Chapter 22

The scene was almost sterile. The victim, a middle aged man, lay face down on the floor, with a single gunshot wound to the chest which had a clear exit wound in his back.

Detective Vega nodded his welcome as they came in and gave them a quick summary.

"Edward Keen, 45. Lived alone and worked from home. Neighbors heard a gunshot and hid in the basement, calling 911 from a cell phone."

The apartment was in pristine condition. Nothing seemed out of place. Donning some gloves, the CSIs got to work while waiting for the coroner. The bullet had hit the brick wall after leaving the victim and had shattered on impact. Sara took photos, but there wasn't much else evidence to be had. They searched the room with a fine tooth comb, but the bullet casing was nowhere to be found. The killer probably took it with him, Sara mused.

Only pros did that.

They moved to the other rooms in the apartment, working systematically. The bed was freshly made with a battered Da Vinci Code copy from Dan Brown lying on the bedside table. A folded piece of paper served to keep the place – it appeared to be a old shopping list. The kitchen was clean, with a cup and plate left in the drying rack. There was nothing to indicate that another person had been in the apartment. The trash can contained a tissue, empty beer can and discarded candy wrappers. There was no sign of forced entry and the door had been left unlocked, presumably by the killer. There was a distinct lack of physical evidence. The victim's personal computer was bagged to be taken to the lab.

The victim apparently ran an internet company from his home. Hopefully it would have something on it.

The pain in her side was getting worse, and Sara mentally went through her locker content. She was sure she had some Tylenol or something in there. Sara was putting away her kit in the Denali when her phone rang. It was from a blocked number.

"Sara Sidle."

"Sara, it's Starling– from the FBI. Sorry for phoning you so late."

"Hi Clarice. No it's no problem I work the night shift. What's up?"

"Good. I followed on the email you sent me, the one about Justine Nieves? Well, it turns out there has been quite a few discrepancies coming out of her office. We are going to bring her in. I just wanted to say thanks for the tip. How did you get onto it anyway?"

"I was working a case that put me into contact with law enforcement in South Africa. They confiscated a bunch of passports with US visas. Real ones. He thought it suspicious so he let me know."

"Holy crap. Well, it constitutes a real security risk, so thanks."

"Anytime."

She rang off, winching as she slipped the phone back into her pocket.

Warrick gave her a questioning look as she got into the car.

"You still working the poaching case? I thought it was closed long ago."

Sara gave him a bland look.

"Right. What was that about dodgy passports and visas?"

"They were found in South Africa, so I let my contact at the FBI know."

"Who, Agent Culpepper?" Warrick asked incredulously.

It was no secret that Grissom had nothing but disdain for the man, and Warrick found it hard to believe that Sara of all people should go to him.

"Of course not. Agent Clarice Starling." Sara frowned. "She just called to let me know they are looking at someone, that's all."

"Ok. Good for you girl. Just so long as Ecklie doesn't know."

"Why would it matter?" Sara could hardly contain her irritation. "Our job is to investigate crimes and chase criminals. What can notifying the FBI about a possible national security risk have anything to do with Ecklie?!"

"Wow easy. I'm not the enemy Sara. I'm just saying. You're not exactly his favorite person"

"Feeling is mutual. Look can we just get back to the lab please?" She had to find those Tylenol's in her locker…

The autopsy didn't reveal much. The bullet wound was a through and through and couldn't tell them much. From the GSR burn pattern on the shirt, Sara deduced that the killer was standing about two feet from the victim when he fired. Based on the size of the wound tract and the damage inflicted, Doc Robbins hazarded an educated guess that the gun was probably a 9mm. But since the bullet shattered on impact, they had no way to be sure. Some bullets were designed to stay in the body and cause maximum damage, such as .40 and .45. Sara felt pretty sure they could rule those out for the time being.

"What is up with the vic's hand?" Warrick indicated to the left hand of the body. It had a sickly yellow tinge to it.

"Long term smoker." Doc. Robbins replied. "The nicotine stained his hand. You should see what it did to his lungs."

Warrick was working with Archie on the vic's laptop. Sara resolved to do some ballistics research. Bobby Dawson said he'd meet Sara in the Ballistics lab. The bullet had hit a single layer brick wall that was painted white. Sara was interested in knowing if it was possible to narrow down which gun was used by doing an experiment of comparing how different bullets fragmented when fired into a brick. She and Bobby were going to shoot some bricks.

Sara grabbed two Tylenols from her locker and swallowed them down with bottled water. She knew she shouldn't do that on an empty stomach but she felt too nauseous to eat. She swallowed a Clopamon tablet as an afterthought.

Bobby had set up the experiment with a few weapons that use 9mm ammo and was commonly used. They knew the victim was standing about a foot from the wall when he was shot and the killer stood about two feet away. The tests would be done from three feet to see if they could replicate the crime scene in the lab. Bobby chose an American tactical Pistol, a Beretta semi-automatic pistol, a Thunderback, a Bersa Thunder pistol, a Colt and a Glock for the experiment as they were the most common. There were many other potential weapons but Sara felt confident in Bobby's choice. One by one they fired the 9mm bullets into the brick wall, but to Sara's dismay, all of the bullets shattered or disintegrated on impact. It took them hours and the constant sounds of gunshot were giving her a headache. The Tylenol had done squat for the abdominal pain.

Warrick came to find them just as they were finishing up.

"What are you guys doing?" He wanted to know with a smile.

"Trying to figure out what gun might have been used. But we're striking out. You?"

Sara peeled of her gloves and earplugs and sat on the bench, gripping her right side. Bobby was busy putting away the weapons they had just used.

"No luck either. We checked his computer. He ran a sales company online. As far as I can tell he did all of his business online. He played a few online games, but only on weekends and nothing really dodgy. Apart from some soft porn, there isn't anything noteworthy on it. No angry emails. No threats. Nothing to go on." He then gave her a quizzical look "You okay? You look a little pale."

Sara hated feeling weak. Her whole life and entire career revolved around her being able to take care of herself. Plus she felt angry and frustrated with herself for not making progress in the case. Her work was her life.

"Yeah I fine. Just a cramp. Probably just need to eat something."

She wasn't hungry, quite the contrary, the thought of food made her stomach reel, but she wasn't about to tell Warrick that.

"Well let's go get something then," he indicated to the break room over his shoulder. "By the way, the fingerprints all came back belonging to the vic. Including those found in the trash can"

"Damn. And the DNA analysis of the tissue?"

"Also victim DNA."

"Great, so we have no suspect, no motive, no murder weapon and apart from the body, no evidence." Sara summed it up as they sat down in the plushy chairs.

"Maybe we missed something at the scene?"

"We were there for hours Warrick. Do you think we missed something?" She was touchy but tried to keep her temper, realizing it was because of her abdominal pain.

"No. I spoke to Vega. None of the neighbors really even knew the guy. No one ever visited and he only left his house occasionally. No one has a clue as to what might have happened."

Closing her eyes, Sara ran a hand over her eyes. Fighting to ignore the pain and keep down the building nausea.

"Maybe we should go ask Grissom?" She suggested. She could think of nothing else.

"You feeling ok?" Warrick asked again, Sara wasn't exactly the type of person to willingly ask for help.

"I will if you stop asking," she snapped getting up. "Do you have a better idea?"

"Nope, talking it out with Grissom seems like a plan."

When they came into his office, Grissom was doing paperwork, listening to music through his earphones. He smiled when he looked up and saw them come in. He frowned when he looked at Sara, but any question he might have had died on his tongue when he saw the look on her face. Warrick outlined the case and their work so far while Grissom listened intently.

"Honestly I don't think there is much more you could do. Sometimes there's nothing more we can do."

"How can that be your answer?" Sara asked searching his eyes. "That's not nearly good enough"

"There isn't anything more to do," Grissom answered gently. "Look, shift is over. Go home, get some sleep. Next case will go better."

Sara held his eyes and to her dismay felt her own beginning to water. Again she hated herself for her weakness. She felt bile rising in her throat. Leaving Warrick, she stormed out of Grissom's office. She urgently needed to reach the ladies bathroom. In her rush, she wasn't looking where she was going and almost walked slap bang into Ecklie.

"What the hell have you done Sidle?"

Sara had to mentally shift gear and scanned the last few hours for any possible transgressions. Ecklie however didn't give her time to find her bearings.

"Did you interrogate the Nieves girl on her own without her parents or legal representation?"

Sara realized what the man was talking about.

"The Vincent Greeves case? We spoke to all his friends."

"Did you also grill them on the doings of their uncles? Conrad Nieves came to see me. He is a very important man in the community and a close personal friend."

Ecklie folded his arms over his chest in an aggressive stance.

Sara was formulating a reply, but she had a more pressing problem she didn't have as much control over as showing her dislike for Ecklie. Unable to help herself, she bent double and violently vomited onto the floor, all over Ecklie and his trousers. A small part of her said she should've enjoy this moment more, but she was feeling far too miserable to care much. Mumbling an apology, she pushed passed the lab director and rushed to the bathroom. This time she made the toilet but only just. Not that there had been much in her stomach to start with. When she was done and had gathered some sense of her pride, Sara just grabbed her phone and keys from her locker and made a dash to her car. The pain in her flank was so bad it hurt when she walked on her right leg.

She had to stop twice on the way home to vomit unceremoniously next to the road.

Reaching her apartment she washed her face and hunted in the medicine cupboard till she found a single Stemetil. Taking that with a little water she sat on the bath rug next to the toilet and concentrated on keeping the pill down. She figured it was some form of food poisoning, probably that egg-mayo sandwich she ate the previous day, and that she would just have to wait it out. The Stemetil seemed to help and using a folded towel as a pillow Sara lay down on the bathroom floor. The tiles felt wonderfully cool through her clothes. She shrugged off her jersey and chucked it into the washing basket.

She woke up in order to vomit. Her head swam and she had difficulty in focusing. Obviously this was more serious that she had thought. She was felt disorientated and became slightly panicky. Taking her phone from her pocket, she reacted to the only clear thought in her mind.

Phone Grissom.

He answered after the third or fourth ring, his voice heavy with sleep.

"Grissom."

"Griss, I think…..I'm." She could hear herself slur and closed her eyes to force a more coherent sentence out.

"Sara?"

"Um. It was off….I..um"

"Sara, are you drunk?"

It had pretty much the same effect as a slap to the face. She felt her entire body go cold and limb. How does he not understand?

"No, I….I think I'm…"

"Sara, how could you?" The angered and disappointment dripped over the line. "Phone me when you're sober then we can talk" And he hung up.

Sara sat listening to the disconnected signal pounding in her ear. Her thoughts were all jumbled, but the fact that Grissom thought that she was drunk registered loud and clear. Tears leaked out of the corners of her eyes. She really had thought that he knew her better than that. Dropping her phone on the bathroom floor, she just grabbed the keys to her Pruis and stumbled to her car. She had to really concentrate, and she prayed for quiet roads as she made her way to Desert Palm Hospital.

The guard at the door strode forward purposefully when she pulled up to the ambulance bay, but when he saw her falling to her knees to once again dry-heave, he shouted for some porters.

Sara was vaguely aware that someone were carrying her and laying her on a gurney. She realized she didn't even have her purse or drivers license with her.

Someone had shown a light in her eyes.

"What's your name? Can you tell me your name?"

"Sara Sidle," she said swallowing hard. "I called him…" She said as more tears leaked out of her eyes.

She assumed the person leaning over her must be a doctor and it was the last coherent thought she had before she slipped into unconsciousness.