Body of Evidence

count for anything?'

'You're not involved in that scene, anymore.'

'No! I have nothing to hide!'

'Not in those photos,' Nick said.

The attorney said, 'Mr. Stokes!'

Catherine asked, 'Your ex-wife has visitation rights, correct?'

'Supervised,' Randle said, 'by an officer of the court. Social worker in our case.'

'So Elaine doesn't have custody on the weekends?'

'Much as she hates that, no. Her drinking burned a lot of bridges for her. She was drunk behind the wheel when she got into that accident-with Heather in the car!'

Catherine didn't think either one of them sounded like candidates for parent of the year. She handed Randle a piece of paper. 'This is an itemized list of the property we're seizing. Anything that isn't evidence will be returned, in due course.'

Randle slowly scanned the list; he looked up, surprised. 'What's this about a laptop?'

'The one that was next to the couch,' Catherine said, 'in the family room.'

'No.'

'No?'

'Lady, I don't even own a laptop.'

'Well, that's a new one, Mr. Randle. I've heard 'I don't even own a gun,' I've certainly heard 'That's not my grass'…but-'

'Show me this laptop. Come on-show me!'

They did.

'Not mine,' Randle said, shaking his head emphatically. 'Not Heather's, either.'

Nick asked, 'Then how did it come to be in your family room?'

Randle's eyes were huge, though the flesh around them had tightened; a vein was throbbing in his forehead.

Catherine said pleasantly, 'Well, Mr. Randle?'

For first time, Randle seemed not just put out or frustrated or irritated: he was afraid. Clearly, utterly terrified. But he managed to say, 'How can I explain it? You should tell me-you're the detectives!'

The attorney took his client firmly by the arm. 'Mr. Randle has nothing further to say about this matter. Are you going to charge him? Take him in for questioning as a material witness?'

Catherine said nothing; Nick was silent, and O'Riley, too.

'Then please take with you what your search warrant allows,' Austin said, 'and leave my client's home.'

Catherine looked right at Randle, though her words were directed to the attorney: 'Your client should not leave town. He may feel he has nothing more to say to us, but we may have much more to say to him-once we've gone through this material at the lab.'

Nick's smile looked almost sincere. 'You'll be hearing from us real soon, Mr. Randle. Thanks for your cooperation.'

Randle and his attorney headed back for the kitchen, and O'Riley helped the CSIs load up the Tahoe with the potential evidence.

At HQ, Nunez was given custody of the computers while Catherine and Nick split up everything else. Before they really dug in, Catherine said, 'Hey-before we look at naked pictures, Nicky…isn't there someone we should talk to, first?'

'A man of the cloth?' Nick asked, wryly.

'Not even a man with a cloth…. A woman. With an ex-husband I'm confident she'll want to tell us all about….'

Within half an hour, Catherine and Nick-with O'Riley chaperoning-were on the front porch of a one-story house in a quiet neighborhood on Gunderson Boulevard.

The older home, with its white and gray siding, tall trees sprouting from a lush, trim lawn, could hardly compare with Randle's Lakes area residence, but it had a quiet, homey appeal. In the driveway outside a one-car garage, a black Lincoln Continental seemed slightly incongruous next to the modest but well-kept home.

O'Riley rang the bell and, as if she'd been expecting them, a woman answered.

'May I help you?' she asked, her voice midrange and sweet, almost saccharine.

O'Riley said, 'Elaine Randle?'

She nodded. 'Why yes-what is it? You folks have an…official look.'

Were the remnants of a Southern accent, Catherine wondered, lurking in there somewhere?

The detective was showing his wallet I.D. to the woman, introducing himself and the CSIs.

The woman's smile vanished. 'Is it Heather? Is she all right? Please tell me she's fine!'

'Yes, she is fine,' Catherine said, putting some warmth in it.

'Thank God,' Elaine said, and her smile returned, however tentative.

'Sorry to alarm you,' Catherine said. 'Hey, I'm a mom myself. Mrs. Randle, we'd like to talk to you about your ex-husband.'

The smile was gone again, but she opened the door. 'Please come in. Is something wrong? Is Gary all right?'

They were all inside before Catherine answered. 'Your husband's all right. As for, if something's wrong… frankly, we don't know yet. We'd just like to ask you a few questions.'

Nick said, 'You may be able to help us determine if there is a problem.'

'I'm not sure I understand, but I'm glad to talk to you. Can I get anyone a drink?' They declined and their hostess led them into a small, neat living room with anonymous contemporary decor. A sofa lined one wall and a couple of chairs sat at angles, one at the sofa's far end, the other across the narrow room. A twenty-one-inch TV perched on a cart in a corner and an end table separated the sofa and the nearest chair.

'There's no polite way to say this,' Catherine said, having been asked in advance by an embarrassed O'Riley to take the lead with the woman. 'But we need to talk to you about Mr. Randle's sexual proclivities.'

A hand went to the woman's mouth and trembled there; her eyes jumped. 'Oh, God…I thought that was behind me. What has he done? What has Gary done?'

How quickly they'd gotten to this point caught Catherine by surprise, and she was astonished to hear herself pleading the suspect's case, however vaguely: 'We're not sure Gary's done anything, Mrs. Randle.'

'Oh. Well, I hope you're right….'

'Why would you think he had?'

Elaine Randle shrugged, sighed. 'Gary's…appetites always seem to be escalating. When we were married, he just kept wanting more…more of…well, everything.'

'When you were involved with him, in that lifestyle, you didn't like it?'

'No. I tried to like it-for Gary. For our marriage.'

'Did that pressure, that stress, have anything to do with your drinking problem?'

The woman leaned forward and almost whispered to Catherine: 'Could you and I talk, alone? I'm sorry, but this is…' She glanced at Nick and O'Riley. '…this is embarrassing.'

'It needn't be,' Catherine said. 'Detective O'Riley and CSI Stokes are professionals, and they need to hear what you have to say.'

'Well…but it's…'

'We gather evidence,' Catherine said in a firm but friendly manner. 'We don't judge.'

Elaine Randle drew in a deep breath, sighed, and pressed on: 'Our lifestyle involved…well…there's no other way to say it: Gary's perverted tastes. He always wanted to see me with other men, other women and finally, in groups. It was getting out of hand. It was humiliating, demeaning, and as you guessed, yes, I started drinking to cope, and eventually that got out of hand, too.'

Catherine cocked her head, studying the woman. 'Was Gary ever interested in younger partners?'

With a derisive laugh, the woman said, 'Yes-once I hit thirty, he had an affair with a woman barely out of her teens. And, later, I could see…in the swinging situations? Where Gary was concerned, the younger the partner, the