One thing is for sure—it would kill me to turn Lila in. Especially since my stubborn heart still clings to the belief that she’s innocent.
Despite the mountain of proof stacking up against her, I still hope she isn’t involved.
Fucking hope.
I’m yanked from my thoughts when a female voice calls out from behind us. “Hey, you two need to see this.” The ERT team leader stands in the doorway to the house, flinging her thumb over her shoulder. “In the bedroom.”
I trade a glance with my fellow agent. He puts his phone back in his pocket, and we follow her into the house.
As we’re passing by the living room, a different tech announces, “Found a glass under here.”
Pausing, I catch sight of him bent over to peer under the couch. He puts down an evidence marker and takes some photos. I ease closer for a better look.
After documenting it, the tech retrieves the small glass, holds it to the light, and then sniffs it. “Looks like the bourbon wasn’t being chugged from the bottle.” He purses his lips and shifts his eyes to me. “Most likely it’s the victim’s, though.”
Withholding judgment, I tell him, “Check for prints and DNA to be sure.”
I return to the hallway where McBride and the other tech are waiting for me, then follow them into the bedroom.
“Turning the lights off,” she informs the other three techs in the room while flipping the switch and retrieving a UV flashlight from her belt.
Considering my vapor cloud isn’t safely holding my emotions anymore, I’d rather not see all the bodily fluids in this roomunder a fucking black light. But if she called us back in, it must be important.
She clicks the flashlight on, quickly zeroing in on the corner of the room. “We’ve got traces of an unknown liquid smudged on this wall and a spill on the carpet. Likely an invisible chemical compound, judging by the color of the UV reflection.”
“These strokes look like someone tried to wipe it off the wall,” McBride points out.
The tech points the light at the carpet. “Same down here. We’re gonna cut out this part of the carpet to take to the lab.”
“Any idea what it might be?” I ask.
She arches her brows, shaking her head minutely. “It’s odd enough to stand out. Not a household cleaner or organic solution. We’ll need time before we know more.”
“Thanks,” I tell her, backing away with my thoughts racing.
This could be nothing, or it could be paramount to the case. My gut says the latter.
As I’m exiting, I catch sight of a stool, folded and hidden behind the door. My instincts fire up. “UV light over here.”
The tech turns the flashlight back on, and the stool lights up like a Christmas tree. “Holy shit.”
After donning a new pair of latex gloves, I retrieve the stool and unfold it for a better view. “Splatter came from above,” I surmise, then crick my neck to search the ceiling for the source of the spill.
McBride taps my upper arm with the back of his hand, then points toward the corner. “Up there, cowboy.”
Grimacing at his phrasing, I trace the path of his finger. An air conditioning vent is located at the very top of the wall and directly over the remnants of the spill.
Bingo.
I position the stool under the vent and climb it like someone lit a fire under my ass. “Who has a screwdriver?”
“I gotcha.” A male tech digs into his bag to find one for me. “Here you go.”
I unscrew the vent and pass the grate to the tech. She gives me her flashlight, and I peer into the opening. “This isn’t an air duct, folks. It’s a hidden compartment, about two by two in size. And it’s coated in that chemical residue.”
“Now we only have to figure out what the hell it is,” she mutters.
I turn off the UV beam and switch to a regular light to inspect the space. “Damn. It’s empty.”
