Body of Evidence

'Out of town!' O'Riley blurted. 'Where?'

Her shrug was noncommittal, but her words were specific: 'He flew to Los Angeles for a trade show that starts this morning. He left last Friday and isn't due back until the end of the week.'

Catherine, trying to keep the incredulity from her voice, asked, 'And you simply forgot that little detail?'

'No, no, no, of course not…. This, this thing that happened…and then you coming…I was taken by surprise, is all.'

'If Mr. Gold wasn't coming in,' Catherine said tersely, 'why did you come in early to prep for him?'

'I didn't-I just came in at the time I usually do on Monday.' She was shaking her head, growing more and more agitated. 'If you knew Mr. Gold, you would never dream….' Her voice trailed off.

Nick gestured with the pornographic sheets still in his hand. 'You never know who some people really are.'

Catherine gave him a quick look, then asked, 'Why wouldn't we suspect Mr. Gold?'

'You just wouldn't. He's honest, he has integrity, he works hard. And he's dated a lot of women…mature women. I don't mean old, but women his own age.'

O'Riley asked, 'How old is Mr. Gold?'

'In his early forties, I guess. I can get you that information, if it's important.

Knowing that dating habits seldom had any real relevance to an interest in child porn, Catherine took the woman in another direction. 'Who else has access to Mr. Gold's personal computer?'

Janice shook her head immediately. 'No one.'

Slowly, Catherine said, 'No one has access to Mr. Gold's computer.'

'That's right.'

'You're his personal assistant.'

The blonde risked a frown. 'Do I have to tell you, a computer is also personal?'

'Some are more personal than others,' Nick said dryly.

'Mr. Gold,' Catherine said, letting each word out, one at a time, 'is in LA and won't be back for a week…and yet you have no idea who could have printed out these pictures?'

The frown went away and a placating manner accompanied Denard's reply: 'What I meant to say was, no one could have used Mr. Gold's PC to print those pictures. We each have our own private passwords, and there's no way anyone could use Mr. Gold's computer, unless he were careless with that password, which I assure you he was not.'

Nick perked. 'Was he especially careful about his password?'

Defensive now, Denard accused, 'You make that sound suspicious! Are you careful about your password, Mr. Stone?'

'Stokes,' Nick said.

Catherine could feel this interview starting to slip away from them, and she gave Nick a gently reproving glance, then said, 'It is his printer, Ms. Denard.'

'Our computers here are networked, linked together so that any of the work stations, or other offices, could have accessed Mr. Gold's printer.'

'On purpose, you mean?' Catherine asked.

'Yes…but also by mistake! Just with a wrong keystroke.'

Eyes narrowing, Catherine said, 'So, we're looking at how many people, who've been in the building since the end of shift last Friday?'

'Nearly everyone. We work six days here most of the time-Newcombe-Gold is rated number two ad agency in Las Vegas, you know.'

Catherine asked, 'How many employees?'

'With computer access?'

'Yes.'

The woman didn't miss a beat; she knew her office. 'Twenty-seven.'

Trading dismayed glances with Nick, Catherine said, 'Twenty-seven?'

'Plus Mr. Gold, of course, and Mr. Newcombe. Without computer access? There's five interns and half a dozen janitorial staff.'

Turning to O'Riley, Catherine said, 'We're going to need a search warrant for all the computers, floppies, CDs, everything.'

O'Riley sighed, nodded, withdrew his cell phone and punched in numbers, stepping over to the corner of the office for some privacy.

Janice Denard's eyes were wide and she looked as white as Nick had on seeing the pictures. 'Oh, no-please don't say you're-'

'This is a serious felony,' Catherine said, cutting the woman off. Then to Nick, she said: 'Call Tomas Nunez, would you? Tell him to get down here ASAP.'

'On it,' Nick said, hauling out his own cell phone and moving to the corner opposite O'Riley.

Tomas Nunez, the best of several computer gurus the department used part time, would come in to oversee the operation of taking the computers out of Newcombe-Gold. Catherine was about to seriously inconvenience this business, but there was no other way.

'A search warrant means you'll…search the building, right?' Denard asked weakly.

'A warrant means,' Catherine replied, 'that we'll take everything in, computers, maybe some of the other hardware, and most of the software, and our expert will work on it until we figure out the origin of this material. This isn't an employee logging on to some adult website on his coffee break, Ms. Denard-this is child pornography. A serious crime.'

'Eighty percent of our graphics are computer generated!'

'We don't do this lightly. And we do regret the inconvenience.'

O'Riley asked, 'Is Mr. Newcombe in town?'

More flustered than angry, Janice glanced at her watch. 'Yes, he should be here any minute now.'

'Good.' O'Riley returned to the cell phone, spoke a few words, then punched the STOP button and faced them. 'Warrant'll be here in ten minutes. I got Judge Madsen to issue it.'

Catherine, Nick and O'Riley all knew that crimes against children sent Judge Andrew Madsen completely around the bend and he, of all local judges, would act fastest to help them gain possession of the evidence.

'When exactly is Mr. Newcombe due in?' O'Riley asked.

As if on cue, a tall, lantern-jawed man appeared in the doorway, a laptop computer case strapped over his left shoulder. Perhaps fifty, he might have stepped from an ad for his expensively tailored gray suit. He had silver- gray hair and thin, dark eyebrows, and managed to look both confident and confused as he strode into Ruben Gold's office.

Ignoring O'Riley and the CSIs, he demanded of Denard, 'What's going on here?'

'Mr. Newcombe,' she said, taking a tentative step toward her boss. 'I…I…found something…terrible, this morning, and I'm afraid….'

O'Riley stepped between the man and woman, his badge coming up into Newcombe's face. 'I'm Detective Sergeant O'Riley, Mr. Newcombe. You are Mr. Newcombe? These are crime scene investigators I called over-Catherine Willows and Nick Stokes.'

'Crime scene…' Wheeling slowly, the polished Newcombe seemed finally to realize the CSIs were in the room. He repeated what he'd said, upon entering, but the words came out soft, even apologetic: 'What's going on here?' Then, as an afterthought, he stuck out his hand and said, 'Ian Newcombe, Sergeant, sorry.'

O'Riley gave the man's hand a cursory shake and said, 'Ms. Denard discovered something in Mr. Gold's printer this morning, and was exactly right in calling us.'

'Something in a printer serious enough to call the police?' Newcombe said, his bewildered look travelling from O'Riley back to Janice.

Nick stepped forward and tossed one of the evidence bags onto the desk-image up. Newcombe eyed it from a distance, glanced at the officers, then-as if approaching a dangerous beast-took a few steps closer, moving past