'It plays out similarly with three participants,' Sara said with a shrug.
Grissom and Maher were both nodding.
'It's a scenario that suits the evidence we have,' Grissom said. 'Let's keep working and get some more data, and see what we can build from that…. Sara, put your gloves back on. We don't want to have to amputate your fingers.'
Ruefully, Maher said, 'Looks like our vic was one of those poor bastards who brought a knife to a gunfight.'
'Not much of a knife, at that,' Sara said.
'Still,' Grissom said. 'Pretty big for a pocket knife.'
'But not big enough,' Maher said, 'to go up against bullets.'
Moving in from the sidelines, Cormier asked, 'Is…is that blood the killer's?'
Maher said, 'Good chance of it.'
'Don't mean to tell you experts how to do your job,' the hotel man said. 'But can't you just get the killer's blood type from that, and identify him?'
'In a lab we could,' Grissom said. 'Not out here.' He spread his gloved hands, indicating the forest. 'Anyway, the blood on that blade froze overnight, and the red cells will all have ruptured. If we had the lab, we could type it through the plasma, but not under these conditions.'
Going back to work, they carefully emptied the snow from the other holes one shovelful at a time. When they had emptied twelve-inch circles around each of the markers and placed the snow on the spread-out garbage bag, Maher went over the smaller pile again with the metal detector as Sara and Cormier watched.
When Maher got a hit, Sara dropped to her knees, and slowly sifted through the area. After a moment, she found it. Holding it up, she stared at the tiny ice ball with the dark, lead center. 'What happened?'
With a little grin, Maher said, 'Snow happened. The hot bullet melted it, then the condensation froze around the cartridge as it slowed the bullet down.'
They repeated the process with all the snow from the places they'd marked, but they found only one more bullet and a coin, a quarter.
'Here ya go, Gordy,' she said, flipping the quarter to the Canadian.
'Not that much less than I usually get,' Maher said, catching it.
'Yeah,' Sara said, with a grin, 'but that's American.'
'Good point, eh?'
Moving over to Grissom, Sara said, 'Two bullets. When I get the ice off 'em, we'll have a better idea what we've got.'
'Good work,' he said. Then, rising from the print he was working on, he picked two different left-foot castings from the line he'd done. 'What do you think of this?'
She studied the castings. 'They're the same boot.'
He nodded. 'Two different sets of tracks made by the same boots. One killer, two trips out and back.'
'That confirms my reconstruction.'
'Far as it goes…We need more evidence.'
Maher joined them. 'How are the castings coming, Dr. Grissom?'
'Finished. Just getting ready to pack up.'
'All right. I've got the bullets. Don't think there's anything else we can do here.'
Sara asked, 'What about the body?'
Maher gave Grissom a hard look. 'What do you think, Dr. Grissom? Are we done with the scene?'
Grissom glanced around, eyes tight with thought; then, slowly, he nodded.
'I agree,' Maher said. 'I suggest we take the body with us…which is part of why we brought the toboggan.'
'Hold on!' Cormier called from the sidelines, where he'd been listening. 'How come you can take the body now, when you couldn't before?'
'Before,' said Grissom, 'it was part of an active crime scene. Now that we've worked the scene, we can remove the body.'
Shaking his hooded head, the old man walked away.
Maher glanced toward the sky, saying, 'If we can pack up quick enough…'
'We have a shot at the parking lot,' Grissom finished.
'Let's go sledding, then,' Sara said.
Grissom and Maher carefully dug out the body, wrapping it tightly in the space blanket and binding it to the toboggan. As they worked with the remains, Sara gathered up the tools and added them to the load. Within fifteen minutes, they were starting back down the slope.
Again, Cormier was in the lead, Maher dragging the toboggan, Grissom and Sara bringing up the rear, making sure their package stayed wrapped up. As they trudged along, they discussed what to do with the body.
When they reached the edge of the parking lot, its scattering of vehicles so topheavy with snow they resembled big white mushrooms, the CSIs were still hashing over the subject.
Maher said, 'Maybe we should just bury it in the snow again.'
Sara made a face. 'We just dug it out!'
The Canadian nodded, saying, 'Yes, but the killer set it on fire for a reason…'
Grissom said, 'And you're worried that by bringing it into the hotel, we're giving the killer a chance to finish the job.'
The constable shrugged. 'It is a consideration.'
'If we bury it outside again, we'll have to set up another rotating shift,' Maher said, 'to guard it from predators.'
'Please God,' Sara said, the hotel and its promised warmth so nearby, 'let there be another way.'
They had reached the shoveled area near the rear door of the hotel, parking the toboggan alongside.
Grissom looked toward the manager. 'Mr. Cormier, do you have a walk-in cooler?'
Cormier snorted a laugh. 'Can't run a hotel this big without one…. You're not…?'
Cormier's eyes followed Grissom's to the blanketed body strapped to the toboggan.
Grissom asked, 'Does the cooler have a lock?'
'Well, padlock, yeah, but-'
'Who has keys?'
'Me, the Missus, and Mrs. Duncan, she's the head cook. But you can't seriously-'
'What about the fry cook?' Maher asked. 'What's his name?'
Cormier said, 'Bobby Chester. He doesn't have a key. Usually, he only works during the day, and the Missus or me is always around. But gentlemen, you can't honestly be considering…'
Grissom and Maher were trading looks.
Then Maher said, 'Mr. Cormier, we're going to have to ask you to collect the keys and give them to us.'
The hotel man was shaking his head. 'You can't really be suggesting we stow that…corpse, in the walk-in cooler?'
Grissom and Maher just looked at him. Sara, astounded herself, was enjoying watching this play out.
'There are sanitary issues,' Cormier was saying, 'there are laws we'd be breaking…'
'Not more serious than murder,' Grissom said. 'We have to insist. We're commandeering your cooler.'
'Tell me this is some sick joke,' the hotel manager said. 'What would I tell the health inspector?'
Maher said, 'Mr. Cormier, it's really the only option that makes sense.'
'But the guests, what will they say?'
'You're not to tell them,' Grissom said. 'The fewer people that know what we're doing, the better.'
'Well, now,' Cormier said, 'finally we agree on somethin'!'
