If I Had Two Lives by A.B. Whelan

Author:A.B. Whelan [Whelan, A.B.]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: inMotion Capitol
Published: 2019-11-13T16:00:00+00:00

18

Brestler notices me in the foyer and waves me inside. The female crime-scene investigator logging evidence outside the door nods to confirm that the scene had been processed and I’m permitted to enter.

The first thing that hits me is the putrid smell of blood, urine, and some other unpleasant odor I can’t identify. In the seconds following death, unintentional discharge of body fluids is common. However, the rancid odors don’t deter me from moving toward the crime scene. As the oldest sibling growing up, I was in charge of cleaning the dirty bathrooms.

I take my time to catalog the state of the home on my way to the kitchen, where Brestler and Reed are conversing with two officials in white coveralls. The place has clearly been ransacked, although piles of clothes on the dirty floor and other masses of clutter are evidence that it wasn’t a well-organized home to begin with.

A string of alpha-numeric yellow identification markers placed alongside bloody footprints leads me on my path. The body had already been taken by the forensic medical examiner in the early morning hours. In its place, hundreds of sticky-notes label the different types of blood spatters on the walls and furniture. Detective Brown was right: it is a freaking bloodbath in here.

“See all the castoff blood spatters?” Brestler speaks directly to me. “They all came from the assailant’s knife as he repeatedly stabbed the victim.” He imitates a series of stabbing motions with his hand, and from his performance, a chill runs down my spine.

“We won’t know until the autopsy is complete, but judging by the number of different castoff spatters, I can confidently state the victim was stabbed at least a dozen times. Henry Shin. Blood Spatter Expert, San Diego County Sheriff’s Department.” A graying Asian man with a double chin, clad head-to-toe in white, introduces himself. He puts up his gloved hands, indicating we must skip shaking hands. It’s not like I was going for it.

I squat down to examine the pool of dried blood on the tile floor. “Did the technicians find any usable fingerprints?”

Shin pulls the zipper down to his stomach. “The unit collected over a hundred fingerprints from the apartment. It will take time to eliminate the victim’s fingerprints and anyone who had a legitimate reason to be in the apartment. I don’t have high hopes of finding any foreign prints. The perpetrator has never left a print at prior scenes. He’s likely wearing gloves to avoid leaving any.”

“But you never know, right?” Reed instigates.

Shin raises his eyes to her and pushes his round glasses back into place. “Right. You never know.”

“Do we have the time of death?” I ask.

Brestler flips a page on his notes. “Based on rigor mortis, the ME places the timeline between 1 a.m. and 5 a.m. on Thursday morning.”

“We will have a more accurate time after the autopsy,” Anaya informs me.

“Hell of a way to celebrate our Independence.” My mind slips away to yesterday’s party, where I was drinking, talking, and enjoying my time with friends, while this poor girl was fighting for her life.

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