Chapter 37
Louise
In the bedroom of the Brices’ downtown condo, Louise watches the senior tech, Mendoza, complete her collection of the pressure smear, the makeup stain, on the window.
“Any other evidence of struggle in here?” she asks.
“The carpet won’t be any help for indentations,” says Mendoza. “Dense, high-pile plush—the fibers are too springy. Comfortable, but not helpful from an evidentiary standpoint.”
“Got something,” says one of the techs on his knees, leaning over the carpet. He teases out a stray fiber with a pair of forceps. “Hair follicle,” he says, dropping the strand into a paper evidence bindle. “We’ve got a root.”
Meaning they’ll be able to cull DNA from it.
“Dark, curly hair, Lou,” says the tech. “Several strands.”
Louise takes a look, then turns to Cutty. “Know anyone with dark, curly hair?”
“Luke Rankin didn’t tell us much,” says Cutty. “But he did say he hadn’t been inside this condo for years.”
“That he did,” she agrees. “We’ll test it, but it sure looks like his.”
Cutty nods his head. “So why would Luke lie about being in this condo?”