Body of Evidence

Nick said, 'I think he wants this one as bad as we do.'

They had been inside the ad agency so much in the last three days, Nick felt like he ought to go in and pick up a paycheck at the receptionist's desk. Nick was holding the door open for Catherine and O'Riley, who were inside when Nick heard a car door slam and glanced behind him.

Randle was climbing out of a black Lincoln Navigator, about halfway down on the other side.

'Guys,' Nick said. 'He's out here….'

O'Riley and Catherine stepped back into the morning sun and the glass door whooshed shut behind them. Randle strode toward the entry, briefcase in one hand, a folded USA Today in the other, his head down as he had a look at the headline.

The ad man was almost on top of them before he looked up and caught startled sight of them. He did a deer- in-the-headlights freeze, which quickly shifted into the fight-or-flight reflex Nick had seen on the faces of so many about-to-be-collared perps.

Please break and run,Nick thought, please.

But instead Randle just stood there, looking from official face to face with open defiance. 'Now what do you fine public servants want with me?'

O'Riley stepped forward. 'Gary Thomas Randle, you're under arrest,' and went into the standard recitation of Miranda rights, even as he withdrew the handcuffs.

At the sight of which, Randle whitened. 'You can't be serious.' His wild gaze went to Nick and Catherine, back and forth. 'That laptop isn't mine-the zip disk either! I told you that.'

'Turn around, sir,' O'Riley said. 'Hands behind you.'

'That's not necessary. I'll go with you. I'll answer your questions. Haven't I been cooperative?'

'You've been a dream,' Nick said.

O'Riley said, 'Do I have to give you the 'hard or easy' speech?'

'This is false arrest. This is going to mean one hell of a big law suit.'

'Hard, then?'

A huge sigh left Randle and much of the life seemed to exit him, as well. Zombie-like, he handed the newspaper to Catherine. She took it, then Randle gave her the briefcase.

Suddenly, oddly, Randle said to Catherine, 'Are you a parent?'

She stiffened. 'Yes.'

'I'm telling you, on my daughter's life, I didn't do this.'

Catherine said nothing.

O'Riley, cuffs in one hand, with the other made a little turning motion with his finger, and Randle nodded and showed his back to the detective, thrusting out his clenched fists, offering his wrists rather melodramatically, Nick thought. O'Riley clicked on the cuffs.

Then O'Riley took the man by an elbow and ushered him toward the Taurus.

'Big mistake,' Randle was muttering. 'Big mistake.'

'Yeah, it was,' O'Riley said flatly.

Randle looked over his shoulder at Nick, still seeking a sympathetic audience: 'I swear to you I had nothing to do with this.'

As if in absurd response, Catherine's cell phone rang.

As she was responding, Nick's rang, too; and a beat after, so did O'Riley's. Then the three of them moved apart from one another, to find minimal privacy for their individual if simultaneous calls.

As Nick punched the cell button, he heard Catherine saying, 'You gotta be kidding!'

Into the cell, the confused CSI said, 'Nick Stokes.'

'Grissom.'

To one side of him, Nick heard O'Riley saying, 'Yes, sir,' and go back to listening; the words 'Yes sir' seemed to be about O'Riley's entire end of the conversation, as Randle stood beside the detective looking as flummoxed as Nick felt.

In Nick's ear, his supervisor was saying, 'I just talked to Tomas Nunez, Nick. I hope you haven't made that arrest.'

'Well. We sort of just did.'

'Sort of Nick? Do we 'sort of' arrest people, now?'

'O'Riley arrested him.'

'Really. We may have a problem with that.'

Nick glanced over at Catherine, whose eyes were wide with unpleasant surprise as she continued her own cell phone conversation.

'What problem could there be, Gris? Evidence says he's the guy.'

'Does it? Get back here. We need to talk.'

'Oh-kay.'

Nick replaced the cell on his belt just as O'Riley was undoing the handcuffs, freeing the suspect.

'What's this?' the ad man asked. 'Cuffs not enough? Bringing out the shackles?'

O'Riley said, 'Mr. Randle, we'd like to request you to accompany us back to headquarters.'

Randle looked understandably confused. 'Request? I'm not under arrest?'

'Not at this time,' O'Riley admitted. 'We would appreciate your cooperation in helping us straighten this matter out.'

'And accompanying you will help do that?'

'We hope so, sir. Yes.'

Nick felt anger rising within him. Grissom had been unspecific and yet Nick felt he'd been accused of something, unfairly accused, at that.

'Then I'm not required to go with you,' Randle said, making a show of rubbing his wrists.

Catherine stepped forward. Her tone was almost friendly. 'No, sir, you don't-but if you would cooperate with us maybe we can help get you out of this situation.'

'It seems to me you're the ones who put me in this situation!'

She shook her head. 'The evidence put you in this position, Mr. Randle-and we do have a substantial body of evidence pointing in your direction.'

His eyes tightened and his voice had a mild waver in it. 'I'm not in the clear yet.'

'No. But if you're innocent…'

'I'm innocent!'

'…your cooperation can help explain this evidence, even possibly make it…go away.'

Randle drew in a deep breath; this time life seemed to come to him. 'I'll go with you. I'll show you I mean to be cooperative.'

'Good,' Catherine said, with a smile so strained it made Nick's face hurt.

'Over here,' O'Riley said, pointing toward the Taurus, not taking the man's elbow this time.

The ad man glanced at the looming glass building behind them. 'Can't I tell them inside? That I'm going to be late?'

'I thought you worked your own hours,' Nick said. O'Riley gave Nick a look and said to Randle, 'You can use my cell to call them on the way.'

Nick and Catherine stood, shellshocked, watching the Taurus pull out of the lot and disappear. 'Who called you, Cath?'

'Tomas-he says there may be a problem with the disk.'

'Yeah, I gathered.'

'Who called you? Grissom?'

Nick nodded. 'And he had that very quiet measured calm thing going.'

'In other words, royally pissed.'

'Who do you suppose called O'Riley?'

She shrugged. 'Mobley maybe? Brass?'

He turned and looked at her, hard. 'Did we screw up?'

Unhesitatingly, she said, 'No. Absolutely not. We have the right guy. This computer evidence is just so highly technical, it's easy to run into snags.'