Body of Evidence

Grissom turned, looked at the man with a withering expression Medusa might have envied. 'Well, the 'guys' and I-which is to say these criminalists-will be here as long as we need to be.'

The short one shot him a defensive look, but swallowed nervously, saying nothing.

'But as long as you're here,' Grissom said, suddenly cheerful, 'you can help.'

The tall one gulped and asked, 'How?'

'Get us a clean sheet-the biggest one you've got. And a new body bag.'

'Not the gurney?' the short one asked.

'Not yet,' Grissom said. He held up one finger. 'A sheet…' He held up another finger. '…and a new body bag. New.'

They shuffled off to their ambulance, and a couple of minutes later returned with a huge white sheet and, atop a gurney they'd hauled over, a body bag, which they brought to the edge of the road.

'Okay, gentlemen,' Grissom said. 'Let's lay out the sheet, and then oh so carefully rest our package on top of it.'

Frowning, the short one asked, 'We're taking the whole thing?'

'Yes. We'll load it up and take it back to the lab.'

'Carpet and all?'

Grissom's expression was only technically a smile. 'When one says 'whole thing,' that would indicate carpet and all, yes. Is there a problem?'

'That thing could really mess up our…' After trailing off, the short one glanced over at the body bag.

Grissom frowned. 'That's not a new one, is it?'

'Well, it's the newest one we've got,' the tall one said.

Despite what people might assume, body bags were not a one-time-use article. The truth was they simply cost too much. Grissom, however, had requested a pristine one because he didn't want to have to worry about any cross-contamination.

True, body bags were cleaned thoroughly after every grim use; but for his evidence to stand up in court, Grissom knew he needed a brand-new bag.

'Warrick,' he said, at last.

'Papa needs a brand new bag?'

'I don't care what anybody says,' Grissom said, flicking a little grin at Warrick. 'You're the hardest-working man in show business…and you're going to prove it by heading over to Nellis and tell them what we need.'

'And what we need is a brand-new body bag.'

'Yes.'

The Air Force base would have new bags. They had very little use for them here; but they had them on hand, just in case.

Sara gave Warrick a sunny if sarcasm-laced smile. 'See-you get all the fun jobs.'

'Greaaat,' Warrick growled, like a depressed Tony the Tiger. 'Haven't been on a scavenger hunt since grade school.'

'Well, you do get to drive yourself,' Grissom said, reminding him. 'We'll stay here and work the scene.'

Warrick grunted and strode over to the Tahoe.

Within an hour later, the piece of taillight plastic had been collected and bagged; dental stone was setting up in the footprints; and-with the ambulance crew hanging around and looking grumpy, but knowing enough now to stay away from Grissom-Warrick finally got back, a black body bag under his arm.

The purple of the red and blue of flashing lights had finally given way to the purple and pink smudging the horizon, courtesy of the morning sun, parting the darkness.

'What took so long?' Grissom asked.

'Hey, imagine the song I had to sing to sell them,' Warrick said. 'Starting with the guard at the entrance, then his supervisor, then the M.P.s, then the officer of the day, and the officer of the watch and God only knows how many more-I lost track. I'm lucky I'm not in the brig, or on my way to the Middle East.'

'But is it a new bag?' Grissom asked, eagerly.

'Bran' spankin'. Doesn't take much to please you, does it, Gris?'

'I'm a simple soul,' Grissom said, taking the body bag in his latex-gloved hands, while Warrick and Sara exchanged wide-eyed reactions to this remarkable statement.

Using the ambulance crew for assistance, the CSIs carefully laid the bundle inside the white sheet, wrapping it up as best they could; then they put the whole package into the body bag. The ambulance crew placed the body bag onto the gurney and rolled it back to their vehicle. Once loaded, they took off, the siren off now-no reason to rush with this patient.

While Warrick finished removing the casts of the partial footprints, Sara took more pictures, this time of the ground beneath where the carpet-wrapped body had been. Grissom spent the time surveying the area, looking for anything that might have come loose when they were moving the body. He found nothing, but that didn't worry him. He had evidence, lots of it, waiting back at the lab…

…and, for once, the killer had even been kind enough to gift-wrap it.

Dr. Al Robbins was waiting for them in the morgue. A good twenty to twenty-five degrees cooler than the rest of the labs, the morgue always gave Grissom both a feeling of calm and of purpose. Something about the change in temperature made the room seem more peaceful to him, the very crispness of the air inherently reassuring. The atmosphere seemed somehow…scientific. Here, Dr. Gil Grissom felt insulated from the chaos that brought him his 'patients': the victims who needed him. This was the last place where Grissom saw most victims, in the flesh at least, so it became a place that filled him with a deep sense of purpose. A morgue was a kind of church to Grissom, the autopsy tray a sort of altar; but these victims were not to be worshipped, nor were they to be sacrificed. They had come here, albeit against their will, to ask him to do right by them.

To find justice for them.

And their killers.

The gurney bearing the body bag containing the carpet-wrapped corpse had been drawn up next to the metal table over which Doc Robbins spent most of his time. Grissom, Warrick and Sara had all pulled on blue lab coats and latex gloves. Robbins stood leaning against the table in his usual surgical scrubs, his metal crutch propped in a nearby corner.

'And what have you brought me today?' the coroner asked, his eyes on the body bag.

With the slightest twinkle of humor, Grissom asked, 'Why, you didn't look inside?'

Robbins smiled. 'Nope-just finished some reports and got in here myself. I found this waiting for me. I figured you wouldn't be too far behind.'

'We don't know what it is ourselves, for sure,' Grissom admitted, 'other than a body that didn't die today.' And then he proceeded to fill Doc Robbins in.

'So you've brought the crime scene to me, for a change,' Robbins said, opening his eyes wide.

'A big part of it,' Grissom said.

'I have to admit I find that somewhat…exciting.'

'Why?'

'Why do you think our resident lab rat, Greg, is so eager to get out in the field? To be in on the discovery. To be part of the process from the beginning. The chance to be Sherlock Holmes, and not Doctor Watson. To have the feeling that you CSIs have when you find that crucial piece of evidence, on the scene.'

Grissom shrugged a little. 'You often find the crucial piece of evidence, right on the corpse. Or in it.'

'True. But there's something about a crime scene that's inherently more exciting than the lab.'

'I disagree. I find them equally stimulating.'

Neither Grissom nor Robbins saw Warrick and Sara exchanging rolling-eyed glances at this exchange.

'Well,' Robbins said. 'Let's have a look.'

Grissom stepped over to the bag and unzipped it. All that was visible through the opening was the white sheet. He spread the sides of the bag and Warrick pitched in to help him slide the bag down over the sheet; then carefully, Grissom peeled back the sheet and revealed the carpeting, the package still sealed with duct tape.

'I don't suppose Cleopatra's in here,' Robbins said.

'Let's see,' Grissom said.