Her Last Word(13)

“I want to have a look at the alley.” Adler moved to the wooden gate that led to the side alley. The lock on the gate had been cut.

Quinn rubbed her hands together. “A uniform cut it for me so I could search the backyard.”

As he pushed through the wooden gate, several bells on the other side clanged and clattered. “They look new. Early warning system?”

“She was fortifying her house.”

The backyard was narrow and long. At the opposite end was the small garage he’d seen earlier. He found the garage door locked but the side window unlocked. Adler opened the window. He shone his flashlight into a space that was barely large enough for one car. Hanging from the sidewalls were lawn chairs, Christmas lights, autumn wreaths, and Halloween decorations. The kind of crap that was cool a handful of days but was useless the rest of the year.

“Where’s her car?” All signs suggested Jennifer had entered her front door.

“It’s a blue Honda parked several spaces down. I searched it and found nothing out of the ordinary. I suspect she found a spot out front and took it.”

To the right of the garage was a gate leading into the alley that ran between Twenty-First and Twenty-Second Streets. There were two dumpsters in the alley. “What day is trash pickup?”

“Thursday. The forensic team already checked the dumpsters. They were recently emptied, and the few bags present didn’t contain any evidence.”

“We need to expand the radius. The guy might have parked a couple of blocks away.”

“I’ve already asked the uniforms to canvas the area dumpsters tonight.”

“Good deal.” He strode back toward the large brick patio bordering the back door. There were several planters filled with fresh dirt and winter pansies.

Two orange flags marked areas where two fresh footprints had been noted by the first responder. The forensic investigator had photographed the impressions and then taken plaster castings of each. The casts had already been transported to the lab, but it would be another seventy-two hours before they fully hardened. Preliminary accounts described it as a man’s tennis shoe, size ten or eleven.

The back door’s lock and the area around it were coated in dark graphite fingerprint powder. The forensic technician had also dusted the glass panes directly to the right and left. Adler studied the doorjamb, the frame, and the threshold. Nothing appeared out of order.

“If her house was going on the market in a few weeks, then the realtor would have a key,” Adler said.

“Good point,” Quinn said. She flipped through her notes. “According to the neighbor, Larry Jenkins was her realtor, and he owns Dogwood Homes. Since we don’t have a forced entry, it would be worth it to pay him a visit today.”

“What about cleaning crews?”

“She did have a crew come in a week ago to deep-clean for the upcoming open house. I don’t have the name.”

“Given the evidence, I believe our intruder had a key and knew the passcode.”

“There’s basement access,” Quinn said. She pointed to a small window at ground level secured on the inside with a lock. It had also been dusted for fingerprints. “The window is located above the washer and dryer. No footprints on either appliance, but maybe they’ve been cleaned. There’s also a security sensor on the window.”

As Adler straightened, he thought about the flowers under Jennifer’s bed. “How long had the killer been in the house hiding before Jennifer arrived home?” he asked, more to himself.

“Hard to say. He’d have needed time to get inside, put on the suit, and climb under the bed,” she said.

“Were there any signs of the victim’s blood anywhere in the house other than the bathroom?”

“No. Not a drop.”

“Not an easy trick considering how she died.”

“Takes planning. He came prepared.”

“Whoever did this has been thinking about it for a while.” The ex-boyfriend came to mind. Murders by strangers were really uncommon. “Let’s talk to Jeremy Keller.” He checked his watch. “Doubtful his office will open for a couple of hours.”

“I have his home address.”

“Let’s pay him a visit.”

Adler offered to drive, and soon the two detectives were on the road. In the predawn hours, the traffic was nonexistent. The drive to the ultramodern home on the river took twenty minutes. The house and its surroundings were dark.

Out of the car, the detectives walked up to front steps made of a sleek gray stone leading to a very expensive teak front door. The roofline rose into a sharp peak, the top section sporting a bank of full-length windows.

Adler stood to the left of the door and Quinn to the right. He rang the bell. He waited fifteen seconds, and when there was no sign of life in the house, he rang the bell again while Quinn banged on it. Nothing.

“He’s not here, or he doesn’t want to talk to us,” Adler said. “Let’s look in the garage window.”

They moved to a garage lined with clean modern windows. He shone his light inside and saw enough to confirm there was no car.

Keller’s absence wasn’t suspicious in and of itself. Not uncommon for a young adult male to spend the night somewhere else.

Adler checked his watch. “It’s after six. Do you have his phone number?”