Night Watch (Kendra Michaels #4)(11)

“It’s pinched in two places about two feet apart, as if it had been gripped and wrapped around a pair of hands. Then it was stretched. Just the way it would look if had been used to…” Her voice trailed off.

“Strangle someone?” Shea finished.

Hearing him say it was like getting a punch to the gut. “Yes,” she whispered.

“For the record, I saw it the same way. I’ve already had it swabbed.”

“It probably won’t help. Whoever handled it was using gloves.”

Shea glanced back at the cable. “How do you figure that?”

“That cable has a soft sheaf. Soft enough to show ridges on the spots where it was gripped. Ridges from hard rubber grips on a pair of gloves. With some time, your forensic people might be able to tell you the brand of gloves. It’s worth a shot.”

Shea nodded, looking closer at the cable. “That I didn’t see. Not that it makes a lot of difference. Hundreds of people probably pawed that cable in the past few weeks. In any case, I’ll be bagging it and sending it to the lab.”

Kendra turned away. She didn’t want to look at that cable any longer. She was having trouble keeping from shaking. What in hell happened here, Waldridge?

“Dr. Michaels?”

She forced herself to look back. This was no time to fall apart, not when Waldridge might need her. She cleared her throat. “Was there luggage?”

“Yeah. In the closet. But we checked it, and he’d totally unpacked.”

“I’ll take a look anyway.”

Shea produced a pair of latex evidence gloves from his jacket pocket. “If you wouldn’t mind.”

“Of course.”

Kendra pulled on the gloves and moved to the open closet door. Hanging there were a pair of slacks, three shirts, and the jacket Waldridge had worn the previous night. His rolling suitcase was on the floor.

Kendra knelt beside it. A small blue-and-white tag was affixed to the handle, imprinted with the code L35. She angled the tag toward Shea. “Any idea what this means?”

“No. Only that it wasn’t put on here by a bellman. I asked.”

She dragged out the suitcase, unzipped it, and looked inside. As Shea had indicated, it was empty.

“Satisfied?” He crossed his arms, watching her.

“No.” She shoved the suitcase back into the closet, then stood up and walked into the bathroom. Waldridge’s toiletries were neatly arranged on a hand towel next to the sink, perfectly spaced with the same precision that Waldridge demonstrated in everything he said or did.

“A little OCD if you ask me,” Shea said.

“He’s a surgeon. It’s exactly what I’d expect.” She looked closer. “There was medication here. Did you or your officers take anything away?”

He gazed at her quizzically. “Medication? No.”

“There are two faint impressions on this hand towel. See?” She pointed to a pair of round indentions on the towel’s surface. “Most likely put there by low-to-medium-quantity prescription bottles. Did you find bottles this size here or in his car?”

Shea shook his head no.

“People steal meds, but since his wallet wasn’t touched, I doubt that’s what happened here.”

“It could be a good sign.”

“Yes. If someone did take him, it might mean that they wanted to keep him alive and well. You should check and see what his prescriptions are.”

He was already scribbling in his notebook. “I’m on it. Anything else?”

She looked around the bathroom for a moment longer. “That’s all in here.”

She followed Shea out of the bathroom. “I’ll check the drawers and under the bed, but that’s all I’ll probably—”

She froze.

He turned toward her. “What is it?”

“I just heard something.”

He gestured toward the window. “From outside?”

“No.” She looked down at the floor. “Could you please retrace your steps?”

“You’re kidding.”

“I don’t kid. It may be important.”

He stared at her in disbelief. “Okay. I’m trying to cooperate. Do you want me to retrace my steps since I got here this morning, or—”

“The last six steps you’ve taken.”

He shook his head and stepped backward. Kendra cocked her head and listened as he walked.

Thump. Thump. Thump. Squish.

“There.” She pointed down. “Did you hear that?”

He stopped and looked around. “Not really.”

“Sure you did,” she said impatiently. “You heard it, but you didn’t listen.” She knelt and pressed her gloved hand over the spot where he had just walked. “The carpet is damp here, all the way down to the pad. It squished a bit when you stepped on it. So unless one of your officers spilled something…”

“Your faith in my department is overwhelming. No spills.”

She sniffed the liquid on her glove. “This needs to be analyzed. It’s very faint, almost odorless. That’s why I didn’t pick up on it before.”

Shea rubbed his glove over the spot and sniffed it. “Unusual smell.”

She closed her eyes and tried to make some connection with the odor. “It’s a little tarry, a bit like citrus … But neither, really. I’m sure I’ve never smelled it before, whatever it is.”