Warrick did as he was told, thanking the powers-that-be that Lake Mead Drive would eventually turn into Interstate 215. Trying to drive clear across this busy city, through snarled street traffic, would have cost them precious time, even with a flasher going.
Rene Fairmont had the same knowledge, of course,
'What did Whiting
'That Rene said she had an emergency and just split! He tried to ask what was wrong, but she just grabbed her things and said she had to leave.'
'I don't think Fred's ever going to get a chance to have his talk with Rene about recklessness.'
'Me neither,' Vega said. 'But maybe
Warrick kept the pressure on the accelerator. The angel of mercy had the sense to know they were getting onto her, it seemed; maybe she wouldn't know how close they were…maybe they would reach this angel in time, before she flew off into her next identity….
Catherine had returned to looking into the various bogus charities, seeking some commonality between the entities themselves or at least their dead-drop mailboxes: ten different charities, not counting D.S. Ward Worldwide and its Des Moines drop, with ten different drop box sites.
Although three of the mailboxes were local, the other seven were out of state. She would check, in person, the three locals, scattered around the city; already she'd memorized their locations.
Out of state would be trickier: Jonathan Hooker Ministries in Salt Lake City; Father Lonnegan's Children's Fund, Laramie, Wyoming; Shaw Ministries, Grand Island, Nebraska; Pastor Henry Newman Charities in Joliet, Illinois; and three more even farther east.
If Rene Fairmont was behind all these scams, how exactly was she picking up the money? In-person pickup was required. Could the woman have an accomplice in every one of these cities? That didn't seem likely-this was a loner's game….
The CSI decided to turn the computer loose on the problem. Into a search, she typed all the keywords from the charity names. While that ran, she pulled up a map of the United States and highlighted all the cities with Rene's drops.
In less than a minute, Catherine felt her mouth drop and her eyes pop.
From Vegas, I-15 north to Salt Lake City, then east on I-80 through Laramie, Grand Island, Des Moines, Joliet and so on. It wasn't just a network of scams, and certainly not an indication of accomplices hither and yon:
The plan opened like a blossoming flower to Catherine, in all its sick beauty. With this route waiting, Rene Fairmont could pick up, leave town, and melt into the sunset. Well, sunrise actually, since she'd be traveling eastward.
Depending on how much money waited at each drop, their venal angel of mercy could come and go from each city, whenever she wanted. As far as Rene knew, no one figured out her route or her plan.
A chill prickled the back of Catherine's neck: She knew-and it was well beyond a hunch, even Grissom couldn't question this-that Rene was getting ready to run. The sleazoid local lawyer used in several of the estate scams the woman had tied off like the loose end that he'd become-perhaps right after Catherine and Vega had spoken to her at the Fairmont home-and probably right about now Warrick and Vega were discovering that Nurse Fairmont had departed Sunny Day as well.
Catherine was reaching for her cell phone when the results of her computer search came up.
The charity names all had something in common, too-they represented a colossal, arrogant thumbing-of- her-nose by Rene to anyone who sought to catch up with her.
The names had led Catherine to IMDb.com, the Internet Movie Database. And every one of the names of the fake charities came from a single source-
In a matter of seconds, she'd taken this in, and-hopping mad-she hit speed-dial for Warrick.
Surprisingly, she got Vega instead, as well as the distinctive sound of a wailing siren.
'I'm sure she is,' Catherine said. 'That's what I called to tell you-she's got an escape route set up, conducive to picking up her stashes at the mailbox drops.'
Vega said something that got eaten up in static-one of the downsides of working in Las Vegas was the cell phone signal sometimes just plain sucked.
'What?' she yelled into the phone.
Vega's voice came back, clearer now.
'I'll check the local drops,' she said, clicked off, and ran out.
No red Grand Prix awaited in the driveway when Warrick pulled up to the ranch-style house on Rustic Ridge Drive with its browning lawn and FOR SALE sign. The CSI and the detective came out of the Tahoe, guns drawn. Warrick grabbed the ram out of the back-the Fairmont woman's flight gave them probable cause-and Vega led the way toward the house. Howling sirens in the distance told Warrick backup was on its way.
While Vega covered him, Warrick holstered his weapon long enough to swing the battering ram into the front door-the lock exploded inward, the door yawned open, and Warrick dropped the ram to pull his pistol again.
With Vega in the lead, the duo went through room by room. When the house was established as clear, the CSI holstered his gun and shook his head in frustration.
No doubt about it: Rene Fairmont was already gone.
The master bedroom, more than anything, told the story, the closet door thrown open, rejected clothes on the floor, the bed, and still hanging in the closet. The woman had clearly packed quickly and bailed.
'What next?' asked an exasperated Vega.
'Next,' Warrick said, 'we go through this damn house and see what we can find.'
Not long after Warrick and Vega had hit the door, the uniforms had shown up, and they now had the neighborhood cordoned off.
Vega said, 'Guess I better canvass the neighbors, and break up the siege outside. I don't suppose she's coming back….'
'Sure she is. Right after M.C. Hammer.'
The detective sighed, and ambled out, saying, 'Better put out an APB on her car, too.'
After a cursory look around, Warrick retrieved his crime scene kit from the Tahoe and began work in earnest.
In the bedroom, little useful presented itself, at first. The CSI did find a cream-colored dress with red roses on it, on the floor, which he bagged. Then he rooted around in the closet, coming across something really worth finding: a plastic grocery bag on the floor containing several wigs, one of which was gray. A pair of glasses that looked like tri-focals but were clear glass was stuffed in the bag as well.
When Vega came back from his canvass of the neighbors, Warrick held up the wig in one evidence bag and the glasses in another.
The CSI said, 'Meet the
'Hello Mabel,' Vega said dryly.
'What about the neighbors?'
The detective shrugged. 'Nobody's seen much. They say Rene Fairmont isn't a friendly neighbor. Keeps to herself. Woman next door says Rene left right before we got here. Says Rene loaded her car with suitcases before peeling away.'
'You got the APB out, right?' Warrick asked.
