Chapter 12, The Hidden
HOURS LATER, back at the lab, Sara resumed her work and reviewed the analyses from the previous day—before the accident that had left her face partially swollen and bruised. When she looked in the mirror that morning, she realized the damage hadn't been as bad as it could have been. The anti-inflammatory, the ointment, and the ice had clearly worked together to make that happen, and she could already speak and move her mouth with more ease. Even the people passing by her didn't seem too startled. Great!
Greg worked silently beside her, gathering and analyzing more evidence to strengthen the case and support a possible arrest warrant—which, in his opinion, should have been issued the day of the murder.
Earlier, Sara had compared samples from the screen with the imprint left on Ben Cornwell's shirt, confirming that the girl's father had indeed pressed himself against the window from which she was thrown. However, they needed more evidence to complete the narrative. After all, as she tried to explain to Greg, the lawyer could simply argue that Ben had leaned against the window just to look down.
What Sara couldn't get out of her head was the motive. Why would a father throw his child out of a window? Abusing, assaulting, and killing someone—especially a child—was already heinous enough, but having the cold blood to throw them out like trash was another level: more perverse, more vulgar, more unforgivable.
Throughout her years in forensic work, this wasn't the first time Sara had dealt with cases of parents killing children, or children killing parents. But the cruelty involved always found ways to evolve, even though the real definition of evolution had nothing to do with it.
Her thoughts were interrupted by Brass entering the room.
"Have you heard the news?"
Sara and Greg shook their heads.
"The lawyer withdrew from the case."
Sara and Greg looked at each other, their mouths slightly open.
"No explanations to the media or the police. The new lawyer is some guy who looks like he hands out business cards in front of the station," Brass said with a mocking laugh.
"Could the lawyer have figured out who the killer was before we did?" Greg asked.
"Yesterday, I had the impression he was discovering a lot during questioning," Sara said, looking at them. "He was just too good at keeping it subtle."
"He probably went back to his office, had a frank conversation with the Cornwells, and decided not to tarnish his name," Brass concluded.
"I'd say so," Sara replied.
Brass said he was off to find Grissom, and Sara returned to work with Greg. The only thing they hadn't found was the object used to cut the safety nets. It could have been a box cutter, an extremely sharp knife, or a pair of scissors. Sara's bet—though she hoped Grissom couldn't hear her thoughts about this—was on the scissors. Quick, found in every household, efficient, and producing the same type of cut seen on the netting.
Given how clean and precise the cut was, it was clear that the safety net hadn't been torn by hand. Besides the fact that such an action would leave marks or even injure someone's hands—something that hadn't been found on any of the house's residents or any other interviewees—the material itself would have shown more irregular tears.
On the day of the crime, Sara, Grissom, and, after several long hours, Greg, had searched the room for any object that could have facilitated the crime. But amidst all the commotion—impossible to avoid—and the general disarray of the house, it had been impossible. Sara let out a small sigh of frustration at herself. They should have searched more thoroughly. At that moment, she felt regret for not pushing herself harder and not motivating the team to continue looking.
"What is it, Sara?" Greg asked, and she looked at him.
She shook her head, unsure whether to say anything, but Greg kept staring at her, making her impatient.
"You know… Sometimes I think I neglect my work."
Two seconds of silence passed before Greg burst into laughter, as if he had been holding it in for hours—like when you want to laugh at an inappropriate moment but remember you're at a funeral.
"Sara, if I didn't know better, I'd say you sleep with your work."
She raised an eyebrow. Well, in a way…
"Why are you saying that?" Greg asked, genuinely curious.
"Because… I don't think we looked hard enough for the cutting object. I mean… A child had just died in a brutal way, and… What did we walk away with?"
In response, Greg held up the extensive list of evidence boxes. It was probably the longest evidence list Sara had seen in years. Not to mention the images that took up so much server space that Archie had compared it to the size of the entire Lord of the Rings trilogy with the director's commentary.
"You don't get it… It can't be like this, you know?"
Greg looked at Sara, unsure of what to say. He knew her well enough to understand how dedicated she was and how much she demanded of herself. But he also understood that not everything was about logic, even though they were scientists. They had spent more than 12 hours collecting evidence inside the house, focusing especially on the girl's room and the living room. Two vehicles had been needed to transport all the evidence from the apartment to the lab. Everything that could tell the story of how Naeve Cornwell was murdered had been collected—he was sure of it.
And if something hadn't been collected, like the cutting object, they could go back and search again. They hadn't returned earlier because the case had evolved in other directions—with the car, the videos, the testimonies, the fingerprints, the entry and exit records, the collected clothing, and, of course, the body. It was clear that Sara was deeply upset, but Greg had the feeling that the real reason was locked away in a hidden compartment—Wait!
"Sara!" Greg exclaimed, startling her.
"The Cornwells work with cabinets, right?" Greg asked.
"Yes, exactly."
"What if there's a false back in one of the cabinets in the apartment? That would explain why the couple didn't come downstairs immediately, why there were so many phone calls, and—"
"…why we didn't find anything."
Sara beamed at him.
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When Greg and Sara returned to the apartment with two uniformed officers, the place was exactly as they had left it. Some neighbors, out of curiosity, peeked from their doors, but thankfully, they didn't ask any questions or, worse, try to enter. Sara noticed, however, that the hallway cameras were blinking back at her—the way they should have been. A shame that a child had to die for that to happen.
The apartment was filled with cabinets. No surprises there. Following the logic, the ones most likely to have a false back or bottom were the bathroom cabinets—to hide medicine from children—and the bedroom closets.
"So, since you had the idea, you get to choose: bathroom or bedroom?" Sara asked Greg.
"Oh my, I thought this moment would never come. You know, with you, even in this mess," Greg said in an overly fake seductive tone.
Sara had to laugh. Oh, Greg, if only you knew.
"You don't know me at all. I'd never do it in a mess. Especially a crime scene mess."
"Ouch."
"So, if you don't choose, I will."
"Okay, I'll take the bathroom, no problem."
They split up—Sara heading straight for the master bedroom while Greg went to the bathroom. Inside the cabinet, Greg found the usual: hygiene products and some pill bottles. Carefully, he removed everything and checked for hollow spaces or removable panels but found nothing.
Then he noticed another cabinet behind him. He crouched down, opened it carefully, but all he found were towels, toilet paper, and diapers. Again, he removed everything and checked the back and doors for hidden compartments. Nothing.
With no success, Greg decided to help Sara in the bedroom.
When he arrived, he found her leaning into the closet. It was massive and, as expected, packed with stuff. The couple clearly had a tendency to hoard. To speed things up, Greg signaled to Sara that he would check the other end, where the closet wall met the bedroom wall.
He started pulling out Ben's clothes, placing them on the bed, when he heard Sara yell triumphantly, "YEAH!"
"You're a genius, Greg! Here it is!" Sara exclaimed. She stepped back just enough to grab the camera and photograph the find, while Greg moved closer to get a better look and help pack the evidence.
"This is it, and luckily for us… I think I can already see some parts of the net here," Greg said hopefully.
"Shall we take another look just to be sure?" Sara asked. "I know it sounds crazy, but it doesn't hurt."
Greg agreed, and together they inspected all the cabinets, searching for a false bottom or some kind of opening leading to a hidden compartment. But the master bedroom wardrobe was the only one with such a feature. And if they were honest with themselves, it made the most sense.
Inside the car, Sara asked Greg, "Based on what we know about the couple, do you think hiding the scissors was their idea, or did someone give them the tip?"
Greg looked at her and smiled.
"I don't think so."
TBC