Body of Evidence

'Unfortunately, yes.'

'Why 'unfortunately?' '

'It's just…my job is not easy on relationships.'

'Ah. I thought someone from work might have accompanied you. It was a trade show, after all.'

Gold shook his head. 'Ian and I've been doing this for quite a while. We're both comfortable working alone, and divide the duties, where these trade shows are concerned. Going to see the 'latest thing' can get to be old hat, in a hurry.'

'You have a ticket stub from the ballgame?'

'Maybe at home.'

'A receipt from your golf game?'

'On my Visa card.'

'And the names and numbers of the friends you had dinner with, as well as the name of the hotel where you stayed?'

Gold's grin tried to be friendly but didn't make it; he shifted in the big chair. 'You're acting like I'm a suspect.'

'If you were, you'd be a suspect with his alibis all ready to go.'

The grin vanished. 'I'm well-organized. I'm used to a timetable, even where leisure time and socializing is concerned…. I don't appreciate this, treating me like a serious suspect.' He grunted a laugh. 'It's ridiculous, and frankly a little insulting.'

'Child pornography is a serious crime,' Catherine said.

Gold caught himself. 'I didn't mean to imply that it wasn't.'

'Then you will supply us with the documentation we need?'

'Yes, as soon as I can.'

'May we fingerprint you now?'

'I have no objection.'

She rose. 'We weren't aware you'd be here today, Mr. Gold, so I'll have to get my case from the car. Sergeant O'Riley will wait here with you.'

'No problem,' Gold said, the picture of good citizenship.

Five minutes later, the CSI was back in the office, ready to go to work. She walked around the desk, tripping over something and almost falling into Gold's lap. When she caught herself, she looked down at what she had stumbled over.

'Oh, I'm sorry,' Gold said, reaching down to upright what Catherine had knocked into: a black leather bag that had been leaning against his desk.

'Your laptop?' Catherine asked casually.

'Yes. My personal one.'

'Do you have a notepad and pen or pencil I could use, Mr. Gold?'

This surprised him mildly, but he said, 'Certainly,' and complied.

Catherine wrote down some quick instructions, and handed the little sheet to O'Riley, saying, 'Take care of that, would you, Sergeant?'

He took the note, read it, and said, 'Right away.'

O'Riley exited, and Catherine went on with a leisurely fingerprinting of Ruben Gold, after which she handed him a paper towel to clean his fingers.

'A little undignified,' he said good-naturedly.

'I know. Can make the best man feel like a common criminal. I do want to thank you for your time and cooperation, Mr. Gold.'

'Glad to do it,' he said. 'I know how important it is to find the person responsible for this awful thing, and Janice tells me you people have been great about your discretion, where the media is concerned.'

'It really could give your agency a black eye.'

'A terrible one. Believe me, I never meant to minimize what was at stake here, either for the children involved or…and this of course is less important…our own business interests.'

O'Riley entered and gave Catherine a curt nod.

'Serve it,' she said.

The detective crossed the room and handed Ruben Gold two search warrants-one for his laptop and one for his home.

Frowning, Gold flipped through the sheets, reading, saying, 'What the hell is this?'

Pleasantly, Catherine said, 'Your attorney will no doubt say your computer isn't covered by the original search warrant, since you weren't in town. That's b.s., but we've nullified that argument by getting you your very own personal warrant. We'll have your laptop back to you as soon as we can.'

'These…these are faxes! These warrants were faxed to this agency!'

Catherine nodded. 'Judge Madsen thoughtfully faxed them over, when Detective O'Riley called to explain the situation. By the way, thanks for the use of the company fax machine.'

She picked up the leather bag by the strap. When she and O'Riley left, Gold was frantically punching numbers into his phone.

Back at HQ, Nunez worked on the laptop while Catherine and Nick handled more prosaic but vital forensic concerns; and it was just before five when the two CSIs, the computer guru, Sergeant O'Riley and two uniformed police officers made an impressive appearance at the Newcombe-Gold agency.

Their first stop was the office of Gary Randle. He was sitting at his desk and didn't even get up when Catherine led the parade into his office.

Obviously still numb, he could only manage to raise his eyebrows, in lieu of any question.

'I need to ask you something, Mr. Randle,' Catherine said, standing at the front edge of his desk.

He looked up at her cautiously.

'How often do you see your ex-wife?'

Randle reared back, as if this were the most monstrous question of all. 'Never!'

'She has visitation rights for your daughter….'

'Supervised visitation. The last time Elaine and I were alone in a room together she tried to stab me in the eye with a ballpoint pen! Since then, at my insistence, the supervised visits with Heather all take place on neutral ground-a Lutheran church in Summerlin.'

'And you don't see your wife at the church?'

'No. I come in one door with Heather, leave her with a court-appointed officer, and then I go out the same door. Elaine comes ten minutes later, through another designated entrance, and spends her hour with Heather. Then she leaves by the door she came in, and I come back ten minutes later, using the door I came in.'

'So-you never see her, and don't know anything about her current social life.'

'Just the little bits and pieces Heather drops, after their visits.'

'What do you know about Elaine's social life these days? From what Heather has told you?'

'Supposedly Elaine has a new man in her life.'

'Who?'

'I don't know, and I don't care. Heather doesn't know either, but you can ask her, if that's really necessary.'

Catherine let a breath out. 'Thank you, Mr. Randle.'

His eyes were unbelieving. 'That's all?'

'For now. I'll be back in a few minutes. Stick around, will you?'

'I'm not going anywhere.'

'One more thing, Mr. Randle?'

'Yes?'

'You should shut down your computer for the day. Nick needs to dust the inside of it for fingerprints.'

His chin began to tremble. 'So it isn't over?'

'Very nearly,' Catherine said. 'Relax.'

'Easy for you to say.'