Binding Ties

Dayton.'

Catherine said, 'Fill us in.'

'When I say Dayton was a psychopath, I don't mean 'eccentric,' I mean clinical. His dad, Thomas Dayton, was a big-time contractor who built a lot of the county buildings and several casinos that went up in the late eighties and early nineties-remember that guy?'

'Oh yes,' Catherine said.

Nick was nodding in recognition, too.

Brass continued: 'And Jerome was my personal favorite candidate for the killings, only he ended up in a private hospital where he's been since late 1995. I woulda bet a year's pay he was the killer, but Drake died after Dayton went into the hospital.'

Nodding thoughtfully, Catherine asked, 'What about the others?'

'Vince liked this loser Dallas Hanson. He was a cowboy from Oklahoma. He and his quote-unquote old lady bought a used-but-abused mobile home on the far northwest side. When she thought Dallas was screwing around on her, she threw his ass out. He ended up taking an apartment in the same building downtown where Todd Henry lived. Then he showed up on a security tape from the Lucky Seven where George Kim worked.'

'Promising,' Nick said.

Catherine asked, 'What physical evidence did you have against Hanson?'

Shaking his head, the detective said, 'The only thing was a fingerprint of his that turned up on a cup in Henry's apartment. Hanson claimed that he'd had a neighborly drink with the soon-to-be-dead man on the day Henry disappeared, but that was it.'

Nick asked, 'No alibi?'

'He claimed he'd been passed out drunk in his room after his drink with Henry. No witnesses, of course.'

'He have a record?' Catherine asked.

'Minor,' Brass said. 'Got caught up in a couple of barroom dustups back in Oklahoma and had done some county time here for a misdemeanor assault…but nothing to show CASt-like leanings.'

'How about DNA evidence?' Nick asked. 'You had that semen at the scene….'

Brass shook his head. 'We didn't get a match, but our methodology in those days wasn't where we are now.'

Catherine pressed: 'What about Phillip Carlson?'

'That guy was a stone freak, a gay basher. He'd pose as a hooker, then when he got his john alone, he'd beat the hell out of him and rob the guy.'

'Charming,' Nick said.

'Oh how we wanted it to be that asshole…. Hell, he even confessed. But then it turned out he was a chronic confessor, at least when it came to any murder that had any gay overtones. Shrink said Carlson was gay or bi himself, trying to repress those tendencies, and the only thing he hated more than the average homosexual he victimized was himself.'

'Sounds like a strong candidate,' Catherine said.

'Sure,' Brass said. 'Only he just wasn't in the right places at the right times…or I should say wrong places. He was at the Lucky Seven, too, caught him on video. Problem was-we had him on camera within an hour of the time George Kim was murdered. That made the schedule awfully tight for Carlson, Kim living way the hell and gone across the city from the Lucky Seven. It wasn't impossible Carlson could've made the trip, but highly unlikely.'

Nick asked, 'Was Carlson clear on any of the others?'

'Same kind of deal with the Henry murder,' Brass said, exasperation and resignation melding in his tone. 'He'd been seen downtown that day, but nowhere near the time of Henry's death…and when Henry was getting the life choked out of him, Carlson was at Lake Mead with witnesses.'

'Good witnesses?' Catherine asked.

Brass grunted a bitter chuckle. 'Would you believe, biker gang?'

Nick smirked humorlessly and said, 'Not ideal witnesses, but harder than hell to break down their stories, I bet.'

'You bet right, Nick-none of 'em budged. 'Our code is our word!' '

'Oh-kay,' Catherine said, and slapped her thighs. 'We'll start working it again.'

Brass seemed damn near on the edge of tears. 'We worked that case hard, Vince and me-can't believe we missed anything…'

'I'm sure you guys did your best,' she said. 'But times, and technology, have changed…. Did you guys happen to keep any of the semen?'

Brass brightened. 'Hell! I forgot all about that. I mean, it has been a long time…'

'Spill,' Nick said.

Brass, reenergized, said, 'Vince, thinkin' ahead, had it frozen, just in case. We were in early days with DNA, and we hoped the science would improve. Vince thought it would be best to be prepared, though-every unsolved murder case is an open file.'

'Good,' Catherine said. 'Very good.'

Suddenly Brass was smiling. 'You know, I hadn't thought about that in…I dunno, ten years, maybe. Yeah, check the evidence freezer! Should be there somewhere.'

They were just about to break up the confab on this high note when North Las Vegas detective Bill Damon came scowling into the conference room.

'What the hell?' he asked, the vague question directed at Brass.

'What the hell what, Bill?'

Damon came over to loom over the seated detective, then got right in the smaller man's face, saying, 'Atwater thinks me and my guys are leaking information to the media!'

Brass kept his calm, rising. 'No, Bill-from what I understand, our sheriff doesn't know where the leak is coming from. Just that there is one.'

Sneering, Damon gestured to Nick and Catherine. 'Well, I say it came from here-right here!'

Nick, teeth showing but not really smiling, said, 'Well, it didn't, Bill-maybe the sheriff has it right.'

Brass gave the CSI a hard firm look that said the detective would handle this.

'Now look, Bill,' Brass said, his voice quiet, easy-going, 'the sheriff's not accusing you, or anyone else in your department-or ours-of being the leak. He just wants to know who the leak is, at this point. Can you blame him? And, personally-I don't think it's you.'

Damon's body language shifted slightly, the detective somewhat appeased.

Catherine knew better than to mention that she had been the one to suspect Damon and Logan this morning, wondering herself if it wasn't one or both of them. The two NLVPD cops had seemed vaguely resentful of Brass absconding with their investigation.

Having gone to all of the trouble of working himself into a lather, Damon stayed angry enough to say, 'And what about sharing information? I haven't heard anything from you people for, what? Three days?'

Brass held up a gentle palm. 'I was just going to call you. The lab results have started coming back today, and we've got some info, finally.'

Nodding a little, finally satisfied (at least slightly), Damon said, 'Good. Well, good…. So, so tell me.'

'I will,' Brass said, 'in the car.'

Surprised, the younger detective parroted, 'In the car?'

'Yeah-we're going to go talk to the TV reporter who called Sheriff Atwater, asking about CASt.'

Catherine could see the young cop was feeling better about where this was going.

'Which reporter?' Damon asked.

'Jill Ganine,' Brass said. 'Over at KLAS?'

Everything seemed to have calmed down. Damon and Nick exchanged embarrassed smiles and sorrys, and Brass and the NLVPD detective had each taken a step toward the door when Grissom came back in, Greg Sanders trailing behind in that bright-eyed way of his.

The CSI supervisor, however, did not appear bright-eyed: His expression was grave, even troubled, as he looked down at a sheet of paper in his hand.

'Who died?' Catherine asked.