Touch of Red (Tracers #12)(4)

Sean glanced through the open back door as the ME’s people started loading the body bag onto a gurney. The victim’s clothes had been intact, and she’d shown no obvious sign of sexual assault. At first glance, it looked like the killer had grabbed her from behind and slit her throat. Given the lack of blood inside the house, Sean figured the attacker had fled down the driveway to the street or maybe hopped the back fence.

Ric stepped into the kitchen again. “Her purse is on the back porch. Wallet’s inside, but no cell phone.”

“You check the car?” Sean asked.

“Not yet. Let’s walk through the house first.”

“Don’t move anything,” Maddie said. “I haven’t been back there yet.”

After another look at Brooke, Sean led the way back. The simple layout had rooms off a central hallway. Sean flipped on a light in the first room. It had a wooden desk and a metal folding chair. On the desk was a notebook computer, closed and powered off. On the far side of the room stood a shelving unit crammed with books.

“Looks like a home office,” Sean said, moving on to the bathroom. He paid close attention to the floor as he went, but saw no blood or footprints or even dust bunnies.

The bathroom smelled like ammonia. Sean switched on the light.

“House is squeaky-clean,” Ric observed.

“Yep.”

The pedestal sink gleamed. Sean opened the medicine cabinet. Toothpaste, cough drops, tampons. Ric eased back the shower curtain to reveal a shiny tub with several bottles of hair products lined up on the side.

They moved on to the bedroom, where they found a neatly made queen bed with a light blue comforter and two pillows in standard pink pillowcases that matched the sheets.

“Not a lot of pillows,” Sean said.

“What’s that?”

“Pillows. Most women put a lot on the bed, don’t they?”

“I don’t know. My wife does.”

Sean studied the room. It smelled like vanilla. On the dresser were several plastic trays of makeup and one of those bottles of liquid air freshener with the sticks poking up. Sean spied a sticky note attached to the mirror and leaned closer to read the feminine handwriting: One day, one breath.

Was it a poem? A song lyric? Maybe Samantha’s own words?

The closet door was ajar, and Sean nudged it open. Six pairs of jeans, all on hangers. A couple dozen T-shirts, also hanging.

Ric whistled. “Damn. You know anyone who arranges their T-shirts by color?”

“Nope.” Sean looked around the bedroom again. “Pretty basic. Not a lot here.”

He walked back through the house, noting a conspicuous absence of anything that would indicate a male presence. No razors on the sink or man-size shoes kicking around. No beer in the fridge. The living room was simply furnished with a sofa, a coffee table, and a smallish TV.

“Looks to me like she lives alone.” Ric turned to Jasper. “You say she works at a restaurant?”

“Coffee shop, according to the neighbor lady.” Jasper took out a spiral pad and consulted his notes. “Java House over on Elm Street.”

“I’ve never been in there.” Ric looked at Sean. “You?”

“Nope.”

Sean glanced around the living room, which was devoid of clutter. Maybe the victim didn’t have a lot of money for extras, but even so, most women tended to decorate their homes more than this. Sean hadn’t spotted a single framed photograph in the entire place.

The strobe of a camera flash drew his attention to the kitchen again. Brooke was right. This scene seemed odd. Sean had worked a lot of homicides over the years, and most boiled down to money, drugs, or sex.

Sean had seen no sign of sexual assault. No drugs or drug paraphernalia or even alcohol. No hint of illegal activity. No evidence of a boyfriend.

A remote control sat on the coffee table. Sean had watched Brooke in action enough to know it would be one of the first items she collected to dust for prints.

“I don’t see any blood trails or signs of struggle inside,” Ric said. “Doesn’t feel like the assailant was in the house.”

“I’m not getting a read on motive.”

“I know.” Ric shook his head. “Doesn’t look like a rape or a robbery. No cash or drugs around.”

“We need her phone. I want to search her car and the surrounding area.”

“I’ll go check the car,” Ric said.

He exited the front, and Sean returned to the kitchen. Brooke wasn’t there. Maddie knelt in the pantry with her camera, and Sean noticed the pantry door was missing.

“What happened to the door?”

She glanced at him. “Brooke took it.”

“Took it where?”

“Back to the lab.”

Sean stared at her. “You mean she’s gone?”

“She needed to test something. She said it was urgent.”

“Yo, Sean, come here,” Ric called from outside.

Sean walked out the front, glancing at his watch. Why had she left already? This scene would take hours to process and they were just getting started.

Ric was in the driveway near the Kia. Another Delphi CSI in gray coveralls crouched beside the car.

Ric glanced up at Sean. “Jackpot.”





CHAPTER 2