Body of Evidence

seem to be telling the truth.'

A slow, relieved sigh preceded the man's next question: 'If I might ask, why are you so sure I'm innocent?'

Nick said, 'The airline'll have a record of you. It won't take any time at all to check that. The hospital staff in Des Moines will back up your story, too…if it's true.'

'It's true!'

Nick smiled gently. 'I believe it is. Relax, buddy.'

Jackson nodded and seemed to relax for the first time since he entered the room. 'You can ask my wife, but…go easy, would you?'

'About the pornography?' Catherine asked.

'I wasn't thinking of that. She'd know that's not me. She'd never believe that of me. I meant, take it easy in general…. She's a wreck, after this weekend.'

Finally genuine concern colored Catherine's voice as she asked, 'And how is your mother-in-law doing?'

He let out another sigh. 'Well, she's still got some chemo to get through, but they say she's through the worst of it.'

Silence hung in the air; having a little normal real life, even tinged with tragedy, interrupt the case seemed to provide a grounding influence, somehow.

Finally Nick said, 'Mr. Jackson-Ben. You may still be able to help with our case.'

His eyes grew alert. 'Sure. Name it.'

'Think for a second. Got any idea who would…or could…have used your work station?'

Glumly, Jackson shook his head. 'Nobody and anybody. They don't put locks on cubicles.'

Nick's eyes narrowed. 'This may sound funny, but…you have any enemies here?'

'Enemies? No-hell, I don't think I've been here long enough to get anyone pissed at me, yet. Besides, all I do is grunt work. They won't let me near anything important until I've got more experience…. Doesn't bother me. I mean, that's the business. That's any business.'

Catherine asked, 'Anybody been hanging around your cubicle lately?'

Jackson considered that, but shook his head. 'No more than usual.'

'I'm thinking,' she said, 'somebody who wasn't all that interested in you, but suddenly starts dropping by, to shoot the breeze.'

'I see where you're coming from, Ms. Willows-but no.'

'What about somebody who happened to be around when you were checking your password? Either refreshing your memory with that post-it, or just keying it in…?'

'It may not seem like it, but I tried to be discreet and not check it when anybody was around. After the first couple days with a new password, I generally have it down.'

'You weren't sure when I first asked you.'

'I know, but…it's different, typing it in. My fingers remember, you know?'

Nick took another tack. 'Who knew you were leaving town for the weekend?'

Another head shake. 'I don't have any idea.'

'Well, who did you tell?'

'Janice and Roxanne and maybe a dozen or more friends here. And Janice got it wrong, right? But on the other hand, a lot of people knew my mother-in-law was sick and they asked about her. I might have mentioned it to as many as twenty people. Newcombe-Gold has been like an extended family for Laura and me. Everybody here is like family. Sounds like a cliche, but here it happens to be true.'

'One more question.'

'Shoot.'

'Can you tell us why something printed on your computer would print on Mr. Gold's printer, instead of the one in your cubicle?'

The young man thought about that, but for only a moment. 'The last thing I did Friday was a drawing that Mr. Gold was taking to Los Angeles with him. It was a mockup for a client there, sort of a rush job…but really not important enough for any of the senior artists to do.'

'Okay, but that doesn't answer the question.'

'Actually, it does. I was late to pick up Laura to getto the airport. So, instead of printing it off in my cubicle, and hunting down Mr. Gold, I just sent the drawing to his printer so he'd have it before he left. I didn't bother to change my printer selection back to mine before I left. Slipped my mind, actually.'

Nick nodded. 'Makes sense.'

'All right, Mr. Jackson,' Catherine said, on her feet again. 'May we fingerprint you?'

'I guess. But why?'

'We're going to end up fingerprinting everybody, but you're important, because your work station was used. We have to be able to separate your fingerprints from whoever did this.'

'Sure, I understand. Go ahead.'

Catherine fingerprinted Jackson efficiently, then handed him a paper towel. 'We're going to ask you to not talk about this investigation with anyone.'

'Sure, but why?' Jackson used the paper towel on his fingertips, only the ink wasn't coming off easily.

'Publicity for one,' Catherine said. 'How would Newcombe-Gold's clients feel about this kind of investigation centering on the agency?'

'Oh. Yeah…'

'But there's another concern,' Nick said. 'Your co-workers.'

'What about them?'

'You're the first person we've interviewed privately. That was in part because you weren't here yesterday, when the other interviews were conducted out in the lobby; but it might not look that way to your co- workers.'

He gave them a blank stare.

Catherine asked, 'How do you think they would feel about you, if they believed our investigation had focused on you and your work station?'

Jackson stopped working on cleaning his fingers for a moment. 'Shit.'

'Well put,' Nick said.

Studying his blue fingers, Jackson seemed strangely lost.

'Come on,' Catherine said, taking pity, withdrawing a small bottle out of her case and leading the big man over to the sink. 'Put your hands in the sink.'

She opened the lid and sprayed the contents of the bottle on Jackson's hands.

'What is it?' he asked.

'It's what we in the crime lab call 'soap.' Good old-fashioned soap-you can wash up and no one will know what happened in here.'

His expression was grim. 'You…you think my co-workers are going to suspect me, don't you?'

Catherine shook her head. 'They have no reason to; and by the time people find out what we're investigating, we're hoping to have the guilty party in custody.'

As the big man aggressively dried his hands, Nick approached him. 'May we have your discretion in this matter, Mr. Jackson?'

'You've got it…. Can I get out of here?'

'You can,' Catherine said.

Nick offered his hand and the two ex-jocks shook. 'Thank you for your cooperation, Ben.'

'No problem,' the big man said. 'Just do me a favor and catch the guy.'

'Our pleasure,' Catherine said.

Not long after Jackson left them, O'Riley finally found his way to the break room, but he was not alone-an African American with a shaved head followed him in. O'Riley gestured to their new guest.

'This is Jermaine Allred,' the detective said. 'Mr. Allred, this is Catherine Willows and Nick Stokes, CSI.'

Allred, whose manner was self-confident, gave them a guardedly friendly nod. Like Jackson, Allred was dressed casually, a white business shirt untucked over faded jeans, the top few buttons ignored.

'So you're the crime lab,' he said, and stuck out his hand toward Nick who shook it; then Allred shook hands