list of the names and address of the staff who work this route?"
"Look," Jeff began. "I'm all for cooperating but I'm not sure the Union would appreciate that unless you have a warrant. I'd get my ass fired."
"Actually, you can give us names," Josh argued. "This is an investigation, and we need to question suspects or witnesses."
Biting on his lip, Jeff seemed to be considering his options.
"Fine," he agreed, going back to the computer. "Even if it's just to get you off our backs and get this sorted out." He began tapping on the keyboard again. "You just want the names of the people from the Madison Avenue route, right?"
"Anyone who would work that route in the last month," Serena confirmed.
With a nod, he began pulling up worker records and writing them on a piece of paper but then he stopped, the pen in his hand freezing.
Catherine noticed and looked at her colleagues. "Is everything okay?" she asked him.
"Um." He frowned again. "I probably shouldn't be telling you this and if anyone asks, I didn't, okay?"
The trio looked at each other again.
"What is it?" Serena pushed.
He continued writing then held out a piece of paper. "The name I've circled. He lives on Madison Avenue."
A/N: Hmmm, are they going to find something useful? We shall we :) All thoughts welcome and thanks for reading.