“Good, good. Y’know, Grissom’s a real smart guy, but honestly, sometimes what he says goes right over my head. It’ll be nice to have someone around to explain things to me in plain language…”

“How’d you play it?” Grissom asked.

Brass blew on his coffee, took a sip before answering. He and Grissom were in the CSI break room, while the four entomologists waited in the reception area. “Different for each guy. You know how it is with suspects; learn as much as you can about them beforehand, then see how they act and trust your instincts.”

“How’d they do?”

“Let’s see. Charong’s uncomfortable around authority, Quadros has a chip on his shoulder the size of the MGM Grand, Vanderhoff thinks he’s the smartest guy in the room, and Soames is just a good ol’ boy who wants everyone to like him. That’s about all I got. Ready for your part?”

“ ‘All the world’s a stage, and all the men and women merely players. They have their exits and their entrances; and one man in his time plays many parts.’ ”

Brass got to his feet. “Come on, Shakespeare. Showtime.”

Lucas Yannick’s home wasn’t much to look at, a ranch-style bungalow with peeling paint, missing roof tiles, and a yard that was more weeds than lawn. Plastic toys were scattered on the sidewalk leading up to the house, and a bicycle with a flat tire was chained to the fron t porch.

Riley knocked briskly on the front door. She could hear kids yelling inside and a TV blaring. A woman’s voice yelled, “Lucas! Get the door!”

The boy who opened the door was pale and skinny, his dark hair in the pointy style known as a faux-hawk. He wore glasses with cheap plastic frames and a black T-shirt with a heavy-metal band logo on it. He took in Riley’s CSI vest and cap and frowned. “Uh, hello?” he said.

“Hi. You must be Lucas. Can you tell your mom I need to talk to her?”

Lucas blinked. If he was nervous, it didn’t show. “Mom!” he yelled over his shoulder. “There’s a policewoman here to see you!”

“Actually, I’m a crime scene investigator,” said Riley.

“Yeah?” Lucas said. “Cool. You guys have to know about insects, right? Like, in bodies and stuff?”

“That’s right,” said Riley.

Mrs. Yannick appeared, holding a baby in her arms. She was a tall, bony woman, wearing pajamas, and looked both wary and tired. Her nose was very red, and she clutched a tissue in one hand.

“What’s this about?” Mrs. Yannick asked. Lucas had already disappeared.

“Actually, it’s about Lucas,” said Riley. “I need your permission to talk to him. I’m investigating the incident at school.”

“Lucas wasn’t involved in that. It was all a bunch of jocks and hotheads.” She blew her nose. “Excuse me.”

“I know he wasn’t directly involved in the riot,” Riley said carefully. “But we collect a lot of information in the course of an investigation and never know which piece of the puzzle will turn out to be important. You can be present while I talk to him-”

Mrs. Yannick sneezed, then said, “Sorry. Look, I don’t want to give you this cold, so just go ahead and talk to him. He’s a good kid, he won’t give you any attitude.”

“Thank you.”

Riley followed the direction his mother pointed in and found Lucas in his bedroom. His interest in things that crept obviously extended to more than just scorpions; there were three terrariums along one wall, though none of their occupants were visible at the moment.

“Hi, Lucas. Can I come in?”

He was sitting upright in bed, reading a comic-Spider-Man, of course. “Yeah, sure.”

She looked around for somewhere to sit down, saw only a chair heaped with clothes, and decided to stand. “What’s in the tanks?”

He pointed at each in turn. “That one has a striped scorpion, that one a Chilean rose-haired tarantula, and the one on the end’s empty. It had a praying mantis, but it died.”

“Gonna replace it?”

“I dunno. Maybe. I was thinking about getting something different.”

“Like a millipede?” She kept her face neutral but watched his carefully.

He thought about it, then shrugged. His face gave away nothing.

“So. I guess you know all about what happened at your school.”

“I heard about it, yeah. All the jocks were really angry about Keenan. A lot of girls were crying. I don’t know whose idea it was to go over to Carston, though.” Now there was an edge of nervousness in his voice.

“Did you see the graffiti?”

“Yeah. I mean, it was right there, everybody saw it. Nobody thought it was serious, not at first. Then someone heard the news.”

“How are you taking all this?”

“I’m okay. I mean, they say they’re gonna have counselors come in and talk to us, but that’s-I guess that’s for people who really knew him.”

“You didn’t?”

“Not really.” He hesitated.

Riley waited; it was one of the best methods she knew of to get someone to talk.

“Actually, he was kind of a jerk,” he said after a moment, glancing at her to see how she’d take it.

“Not a big surprise,” she said. “Football star, right? I knew a few guys li ke that in high school. None of them impressed me.”

“They all act like they own the world and you’re supposed to pay rent,” he said. A little anger had sparked in his tone. “It’s like, they already have everything, but they have to find something of yours to take away. Even if it isn’t something they want-they just like taking it away.”

“I know. Well, Keenan’s days of taking things away are over.”

“He wasn’t the worst. I mean, yeah, he was a jerk, but he didn’t go out of his way to make my life hard. Not like some of the other guys.” He met her eyes. “You know what? When I heard he was dead, I felt sad just like everybody else. But then I started thinking about it, and I was glad. Not that he was dead… but that all his friends were hurting. Because somebody finally took something away from them.”

“Gentlemen, this is Nick Stokes,” said Grissom. “Nick, this is Professor Nathan Vanderhoff, Doctor Roberto Quadros, Doctor Jake Soames, and Doctor Khem Charong.”

Nick smiled broadly and shook everyone’s hand in turn. “Grissom tells me you’re going to be lending us a hand. We appreciate the help.”

Nick knew what was going on and understood the reasoning behind it. They were taking things one step farther than normal, though, by actually letting suspects into the lab-it was Brass who’d com e up with the idea of giving the killer enough rope to hang himself with by allowing access to the inner workings of the investigation. This guy obviously has a scientific bent, he’d said. We let him roam around and touch the equipment, he might give himself away.

Nick had suggested they could do even better. They could lay a trap.

“Over here is our fingerprint lab,” said Nick, leading the experts through the facility. “That’s Mandy, one of our techs. And here’s where we analyze DNA.”

Wendy Simms, an attractive, brown-eyed brunette, looked up when they entered. “What’s up, Nick?”

He performed another round of quick introductions. “They’re here to consult on the Harribold case-you know, the one with the millipedes.”

Wendy nodded. “Right. I was just running the DNA on that.” She held up a glass slide, then carefully set it aside.

“Yeah, we got lucky,” said Nick. “Found a hair caught in one of the handcuffs that didn’t match the vic. We’re hoping we can match it to one of our databases.”

“Excuse me,” said Khem Charong. “Isn’t it quite difficult to derive a DNA sample from human hair?”

Wendy smiled. “It depends. In this case, we got a follicular tag, a layer of skin around the root. It should give us all the informati on we need.”

“Sounds like you might not need us after all,” said Soames.

“Don’t sell yourself short,” said Nick. “Grissom thinks you’ll be a big help…”