The large-headed man was Nick Stokes, another of Russell's subordinates. With his square jaw and muscular build, he looked more like a football player than a researcher in a lab. The group hurried to the villa's back garden, where a middle-aged female researcher was waiting. Jack recognized her too—Sara Sidle, a genius with an ordinary appearance but an exceptionally high IQ.
Although she might not be on the same level as someone like Reid, she was undoubtedly among the top tier of intellects among ordinary people.
At her feet lay a carpet that had just been unrolled, completely soaked in blood, revealing the corpse of a young woman that had been wrapped inside.
"This is the nanny, Shelby Brass?" After a brief round of introductions, Jack donned gloves and began examining the body on the ground.
The young woman had stunning beauty, likely no older than twenty-five or twenty-six. She had a supermodel's physique that could grace the Victoria's Secret runway, and her delicate features were unforgettable.
Looking at her face, which bore a slight resemblance to Gal Gadot, Jack couldn't help but wonder: with such looks and a figure, why would she need to work as a nanny? How much must this wealthy family be paying to hire someone of her caliber?
A detailed autopsy wasn't necessary; the fatal injuries were obvious. There were two deep stab wounds on both her chest and upper back, likely inflicted by a double-edged antique dagger.
Jack was so certain because the weapon was lying right next to the victim's feet, with a note pinned to it. The note, written in blood, read, "Hubble is with me."
Moreover, the victim's fingernails were clean, with no skin fragments that would indicate defensive scratches. There were no other typical defensive wounds on her body, suggesting that the attack was sudden, likely leaving her incapacitated after the first blow.
However, when Jack lifted the victim's lower lip, he found an injury on the inside.
"Is this a mouth ulcer?"
"No, it's likely from someone forcibly covering her mouth, causing the lip and teeth to press together," Sara Sidle explained.
"This matches the posture you suggested the killer might have used," Russell added, causing the other researchers to glance at Jack with some interest.
"Have the body sent to the lab immediately. Although Dr. Robbins might not be able to perform a detailed autopsy, fingerprint and blood type analysis should help confirm some of our suspicions," Russell ordered.
The Dr. Robbins Russell referred to must be the senior forensic pathologist at the lab.
As the body was loaded onto a stretcher and taken away, Russell beckoned to Jack. "Jack, are you coming with me to the station? The victim's father, T.C. Riordan, has been brought in by Detective Brass."
Jack considered it. In the BAU, his job involved fieldwork, but there were plenty of experts here. His earlier attempt to show off had just about kept him from embarrassing himself.
With the lab out of commission and the researchers working with the most basic tools, there wasn't much he could contribute. He certainly wasn't going to try to outdo these seasoned lab veterans in their own field, even though chemistry was just a hobby for him.
Going with Russell to the station to participate in the interview and interrogation would be a better use of his skills. Even if he lacked experience, and his team wasn't there to back him up, his "System" could help fill in the gaps.
"Of course, why don't I drive us there?" Jack offered.
Russell eagerly took the passenger seat of the Firebird, inspecting the car's interior. When the engine roared to life, its deep, powerful rumble made him instinctively check that his seatbelt was fastened.
"Has the FBI gotten a pay raise?"
"No such luck. As a trainee agent, my salary is even less than what I'd make at LAPD. I just got lucky… well, I'm not sure how to describe it."
Understanding that Russell was referring to the expensive modifications on the car, Jack briefly recounted his experience surviving a plane crash. There was no need to mention anything about the IRS; the compensation from the airline was enough to explain it.
The trip to the police station wasn't far, just enough time for Jack to finish recounting his island adventure. When he finished, Russell was at a loss for words, unsure whether to consider Jack incredibly lucky or terribly unlucky.
Upon arriving at the Las Vegas Police Department, they met up with the short, stocky detective, James Brass, again.
Brass angrily slammed a thick stack of files onto the table in front of them.
"I think the whole thing is a setup. T.C. Riordan killed that poor nanny, and the kid was just collateral damage."
Russell quickly skimmed through the files and handed them to Jack before gesturing for Brass to join him in a nearby conference room.
As Jack flipped through the documents, he found himself agreeing with the old detective's theory—this T.C. Riordan did seem very suspicious.
Soon, Russell poked his head out of the conference room and gestured for both of them to join him. "Let's summarize the information we have so far before we talk to this rich man."
Once seated in the conference room, Russell laid out the evidence and information CSI had gathered. Some of it matched Jack's observations and conclusions, while some of it was new to him.
"Let's start with the crime scene. First, Jack's assessment is in complete agreement with ours. There were at least two perpetrators, and we strongly suspect they were insiders. The methods used were crude and not the work of professionals."
"Next, we found bloody fingerprints on the headboard and suspicious white crystal residue near the bed, along with unidentified metal fragments."
"Nick and Sara thoroughly checked all the villa's entrances and windows. They found no signs of forced entry, further supporting the theory that the culprits were insiders. They also discovered something odd in one of the rooms on the first floor—candles everywhere, and a few drops of blood on the table, as if some sort of secret ritual had been performed."
"Lastly, we have the nanny's body. Although the power outage prevents us from performing a full autopsy, we can confirm the cause of death and the murder weapon, not to mention the bloodstained note."
"Now, for the findings from our researchers. Despite the lack of DNA testing, they identified blood types using chemical tests. The missing boy Hubble's blood type is O, matching his father's. The nanny's blood type is AB."
"All the blood samples collected from the child's bedroom are AB, and the crystals found by the bed have been identified as chloramine-T (a sedative, also used as a painkiller and in the treatment of depression). So, the killer's method has been completely revealed."
Seeing Detective Brass looking a bit confused, Jack took a moment to summarize.
"The killer entered the villa through normal means or was already inside, so they didn't trigger any alarms. They then quietly entered the child's bedroom, covered the nanny's mouth as she was beside the bed, and stabbed her to death.
The killer then injected the sleeping Hubble with chloramine-T, silently carried away the boy and the nanny's body, and finally discarded the body in the garden, leaving a bloodstained note."
Jack then turned to Russell. "Let me guess, there's a bottle of chloramine-T in the family's medicine cabinet, right?"
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