Page 90 of Sharp Force
“If was off,” Marino says.
I flip up the switch, the bedroom illuminated, and I wouldn’t recognize Georgine Duvall, bloody and riddled with gaping wounds. Her eyes and mouth are barely open, her mutilated face solid red.
“The same thing we’ve seen before, and the killer’s got to be wearing night-vision glasses of some sort,” Marino says as we peer in from the doorway. “Otherwise, he couldn’t see what he was doing.”
“Frenzied.” I describe my first impression.
“My guess is when she stopped moving, he started in with the biting. He poured bleach to destroy the DNA.”
“Perhaps he was doing all this when he heard someone coming downstairs,” I suggest.
I know instantly by the large amount of coagulating blood on the hallway runner and spattered on the whitewashed wall that this is where Zain was injured.
“It appears he was ambushed as he reached the bottom of the stairs in the dark,” I tell Marino.
“Unless he inflicted the injuries on himself.”
“Either way, it happened here. And if he really was attacked by the Slasher, it’s believable Zain didn’t know what hit him,” I reply.“I don’t doubt that it would have taken him a moment to realize he was bleeding.”
“His story is that he fell to the floor and played dead.” Marino sets down my scene case. “That’s what he told Officer Horace.”
“It would seem the killer didn’t bother checking,” I reply. “Just as he didn’t check to make sure how many people were staying in the house.”
Across from the bedroom is a bathroom. I step inside, turning on the light, remembering the white subway tile floor, the white porcelain pedestal sink and mirrored medicine cabinet. The cast iron clawfoot tub and shower are combined, a Wedgwood-blue curtain pushed back on either side.
“I’m not seeing any blood or sign that it was cleaned up in here,” I tell Marino. “It doesn’t look like Zain Willard came in here after he was cut.”
“My impression, too,” Marino says as he crouches by my open scene case in the hallway. “And I sprayed with Bluestar and didn’t get anything significant.”
The chemical reagent causes invisible blood to fluoresce. When people clean up a scene, it’s not possible to remove every trace of blood. It lights up between tiles and floorboards. Swipe marks from towels and mops become visible. Blood is a tattletale. It doesn’t forgive or forget.
“I would expect Zain might have stepped inside the bathroom to check on his injuries,” I comment. “Except with the power off, I suppose he couldn’t see. Unless he thought to turn on his cell phone’s flashlight.”
“Or maybe he didn’t go in there to look because he already knew about his injuries. If he did it to himself.” Marino comes back to that every time.
“Or he was in a panic. Desperate to get out of the house and call for help.” I’ve opened the medicine cabinet.
Inside is a bottle of face cleanser, a tube of toothpaste. The toothbrush is in a glass on the sink, and the cosmetic bag must be Georgine’s. Marino watches as I remove a square plastic box with a palette of eye shadows. Eyeliner pencils and mascara. Lipstick. Concealer and face powder. None of it is expensive.
I inspect a tube of ointment, triamcinolone for itching and swelling. Georgine Duvall’s name is on the label, the prescription filled a week ago, as was a bottle of clonazepam.
“Sounds like she was suffering from anxiety,” I tell Marino. “I’m wondering if this could be related to her carrying pepper spray on her keychain.”
Returning to the hallway, I’m mindful not to step on blackish stains, the coagulating blood thick like drying tar on the pale blue and gray hall runner.
“Right over there is where something fluoresced.” Marino points to an area of carpet that doesn’t look bloody. “Somebody tracked something on the rug, and it showed up this bright cherry red in UV light like I told you earlier. Otherwise, you can’t see it. Whatever the stuff is, it’s invisible to the naked eye.”
“The problem is, we don’t know how long the residue has been here,” I reply. “Or on the chair inside the bedroom that you mentioned. And it doesn’t appear anyone cleans very often.”
“But if the source is something inside the house, how come it doesn’t show up anywhere else?” Marino says.
“You walked through the house with the UV light?”
“You know me, Doc. No leaf left unturned.”
“When Clark Givens gets here with the Raman, we’ll see if we can figure out what the residue might be,” I reply.
“What we can know for a fact is Zain was cut right here on this bloody part of the rug,” Marino says. “After that, he made his way outside to where Officer Horace found him.”
