Touch of Red (Tracers #12)(3)

Nothing.

She examined the knob a moment, then selected a powder from her kit. On the porch outside, the ME’s assistant was busy covering the victim’s hands with paper bags for transport back to the morgue.

Brooke glanced back at the kitchen, her attention drawn to the key again. It looked like a house key, and she wanted to know if it fit this door. But she couldn’t touch it until Maddie finished her photos.

Brooke opened the jar of powder and tapped some into a plastic tray. Using her softest brush, she loaded the bristles and then gently dusted the knob. She worked slowly, methodically. When she finished dusting, she cast her light over the fluorescent powder and was pleased to see a pristine thumbprint on the side of the knob.

“Maddie, can you get this for me?”

“Sure.”

Maddie stepped over and photographed the knob from several angles. When she finished, she moved into the kitchen with her camera.

Brooked took out a strip of clear polyethylene tape and carefully lifted the thumbprint off the curved surface, taking care not to smudge it. She picked out a black card for contrast and gently placed the tape against the card.

One lift done, probably a hundred to go. She closed her eyes a moment and inhaled deeply. When she got laser focused, she sometimes forgot to breathe.

Brooke heard the detectives before she saw them—two low male voices at the front of the house exchanging clipped police jargon.

Sean Byrne and Ric Santos. She’d know them anywhere.

Brooke labeled the card and tucked it into her evidence kit. So, Sean and Ric on this one. They were experienced and observant. Sean noticed everything she did, even when he seemed to be interviewing witnesses or talking to other cops. He observed where she spent her time and how, and if she lingered in a particular spot, he always asked about it later.

Brooke noticed him, too. With his athletic build and sly smile, it was hard not to. But mostly she noticed his attitude. He had an easygoing confidence she found attractive. Nothing ever seemed to rattle him.

Of course, being a cop, he also had an ego.

The voices grew louder as the detectives neared the kitchen. Brooke didn’t look up, but she felt a jolt of awareness as Sean stepped into the room. His conversation stalled, and she could practically feel his gaze on her.

? ? ?

Sean watched Brooke for a moment, then turned to Jasper.

“You say the neighbor found her?”

“That’s right. Lady let her dog out, and he started barking like crazy, so she went outside to see what was going on and spotted the victim in a pool of blood there on the porch. Name’s Samantha Bonner. She works at a coffee shop.”

Sean raked his hand through his damp hair, scattering water on the floor. “Married? Kids?”

Jasper shook his head. “Neighbor says she lives alone.”

Sean unzipped his SMPD Windbreaker and glanced at Brooke again. She was on her knees by the back door, lifting fingerprints. Just beyond her was the victim, and the ME’s people were already unzipping the body bag.

Damn.

Sean was accustomed to seeing Brooke surrounded by blood and gore, but this was bad. He studied the victim, noting the position of the body, the clothing.

Brooke closed her evidence kit and got to her feet as Sean approached.

“Hey.”

“Hi.” She looked him up and down. “Where were you guys?”

“Got stuck behind an accident near the bridge. Tow truck’s blocking the road, so we had to hoof it.” Sean ran his hand through his hair again.

“Don’t drip water all over my crime scene.”

He smiled. “Yours?”

“That’s right.”

For a moment they just looked at each other, and Sean tried to read her expression.

“Detective? Can we bag her?”

Brooke shot a blistering look at the ME’s assistant, clearly not liking his glib tone.

Sean stepped into the utility room to take a look at the back porch. The whole area was a bloodbath.

“Jesus,” Ric said, coming up beside him. “You get all this, Maddie?”

“Yes, I’m finished with the porch,” the photographer called from the kitchen.

The ME’s guy looked at Sean again. “Detective?”

“Yeah, go ahead.”

Sean turned around. Brooke was watching him now, her evidence kit clutched at her side. He motioned for her to follow him into the living room.

Brooke was short and slender, with pale skin and a plump pink mouth he’d always wondered about. As she looked up at him, he noticed the worry line between her brows.

“What’s wrong?”

Her eyebrows shot up. “You mean besides the fact that this woman was practically decapitated on her doorstep?”

“Yes.”

She took a deep breath and glanced around. “This crime scene bugs me.”

“Why?”

“Look at it. See for yourself.”

Without another word, she stepped around him and went back into the kitchen to crouch beside the pantry door.

Sean pulled some latex gloves from his pocket and tugged them on as he surveyed the kitchen. It was clean and uncluttered, except for a stack of mail on the counter beside a key. He studied the key for a moment, but resisted the urge to pick it up.

He opened the fridge. Yogurt, salad kit, pomegranate juice. On the lower shelf was a six-pack of root beer with a bottle missing from the carton. That was the bottle Maddie was snapping a picture of now as it sat on the breakfast table.