'No problem,' Grissom said.
Atwater nodded, then his eyes narrowed. 'Do you think Peter Thompson could have killed Rita…and then somehow switched the bodies to keep us from exhuming Rita and doing a proper autopsy?'
'You mean, is he a suspect?'
'Yes.'
'Everyone related to the case is a suspect. But I would say, doubtful.'
The sheriff fidgeted and Grissom wondered how big a campaign contributor the Bennett-Thompson family had been.
'Talk me through it,' Atwater said.
'Well…not to bore you with details about the funeral home and its layout and how they do things…Thompson would literally have had to smuggle his wife's dead body in and out while he was with the funeral party. Seems absurd on its face.'
Atwater nodded. 'I just want to make sure we're covering our-'
'Bases?'
'Right. Gil, could it have been a mistake? You know, a mix-up, either at the mortuary or cemetery?'
'On any given day there's, what? Maybe two dozen funerals in Vegas, spread over a dozen or more mortuaries? Then on top of that, we have two corpses in the exact same casket at the exact same time? The odds would seem astronomical.'
'Who is this Kathy Dean?'
'A young woman someone killed-we're working on why and who. But someone intentionally put her where she was, so she wouldn't be found. What better place to hide a body?'
'But what about the damn body that had to be
'That would seem to be the question. But the answer is wrapped in somebody hoping to get away with murder…who won't, if we have anything to say about it.'
'And that someone isn't Peter Thompson.'
'I don't think so. But if it is-and even if he's your biggest contributor, Sheriff…he will go down for it.'
Atwater slapped his knees, then rose. 'Wouldn't have it any other way.'
And the sheriff was gone.
The four of them got into the Taurus, Brass driving, Sara in front, the Deans in the back. As they pulled away from the forlorn stucco house, Brass knew he would have to steer the conversation as much as the car. Sara would expect this and just sit quietly and follow his lead. They were less than a block when he started offhandedly in.
'What kind of student was Kathy?' he asked.
'Straight A's since junior high,' Mrs. Dean said. 'Never anything lower than a B before that.'
'Involved in a lot of activities?'
'Band, chorus, drama club, Spanish club…in the spring she ran cross-country on the track team.'
Looking in the rearview mirror, Brass could see that he was already doing well-Crystal Dean wasn't thinking about where they were going…the morgue…or what they would see when they got there…her daughter's body. She was, instead, answering his questions, keeping her daughter alive.
'She liked cross-country?'
In the rearview, Mrs. Dean actually smiled a little. 'She said she loved the quiet of running alone.'
Brass said, 'Really into it, huh?'
The father finally spoke up. 'She was, but she always kept her grades up. That was her number-one priority.'
'What about college?'
Mrs. Dean sniffed, said, 'She was…was going to start at UNLV. This fall.'
Dean added, 'She had a dual scholarship. Track and academics.'
'Wow. How often does that happen?…Lot of her friends going to UNLV, too?'
'Not really,' Mrs. Dean said. 'Kathy didn't have all that many friends. Don't get me wrong-she was no wallflower, she was popular, in her way.'
Sara smiled and glanced over her shoulder. 'Lovely girl.'
Her mother went on: 'Kathy knew lots of people, had many acquaintances, she just wasn't…close to a lot of them. She was more of a loner. Focused on her studies.'
Sara asked casually, 'She have a boyfriend?'
'No!' Dean said.
The response was loud (and surprising) enough to make Sara jump a little.
Brass wondered why the reaction had been so strong, but decided not to push it. He glanced over at Sara and gave her a signal with his eyes to keep carrying the ball for a while.
Sara said, 'I know how it is. I was into my studies so much I just didn't have time for boys.'
'That's how it was with Kathy,' Dean said. 'She had her studies and her running to concentrate on. Anyway…do I have to tell you what boys are after? Just one thing. One thing.'
At this moment Brass decided that today would not be the day to inform these parents that their daughter had died pregnant.
A silence fell over the car and Brass wondered if he'd pushed too hard. The couple seemed to be clamming up now, and that wasn't going to do any of them any good, including the late Kathy. With another glance in the rearview, he saw Mrs. Dean pat her husband's knee. Dean's tears were flowing again and Brass figured he'd blown it.
He had needed to get as much as he could out of them, on the ride over. Once they saw their daughter on a morgue slab, they would be in no shape or mood to give Brass the information he so needed.
Then, out of nowhere, Mrs. Dean said, 'You know, on top of school and her running? Kathy had several jobs, too.'
'Jobs?' Brass asked. 'Really? Busy as she was?'
'Yes! She worked as a waitress at Habinero's Cantina, and she still had some people she babysat for. She even volunteered at the blood bank.'
'Habinero's Cantina?' Brass asked. 'Is that-'
Dean said, 'On Sunset. In Henderson.'
And then the Taurus was pulling into the CSI HQ parking lot. As Brass ushered the Deans out of the car, Sara went quickly inside to set things up with Dr. Robbins.
Soon Brass was escorting the grieving parents into a small tile-walled room just off the morgue. A curtain covered the upper half of one wall-a big window. The only furniture were two chairs and a metal table against a wall, a box of tissues at the ready.
The Deans huddled together in front of the curtain, his arm around her shoulder, her arms around his waist. Brass had already explained what would happen-that when he opened the curtain, Sara would uncover the face of the victim for confirmation that this was indeed their daughter.
There really wasn't any doubt, but this was a formality that could not be avoided.
'Ready?' Brass asked as gently as he could.
Dean let out a breath and tightened his grip on his wife's shoulder. He nodded.
Brass pulled the drawstring and the curtain slid away to reveal Sara standing on the other side of the glass; she was no longer in the baseball cap and her expression was solemn, dignified. A body under a sheet on a gurney was between Sara and the picture window.
When Brass nodded to her, Sara pulled the sheet back to reveal Kathy Dean from the neck up.
Jason Dean groaned and his wife lurched into his arms. Then the mother took a quick step forward, hand splayed against the window opposite her daughter's face, the mother's breath fogging the glass. They were both crying now, Mrs. Dean whimpering and her husband's lip quivering, though neither spoke.
Brass was a hardened homicide detective; but he was also a father. And right now he hated his job almost as much as he would love that job when Kathy Dean's killer was in his custody.
When Brass nodded again-his signal to Sara to cover the body-Jason Dean waved for her to stop and she froze, the sheet not yet up over the dead girl's features.
His eyes still locked upon his daughter's still countenance, Dean said, 'She looks so…beautiful…normal…
