Gil: A girl in a culvert pipe ... at a highway construction site in the middle of an alfalfa field.
(Brass waits for Grissom to finish. Grissom looks at Brass.)
Gil: You got anything to add?
Jim: Nothing as poetic.
(Brass reaches into his coat pocket for his notebook and starts to read from it.)
Jim: Just, uh, road crew took off at 3:00. Body was discovered 5:15.
Gil: Who found the body?
(Brass turns to indicate the girl standing next to her horse just beyond the police tape.)
Jim: Our friend, Flicka.
Gil: Well, there goes that theory.
Jim: What's that?
Gil: Whoever finds the body is the first suspect.
Sara: Uh, Grissom ...
(Grissom turns to see Sara standing next to another culvert pipe. He and Brass walk over to her.)
Gil: What do you got?
Sara: The one thing you don't want to find at a murder scene.
(On the ground next to the culvert pipe, he sees it.)
Gil: A second body ...
(Nick walks up to the bullet in the tree. He calls over his shoulder.)
Catherine: You find the bullet?
(Catherine walks over.)
Nick: Yeah. But how am I going to get it out of there without damaging it.
Catherine: You know what the textbook says -- if you're not a hundred percent sure how to collect it, bring the whole thing in.
(Nick looks up at the extremely tall tree.)
Nick: Yeah, I'll figure it out.
(Grissom puts on his gloves and opens the refrigerator door. Inside are containers of take-out food. He reaches in and opens the top container. He smells it and holds it out for Sara to smell.)
Sara: Sweet and sour pork.
Gil: It smells fresh.
(He puts it back on the shelf. He grabs another opened container in the back of the refrigerator, smaller than the first. He smells it.)
Gil: More sweet and sour.
(He holds it out for Sara to smell. She immediately reacts to the age of the food.)
Gil: Mostly sour.
Sara: Single servings in the back, spoiled. Family sized boxes in front, one or two days old.
(Grissom picks up another container and opens it. Inside there are four spring rolls.)
Gil: What do you think? Increase in appetite, or ... perhaps a guest?
(Sara pushes the door to the study open. She and Grissom both walk inside. Against the far wall behind the door are a stack of fedex boxes. The computer on the desk is still on.)
Gil: Universal remote. She could do everything she wanted from this chair but cook a roast.
(Grissom sits down behind the desk.)
Sara: Well, we already know she cooks like I do -- takeout on speed dial.
(Sara riffles through the stack of catalogs on the desk.)
Sara: Pottery barn, Lillian Vernon magnolia, Yafa Pen ... She's a catalogue junkie -- we're on the same mailing lists.
Gil: Catalogues, the internet, mail order, takeout ... 1,200 miles on her car. Agoraphobic maybe? Or she just doesn't like people?
Sara: (smiling) Ah, that's you talking.
(Grissom looks at Sara.)
Sara: I'll haul in her PC, check her e-mail look in on her social life.
(Sara turns around and looks at the bathroom.)
Sara: Hey ... the toilet seat's up.
(Grissom turns around and looks at the bathroom. He sees it, too.)
Sara: There was a man here.
Gil: I'm here about foreign DNA on Donna Marks' neck.
Greg: Oh. Well, on that, I got an ID.
Gil: You found a match in CODIS?
Greg: Nope, but I ran a DNA profile on both victims. What do all sisters have in common? DNA.
(Greg hands Grissom the test results.)
Gil: You're saying that Donna's sister scratched her?
(Greg makes a cat hissing sound complete with hand motions.)
Greg: So, did I solve the case?
Gil: No, Greg, you didn't. But you've helped.
Bobby Dawson: I was just calling you.
Catherine: You were?
(Nick and Catherine walk into the lab.)
Bobby Dawson: Yeah, carved your bullet out of that hunk of tree. Ah ... you know, a bullet's only this big.
(Bobby holds his index finger and thumb an inch apart to show the length of a bullet.)
Bobby Dawson: Y'all gave me a pound of redwood.
Catherine: That's cottonwood.
Bobby Dawson: You should know. Heard you wanted Nick to chop down the whole tree.(Bobby grins.)
Catherine: (smiling) I did.
Nick: Tell us about the bullet now. Striations, lands, grooves?
Bobby Dawson: I found some discoloration on the bullet's tail. Check it out.
(Catherine looks at the bullet Bobby Dawson's holding under the magnifying glass.)
Catherine: Ah, oxidation.
Bobby Dawson: Yeah, copper jacketed. The tail was exposed.
Nick: Oxidation takes a lot more than 24 hours.
Bobby Dawson: Yeah, no way to backdate it, but it's definitely older than y'all's crime scene.
Sara: Donna Marks was a telecommunicator. Liked to shop. Mail order, over the phone. I retrieved lots of email confirmations.
(Sara is speaking to Grissom who looks at the monitor over her shoulder.)
Gil: If she shopped online why'd she place orders over the phone?
Sara: Need for human contact.
Gil: Without physical contact?
Sara: She spent time in chat rooms. Book clubs, home crafts collected fountain pens.
Gil: Personal e-mails?
Sara: Only one buddy on her buddy list. Screen name's "Apollo."
Gil: Pull up his most recent.
Sara: That would be three days ago. (reading) "I know it sounds weird, but ... my life began when I first heard your voice ..."
(Quick flashback to Donna Marks sitting in front of her computer reading the e-mail out loud.)
Donna Marks: "... when you said my name, it felt so right. Did you feel it, too?"
(End of flashback. Resume to present.)
(Sara and Grissom look at each other.)
Sara: It's easy to wear your heart on your sleeve when you're not looking in his eyes. He said her name so their relationship must've extended beyond the computer.
Gil: So, what do we know about this "Apollo"?
(Sara pulls up another screen.)
Sara: You know that garbage those numbers at the bottom of every email?
Sara: It's actually a unique number that registers the location of the sender's terminal.
Gil: An address?
(The computer spits out seven IP Addresses. It blinks on screen as it locates the street address and location.)
Sara: Internet Protocol Address. CSI has access. Seven different IP addresses means he used seven different computers.
Gil: That's strange.
Sara: Could be a network.
(The computer beeps.)
Sara: "23000 Ganza Avenue, Ely, Nevada. Western Nevada Correctional Facility."
Gil: Her greek god is in the slam.