Sin City

'That's happened a lot?'

'I don't know if it's fair to say 'a lot,'' Mrs. Blair said, thoughtfully. 'She does call other times, though.'

'Has she ever called upset about something other than her husband's abusive behavior?'

'Lori,' Mr. Blair blurted, before his wife could answer. 'Their daughter-she aggravates Lynn almost as much as Owen.'

'That's true,' Mrs. Blair admitted, shrugging one shoulder, raising one eyebrow. 'Lori gave Lynn fits… although-and I don't like to brag-they seem to've had a lot less trouble with her, since Lori started dating our Gary.'

Brass smiled. 'Then Gary's a positive influence on the Pierce girl?'

Mr. Blair smiled and nodded. 'He's a good boy-follows the Lord's teachings and studies hard in school.'

Brass wondered what planet this was, but said, 'That's great. You're very lucky.'

'No question,' Mr. Blair said. 'Gary's helped settle Lori down. She was a little…wild, before.'

'Wild?' asked Brass. 'How so?'

Mr. Blair was searching for the words, so Mrs. Blair answered for him: 'Impetuous, I would say. She made some mistakes with boys…drugs. It's an evil world out there, Detective Brass.'

'I've noticed.'

Mrs. Blair went on, in a pleased rush: 'But between Gary's good influence, and Lynn's good parenting, they got her straightened out.'

'Despite her father,' Mr. Blair grumbled.

'Anyway,' Mrs. Blair said, 'I would say the girl's doing fine now. Better grades, active in church, doesn't try to dress like those…slatternly singers that are so popular now-like Lori used to.'

'Even so,' Brass said, 'it would seem Lynn's had more than her share of stress in her life-would you agree?'

The Blairs exchanged searching looks.

Then, at the same time, Mr. Blair said, 'Yes,' as Mrs. Blair said, 'No.'

The two laughed in awkward embarrassment, and Brass waited for them to sort it out themselves, each saying, 'You first,' and 'No, you.' Finally, Mrs. Blair said, 'Lynn has stress, but I'm not sure it's any more than anyone else, you know, in these troubled times.'

Brass sat forward. 'You mean to say, you don't consider her problems with her daughter, and her abusive husband, exceptional?'

Mrs. Blair shrugged with her eyebrows. 'Well, I think the trouble with Lori, at least, is behind them.'

'But what about with Owen?'

Mrs. Blair turned to her husband. Arthur Blair's lips peeled back and his eyes narrowed. The calm Christian removed his mask to reveal an angry human beneath. 'Owen Pierce is a worthless, Godless son of a…' Blair's voice trailed off and his knuckles turned white on the arm of the sofa as he struggled to control his emotions. His wife slipped her arm around his shoulder, comfortingly.

Captain Jim Brass had spent enough time with the Blairs, and people like them, to know that for Arthur Blair to come as close as he had to calling that son of a bitch Pierce a son of a bitch indicated an unfathomable depth of anger toward Owen Pierce.

'I take it you listened to the tape?' Blair asked, his voice still edged with an unChristian viciousness.

'Yes, sir.' Brass nodded toward Grissom. 'We did.'

Blair sighed heavily. 'Then you know what that monster must be capable of, to threaten his wife with that.' He shifted on the couch, sitting forward. 'Understand something, Detective-I wouldn't have allowed Gary to get involved with Lori if I didn't think that Lynn was going to…divest herself of Owen, and soon.'

Millie Blair patted her husband's arm in an effort to calm him.

'Normally,' Mrs. Blair said, 'our faith discourages divorce. But Pastor Dan says, when a spouse has fallen into satanic ways, a person must protect one's self, and children.'

Brass winced. 'You don't mean…literally…that Owen Pierce practiced satanism?'

'Of course not,' Mr. Blair said, sitting back, calmer. 'But he's a…devil…a demon himself. Capable of the worst atrocities….'

For the first time, Grissom spoke. 'So, then, Mr. Blair-I take it you think Owen Pierce has made good on his threat to cut her into 'little pieces'?'

Arthur Blair's eyes became huge behind the lenses and his wife's curled-fingered hand went to her mouth, where she bit a knuckle. Grissom might have slapped them, the way his words registered.

'That is what you think, isn't it?' he pressed. 'Isn't that why you brought the tape to us?'

Mrs. Blair stared at her lap and covered her face with one hand and began to cry, quietly. Mr. Blair, slipping an arm around his wife's shoulders, gave a tired nod.

Yes, Brass thought, Gil really has a way with people.

Grissom pressed on. 'Do you think there are any circumstances at all under which Lynn might have just… left?'

Trembling with tears, Mrs. Blair shook her head.

Calmly, Grissom said, 'Mr. Pierce said his wife had a significant amount of money in her own name and could have used it to disappear.'

'She had money,' Mrs. Blair conceded, the tears subsiding, 'but it was all tied up in investments…stocks, bonds, CDs.'

Mr. Blair concurred: 'None of it was liquid enough for her to get to easily.'

Nodding, Mrs. Blair went on. 'She complained about that. It was something Owen talked her into. Even though she had her own money, she had little cash. I don't think I ever saw her with more than, say, fifty dollars in her purse. Even though the money was hers, Owen seemed to keep her on a tight leash.'

The interview continued for a few minutes, but neither Brass nor Grissom found any new ground to cover. The Blairs had been unfailingly cooperative, but they were weary, and the detective and the criminalist knew nothing more was to be learned here, at least not right now.

On the way back, Grissom rode up front with Brass.

'Do you think Owen Pierce is the devil?' Brass said to the CSI, half-kidding.

'No,' Grissom said, seeming distant even for him. 'But he's a hell of a suspect.'

At headquarters, back from the strip club, Catherine sat down in the layout room, with a notepad and pen, the Dream Doll tapes and a VCR. Meanwhile, Sara took their findings to Greg Sanders so he could begin testing.

The tapes weren't labeled, so each one was a new adventure. The first one had been from the back right corner of the stage, the camera farthest from the door, the bar, and far to the left of the hallway. Only the chairs around the stage on the backside were visible from this angle.

No one fitting the description of Ray Lipton came into view. Catherine flew through the tape on fast forward, knowing she would view the tape more carefully later. For now, she just wanted to see what Worm, the cheerful DJ, had seen. Ejecting that tape, she moved on to the next one. This camera hung behind the left side of the bar, nearer the front door.

Halfway through the tape, Catherine was about to give up and move on, when she glimpsed, on the fuzzy black-and-white picture, a two-tone jacket. Stopping, she rewound the tape until the jacket came into view, and went in reverse, then pushed PLAY.

The guy came into view wearing the denim and tan jacket, a ball cap pulled low, dark glasses and jeans. He walked through the shot and out the other side. She rewound it, ran it again. Something on the guy's face…a beard? Worm had said Lipton might have grown his beard back; hard to tell with this tape. Popping the cassette out, Catherine went to the next, then the next-one after another, until she finally got through them all.

This Lipton guy, it seemed, had gone out of his way to avoid the camera. He hadn't walked over to the bar, for a drink; and the camera above the door had gotten barely a glimpse of him…none of the stage cameras caught more than a snatch of him. Of course, Catherine told herself, with that restraining order, Lipton wasn't supposed to be in there anyway, so maybe he was just being careful.

Only the camera at the head of the hallway got a decent shot of him, and that was of his back as he led busty, leggy Jenna through the door. Even with the poor quality of the tape, Catherine was able to make out the