CHAPTER 21
They entered the break room side by side. Catherine smiled at Sara in approval. Nick and Warrick sipped coffee and idly scanned some of the forensics journals that littered the table near the television. The game controllers were nowhere in sight.
“Sorry I’m late, guys,” Grissom announced. “Here are the assignments.” Peering at the sheaf of slips in his hand, he started reading. “Warrick, you’re with me. Dead body in the dessert.”
Warrick snatched the paper from Grissom’s hand. “Nice. I could use some time away from the bright lights.” He nudged Sara with an elbow. “Convince Griss we should be a team. You’re way better looking than he is.”
Catherine pressed her hand over her mouth to cover her laugh as Sara gave Warrick a wide-eyed look. “’Rick, you can’t compare Sara to Gil. That’s just wrong,” she teased. “I mean, a scruffy, absent-minded professor and –“
“Before we get lost in admiring Sara, I have more assignments.” Grissom smirked. “I’m turning over a new leaf…becoming the supervisor I never wanted to be.” He looked at the next pink form. “Sara, this will help me get back in the running. DB in a dumpster.” The paper rattled as he flourished it.
***
“Great,” Sara said unenthusiastically. What was it about being low man on the totem that ended up in dumpsters and sewers? “Glad I dressed down today.” Taking the slip Grissom thrust her way, she read the address. A dumpster and a long drive. How long until the weekend?
As she strode to the door, Catherine’s voice drifted through the room. “Not even garbage would make Sara less beautiful, Gil. Plus, garbage-covered means a shower when she gets back.”
All thoughts of the dumpster faded. “Cath?” Sara felt glued in place. The normal sounds of the lab faded. Even the chuckles and comments from Nick and Warrick didn’t make an impression.
Catherine appeared off-balance for a moment, and a pale pink tinted her cheeks. “Hey,” she replied, tossing her hair, “I call it like I see it.” Waving a hand at Grissom, Catherine continued, “You versus Gil. You win every time.” Her blue eyes met Sara’s for an instant and then flickered away.
That…wasn’t what Sara had secretly hoped. Shoulders slumping slightly, she forced a grin. “Depends on what you’re looking for, I guess. I can’t match Grissom’s five o’clock shadow, that’s for sure. Later.” She waved and walked into the hallway.
As she left the building and climbed into her vehicle, Sara ruefully acknowledged that she was officially a fool. In Vegas for less than a week and already lusting after a straight, completely unavailable coworker. Shouldn’t age bring wisdom…or at least the need to avoid more pain?
The engine roared with more force than necessary as she toed the accelerator. With a soft thud, the Tahoe dropped into reverse, and Sara pulled out of the parking space.
It didn’t matter. Catherine was a friend. She could live with that – and admire her friend’s beauty when no one was looking. Sara wheeled the big SUV into traffic and forced her concentration back onto her job.
***
The smell reached Sara the second
she got out of the Tahoe. God, she hated dumpster diving. Even with the move,
she had seniority over Nick. Why wasn’t he the one pulling overalls over his
clothes? Grumbling to herself,
she zipped up the shapeless blue outfit, grabbed her kit, and dodged puddles
and trash as she walked around the coroner’s van.
Detective Evans stood illuminated
by the strobing red and blue lights of the police
cruisers.
“Hey,” Sara greeted him. “Got a
name on the vic?”
A grin appeared briefly on Evan’s
face. “Sorry, Sara. It’s not like she was carrying a
purse.”
What did that mean? Hooker? Drug dealer? Sara sat her evidence kit on the ground and pulled on two pairs of latex gloves. A face mask beckoned. Reaching out, she stroked the item. No. Smell was an important part of the job. The mask might block something important. She closed the kit and turned, planting one foot on the front of the dumpster.
A hand cupped her butt.
Sara’s muscles tightened, her breath coming faster. The already-dark alley dimmed further.
“Here, let me help you.” Detective Evans’ other hand wrapped lightly around her hip. “Swing your leg over. I’ll make sure you don’t fall.”
The light returned to the alley. “Thanks,” Sara said softly, hoping the lack of volume would hide the tremor in her voice. It took two tries to straddle the top of the dumpster; her knees were shaky and her energy was depleted from the adrenaline surge.
As soon as she got settled, Sara peered into the trash below. A woman’s body, wrapped in clear plastic, lay nestled on top of the refuse. Snapping a few pictures, she commented to Evans, “I see your point about the ID. Any information at all?” The flash whined loudly as she continued to take shots.
“Nothing. Not a lot of foot traffic…or any traffic here this time of night.” Evans leaned on the dumpster near her thigh. “Anything good in there with her?”
Chuckling, Sara shook her head and looped the heavy camera over her neck and shoulder. “Too dark. I’ll need some techs to bag the top twelve inches of trash and haul it back to the lab. Maybe the killer dropped something when he dumped the body.” She removed the leg on the inside of the dumpster and jumped to the ground. “For now, let’s get her out.”
***
Wiping her hands on her pant legs, Catherine tried to regain her composure after Sara left. It wasn’t easy. Nick and Warrick were still snickering and watching her.
Gil, of course, was completely clueless. “Here, Cath. You and Nick take this one. Verbum Dei Charter School. Four-twenty homicide. The school dean was killed in his office. The suspect called it in; could be self-defense.” Another pink slip waved in the air as he held it out.
Not wanting to deal with the smirking Nick, Catherine took the paper. “You know, it sounds fairly routine. I can spare Nick if you and Warrick need another pair of hands.”
Damn. Even Grissom caught the thread of unease in her voice. “Everything OK, Catherine?”
“Fine.” Her reassurance came out too fast and too emphatic. Trying to modify her tone and get Grissom’s eyebrows out of his hairline, Catherine smiled. “Just trying to be helpful, boss. You know me…always looking out for the team.”
That set off another round of laughter.
Ignoring Warrick and Nick, Grissom nodded slowly. “Take Nick.”
“You got it.” Waving goodbye to her hopes of avoiding questions, Catherine gestured to Nick. “Let’s go find out which rich kid offed the dean with his silver spoon.”
She started for the door.
“Oh, it wasn’t a student,” Grissom called after her. “It was the woman who founded the school.”
Catherine waved an acknowledgement but didn’t stop. She heard Nick scrambling behind her, his sneakers squeaking on the polished floor.
He finally caught up as she hurried past the receptionist desk. “So, Cath…”
Wanting to close her eyes, Catherine braced. Here came the questions.
“Me and Warrick. We look at Sara. I even had that shower thought.” Nick opened and held the door for Catherine. “You? That was a surprise.”
She had to stay cool. “Why? Just because I’m a woman doesn’t mean I can’t recognize female beauty, Nick.” Maybe if Nick drove, he’d been too busy to probe more. Abruptly changing her path, Catherine navigated around the front of the Tahoe and opened the passenger-side door. “Here.” Digging in her front pocket, she pulled out the keys and tossed them at Nick. “You drive.”
“Now I know there’s something going on,” he teased. “You never let anyone drive your vehicle.”
***
Luckily, Catherine had been right about the talk dying off as Nick drove. She stared sightlessly out the window and thought about the day. What was going on? She’d never responded to another woman, not even the few women who’d come to the club when she’d danced. Was it knowing that Sara was a lesbian?
Her thoughts halted.
Did she know Sara was a lesbian? There hadn’t been any big announcements. All she had were suspicions.
The bright, flashing lights from the patrol cars at the scene of the crime interrupted her musings. Self discovery would have to wait. Catherine slipped out of the Tahoe as soon as Nick shut off the engine. Despite the late night activity, the school campus was quiet. Catherine scanned the darkened area as she went to the back of the SUV and opened the rear door for her kit.
Minutes later, weighed down by the heavy metal case in her hand, Catherine followed Nick into a plushly decorated office. Detective Kane stood with a pair of deputies, scribbling in a small notebook. He looked up and waved when he noticed them in the doorway.
“Hi,” Catherine greeted him. She carefully picked her way across the room. “Wow. It’s a mess in here.”
“You said it.” Kane grunted. “Vic’s over there,” he pointed at a sofa several feet away, “and the suspect’s in another office waiting for you guys.”
Nick set his kit down with a thump. “You want to do the questioning, Cath? I’ll start with pictures and do a walkthrough.”
“Yeah. That’s good.” Female suspects sometimes responded better to a female interrogator. Catherine looked back at Kane. “What do you have so far?”
Rubbing a hand over his ultra-short hair, Kane admitted, “Not much. Vic’s name is Vernon Wood. Forty-nine. Single. He’s got multiple blunt force trauma wounds to the head.”
Nick had walked closer to the actual crime scene. “Got a trophy or something over here. Probably hit with that.” Then he whistled. “Man, look at all the blood spatter.”
Catherine wandered over and examined the body on the floor and the tide of red staining the white walls. “Oh, yeah. That looks like more than self defense. That was up close and personal with a lot of passion involved.” As she stepped away from the couch, she told Nick, “Get started here. I’ll check on the suspect.”
Kane jumped in before she could get any further. “Her name’s Kate Armstrong. She called 911 herself. Says Wood attacked her.”
“That’s not what the evidence suggests.” Catherine grinned, pulse picking up.
CHAPTER 22
Still fired with excitement over the case, Catherine strode out of the dean’s office and across the hall to talk with the victim slash suspect. An officer guarded the door, but the small room was empty except for a slight blonde woman standing in front of the only window.
“Ms. Armstrong?” Catherine asked softly.
The woman spun, hand flying to her throat and eyes wide in shock.
Catherine checked her movement, stopping just inside the door. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you. I’m Catherine Willows from the Las Vegas Crime Lab.”
“You need to talk to me about what happened.” Kate Armstrong’s voice was rough and tight. Catherine noted tearstains and puffiness around her eyes. Walking slowly, she sank onto a leather love seat crammed into the corner of the room.
“Yes.” Not letting the apparent frailty of their only suspect deter her, Catherine remained standing and started her interrogation with an easy question. “Can you tell me what happened tonight?”
Nodding, Armstrong mumbled a tired, “Sure.” She paused,
rubbing her hands over her face. “
Catherine let the words flow without interruption. She already knew the facts wouldn’t match the story. Her job was to find where the story and reality diverged. From the easy way Ms. Armstrong was speaking, this part was the truth.
“…I came right over, expecting to look over the balance sheets and projections for next year.” Armstrong leaned back, wrapping her arms tightly around her stomach.
“That didn’t happen?” Catherine prodded gently when the tale didn’t resume. She watched the other woman more intently. “Ms. Armstrong?”
Tears suddenly streamed down Kate Armstrong’s face, and she sobbed out, “He wouldn’t let go of me. He kept pawing. I can still smell his aftershave.” The sobbing grew, and she bent forward over her knees. “It all happened so fast. It’s all a blur. I just…I grabbed the closest thing I could and hit him with it.”
Treading carefully, Catherine began to actively steer the interrogation. “What was it? A rock? A paperweight?”
“I don’t know. It didn’t matter as long as it got
Ignoring that, Catherine pushed for more. “How many times did you hit him?”
The answer came quickly. “Once.” Armstrong’s eyes flickered away briefly.
It was enough. Catherine bit back a smile and moved a step closer, looming over the smaller woman. “Ms. Armstrong, were you and the Dean in a relationship?” she asked, using the change in topic to lull her suspect into believing her lie hadn’t been detected.
“No!” Armstrong exploded off the couch. “Vernon Wood was a pig. A complete creep.”
Eyebrows rising at the vehement response, Catherine stayed calm. “If you disliked him so much, why hire him?”
That earned a watery chuckle. “The usual reason – money.
“I bet.” Catherine relaxed her pose, hoping to get her suspect to slip up. Voice deliberately casual, she returned to the earlier line of questioning. “You know, you didn’t hit the Dean one time.”
Armstrong stiffened visibly. “Who knows? I...” She was off balance, and her voice was unsure.
“I’m a scientist,” Catherine explained. “I look at the evidence.” Not looking away from Armstrong’s back, she went on, “Here’s what I know about blunt force injuries: If you hit a man once, there’s no blood. It’s a free shot.”
She moved to the right slightly, wanting to see Armstrong’s face as she continued the lesson.
“If you hit him more than once, though, you get lots of blood.” She closed in, standing inches from Armstrong’s right side. “The walls in that office look like the Dean went a couple of rounds with Mike Tyson.”
The other woman spun quickly, taking a surprised step back at Catherine’s proximity.
“Kate? Are you alright?” a new voice sounded from the doorway.
Stifling a curse, Catherine watched a tall, brunette woman rush across the room. She stopped a few feet from Armstrong, hands rising between them for a second before dropping back to her sides.
“I’m sorry, you can’t…” Catherine began.
She never got the chance to finish. “I called the school’s attorney. He has someone on the way, Kate. Don’t say another word.”
***
Sara followed the coroner’s van into the lot and parked. Why
had she thought
The hallways were dim, and her footsteps echoed eerily on the way to the autopsy room.
“Doc? You got the body they just brought in?” Sara asked as she shoved open the swinging metal doors to Autopsy Room One.
Doctor Robbins’s crutch made soft thuds on the tile floor as he maneuvered around the gleaming autopsy table. “It’s coming in now,” he announced. “Anything useful at the dump sight?”
“’Fraid not. I was hoping you could find something to at least help me ID the body.” Sara leaned against one of the counters surrounding the work area. “I’ve got Greg and some of the other techs going over the trash from the dumpster. So far, they haven’t found anything, either.”
The large door at the rear of the room swung open with a whoosh, and two green-clothed men wheeled the gurney in.
“You want me to take a look now, Sara?” Doctor Robbins inquired.
She grinned slightly. “Well, I could tell you I stopped in for a visit, but…” Shrugging, Sara met his amused look. “If I did, I’d be lying. Can you take a look at her now?”
“It’s my lunch hour. As long as neither of you mind if I eat while I work.” With a wink, he limped his way to the body bag and unzipped the heavy plastic.
***
“Why would she need a lawyer?” Catherine inquired, trying to sound non-threatening. If Kate Armstrong retained council, they wouldn’t get a chance to dig for information.
Armstrong’s defender didn’t back down. “You’re treating her like a suspect with all of your questions. Kate needs a lawyer, and you can’t talk to her until he gets here.”
Nodding reluctantly, Catherine turned and walked toward the door. “Deputy,” she said quietly to the young man by the door, “those two will be needing transportation to the Sheriff’s Office.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He straightened and reached for the shoulder mic, relaying her request to dispatch.
“Thanks. Let me know when they leave, please.” Catherine gave his a smile and returned to the dean’s office. “Wow!”
Nick nodded but didn’t stop stretching red string across the room.
“What’s up, Nick?” Catherine peered around the room, noting the several different colored groupings of string. “Did you find something?”
Grunting, Nick crawled under several strands of pink string before standing. “No, you first. I remember the lecture I got for forgetting you were the senior CSI. Did the suspect confess?”
“Nope. She might have until some woman stormed in and announced a lawyer was on the way.” Catherine crossed her arms. “Armstrong was definitely lying. I didn’t have a chance to probe and find out why. She claimed to have only hit him once, and flinched when I mentioned the spatter on the walls in here.”
“Well, maybe we can figure out what she’s trying to hide.” Nick pointed to the spot where all of the strings originated.
“Maybe we don’t need Kate Armstrong to tell us the truth,” Catherine murmured. “You see what I see?”
Nick nodded. “If you see the X marking the spot.” Pointing to the convergence of string, he started to lay out the events in the room. “A blow here,” he indicated the green string, “here,” the red, “and here,” the pink string. “I’d say our dean received the majority of the blows when he was on the ground.”
“You do good work,” Catherine told him. She spun slowly, taking in the physical evidence along with Nick’s handiwork. “We’re still missing something, though. I don’t know…”
“What are you thinking?” Nick started to look, too. “I mean, the spatter lays it out pretty well. The dean’s down; Armstrong hits him multiple times. Blood hits the walls where the strings show.” Frowning, he stared at the far wall. “I got it, Cath. I got it.”
When he didn’t explain, Catherine asked wryly, “Are you going to share with me? I still don’t see it.”
With a wide smile, Nick pointed to the far wall. “Take a look at the back wall, Cath.” Carefully ducking and crawling under the many strings, he moved closer to the spot he’d indicated. “”Follow the trail of blood.” Nick touched individual strings. “The spatter moves in a consistent arc until here.”
He waved his hand at a large area devoid of spatter.
“A void,” Catherine breathed. “You’re a genius, Nick. There’s an interruption where something, or someone, got in the way of the spray.”
CHAPTER 23
“We’ve known all along Armstrong was lying,” Catherine announced. “Here’s our proof.” She smiled at Nick. “Now we just need to find out why.”
Crawling under the profusion of string, he laughed. “You know what Grissom would say about that, Cath.”
She simply rolled her eyes.
Nick, though, wanted an answer. “Come on. Say it with me,” he urged as he regained his feet.”
“The why isn’t important. Follow the clues and find the how.” Their voices merged as they chanted the oft repeated advice.
“Luckily, Gil’s not here,” Catherine said without Nick’s deeper echo. “It’s just you, me, a suspect, and all this evidence.” Then she deflated somewhat. “Damn. Armstrong and her ‘savior’ are headed to the Sheriff’s Office. I would have liked to have seen her reaction to this. The blood spatter and the colored strings might have been enough to shock her out of the lie.”
Waving a hand, Nick caught her attention. “We can come close to first hand, Cath.” He pointed to the camera, resting on the dean’s cluttered desk. “Crime scene photos. I’ll snap a few more of the void and the spatter pattern. Maybe when we put them on the table, Kate Armstrong will tell us what really happened.”
***
Staring into the interview room, Catherine rolled her neck. It didn’t help. The muscles didn’t relax.
“Everything’s set up, Cath,” Nick announced from the doorway. “I’ve got the photos on the board and the measurements are plugged into Greg’s computer program.” He grinned. “Should be a good show.” He ducked back out without waiting for her response.
With a wry glance at the two women sitting tensely across from each other at the interview table, Catherine murmured to herself, “I think the show is already playing.” The microphone between rooms was off. Armstrong’s lawyer had seen to that. Still, Catherine had watched Armstrong and the brunette who’d charged into her initial interview with interest. There was something…
Before she could figure out what bothered her about the scene, Brass entered the room flanked by Armstrong’s lawyer.
“Ms. Armstrong, I’m Captain Jim Brass.” He smiled genially and shook Kate Armstrong’s hand.
In the darkened observation room, Catherine smirked. That was Brass’ patented ‘I know you’re lying’ smile.
The door to the interview room opened again. Nick wheeled in a photo-filled rolling bulletin board. Seconds later, Greg set up a laptop and a projector screen. He left while Nick took a seat next to Brass.
Catherine noted Armstrong’s eyes go immediately to the photos. An enlarged image of the dead dean took up the center of the space. The suspect’s lips tightened, and her already pale face lost more color.
“Ms. Armstrong, this is Nick Stokes, one of our crime scene investigators. He found something interesting when he looked at the dean’s office.” Brass gestured at Nick. “If you don’t mind, I’m going to let him walk us through the evidence.”
Armstrong’s head nodded slightly, and her hand slid along the table toward the brunette at her side.
“Thank you. Now, before Mr. Stokes gets started, maybe you could introduce me to your co-worker.” Catherine was sure Brass’ request was for show. He had to have already done a background check on anyone Armstrong knew.
The hand froze then fisted against the steel tabletop.
“My name is Julia Eastman. I’m a teacher at Verbum Dei,” the brunette answered.
“Great. Thanks.” Brass flashed another faux smile. “Maybe you can tell me why you’re with us. I mean, if Nick here was a suspect in a crime, I’d be there for him…in the waiting room. Not the interview room.”
Armstrong’s lawyer raised a hand, forestalling any reply. “That’s not relevant. Let’s get on with this demonstration, Captain. My client has had a very difficult night. I’m sure she’d like to go home and get some sleep soon.”
Catherine listened to Nick’s explanation of the blood spatter evidence with only half her attention. Julia Eastman. Why was she here? Brass was right. This was above and beyond the call of simple friendship.
Mind working on the clues, Catherine tuned back in to the interrogation.
“If you look right here, you can see where someone stood.” Nick had the computer displaying a computer image of the scene on the projector screen. “We call that a void.”
“You wouldn’t happen to know who was there, would you, Ms. Eastman?” Brass asked smoothly.
Unlike Kate Armstrong, this woman didn’t flinch or try to avoid the question. “I think we both know you believe it was me, Captain.” Julia shrugged. “Before we waste anymore time, I was there.”
“Julia!” The admission brought Kate Armstrong almost erect behind the table. She was flushed and she stared at the other woman in shock. “Please, don’t…”
Catherine stiffened, watching the byplay. They were protecting each other. Why?
“So, you were there when the dean attacked Ms. Armstrong.” Brass let that statement sink in.
Leaning into the glass, Catherine continued to regard the suspect and her co-worker intently.
Clearing his throat, Brass leaned his arms on the table. “If this was just a late night budget meeting, like Ms. Armstrong thought, why did you tag along?”
Again, Catherine noticed the greatest reaction out of Armstrong. A bright blush painted her cheeks. “She went because I asked her to go. Dean Woods…He scared me. I didn’t want to be alone with him, even for a budget talk. Julia was there just in case.”
“Just in case what?” Brass pushed for more details. “Did you think the dean might attack you?”
“Not attack…exactly.” Julia Eastman crossed her arms and rubbed her hands over her biceps. She flicked a glance at Armstrong and sighed. “The dean had been harassing Kate for months. We made a plan. The next time he called her for any kind of private meeting, I’d go along as a witness in case he tried to hit on her.”
Her body language indicated she was telling the truth. Eastman met Brass’ eyes squarely, and she sat erect in the chair.
Catherine still suspected there was more to the story. There had to be in order to explain the evidence.
***
Sara slumped into a chair, sipping her coffee. Her lips twisted at the bitter, burned taste.
“Hey! What are you doing back?” The hot liquid sloshed out at Greg’s sudden question.
“Damn it!” Sara jumped up. Coffee stained the front of her shirt, and she grabbed the fabric, pulling it away from her skin. “Put some bells on next time,” she snapped. Stalking to the sink, she wet a handful of paper towels. The cold soothed the pink skin of her chest but did little for the stain.
Greg hovered a few feet away. “Sorry. I thought…well, I guess I wasn’t thinking.” He ran a hand through his artistically spiked hair. “I was just surprised to see you back so soon.”
“Not a lot of work to do when your DB was dead already.” Sara turned around and looked at Greg. “I thought they chained you in the lab. Did Grissom suddenly remember the labor laws and let you out for a break?”
“No such luck.” With a wink and a grin, Greg waltzed across
the room and grabbed the coffee pot. “Never, never drink this swill they call
coffee. When you need a java fix, come see me.”
“Really? You grow your own…beans?” Sara smirked as Greg rinsed out the pot. “I can’t believe the LVPD lets you grow on the property.”
Waving the dripping container by its handle, Greg answered, “See, I knew you were going to fit in. I don’t grow.” He leaned in confidingly. “I’m a buyer. Just small quantities at the moment, but…I might be in the market to branch out.”
Footsteps in the hallway broke up their play.
Sara glanced out the door and spotted Grissom headed their way. “Oops. The boss is coming. We should probably look busy.” She grabbed files she’d been planning to read through. “You never did tell me why you were out of the lab, Greg.”
“Had to set up the computer for a little demonstration Nick and Cath are doing in Interview One. Blood spatter says the suspect isn’t telling the truth.” He put the coffee pot in the drain tray just as Grissom walked in. “Well, let me know if I can help with the case, Sara,” Greg announced in a too loud voice before scurrying out of the room.
Following his lead, Sara nodded to Grissom and trotted into the hallway. She didn’t turn toward the lab she’d been using for an office, though. Blood spatter sounded a lot more exciting than embalmed corpses. Interview One was her new destination.
When she pushed open the door to the observation room, Sara noticed Catherine slumped against the glass. “Cath?” She said the other woman’s name softly since Catherine appeared transfixed by the action through the two-way mirror.
“I’m missing something,” came Catherine’s distracted response. “I’ve got all the evidence. I even have most of the facts. They just don’t fit together.”
Curious about the cause of Catherine’s confusion, Sara strolled over to the glass. “Isn’t this the dead guy at the school?” She looked at the people in the room. “Which of the women is the suspect?”
A single slim finger pointed at the short blonde woman hugging herself.
As she focused on the interrogation, Sara frowned. Shit. The suspect leaned toward her taller brunette companion. For just a second, they almost touched before jerking away again.
Cold dread settled in her stomach, and Sara backed away from the glass.
Sara continued to stumble backward toward the door. Catherine was on her own solving her mystery.
Unfortunately, her movements brought Catherine’s head around. “Sara? What’s wrong?”
Freezing in place, Sara stared into the concerned blue eyes peering at her in question. “Nothing,” she answered truthfully. “I’m fine.” The women in the other room, though…they weren’t. Sara forced her arms away from her stomach, not wanting Catherine to keep questioning her. “I got cold all of a sudden. The air conditioning in here must be on Artic.”
She wasn’t sure Catherine bought the excuse. A frown wrinkled Catherine’s forehead for a second before clearing. “You just haven’t been in Vegas long enough, that’s all. Give it a couple of months. After that, if it’s not spitting snow, you’ll think the temperature’s set too high.”
That had been too close. She’s almost given away her knowledge. Sara took another slow step toward the door. “I should probably go check on my evidence.” Her hand brushed the knob and turned it quietly. “Good luck with whatever you’re missing.” Guilt burned Sara’s stomach as she purposely didn’t give Catherine the information she’d picked up
“Wait,” Catherine commanded softly. “Come on, Sara. Watch with me for a few minutes. I’m sure it’s something simple.” She wandered back to the two-way glass and pointed. “It’s there. See the way they are with each other? I keep expecting…” she broke off and growled in frustration. “I keep expecting to figure it out.”
The door closed quietly. Reluctantly, Sara joined Catherine again. The two women in the other room had recovered. They no longer leaned toward each other. Heads held stiffly, there were no more shared glances. “What’s the deal?” she asked in an attempt to steer the conversation to the details of the case and away from her suspicions. “Didn’t the evidence give you what you need?” Catherine was an experienced investigator; Sara was surprised she hadn’t put the signs together yet.
“The evidence tells me those two are lying. It wasn’t self defense; Armstrong hit the dean at least a dozen times.” Catherine rubbed a hand over her face. “I don’t know why, though. That’s what I’m missing. Why did she do it?”
“That’s not what we do, Cath.” Sara stood a little straighter. This was old ground; she’d heard Grissom give this speech the day they’d met. “We’re criminalists. All we care about is the how and the when. The cops have to find the why.”
Catherine’s eyes bore into Sara. “Stop quoting Gil. He’s not always right,” she said brusquely. “Why a suspect commits a crime gives us valuable information, too. What if Armstrong chose that rock on purpose? What if it wasn’t just self defense gone overboard?”
Sara refrained from mentioning that Catherine had just proven Grissom’s point. Their job was simply to look at the evidence and prove who had done the crime. Investigating motive required a badge, not a Bachelor of Science degree. “I can’t help you, Cath,” she said softly. I won’t, she added silently.
***
The feeling was back. Catherine rolled her head, loosening the taught muscles in her neck. She was missing something – and not only about the case this time. Sara wasn’t telling her the whole truth. “Can’t or won’t,” she pushed experimentally.
A blush tinted Sara’s cheeks. Bingo.
“Damn it, Sara. This isn’t a game. This is about a case. If you have information, I need to know!” She stepped toward Sara, hands on hips. “Stop playing coy and spit it out.”
She wasn’t expecting Sara’s flinch and the half-step she took away.
It cooled her irritation immediately. “I’m sorry,” Catherine said in a softer voice. Dropping her hands to her sides, she stepped back. “I’m so sorry.” After the scene in the kitchen this morning, Catherine had known Sara didn’t respond well to sudden moves or touches. It wasn’t a huge leap to expect the same reaction to loud voices or aggression.
“No, it’s OK, Cath.” Sara hunched forward and her arms wrapped around her stomach again. “You’re right. You need to know.” A tiny smile crept out and Catherine relaxed slightly. “I’m being an idiot.”
“Nah. Not an idiot,” Catherine teased. She stretched her hands over her head, keeping the mood lighter and less intense. She didn’t want to spook Sara again. “So what did your great powers of observation pick up?” Continuing to joke, Catherine went on, “I must be slipping. First you figure out about the not-so-kidnapped wife, and now you’re about to solve this case for me. Maybe I should go back to dancing.”
Husky laughter told her she’d succeeded in getting Sara into a better frame of mind. “I’m sure you’d still pack the house.” Brown eyes swept over Catherine’s body before bouncing back to the interview room.
Catherine shivered from the impact of Sara’s examination. The air conditioned room suddenly felt smaller and far warmer than before.
“What do you seen in there, Cath?” Sara’s question jerked Catherine back from her daze.
Not again. “Is this like that thing with the duct tape in the truck, Sara? Am I supposed to guess what’s going on in your mind?” Catherine grumbled as she examined the interrogation room again.
“Don’t guess. Everything you need is in that room.” Sara rubbed her hands up and down her arms and bowed her head.
Whatever it was bothered Sara. Going off the younger woman’s body language, Catherine thought it might be a something with personal significance to Sara. “I see Brass and Nick explaining the blood spatter evidence again. Brass looks irritated.” He glowered across the table and leaned aggressively forward. “He probably thought one of them would break by now.” So had she. They’d been in there over an hour.
“No. Don’t look at Brass or Nick. Look at the two women,” Sara insisted. She raised her head and followed her own instructions.
Following Sara’s gaze, Catherine looked again. “What am I supposed to see?” Catherine didn’t really think Sara would answer. This was clearly another teaching moment.
Armstrong sat with her forearms on the steel table. Her head was bent forward and her shoulders slumped wearily. Gritting her teeth, Catherine admitted there was nothing new there.
Transferring her attention to Julia Eastman, Catherine watched for a moment. The slender brunette sat back in her chair, hands resting on her thighs.
“Damn it…” Catherine began to say. Then she saw it. Eastman’s left hand slid off her leg and hesitantly dropped onto Armstrong’s right knee. It might have been a casual and friendly gesture if Eastman’s thumb hadn’t begun caressing Armstrong’s thigh in a slow and comforting move.
***
Catherine’s head snapped up, and Sara could almost see the light bulb go on in her mind. She waited tensely for the other woman’s reaction now that the secret was out.
“They’re lovers,” Catherine announced. “I’m an idiot. They’ve been hovering over each other all night long.”
That was it? Sara let out a slow breath. “You have your why now, Cath. Feel better?” she pushed. Surely Catherine would have some other comment to make. Everyone had something to say about homosexuals.
“No.” With a wry smile, Catherine met Sara’s eyes. “It doesn’t change the facts of the case; although, I’m sure Armstrong’s lawyer will use it during trial. It makes a more compelling defense when added to his unwanted groping.”
Sara squirmed under Catherine’s suddenly intent gaze. “What?” she asked in discomfort and not a little fear. Surely Catherine hadn’t done the math so quickly - or so accurately.
“The signs were all there; I didn’t see them, though. If it had been a man and a woman…No problem. That whole protective routine is familiar.” Catherine leaned her back against the mirror and crossed her arms. “You saw it right away. You knew what to look for, didn’t you, Sara?”
***
Sara went so white Catherine thought she might pass out. Pushing away from the window, she got ready to grab the other woman if she fell.
“Like you said, the signs were all there. I used to work in
The explanation made sense, but it wasn’t good enough for Catherine. The issue of Sara’s sexual orientation was like that infamous white elephant in the small room. She wasn’t letting the large obstacle grow. Sara had to understand that being a lesbian wasn’t a problem. “I’ll give you that,” she allowed. “Still, it wasn’t the only reason you recognized what was happening, though, was it?”
Sara retreated a step. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Now you sound like a suspect denying she had anything to do with the crime. Look, Sara, I’m going to just lay it out for you. I know, OK? I read the signs and I figured out your secret before I asked you to move in with me and Lindsey,” Catherine said softly. “Please. Stop hiding. It’s not a problem for me.”
Sara stood stiff and silent in the small room.
“Alright, be that way.” Catherine turned away in dismissal. If Sara wouldn’t – or couldn’t – tell her the truth, she wasn’t going to force the issue.
The door to the observation room opened and closed.
Leaning against the two-way glass, Catherine sighed. Damn it. That really hadn’t gone the way she’d intended. Now she’d have to find Sara as soon as their shift was over and apologize. A humorless smile twisted her lips. Knowing Sara, even a heartfelt sorry might not be enough.
Movement on the other side of the glass forced her attention away from her personal problems.
“It doesn’t matter why I did it, Captain.” Armstrong was on her feet and glaring at Brass. “I did it. That’s all you need to know.”
Her attorney gripped her arm so tightly, Catherine expected there to be permanent indentations later. “Kate, stop. Sit down and let me handle this!”
Armstrong wasn’t listening. She wrenched away and continued. “I confess. That’s what you want, isn’t it? A confession?” Suddenly running out of energy, Armstrong slumped back into her chair. “I confess,” she repeated softly. “What do I need to do now?”
The words weren’t shocking, even if Catherine hadn’t expected them. Something didn’t ring right, though. Using the knowledge Sara had given her, she stopped watching Armstrong and turned her attention to Julia Eastman.
Head bent and arms wrapped around her stomach, she seemed completely detached from the increasingly heated exchange next to her.
“I wonder…” Catherine raised her hand and knocked lightly on the glass. Brass’ head came around, and he didn’t look happy at the interruption. Catherine persevered and rapped a little louder.
After mumbling a quick apology to the women and Nick, Brass strode from the room.
***
Sara fought an urge to run and walked as calmly as she could down the gleaming hallway. Her heart raced and she clenched her fists against her sides. How had Catherine figured her out?
Actually, that one was easy. Catherine was a CSI, and Sara knew she’d been less than skilled at hiding her reaction to the older woman.
The better question was: what should she do now?
“Sara?” David Phillips’ voice interrupted her internal quandary.
Coming to an abrupt halt, Sara spun to face the panting Assistant Coroner. “David. What are you doing here?” she asked brusquely.
He flinched back, resettling the glasses on the bridge of his nose. “Oh…um…” David stuttered. After straightening his shoulders with a noticeable jerk, he smiled at Sara. “I thought you’d like to know that the funeral home that handled the Reyes burial is coming in for another pickup. They should be here in about thirty minutes.”
It was the reprieve Sara needed. She could shelve the Catherine problem until later. Right now, she had a case to work. “Thanks, David. That was sweet of you.”
His blush turned even his ears a hot pink.
“Did you come all the way down here just to tell me that?” Sara asked as they started for the exit.
David cleared his throat and looked away.
“You did!” Bumping his shoulder, Sara watched him closely. “Are you trying to hit on me, David?”
“Uh…” He shot her a series of quick glances. “Yes,” David finally muttered as he shoved open the door and let Sara precede him outside. “I am.”
The sound of the traffic on the nearby street was loud as Sara stared at David.
“I’m…I’m sorry, Sara.” He yanked a ring full of keys from his pocket and hurried away.
Biting her lip in indecision, Sara watched him go. When he unlocked his car (on the third try), she sprinted after him. “David, wait.” She put a hand on his arm and waited for a minute until he reluctantly turned to face her. “It’s not what you think,” Sara assured him.
His lips twitched into a small smile. “You mean this isn’t you turning me down?”
“Oh, no. I am turning you down.” Sara held up an apologetic hand when his smile disappeared immediately. “Let me give you some advice, David. If you want to attract a woman, lose the coat,” she pointed to his rumpled blue lab coat, “and the glasses. Grow some scruff and try for some confidence. They’ll be lining up.”
“And if I do?” She hated the hopeful look on his round and boyish face.
Sucking in a deep breath and looking away, Sara explained, “You’re not really my type, David.” She forced her eyes to meet his, hoping he’d catch the inference.
He didn’t. Not at first. Then his eyes widened behind the circular frames of his glasses. “Oh! You’re…” David broke off and blushed deeply again.
The knot in her stomach loosened a bit at David’s less than disgusted reaction. “I’m gay, David.” Sara tested him with the blunt announcement. There could be no misunderstandings now.
“I’m sorry, Sara. I hope I didn’t offend you.” David reached out and hesitantly patted her arm. “With the whole asking you out thing.”
The relief was so intense, Sara swayed from the rush of feeling. “Not offended at all, David.” Winking at him, she leaned in close and whispered, “In fact, if I was going to date any man here, you’d be top of the list.”
He straightened and puffed out his chest. “Good to know. And…and I’ll think about your advice with the coat and facial hair.”
Sara didn’t believe him. David didn’t seem to be the type. He looked at home in his starched lab coat and smooth cheeks. “Guarantee you’ll get a date. Guarantee it.” Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out the keys to her Tahoe. “I’ll follow you out?”
***
Catherine followed Brass into the interview room and smoothed sweating palms over the thighs of her jeans.
“Sorry for the interruption, ladies,” Brass smoothly apologized as he resumed his seat. “This is Ms. Willows. She believes she has new evidence in the case.”
Hiding her wince at Brass’ choice of phrase, Catherine walked over to the board displaying the photos and blood spatter evidence. “Ms. Armstrong,” she began, searching for the right approach, “you told me that the dean was good at fundraising. Were you one of his donors?”
She thought she’d been too subtle until Kate Armstrong’s hand tightened into a fist on the tabletop. “It was my school,” Armstrong muttered. “I gave a lot of money to keep it open.”
“Are you sure you gave your money to the school?” Catherine tried again. She didn’t want to be the one to say the words out loud. She wanted Armstrong to admit the truth.
“Where else would it go?” For a second, Catherine sensed the other woman was on the verge of a confession. Then the lawyer dropped a hand on Armstrong’s shoulder, and she broke of with just the single question.
“Ms. Willows, show us this evidence you claim to have, or my client and I are leaving.” The lawyer was bluffing. Brass and Nick had enough evidence to convict Armstrong of murder.
“Oh, it’s not really evidence,” Catherine confessed. Tapping a fingernail on the photo of the dean sprawled on the floor in a pool of blood, she went on. “It’s more of a reinterpretation of what we already have.” She turned and faced the people crowded at the table. “Ms. Armstrong, why did you recommend a raise for Dean Wood if you were unhappy with his behavior?”
Armstrong must have sensed the danger ahead. She shifted in her chair and glanced frantically around the room.
When there was no answer to her question, Catherine didn’t let it bother her. “I believe I know why.” Now panicked green locked onto her. “The dean was blackmailing you, wasn’t he?”
Silence reigned.
It was broken after long seconds. “You know it all, don’t you?” Julia Eastman entered the conversation. Sitting forward in her chair, she reached out and took Armstrong’s hand. She had to grip tightly when the hand tried to jerk away. “Shhh, baby. It’s over, can’t you see? They know. Tell them the truth, please.”
Catherine waited tensely as the two women held a silent argument, staring intently into each other’s eyes.
Armstrong lost the fight. Dropping her eyes, she turned her
hand palm up and twined her fingers with Eastman’s. “
“That changed. When? Why?” Brass’ terse questions shattered the nostalgic mood.
“I’m not sure.” Armstrong shrugged at the disbelieving look
she received from Brass. “All I know is we were friends and then we weren’t. We
were in his office, alone, about three months ago. Going over applications for
next year.
“After that, every time we were alone, he touched me. I told
him no and reminded him about Julia.” Armstrong’s voice rose. “
“He didn’t take the refusal well?” Catherine already knew the answer to her question.
Armstrong shook her head rapidly. “No. He threatened me…us. Said he’d go to the Board of Trustees if I didn’t pay him to keep quiet.” Tears streaked her face as she looked up. “No parent would send their child to a school run by a pair of dykes.”
***
“You believe that, Cath?” Nick ripped off the last photo and shoved it into the Wood case file.
Running a hand through her hair, Catherine shrugged. “That Vernon Wood blackmailed Kate and Julia? Or that they didn’t have any other options like she claimed?” Either way, they’d killed him. The evidence of their orientation would only be useful if their lawyer could sell it to a jury.
“That, too. But…that people would pull their kids out of Verbum Dei if they’d known. You’ve got a kid. Would you send Lindsey if you knew about them?”
“Hell, yeah. Come on, Nick. Two women in a committed relationship or a creep like Dean Wood. Not a tough choice,” Catherine assured him. She knew, though, that most people wouldn’t feel the same. Leaving the interview room, Catherine started for the break room. Coffee sounded good after the long statement Armstrong had given.
“Ms. Willows?” Judy called from behind the high counter of the receptionist’s desk.
Praying it wasn’t another assignment, Catherine walked over. “Yes?”
“There was a delivery for you. Um…” Judy stood up and raised the hinged portion of the desk. “I kept it here because…well, here.” She held out the looped end of a leash.
Stepping around the counter, Catherine took the leather handle just as a tiny pink nose emerged around the bottom of Judy’s desk. “Oh…she didn’t.” Slowly dropping to her knees, Catherine picked up the small pig and read the card attached to a ribbon around the its…her neck.
Hi. My name is Olivia.