Greg: So, how many grains of sand in the ocean, huh?
Nick: I don't care about the ocean, just the sand in my skeleton. Can you pinpoint a beach?
Greg: I don't know. I might have to do some field research to find out. You think Grissom would let me go to Hawaii? (Nick sees Grissom in the doorway)
Nick:(to Greg) Why don't you ask him yourself?
Grissom: Ask me what?
Greg: Oh, nothing. I, uh ... I was just telling Nick about your sand. Well, it's not sand. It's not natural anyway. Here, check this out. (Grissom looks through the mircoscope at the sand) Now, if this were natural sand, the surface would be smooth. This looks more like Fremont Street on a Saturday night... rough.
Nick: Could the particles be sediment from the concrete where we found her?
Greg: No. No way. I analyzed the mineral content. It's feldspar and quartz. That's crushed gray sandstone. It's man-made, in a rock crusher.
Nick: What does that mean?
Grissom: It means she wasn't killed in Hawaii. (Greg freezes when he realized Grissom heard him before) Other than that, he has no idea. (Nick laughs)

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