“Way to put it, Barnes. Her name was Edith. Remember that.” Jac said. “Don’t make assumptions, Barnes. That’s not just one person’s blood there.”
Max waited, knowing she’d tell him what she meant. She’d texted him that information hours ago.
“So who else was out here?” Barnes demanded.
“There was another woman injured here last night. Rachel, Edith…and a third. Forensics are trying to get us more to go on. We have to figure out how that changed the dynamics last night. Who was she, and why she was here. Victim or perpetrator. We don’t know yet.”
She looked at Max. “What if Edith interrupted the attack on the mystery woman, rather than Rachel? It was out here at some point. I don’t know if it started inside and ended up out here, or if it was outside and ended up inside. Has anyone said anything about directionality of the blood drops?”
“We have a few photos. The teams are working on it, but the rain that fell before the crews could get here did a number on blood trail outside,” Max said as they stepped outside the tents to give the remaining forensics techs room to work. “Inside…there were a great deal of samples taken. It’ll take time to tell us who was where officially. I’ll see if Mari can give us anything about directionality.”
The shape of a blood drop told what direction the movement would be—but not who had been doing the bleeding. Or it could have dripped from the murder weapon itself.
Forensics weren’t Max’s strength; he was more a social scientist at heart. Jac understood the science aspect much better than he ever could.
If directionality could tell them anything at all—forensics weren’t always a given.
He didn’t bother cursing that fact—it just was. Sometimes, the forensic evidence was less valuable than he would want. He had long ago learned to run with that.
The rain had finally stopped, but it still glistened on the yard. On the black canvas tents the forensic teams had worked quickly to erect over the bloodstains.
The tents stood out like the eyesores that they were.
There were neighbors and gawkers everywhere still, watching. Always watching.
“She wouldn’t have heard what happened to Rachel. Not out here. Rachel died too quickly. She didn’t even have a chance to scream, most likely. According to what the ME said it was someone she trusted, someone who could get close enough to bludgeon her. We need to find the murder weapon.” Jac said, shading her eyes as the sun peeked out behind the clouds. She slowly panned, studying the scene, much as Max was.
“Still waiting on that. Teams are looking.” Max had agents searching the Sturvin house, the yard, the woods behind the subdivision and throughout the neighborhood. They had another team of PAVAD: SEARCH coming this afternoon as soon as they could get there, to expand that search. “I have Lytel’s C team out searching dumpsters and trash cans now.”
That weapon was somewhere. Unless the killer had taken it with them. Finding it could mean a turning point. But he wasn’t about to get his hopes up.
“So you think that Mrs. Sturvin was killed first? The second woman heard or saw and tried to escape outside? Where she was attacked, and then Mrs. Lindsay? What about the children?” Whit asked, coming up behind Jac. “Where were they? They weren’t in their beds.”
“They weren’t out here, then,” Jac said.
“How do you know?” Max asked. Jac had an uncanny gift of getting into the mind of the killers and of the victims. She could also see things that others couldn’t see so quickly. She was one hell of a profiler, even if the division hadn’t made that official yet.
“Rachel was killed first. I have no doubt about that. She was the main target. The mystery woman ran outside, screamed, needing help. Mrs. Lindsay saw. Heard. Or the dog started barking. Instead of running and calling the police, Mrs. Lindsay ran toward whatever happened next. She wanted to help. Or maybe it was too late, and the killer saw her before she saw him. The killer panicked, and Edith just couldn’t get away. Maybe the killer stopped the mystery woman here. The children weren’t here, but the dog was. The dog left paw prints. There’s no sign that the children were out here at all. The girls…they would have left prints in the blood.”
“So say the killer attacks Mrs. Lindsay then. Where did the mystery woman go?” Max asked quietly. He looked around and tried to imagine the scene as it had been. Tried to think of what could have happened.
Jac stood still. Max watched. She looked all around. “It was raining this morning. Wouldn’t there have been an umbrella? Edith was eighty-two, she’d have had an umbrella to keep herself and the dog dry. It’s November. Cold. She’d do whatever she could to keep herself dry. Or Sadie. The dog was all she had, except for her neighbors, from what the neighbors said. She loved the Sturvin girls. She loved her dog. She’d have kept Sadie dry as much as she was able. You can tell how much she adored the dog just by looking in her home. One entire room was devoted to dog toys and dog furniture. She had an actual tiny couch for the dog. Clothes. There was a shelf with tiny dog clothes everywhere. She’d have protected that dog.”
Max nodded. It was best to focus on horses, not zebras. Until the zebras presented themselves as absolutes.
“I think Mrs. Lindsay’s attack interrupted the second attack. And then she became the target to prevent her from identifying the killer. During that time, the mystery woman ran, climbed into her car, and sped away. Possibly taking both girls with her, though that would have slowed her down significantly,” Jac said.
Max shook his head. “At this point, we have no proof the girls were with her.”
“The mystery woman could have already had the kids
