Sight Unseen(67)

Detach. Concentrate.

She crouched next to the corpse and tried to block out all the memories of the warm and loving person Danica Beale had been. Kendra scanned her from head to toe, pausing to examine the wound across her throat. She moved in to make a closer examination of her face and hands.

Finally, she stood up.

“Well?” Lynch asked.

“The killer is left-handed, which is consistent with what I saw with Myatt at Corrine Harvey’s house.”

“You got that from the neck wound?” Lynch asked.

“The angle of the cut suggests that he grabbed her from behind and sliced from right to left. He was wearing chocolate brown leather gloves when he killed her, so you might ask the employees here if they noticed anybody wearing them.”

One of the young crime-scene investigators stepped forward. “I’m Agent Herb Elon, ma’am. Leather gloves? I don’t understand. How do you figure that?”

“When he was cutting her throat, he would have had to place the other hand over her mouth to keep her from screaming. A natural response would be to bite him, which is probably why he was wearing heavy gloves. Look at her teeth. There are two tiny slivers of brown leather caught between her incisors.”

The crime-scene investigator, Elon, shined his flashlight into her mouth. “Holy shit.”

“And you might also check neighborhood security cameras,” Kendra said. “Here in Southern California, it’s rare to see a man wearing gloves anywhere but on a construction site.”

Lynch nodded. “Good idea.”

“And the killer may have a scratch on his face or neck.”

The other crime-scene investigator spoke up. “We checked her nails. No skin or blood there.”

“The fingertips on her right hand have been cleaned with a liquid bacteriological soap. Cuticura.”

The investigator wrinkled his brow. “How do you know?”

“I can smell it.”

“I’ve dealt with that soap. Cuticura is a fragrance-free soap.”

“That just means it wasn’t perfume-scented. It’s not the same as odor-free. Myatt may have cleaned the nails on her right hand postmortem because she scratched him. He was hoping to remove any blood or skin cells that might have his DNA on them. But antibacteriological soap doesn’t kill human DNA, so the medical examiner might still find some if he looks hard enough.” She looked at Griffin. “She may have marked our killer for us.”

“Anything else?” Lynch asked.

“Myatt may wear a wristwatch with a metal band.” She pointed to a series of abrasions under Danica’s chin. “As he was cutting her throat, something was cutting her higher up. My money is on a metallic wristwatch, but it also could have been a bracelet. Either way, there may be blood or skin cells on it that the murderer doesn’t even know are there.”

“Is somebody getting all this?” Griffin asked.

Metcalf raised his notepad in which he’d been scribbling furiously. “Yes, sir.”

Griffin looked back at Kendra. “Anything else?”

“You should also check cameras and potential witnesses at the trolley stations in case she was followed. She probably boarded it at National City and got off just a couple blocks up the street.” Before anyone could ask, Kendra pointed to the front pocket of Danica’s tight slacks. “She has no purse with her, unless she left it at her table?”

Griffin shook his head. “No purse.”

“Then she might have a credit card and maybe a lipstick in those tight pants. But you can see she’s probably only carrying her house key, no car keys. They would be too bulky. Danica was much too responsible to drink and drive. She was a woman of limited means, so a taxicab isn’t likely. I happen to know that the National City trolley station is only a couple blocks from her house. There’s probably a round-trip MTS ticket or maybe a monthly pass in one of her pockets.”

Kendra stepped a few feet away from them and took several short breaths. Hard. Dear God, that had been hard.

“You okay?” Lynch asked.

“Yeah. That’s all I have.”

“Good work,” Griffin said. “Listen, Kendra, I’m sorry if I seemed callous about—”

“You have no idea what Danica went through every day of her—Don’t judge if you don’t know what you’re talking about.” She turned away. “I think I do need some air. I’ll see you all outside.”

Kendra pushed her way out of the bathroom and practically ran from the club. When she reached the sidewalk, she bent over and fought the nausea and waves of sheer anxiety coursing through her.

Our story will not end until you know how it feels to truly suffer, Kendra …