Suddenly The World Seems Such A Perfect Place

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I was sitting in the van, twiddling my thumbs and staring out of the window at the bust Vegas streets whilst Nick drove to the crime scene we'd been assigned for the night.

"So how are things going staying at Greggo's?" He asked as we entered the suburbs.

"Okay, we're still arguing over who's on the sofa and who's got the bed." I told him, lying.

"Why don't you just share the bed?" He asked with a hint of laughter in his voice.

"What?"

"Well, what I mean is, you two are amazingly close friends so I don't understand what the big deal would be if you shared a bed for a couple of hours sleep. It's not like you'll even notice when you're dreaming." He explained.

"It's not that simple Nick." I laughed as if his suggestion was something so out of this world.

"What's not simple about it? It's a bed Miki!" He said, checking the signposts on the road.

Yeah, a bed that has seen its fair share of cuddles in the last few days, but I can’t tell you that!

"I don't know how you do things back in Texas Nick, but in Vegas we like to be awkward."

"Okay, so victim was stabbed twice in the chest. Died almost instantly." Nick said after talking to Brass and leaving me to get everything out of the van and make sure it was locked up properly.

Van security had been made tighter since I was shot.

"Then let's get going." I smiled, handing him some gloves and ducking under the police tape.

I stared momentarily at the victim. It was a young woman with brown hair and brown eyes that were staring up at the ceiling. Her blood had pooled around her and her perfect skin had been pierced twice and was covered in scratches that looked like defensive wounds.  The house was nice and spacious, the kind of place a newlywed would dream of to raise a family in, but the victim had no signs of wedding or engagement rings and I hadn't seen any photographs so far.

Something didn't seem to add up already and I'd only been in the house a few minutes.

"Miki! Have you found any ID on our victim yet?" Nick called from the garden.

"No."

"Well, I'm not much of a property expert, but a 'For Sale' sign in the flowerbed makes me think that she didn't live here." I turned around and saw Nick holding up a sign for an estate agent.

"Maybe she sold up?" I suggested, giving him a small shrug before looking around the hallway I stood in.

"A girl that age living in a place like this?" Nick commented, raising an eyebrow at me.

I swear Grissom teaches eyebrow raising lessons to his CSI's.

"Why did we find your prints on the door handle and on the knife used to kill Violet Trantum, Mike?" Nick asked the nervous wreck of an eighteen year old sat opposite us.

"I already told you! I saw the front door open went to find out what was going on and then saw that girl with the knife in her chest! I pulled it out thinking she was still alive--her eyes were open!"

"Mike, I want to believe your story but all of the evidence is labelling you as the killer." I said quietly, leaning on the cool table.

"Alright, I'll tell you it all--" Greg's voice cut him off.

"Miks, Grissom needs to see you now." 

I stepped out of the room, leaving Nick to hear the boy's story. I saw Greg waiting for me, Starbucks in one hand and an expression on his face that told me it wasn't good news. "What's happened?" I asked, taking the coffee from him when he handed it to me.

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