“Kinda scary, if you ask me,” the officer said.
She wasn’t asking, but she had to agree. She glanced around the living-room area, paying particular attention to recently shampooed carpets.
There, near the sofa, were two large indentations that didn’t appear to be footprints.
Knee prints, perhaps?
Yes, that was it. Someone had been standing near the couch and was brought down to his knees. Almost assuredly a man, judging from the size.
“I think Gary Decker was strangled here,” she said aloud.
The officer studied the carpet impressions. “Are you sure?”
“No, not absolutely. Too many people have walked across the carpets for me to be positive. But the footprints leading to this spot are the only set that don’t match any of the prints leaving the room. I’ll bet Gary Decker wore a size eleven-and-a-half, maybe a twelve.”
She caught a faint whiff of pomegranate on the couch. Slightly tart. Perfume?
Not perfume, she realized. Body lotion. Jafra Royal Pomegranate. Corrine Harvey’s lotion of choice?
She cast one more glance around the living room. Not much more to be gleaned here.
She turned toward the kitchen, where, as in the case-file photos, she saw a lawn mower and pressure washer. She stepped toward them.
“Weird place to keep these, huh?” Officer Jillette said.
“She didn’t normally store them there.” Kendra opened the kitchen door and glanced into the garage. “I’m sure they were usually out here. But the killer needed to make room for Gary Decker’s BMW. That’s where he loaded the corpses before taking them to the bridge. Probably not something you would do in a front driveway.”
The officer nodded.
Kendra closed the garage door and turned back into the main house. “I’m going upstairs. Do you need to follow me?”
He shook his head. “No, I’ll just stick around to lock up when you leave. Take your time, Dr. Michaels. I’ll be waiting out front.”
“Thanks.”
Kendra climbed the stairs and scanned the home office and two bedrooms. Slightly messy, but nothing out of the ordinary.
She stopped in the hall.
Damn. She hated doing this.
There were few things sadder than walking through the home of a murder victim, photos of happy times never to be recaptured. Monitor screens of e-mails never to be answered. An open book never to be finished.
Just the way it was when Corrine was casually living here the last day she would ever have.
Shit.
Okay, get a grip. Kendra moved down the hall to the master bathroom, where she detected another whiff of that cloying body lotion. This was probably where Corrine rubbed it on, but the scent was still stronger than it should have been with normal use.
Strange …
She scanned the bathroom’s blue pearl granite countertop for the lotion bottle.
There was none.
She turned around and glanced around the bedroom.
Nothing.
Of course. The bottle had been broken. Recently. Perhaps two nights before, as Corrine readied herself for a dinner date?
But had Corrine merely dropped it, or…?
Kendra got down on her knees and felt around the floor of the cabinet’s baseboard. There appeared to be nothing but dust.
She reached around the corner, stretching her fingers between the cabinet and bathtub.
She felt something cold and sharp.
Success!
She pulled out her hand, and with it a single piece of glass between her forefinger and middle finger. She examined the glass. Black letters were visible on its surface, just enough to let her know that she was right about the lotion brand.
Kendra turned back into the bedroom and moved toward the door to the hallway, which had been left open against the room’s corner. She gripped the doorknob and swung the door open.
She inhaled sharply, her gaze looking down at the floor. “Shit.”
A pair of man’s shoe prints were embedded on the rug behind the door.
The impressions were deep and well-defined in the carpet. Someone had obviously been standing in place, hiding behind that open door for an extended period of time.
Not just anyone. Corrine Harvey’s killer.
He’d waited for Corrine to arrive home and come upstairs, where there would be fewer avenues for escape. Kendra could almost see, feel, the malice and heady satisfaction her killer must have been experiencing as he waited. He’d probably had it all planned. He must have felt the excitement of the kill to come as he heard her come up the stairs toward him.
Corrine hadn’t even known he was there.
Kendra felt sick as she imagined the woman passing by that door where her killer waited.
He must have attacked her after she’d walked through to the bathroom. Perhaps the lotion bottle had broken in the struggle.
Might she have gotten it on her clothes?