Ben gloved up, put on the regulation shower cap-though the few hairs slicked back on his head were unlikely to go anywhere-and slipped his shoes into booties. Then he took a small metal case out of his car and set it on the ground next to the driver’s side door. Bailey held the flashlight for him as he examined the interior through the driver’s side window. Ben took the flashlight from her and walked around the car, studying every inch. Bailey moved with him and pointed out various spots on the car. Then he crouched and shined the light under the car, as Bailey had done. He went back to his kit and took out a packet of sterile swatches, distilled water, an eyedropper, and long tweezers. Slowly, he moved around the car, lifting samples as he went.
When he was done, he handed the flashlight back to Bailey and motioned for her to follow him over to the driver’s side. Bailey stood behind him, blocking my view, so I couldn’t see what he did from where I was standing, but two seconds later the driver’s door was open. One second later, the trunk flew open.
And there, lying in a pool of blood, was Hayley.
As many bodies as I’ve seen, as many crime scenes as I’ve visited, after a while, you get to be immune. But the sight of Hayley Antonovich curled up in a fetal position in that trunk hit me like a lead-handed punch to the head. Tears filled my eyes and my throat tightened with sadness and disbelief. I quickly turned away and blinked until my eyes cleared. Crying at a crime scene was unthinkable.
When I turned back, I saw an ashen-faced Bailey watching me carefully. “You okay, Knight?”
I nodded, but didn’t speak. I didn’t trust my voice.
Bailey pulled out her cell, no doubt to call the coroner. When she’d finished the call, she ordered everyone to move farther back from the tape, then she came to stand next to me. I could feel her still watching me with a look of concern. If Bailey saw it, others would too. I needed to get a grip. So I swallowed hard and blocked the sight of Hayley from my mind.
“Did he buy those two tickets to New York just to throw us off?” I asked. “Or do you think he’s working with someone else?”
“I was wondering the same thing. But he bought the tickets using his real name, so if he was trying to throw us off, wouldn’t he use the one he’d made public out here?”
“Or maybe he was sharp enough to know we’d figure out he was using an alias and he used his real name to buy the tickets-make it look more genuine.”
