Back at the B-plot -- remember the B-plot? We were all so young when it started -- Delko's managed to finish the busywork Speedle gave him, extracting 100 incoming calls from Stango's phone. He asks Speedle, "You have any idea yet what killed our guy?" Speedle looks up matter-of-factly and replies, "He had gas." The beauty of Speedle's delivery is that it's hard to tell the difference between when he's being contemptuous and when he's being humorous. Delko clearly isn't sure. After an awkward pause, Speedle clarifies, "Gasoline, to be more precise, all the way down to his stomach lining." We get the TMICam shot of the worst case of heartburn ever. Delko says, "Someone poured gas down his throat and blew him up." "Human molotov cocktail," Speedle adds. Speedle thinks it's interesting that the sample has trace amounts of sodium, and Delko clarifies: the sodium indicates the presence of saltwater contamination. Since there's a lot of gas around a marina, it's possible Stango owned a boat. "Could be," Delko says. "'Could' be," Speedle mimics. "Could be," Delko repeats. That's either a shout-out to some movie, or it's supposed to be their little thing -- I don't know which. The two decide to repair to the marina to find out.
Meanwhile, Ruben's busy telling Horatio that he's never fumed a diaphragm before. Horatio nods to him and the nameless lab tech and bids them speak. Ruben found two separate sets of prints on the diaphragm, so my earlier hypothesis regarding roving gangs of contraceptive commandos is still in play.
It's now time for a mini-science sequence: Calleigh sprays the ATV as Horatio fills her in on how the DNA lab is busy identifying the human blood found on Cawdrey's zipper. Calleigh breaks the news that she's found more blood on the ATV. Rather than treating this news like it's good, Horatio points out, "We still don't know where she was killed." "Or what killed her," Calleigh adds. Horatio tells Calleigh to process the hell out of the ATV. Then he takes a conveniently-timed call which tells us that Jane Doe is really Dara Winters, and her mom just filed a missing persons report. "She was a teen model," he adds ominously. Has he seen a magazine in the last two years? Is there really any other kind?
Cut to Chez Winters, where pictures of Dara in Seenzine (sample articles: "45 Ways to Meet Mr. Right," "Relationship Roulette") and in typical brooding-beauty poses adorn the wall. Mrs. Winters sums up Dara's legacy of love and laughter with, "There goes my meal tick-- I mean, she was so beautiful." Or maybe she didn't say the part in italics. Horatio agrees that Dara was beautiful. Mrs. Winters -- again, on this show, we have the Mrs. but the Mr. is conspicuously absent -- tells Horatio that she and Dara were planning Dara's first trip to Milan. Horatio decides that now would not be a good time to share restaurant recommendations, and focuses on Dara's last night at home. We learn that she left the house around 8 PM with some friends, and she was wearing a red halter top and a black miniskirt. Mrs. Winters adds, "Actually, we argued about it." Note how Mrs. Winters does not mention who took what position in the debate: red halter and miniskirt -- appropriate for fifteen-year-old or not? Sevilla asks why Mrs. Winters took so long to report her scantily-clad, just-fought-with daughter missing, and Mrs. Winters replies that it wasn't unusual to not see her daughter all morning, so she didn't begin to worry until afternoon. Horatio asks if Dara had a friend named Julie Morales. The name draws a blank with Mrs. Winters. Horatio breaks the news that they found Dara near the detention camp, and Mrs. Winters is all, "A detention camp? Why would she be there?" Perhaps because she was shooting the "Bad Girls of Pharos" calendar? Horatio raises the possibility that perhaps Mrs. Winters didn't know everything about Dara's life, and Mrs. Winters asks, "Do you have teenaged children?" Oh, watch it -- you'll set him off on a brooding jag about all the potential teenaged children who were cut down in the prime of their second trimester. As we find out how Dara was an A student who didn't do drugs or smoke -- which sounds a lot like Laura Palmer the first ten minutes of Twin Peaks -- Calleigh is busy noticing the indentation in the rug from recently-moved furniture, and is moving the furniture in question to see what's there. She whips out a cache of letters, and we begin to descend into a Peaks-ian web of deception and duplicity as Calleigh asks, "Did you know she had a P.O. box?" No, Mrs. Winters did not. The letters have no return address, and they're signed by someone named Louise. Mrs. Winters breaks down and sobs, "She was my whole life." Like a moth to the flame, so goes Horatio to a grieving woman. He puts on the frowny face and assures Mrs. Winters that he's going to find out who did this to her daughter.