glowed, but this end of the street was deep in shadow, and the building, with its barred windows, its gated door, looked like a prison sealing in its ghosts.
Jane peered through the restaurant window and gave a visible shudder. “We’ve already been in there, you know. It’s a creepy place, and it’s probably crawling with roaches. Just bare walls and empty rooms. There’s really nothing left to look at.”
“The blood will still be there,” said Maura. Soap and scrubbing erased only the visible evidence; the chemical ghost of blood remained on floors and walls. Luminol could reveal old smears and footprints that may have been missed during the original investigation.
The glare of headlights made her turn and squint as a vehicle rounded the corner and slowly rolled to a stop. Frost and Tam stepped out.
“You got the key?” Jane called out.
Frost pulled it from his pocket. “I had to sign our lives away before Mr. Kwan would hand it over.”
“What’s the big deal? There’s nothing to steal in there.”
“He said if we damage anything, we’ll hurt the resale value.”
Jane snorted. “I could improve its resale value with a stick of dynamite.”
Frost unlocked the door and felt around for the light switch. Nothing happened. “Bulb must’ve finally burned out,” he said.
In the darkness beyond the threshold, something moved, startled by the sudden invasion. Maura turned on her flashlight and saw half a dozen roaches skitter away from the beam and vanish beneath the cash register counter.
“Ewww,” said Frost. “I bet there’s, like, a thousand of them swarming around under there.”
“Thanks a lot,” muttered Jane. “Now I’ll never get that picture out of my head.”
Their four flashlight beams sliced back and forth, crisscrossing in the darkness. As Jane had described, the room was bare walls and floor, but when Maura looked around the room images from the crime scene photos superimposed themselves. She saw Joey Gilmore sprawled near the counter. Saw James Fang crumpled behind the counter. She crossed to the corner where the Mallorys had died and pictured the corpses as they had fallen. Arthur slumped facedown onto the table. Dina stretched out on the floor.
“Hello?” a voice called from the alley. “Detective Rizzoli?”
“We’re in here,” said Jane.
A new pair of dueling flashlight beams joined theirs as two men from the crime scene unit entered the room. “It’s definitely dark enough in here,” one of the men said. “And there’s no furniture to move, so that’ll make things quick.” He squatted and examined the floor. “This is the same linoleum?”
“That’s what we’re told,” said Tam.
“Looks it, too. Stamped linoleum, lots of dings and cracks. Should light up really well.” He grunted as he stood up, his belly as big as an eight-month pregnancy.
His much thinner associate, who towered over him, said: “What are you hoping to find in here?”
“We’re not sure,” said Jane.
“Must have a reason you’re looking again after nineteen years.”
In the silence, Maura felt her face flush and wondered if the full responsibility for this outing was going to fall on her shoulders. Then Jane said, “We have reason to believe it wasn’t a murder-suicide.”
“So we’re looking for unexplained footprints? Evidence of an intruder, what?”
“That would be a start.”
His stouter colleague sighed. “Okay, we’ll give you soup to nuts. You want it, you got it.”
“I’ll help you unload the van,” said Tam.
The men carried in lighting equipment and video gear, electrical cords and chemicals. Although all the lightbulbs in the restaurant had burned out, the power outlets were still live, and when they plugged in the cord to illuminate the dining area, the glare of the lamps was as harsh as sunlight. While one of the criminalists videotaped the room, his partner unpacked boxes of chemicals from a cooler. Only now, in the light, did Maura recognize both men from the rooftop crime scene.
Slowly, the videographer panned the room with the camera and straightened. “Okay, Ed? You ready to start?”
“Soon as everyone gets on their gear,” Ed answered. “Masks are in that box over there. We should have enough for everyone.”
Tam handed Maura a pair of goggles and a respirator, which she pulled over her face to protect against the luminol fumes. Only after everyone was masked did Ed-at least she now knew the tall man’s name-begin mixing chemicals. He swirled the solution in a jar, then decanted it into a spray bottle. “Someone want to be in charge of the lights?”
“I’ll do it,” said Frost.
“It’s gonna be really dark in here, so stay by the lamp or you’ll be fumbling for the switch.” Ed glanced around the room. “Where do you folks want to start?”
“This section,” said Jane, pointing to the area near the cash register.
Ed moved into position, then glanced at Frost. “Lights.”
The room went black, and the darkness seemed to magnify the sound of Maura’s breathing in the respirator. Only faintly did she hear the hiss of the spray bottle as Ed released a mist of luminol. A geometric pattern of blue- green suddenly glowed on the floor as the luminol reacted with traces of old hemoglobin. Wherever blood drips or splatters or flows, it leaves behind echoes of its presence. Nineteen years ago, blood had seeped into this linoleum, lodging so stubbornly in cracks and crevices that it could not be eradicated, even with the most thorough mopping.
“Light.”
Frost flipped the switch and they all stood blinking in the glare. The blue-green glow had vanished; in its place was the same patch of floor they had seen earlier.
Tam looked up from his laptop, on which he’d loaded the Red Phoenix crime scene photos. “Corresponds with what I see here,” he said. “No surprises. That’s right where Joey Gilmore’s body was found.”
They moved the camera and tripod to the nook behind the counter, and everyone took their positions. Again the lights went out; again they heard the hiss of the spray bottle and more of the floor began to luminesce in checkerboard lines. Here was where James Fang died. The wall lit up as well, glowing spatters where traces of the waiter’s blood had splashed, like the fading echoes of a scream.
In this building, there were still more screams to be heard.
They moved on to the corner where the Mallorys had perished. Two bodies meant twice as many splatters, and here were the loudest shrieks of all, a horror show of splashes and smears that flared in the darkness and slowly faded.
Frost turned on the lights and they all stood silent for a moment as they stared down at the tired patch of floor that had glowed so brightly only a moment earlier. Nothing had surprised them so far, but what they’d seen was nonetheless unsettling.
“Let’s move on to the kitchen,” said Jane.
They stepped through the doorway. It seemed colder in the next room, so cold that a chill rippled across Maura’s skin. She looked around at a refrigerator, an ancient ventilation hood and stove. The floor was concrete in here, designed for easy swabbing in an area where grease and sauces would splatter.
“Got some rusty-looking kitchen equipment over there,” said Ed. “That’s going to react with the luminol and light up.”
“It’s the floor we need to focus on,” said Maura. “Right here is where the cook was found.”
“So we’ll find more blood. Big surprise,” said Ed, his note of sarcasm unmistakable.
“Look, if you think this is a waste of time, just give me the bottle and I’ll do it,” Maura snapped.
In the sudden silence, the two criminalists looked at each other. Ed said, “Do you want to tell us what you’re looking for, Dr. Isles? So this might actually make sense?”
“I’ll tell you when I see it. Let’s start with that doorway leading into the dining room.”
