"Yeah-Mrs. Dean was still up when her daughter got home. They talked."
"Yes," Grissom said. His eyes locked onto Brass's. "So…if Mrs. Dean's correct about the time, and Mrs. Black isn't lying about the time she and her husband got home from the movie…"
"Why would she?"
Grissom shrugged. "For the sake of argument, we'll assume for a moment that she's being truthful. Mrs. Black said they got home just after ten and Dustin drove Kathy home at that time."
Brass was getting it. "But the girl didn't get home until midnight."
"Right. Which means it took Dustin Black two hours…to drive two blocks."
Brass's eyes were bright. "I'm surprised at how anxious I am for a return trip to that funeral home."
"Without me, this time," Grissom said. "I need to get back to the lab and find out what Sara and Nick've learned. This may be starting to come together, and I want to make sure we have the evidence processed and ready."
When Grissom got to his office, he found Nick waiting for him just outside the door.
"Progress, Nick?"
"Yeah-got some fibers off Kathy Dean's jeans."
"Good. Do we know their origin?"
Nick grinned. "If 'we' didn't, I wouldn't be here."
Sometimes Nick's attitude could get under Grissom's skin. Though Nick had a deep talent for forensics, the young CSI also had a tendency toward cockiness. Or maybe it was just that the supervisor had the unsettling suspicion that Nick reminded him of himself, once upon a time….
"The fibers," Nick said, "came from a Cadillac Escalade."
Grissom considered that. Not long ago, Dustin Black had been climbing out of an Escalade at Desert Haven. On the other hand, the Deans had an SUV, too; he just hadn't caught the make or model. "Do the Deans own an Escalade?"
"I checked with DMV-they drive a Toyota Land Cruiser. Different carpeting, different fibers."
"But Dustin Black does own an Escalade," Grissom said. "Saw him getting out of it today…and he drove it to take Kathy Dean home the night she disappeared."
Nick nodded. "The fibers came from the knees of her jeans…both knees…and, besides praying, I can only think of one reason why she might be kneeling inside that SUV."
It went a long way toward explaining why it had taken Black two hours to drive two blocks to take the babysitter home. "You have anything else, Nick?"
"Always, Gris. Ecklie's people say underwear found in a hamper at the Dean home showed Kathy had sex the night she disappeared."
After a tryst with Black, had she gone home to change her clothes, then sneaked out to meet someone? If so, that someone was very likely the person who had killed her.
Of course, if Black had actually gone home when he told his wife he had, then he wasn't a suspect in Kathy's murder. If he'd lied to Cassie, though…
Well, from what Nick had told him, that wouldn't be the first time. Brass would be getting back to Desert Haven about now, and this was information the detective could use. He got his cell phone out and hit the speed dial.
A moment later, he heard, "Brass."
"Grissom. Developments."
He laid out the story for Brass, explaining the evidence that could be used to make Black finally tell the truth.
"Oh, you did good,"Brass said. "You did fine."
"Thank Nick-I'm sending him over. Nick'll ask Black for a DNA sample, and if our mortician balks, tell him you'll have a court order in less than an hour."
"On it."
He clicked off and turned to Nick. "Get over to Desert Haven and get a buccal swab from Mr. Black…. Oh, and take Sara!"
"Sara's not here."
This case was coming together, and Grissom didn't need Sara off somewhere. "Where is she?"
Nick grinned. "Having dinner…with clues on the side."
8
CATHERINE WILLOWS HAD MET her Des Moines contact, William Woodward, at the International Association for Identification convention in Vegas in 2002. They had served on a panel together and she had found the rangy, rugged, fortyish Woodward (like her, a veteran of the divorce wars) to be smart, funny, and, truth to tell, not hard to look at. They had shared drinks and promised to stay in touch-a promise they had kept over the last two years, including getting together again for dinner at a regional IAI conference in Des Moines when he'd brought her in to lecture on blood spatter, her specialty.
He picked up on the first ring. "Bill Woodward."
"Lieutenant Woodward," she said, putting a smile in her voice.
"Catherine Willows,"he said immediately, and he was obviously pleased to hear from her (just as she was that he'd at once recognized her voice). "Enjoying that vacation wonderland of yours?"
"So you've heard about our heat wave."
"Notice I had the good taste not to ask if it was 'hot enough for you'…in our business, it's always hot, and temperature is only one measurement."
She enjoyed Woodward's easygoing baritone. He was a notorious kidder, possibly because he got kidded so much himself about "hick Iowa" from other CSIs who might well have been jealous of his facility's standing. Woodward's ranked in the top five CSI labs after L.A., Vegas, Miami, and New York.
"Yeah, well, Bill, you know what they say around this town-it's a dry heat."
"Pushing 120 degrees, last three days, CNN says. At that temperature, humidity be damned-it's just plain damn hot."
"Hey, last time I was in your part of the world, it was so humid I thought I was inhaling water."
He laughed a little, then said, "I'd love to think this was a social call, Catherine-but I'm not that confident about my masculine appeal. What can I do for you?"
She explained about D.S. Ward Worldwide, Vivian Elliot's will, and the PO box attorney Pauline Dearden would be sending a fat check to.
"Dead drop, sounds like,"he said.
"Sure does. I got the box number; got a pencil?"
"I'm ready. Read it to me."
She did.
He grunted a laugh. "Gonna be one of those Mister Mailboxes. I'll see if I can find out the renter. Anything else?"
"Nope. I'll just owe you one."
"Actually, Catherine, we'll be even. That teen runaway you helped me with, couple months back?"
"Yeah-how'd that come out?"
"Kid's in rehab, doing fine. Hey, even if we are even, I'll buy you dinner, next time you come to Des Moines."
"You know, Bill, there are a few places to eat, and things to do, here in Las Vegas. You could hop a plane, give yourself a break…"
He chuckled. "We'll complete this negotiation when I get you your info."
They clicked off, and Catherine went to Warrick's office to tell him what she'd found.
"You're doing better than I am, Cath," he said, seated at his computer. "Background checks are goin' way slower than I'd like."
She drew up a chair. "How far did you get?"
"Whiting is clean…other than this potential lawsuit with Vivian, anyway…and the other doctors, Barclay and Dayton, also look clean. Still have some work to do on Miller, but so far he's checking out, too."
"How about the nurses?"
"Well, nothing more on Kenisha Jones. She seems fine."
"Oh, she seems 'fine' to you, does she?"
He smiled. "This is your third warning, Cath…."
"Okay, okay," she laughed. "What else?"
"Well, of course, Meredith Scott had that misdemeanor theft charge. But that's not much to build on."
Nodding, Catherine said, "That still leaves Rene Fairmont."