Free Brass in Pocket by Jeff Mariotte Page A

early stages of a serial killer in the making. The use of guns and knives bothers me, too, instead of one or the other. It’s like he’s trying to figure out what he’s most comfortable with. I can’t find any bullet holes in the sheep, so maybe he’s settled on knives. And another thing—now that the hotel construction has begun, he has to know his burial pit will be found, or already has been. What sort of response might that trigger? I think we should check for any recent unsolved homicides with knives or guns, and see if there are any factors in common with these killings.”
    â€œYou think he’s already taken that next step?”
    â€œNo way to tell, but if he hasn’t, I want to find him before he does. And if he has, I want to find him before he does it again. Once you’ve done a sheep, a human being is pretty much the next size up.”
    â€œI just have a few more photos to get. Are you about done?”
    â€œJust about,” Greg said. “Let’s finish this and get out of here. I want to get the ME’s van out here to pick up this sheep—I think it’ll bear a closer examination.”
    â€œDoc Robbins will love having a murdered sheep on his table,” Riley said.
    â€œBelieve me,” Greg said, specifically remembering a gut-shot deer wearing a cocktail dress, “he’s had a lot worse.”
    Nick had just arrived back at the lab and was on his way to Catherine’s office when David Hodges waylaid him. Lean, with short graying hair and an almost pathological desire to please those to whom he reported, Hodges was hard to like, but also hard to seriously dislike. Nick tolerated him and tried to maintain a positive attitude about him, as he did with most people, but Hodges could get on his nerves. For sure he grated on Grissom sometimes, but Gil respected his scientific ability and occasional insight, if not his personality. Nick could do no less.
    â€œNick,” Hodges said. “Busy night.”
    â€œThey always are, Dave.”
    â€œYou manage to get through them, though, and usually with a smile on your face. A person’s got to admire that.”
    â€œI guess so.” Nick nodded to the file folder Hodges carried. “You got something for me?”
    â€œOh, right.” Hodges shook his head briskly, as if he had completely forgotten why he had interrupted Nick. “That oily residue you brought in? From the motel scene.”
    â€œWhat about it?”
    Hodges flipped open the folder and glanced inside. “It’s mostly diethylene glycol monomethyl ether.”
    The compound sounded familiar to Nick, but he couldn’t place it. “What’s that?” he asked with a shake of his head.
    â€œIt’s the major component of brake fluid.”
    â€œBrake fluid.”
    â€œSomeone walked into that room with brake fluid on his shoes.”
    â€œThe first officers on the scene didn’t secure the parking lot—which, frankly, was pretty disgusting. Not as bad as the room, but bad. So we didn’t take specimens of the various fluids found there. I guess I could go back over, see if I can find any brake fluid.”
    Hodges shrugged. “Not my idea of a good time, necessarily, but whatever you have to do. I’ll keep working on this and try to narrow it down further.”
    â€œThanks, Dave.”
    Hodges was already turning around, heading back to his lab. “It’s what I live for!”
    Seeing Hodges reminded Nick that he still needed results from Wendy Simms, upon whom Hodges had a long-standing crush. Instead of continuing on to Catherine’s office, Nick decided to detour past Wendy’s workstation. She was bent over a comparison microscope when he entered. “Hey, Wendy,” he said.
    â€œNick, hi.” She flashed a quick smile, brushed dark brown hair off her cheek.
    â€œWhat’s new in blood?”
    â€œBlood in general, or particular