"I'm fine."

Sam nudged Freddie out of the way. "You did the right thing coming in today. Even if it cost you a friend, it was the right thing."

"If you say so," Liza said, dejected.

Sam stepped back so Liza could close the car door. When she pulled away, her tires squealed. "She can't wait to get away from us."

"Can't say I blame her."

"People are ridiculous," Sam said as they crossed the parking lot to the far end of the building.

"In general or in particular?"

Sam slid into the driver's seat. "In general. She comes in here with information about a woman who's banging our murder victim, and she thinks we're not going to do anything about that?"

"I don't think she gave it much thought beyond coming in and telling us what she knew."

"Clearly. Did you hear if Hill found anything in Willie's financials?"

"Nothing yet, but he was just getting started when I last saw him."

"Anything new with your dad?"

Freddie glanced over at her, seeming surprised by the sudden shift in conversation. "Elin and I had dinner with them last night. He's...very... I don't how to describe it. He's almost too enthusiastic about everything. Full of grandiose plans and ideas."

"You think he's manic again?"

"I don't know what to think," Freddie said with a sigh. "From everything I've read about the disorder, soaring highs and crushing lows are to be expected."

"What does Elin think?"

"She responds to him the same way my mom does."

"And how is that?"

"Like everything he does and says is fabulous. I feel like I'm the only one wondering if his behavior is normal. Elin thinks I'm looking for trouble where there isn't any."

"If you want my opinion..."

"I do. You know I do."

"You have good instincts about people and situations. Trust them. If your gut is telling you something is off, keep an eye on it as best you can."

"That's good advice. I wish I could talk to my mom about it without him around, but they're joined at the hip. They're even sharing her cell phone. Who does that anymore?"

"Does she seem happy?"

"I've never seen her so happy. Since he's been back, I feel like I'm seeing someone I've never met before in her. She never stopped loving him in all the years he was gone. I don't want to do anything to take away from her happiness. No one deserves it more than she does."

"But..."

"I'm worried about what'll become of her if he has another episode."

"That's a reasonable fear. All you can do is keep a close eye on it and be there for her if she needs you."

"Thanks, Sam. It helps to be able to talk to someone who doesn't think I'm ridiculous for being concerned."

"You're not ridiculous."

They arrived at motel to find it surrounded by police vehicles. The medical examiner's van pulled up a minute after they did. Lindsey walked with Sam and Freddie up the stairs to the second floor where a crowd had gathered outside room sixteen.

They entered the messy room where a Caucasian male, approximately six foot five or six inches, was lying facedown on the bed in a pool of blood. Lindsey handed Sam a pair of gloves. "Let's turn him over."

The two women worked together to turn the big man, gasping when they realized it was Rick Lind.

"Shit," Sam said, even though this discovery made her job slightly easier. Like Willie, Rick had been stabbed once in the chest, which connected the two murders and ruled out the possibility of a random attack by an outraged fan. "Cruz, get CSU over here."

"Already on the way."

Chapter Sixteen.

Sam stepped back to allow Lindsey and her crew to prepare the victim for transport to the morgue. Glancing around the hotel room, she saw no obvious signs of struggle, which led her to believe Lind had been attacked in his sleep or by someone he knew. The room's surfaces were littered with pizza boxes, discarded takeout wrappers, beer cans and drug paraphernalia. Sam didn't touch any of it, leaving it for CSU to process. She peered under the bed and choked back a gag when she realized there were used condoms under there.

Rick Lind had gone on one hell of a bender after his team lost the big game.

She moved over to the door, which bore obvious signs of damage from whatever tool was used to pry it open.

A group of maids was standing outside the room in a tight cluster. One of them was crying.

"Was the door open when you found him?"

The one who'd been crying, who looked no more than sixteen or seventeen, nodded. "It was unusual for one of the doors to be standing open like that, so I looked inside and saw him."

"What's your name?"

Her gaze darted to one of the other girls, who was equally young, and the man who seemed to be standing guard over all of them. "Ginger," she whispered. She had mousy brown hair that might be pretty if brushed and world-weary hazel eyes.

Sam took a closer look at the young woman, who seemed familiar to her. "Do I know you from somewhere?"

Only because she was looking so closely at her did Sam recognize the second of stark, unadulterated fear that crossed her face in the instant before she said, "No." The single word came out husky, and her tone was completely different than it had been only a minute before.

Acting on sheer instinct, Sam said, "I'll need you to come downtown to make a statement."

Ginger glanced at one of the other girls, the one who seemed equally afraid.

"You too," Sam said to the second girl, a bottle blonde with blue eyes and bad skin.

Her big eyes took on a deer-in-the-headlights look. "What'd I do?"

"You were here. You might've seen something that would be helpful to the case."

"I didn't see anything."

"Still, I need your statement."

"We have to work," Ginger said, a tinge of hysteria in her voice. "If we don't work, we don't get paid."

"We'll square it with the boss, don't worry." Sam was suddenly desperate to get them away from the hotel and the angry glares of the other maids and the man who was their supervisor.

Both girls cast anxious glances at the man, who didn't look at either of them.

"Who are you?" Sam asked him.

"The manager."

"Your name?"

"Bruce Jones."

"Is that your real name or did you make it up?"

His lip curled into a snarl that he wisely curbed. "Real."

"How long ago did the guest in room sixteen check in?"

"After the game."

"So you knew who he was?"

Bruce shrugged. "He was a frequent visitor."

"Do you have video surveillance of the premises?" Sam asked, gazing at the next closest establishment across the street, which would be too far away to get a good view of the goings-on at the motel.

Bruce pointed to a video camera above the doorway. Wires were hanging from the rusty metal that held it to the wall. "Used to."

"I'll need to borrow these two ladies for a while. I'm sure you understand that they're material witnesses, and as such shouldn't be penalized for any time they miss."

"Why you gotta take her?" he asked, nodding to the second one. "She said she didn't see nothing."

"I still need to question her."

"Fine. Just make sure you bring them back. They've got a job to do."

"I'll take good care of them."

While Freddie questioned people in nearby rooms about whether they'd heard anything coming from room sixteen, Sam accompanied the two trembling young women downstairs and helped them into the back of her car.

"I don't understand why you're taking us," the first girl said, her chin quivering as she fought back tears.

"You haven't done anything wrong. I promise you'll be perfectly safe." To the second girl, she said, "What's your name?"

"Amber."

"Is that your real name?"

Amber looked at Ginger.

"My real name is Sam Holland. I'm a lieutenant in the Metro Police Department. I want to help you."

"You can't help us," Ginger said, her tone flat and full of despair. "No one can help us."

After thirteen years on the job, Sam had learned to trust her instincts and all of them were on full alert. "This might be your lucky day, because if anyone can help you, I can, but you have to trust me, okay?"

Amber reached for Ginger's hand and held on tight.

"Okay," Ginger said.

Amber nodded in agreement.

"Sit tight," Sam said. "I'll be right back." She shut the car door and gestured for Officer Beckett to join her. "Stay here and don't let anyone get near them, you hear me?"

"You got it, LT."

"If anyone tries to get them out of my car, shoot to maim."

The young patrol officer's eyes widened with surprise at her orders. "Yes, ma'am."

Confident the girls were in good hands for the next few minutes, she went to help Cruz complete the canvas while Lindsey's team photographed the scene and removed Lind's body from the room.

"See you back at the house," Lindsey said to Sam as she headed downstairs.

Sam and Freddie knocked on every door in the seedy motel but didn't find anyone who'd heard a thing from room sixteen. They did, however, find a number of very young girls entertaining much older men.

"I need a shower," Freddie muttered as they took the stairs to the parking lot.

"No kidding," Sam said. She withdrew her cell phone from her pocket and placed a call to Malone. "The victim is Rick Lind," she said when he came on the line.

He released a low whistle. "No shit. Wow."

"We need Vice at the place where he was killed." She gave him the address of the motel. "Someone's running an underage prostitution racket here. I've got two of the younger girls in my car on the pretense of giving statements in the Vasquez case. I'm playing it cool for the moment, but we need to act fast before they bolt."