He zoomed in even closer and tried to clear the picture. It remained a little pixilated, but the sticker was unmistakably the Michigan State sticker on the passenger rear window of a Lexus RX300.
'What,' Nick asked, 'are the odds that this is someone else's Lexus with exactly the same Spartan sticker, in the same position on the same window?'
'Grissom would give you a figure,' Catherine said. 'I'll just say, slim and none. But, Nick-that car was found in the parking lot!'
He nodded. 'That's a fact.' Gesturing at the still frame again, he added, 'Another fact: this is the main entrance. There are other ways into that lot, and not all are covered by security cams.'
Catherine, amazed, said, 'Can we ever see the driver?'
'I don't think so. We'll try some image enhancement, but with the angle, and reflections…Probably not gonna be lucky on that one.'
'Nick, what about talking to the people inside the hotel, when the SUV drove by?'
'Even assuming the driver came inside at some point, there'd be thousands of people in that casino alone. And that was over a year ago. How are we going to track them down?'
'You're right,' she admitted. 'If this crime had gone down yesterday, we'd be facing tough odds-a year later…. So Missy was abducted in her own car, and driven off, and after her murder, the Lexus was returned to the lot?'
'Looking that way.'
She thought for a moment. 'If the Chinese food in Missy's stomach is undigested, then by the time her car comes back to the hotel…'
'She's dead,' Nick said.
Perplexed, Catherine pointed at the screen. 'Then who the hell is driving that Lexus?'
'Maybe somebody who owns a chest freezer.'
'May,' Catherine said, 'be.' She pushed a button on the intercom. 'Warrick?'
His voice crackled back over the line. 'Cath?'
'Head over to the video lab, would you?'
Soon they were showing Warrick the tape; then they shared with him what they'd surmised.
'If you're thinkin' I need to put my proctology tool up that Lexus,' Warrick said, shaking his head, 'I gotta tell ya-that baby wasn't that spotless at the dealership. Anything I find could've been easily displaced when Sherman had the interior professionally cleaned.'
Catherine asked innocently, 'You ID those other tires yet?'
Warrick twitched half a smirk. 'That's a work-in-progress.'
'Which is the better lead?'
'The Lexus.'
'Well, then,' she said. 'Round up a detective and head back to the Sherman place.'
Warrick stood and gave her a grumpy look. 'You know, if Gris was here-'
'He'd send your ass out to the Shermans to pick up that Lexus.'
Warrick considered that for a second. 'Yeah, he would,' he admitted, and was gone.
Jim Brass drove Warrick back to the quiet upper-middle-class housing development; calling on people so late at night-it was approaching midnight-was something Warrick could never get used to, rolling into slumbering neighborhoods, delivering nightmares.
Again, one light was on upstairs, and another in the living room of the mission-style house on Sky Hollow Drive. No loud TV emanated, however, and Alex Sherman answered on the first knock. For a change, they were expected: Brass had called ahead, though the detective had given the man no details.
His white sweatshirt (with green Michigan State logo) and green sweatpants rumpled, Sherman greeted them with the hollow look of a man who was either sleeping way too much or hardly at all.
'Do you know something?' he asked, his tone at once urgent and resigned. He had lost his wife and even the best news could not bring her back.
'We do have a lead,' Brass said. 'You remember Warrick Brown, from the crime lab?'
'Of course.'
Warrick picked up the ball. 'Could we step inside? We need to talk again.'
'Sure…come on in. I made coffee.'
They did not refuse the offer. This time it was Warrick who sat beside Sherman on the couch, while Brass perched on the edge of a nearby chair. Sherman's dark razor-cut hair stuck out here and there at odd angles, and the man's glasses rode low on his nose. He hadn't shaved in a while.
'I'm a little out of it,' he admitted. 'I'm getting calls from Missy's relatives, and…I haven't even made the funeral arrangements yet.'
Brass said, 'It's hard getting used to the idea of your wife being gone.'
Sherman looked sharply at the detective. 'I was used to her being gone. What I'm not used to is her being back…and murdered…and…'
Warrick thought the man might weep, but it was clear he was way beyond that. Nothing to do but get into it….
'Mr. Sherman,' Warrick said, 'did you ever wonder why it was that you couldn't find your wife's SUV that night?'
Sherman shrugged-not just his shoulders, his whole body seemed to capitulate. 'I assumed I was just…too screwed up. Too worried and anxious to tell my ass from a hole in the ground.'
'It never occurred to you that the car actually may not have been there.'
Frowning, Sherman said, 'What are you talking about? It was found right there in the lot.'
Warrick nodded. 'What did you say at the time, when you were questioned?'
'I said, I know my own car, and it wasn't there or I would have seen it.'
'You were right.'
Sherman didn't grasp Warrick's meaning yet. 'But like I said, I've come to realize I must've been so out of it…' Sherman's features had a hard, almost sinister look as he turned a burning gaze on the CSI. 'Or…are you saying something else?'
'I'm saying something else, sir. Tonight, we finally figured out why you didn't see the Lexus.'
'My God,' Sherman said, jumping ahead a step, sitting up; it was almost as if he'd been woken with a splash of water. 'You mean it really wasn't there?' Sherman finished for him, his eyes widening a little behind his glasses.
Warrick nodded slowly.
'Well, where the hell was it, when I was looking for it?'
'That's just it-we don't know.'
'Then how do you know it wasn't there?'
Warrick explained, in some detail, what had been discovered by Nick, going over the surveillance videos.
Sherman's voice rose, and possessed a tremble that might have been sorrow or anger or perhaps both, as he said, 'Why, after more than a goddamn year, are you people just now figuring that out?'
Warrick searched for words. Should he tell the grieving husband that the reason was because Nick spilled a pop can? Or maybe share with him the superiority of Grissom's graveyard crew over Ecklie's day shift?
Brass, who'd been quietly sitting drinking the coffee, now sat forward and bailed Warrick out. 'A year ago,' he said, 'a whole different set of investigators, assigned to a missing person case, were looking for cars coming into the hotel. Now, one of our crime lab investigators, new to the case…the murder case, Mr. Sherman…caught a glimpse of what looked like your car driving past the entrance.'
This seemed to placate Sherman, who said, 'Well, you told me fresh eyes would be a good thing for the investigation. And I appreciate the validation of my original statement…but what good does it do?'
'Plenty,' Warrick said. 'We think Missy was abducted in her own car, driven away and the car brought back to the Mandalay Bay and parked again.'
'To confuse the issue,' Brass said.
'All right.' Sherman seemed more alert now. 'What can I do to help?'
Warrick said, 'Allow us to take your van into custody and search for evidence again.'
This seemed to disappoint him. 'The police didn't find anything a year ago. And the van has been cleaned
