ideas, priming pumps. Walking down the hall through the warren of labs under the cool aqua-tinged lighting, she ran into Greg Sanders, the young, spiky-haired lab rat who looked more like an outlaw skateboarder than the bright young scientist he was. Under his white lab coat, Sanders wore a black tee shirt with a WEEZER logo.
'Tell me you found something,' she said.
'I have checked every result from the day-shift lab reports.'
'Tell me,' she repeated, 'you found something.'
'I have personally examined every bit of evidence collected by Ecklie's people: random hairs, fibers, even the Chinese food container from the Lexus.'
'Tell me. You found something?'
He pursed his lips as he thought, carefully; then, abruptly, he said, 'No.'
She placed a hand on the young man's shoulder. 'Tell me when you find something.'
Catherine moved on.
She found Warrick Brown-still working on the tire marks-at a computer terminal, fingers flying on the keyboard. His manner was cool, deceptively low-key. Catherine considered Warrick an intense, even driven investigator-the sharp, alert eyes in the melancholy face were the tell.
'Anything?' she asked.
He looked up at her glumly. 'The tire mark closest to where Missy got dumped is a General. It's an aftermarket tire that fits a lot of SUVs.'
'Which tells us an SUV stopped along the stretch of road where Missy Sherman was found.'
'Yes-an SUV that may or may not have been driven by the killer who dumped the body there. With a tire distinctive enough to say it belongs to an SUV, but not narrowing it down much.'
'So,' Catherine said, 'nothing.'
'Not nothing,' he said. 'It's a start.'
'Some people say the glass is half-full.'
'Grissom says, dust the glass for prints and see who drank the water.'
Catherine chuckled softly. 'What about the other marks you casted?'
'Two motorcycles.'
'Probably not significant.'
'Probably not,' he agreed. 'One tire from an ATV, which is a possibility, but a stretch; the others still unknown.'
Catherine nodded. 'Keep working it.'
'You know I will.'
As she moved down the hall, Catherine savored the sweet thought of solving a case day shift had dropped the ball on. That was hardly the top priority, of course-finding the truth and making it possible for justice to be meted out remained much higher on her list; but she'd be lying to herself if she didn't admit the appeal of outshining Sheriff Mobley's lapdog, Conrad Ecklie.
First-shift supervisor Ecklie, after all, gloated over each perceived victory, and had a ready excuse for every loss. He'd made his bones badgering the other two shifts at any opportunity. It would be nice, Catherine thought, if they could find a way to shut him up, if only for a little while.
In the morgue, Dr. Robbins was doing only marginally better than the others.
'Definitely, suffocation,' he said. 'And it was a plastic bag.'
'We know this because…?'
The bearded coroner showed her a sheet of paper. 'Read for yourself-tox screen came back, heightened CO2 level.'
'All right,' she said, 'at least that's something.'
'Yeah, but that's all I can tell you on the subject. If you're waiting for me to identify the type and brand of the plastic bag, you'll be disappointed.'
Catherine shook her head, patted his shoulder. 'You're never a disappointment to me, Doc…. Just keep looking.'
That left Nick and the videotapes. She found him in the break room with an open bag of microwave popcorn, a Diet Coke, and the remote. His three-button gray shirt had flecks of popcorn salt on the front, his black jeans, too.
Draped in the doorway, she said, 'Midnight movies, huh? What's playing-
'Well, it's the time warp, all right,' he said, and his grin had a little pride in it, which encouraged Catherine.
'Meaning?' she said, at his side now.
'These year-old tapes gave up something. I think. You tell me….'
She pulled up a chair and said, 'Pass the popcorn.'
He did, and she nibbled, while he went on: 'First, you have to understand that there are no cameras on any of the exits at the Mandalay Bay…so we have nothing of cars leaving the premises.'
'Well, we wouldn't want it to be too easy, right?'
'That's a sentiment I've never quite grasped.' He backed up the tape a ways and hit PLAY. 'This is at just about 1:35 P.M.'
The tape rolled and Catherine, munching the popcorn but glued to the screen, watched the grainy black- and-white image of cars turning into the Mandalay Bay parking lot from the Strip. The camera looked down at the cars and made it impossible to see inside the vehicles. Three or four cars rolled by before she saw what Nick wanted her to see, a Lexus RX300, pulling into the lot.
'That's Missy?' Catherine asked.
'Yeah. Their Lexus had a Michigan State sticker in the rear window, and it's tough to see at this angle, but, if you know it's there…'
He showed her what he meant, and Catherine was able to catch the sticker with its helmeted Spartan head, despite the high angle, or enough of it anyway to sell her on this being Missy's Lexus.
'Now the next car…' Nick backed the tape up again, and let the tape play again until the Lexus pulled through the camera shot once more, and was replaced by a dark, boxy car. '…is Regan Mortenson's gray Camry.'
'All right. Both women were at the Chinese restaurant. Any security tapes available from inside the place?'
He nodded. 'The two of them walking through to the restaurant and again when they're leaving. One on one camera, other on another.'
'They arrived together,' Catherine said, no big deal, 'they left together.'
'The tape doesn't lie. It's just like Regan told Brass and me, only…look at this.'
Nick fast-forwarded the tape, the clock in the corner rolling over in high speed. Just after 11:45 P.M., he slowed the tape and brought it to normal speed.
As the grainy images flickered across the monitor screen, Nick said, 'I was going through the rest of the tape at high speed…probably the same way Ecklie's guys did it…but my soda took a tumble and as I reached out to catch it, I stopped the machine right about here.'
Cued up properly, the tape revealed several cars rolling past the entrance without pulling in. A few made the turn into the lot, then at 11:49-according to the timer in the corner-an SUV slowed as it approached the entrance, rolled by, then sped up and disappeared.
Catherine froze, a half-handful of popcorn paused in midair. 'Holy…That looks like…'
'It sure does,' Nick said, and he backed the tape up until the SUV was once again in front of the entrance, then still-framed the image and-using a nearby computer keyboard-punched keys, zooming in on the side of the vehicle, a Lexus RX300, same color as the Shermans'. It wasn't terribly clear, but in the rear window was the white-and-green Michigan State sticker, Spartan head and all.
Catherine returned the handful of popcorn to the bag. Quietly, as if in church, she said, 'And Ecklie's people never noticed this?'
'Apparently not-no record of it.' Nick shrugged. 'I might've missed it, too, if I hadn't almost knocked over my Coke. We were all looking for cars coming in the entrance, not passing it by…. Let me tweak this a little….'
