Playing Dead_ A Novel of Suspense - Allison Brennan [160]
Kamanski introduced them, and said, “So what did you find?”
“Follow me.”
Instead of taking them inside the building, Simone walked past the door she had exited and down the alley a dozen feet. The alleyway was steep and narrow. To the right was a parking garage, to the left was the backside of a business. Ahead of them was the rectory attached to the Cathedral of the Blessed Sacrament, the oldest Catholic Church in the diocese.
She pointed toward the painted brick wall at the same time that Meg saw what had to be blood.
“Castoff,” they said simultaneously. They were a good half-block from where the body was found.
Along the ground were bright yellow numbered cards and they told the story as Simone spoke. “We tested the wall, it came back positive for blood but we’ll have to retest it in the lab. The victim was walking toward 11th Street, and the killer sliced his hamstrings, from right to left, and the blood spattered on the wall. But he had complete control of the knife, because there are no drops consistent with him holding the knife after the attack.”
“Which means?” Kamanski asked.
“He sheathed it,” Simone said. She demonstrated. “Slice—he can’t avoid the spatter, probably because of the momentum and the suddenness of the attack—but he sliced, then stuck the knife right back in its case. Probably on his belt loop for ease of use.”
She pointed to the numbered cards. “Those are from the victim. He fell here,” she pointed to an area that had a pool of blood with two clean areas in between, where the victim had fallen to his knees. “Then was picked up and carried back that way.” She started toward the building she’d exited, but then turned to the parking garage.
“I thought you left the building,” Kamanski said.
“I did. Nothing there, but we’re processing it anyway. It’s the garage that I’m interested in.”
“Wait,” Meg said. “Did you say he was carried?”
Simone grinned. “Oh, yeah. Carried.”
Meg looked at the ground, at the numbered markers, then saw what Simone saw. “No drag marks.”
“Exactly,” the criminalist said. “The guy couldn’t have walked anywhere, so the killer would have to drag or carry him. The vic was pretty big, but I suppose a larger, strong male could have hoisted him over his shoulder.” She frowned, looking down the alley.
“But then,” Meg said, “the killer would have had his arms around the victim’s legs.” She demonstrated by pretending to haul something large onto her shoulder. “There wouldn’t be this kind of blood trail. Maybe a few spots, but nothing this extensive.”
“Yeah. Yeah I think you’re right.”
“That means there were two people?” Kamanski asked.
Meg nodded. “Carrying him probably under the arms. Lifting him up.” She followed the blood spatters. “You can see some small, narrow drag marks in places—nothing deep, probably from his shoes.” She made note to check the victim’s shoes for scuffmarks.
Nowhere in the reports from the previous crime scenes had the investigators indicated there had been two potential suspects. Meg’s heart beat rapidly with the new and valuable information.
The three of them followed the yellow markers into the parking garage. “I’ve already called for all security tapes, but there’re many blind spots. The main entrance, exit, and all pedestrian entrances are covered, but not every inch of each parking floor. Still, we should be able to find the vehicle entering or exiting. The garage opens at 5 a.m., but it’s unmanned—only those with card keys can get in.”
“So the killer had a card key?”
Simone shrugged. “I don’t know. He could have tricked the system, or walked in and stolen a pass from someone else’s vehicle to get in. We’ll figure that out when we get the tapes from security. Or he could have come in before the garage closed at 8 p.m.”
Meg was cautiously optimistic. If they had tapes of the