Page 23 of Fatal Pattern

“What is that?” Blade asked. He was standing close. Too close. Her concentration scattered.

“You’re breathing down my neck.”

He stepped back, palms raised. “Sorry. Just watching you work.”

“I know. But I need space to think.” She handed him her phone. “Take some photos of that blotter, then have someone collect it for evidence. Could be important.”

She crossed to the far wall and crouched beside the evidence markers. Tiny blood droplets formed a perfect circle. Was this intentional? Why here? The killer had taken time to arrange some things, clean others, but leave this blood behind.

Calculated. Controlled. Nothing about this scene suggested someone who’d lost their temper or acted on impulse.

Blade leaned over the table on the opposite side of the room, camera clicking softly, his weight braced on his palms.

“Medical malpractice defense attorney. Defending doctors who made mistakes,” she said, processing out loud.

“Or doctors who did exactly what they intended,” Blade said.

Evening light had gone gold by now, the shutters laying long honey-colored bars across the bloodstained carpet. Hours. They’d been at this for hours. She made one final sweep of the office, cataloging details that might matter later.

Back in the living room, she waited while Blade called the Crime Scene Unit to come collect additional evidence.

He disconnected and said, “They’ll be here in fifteen. Done in here?”

She nodded and followed him toward the back door, stripping off her latex gloves. The snap of rubber against skin felt final, like closing a chapter.

Blade pressed her phone into her hand without a word, and she walked out behind him into air that smelled like rain coming. The normalcy of Florek’s neighborhood slapped her. Manicured St. Augustine grass, blooming bougainvillea cascading over privacy fences, the distant hum of a leaf blower maintaining someone’s perfect landscape. Life continuing its predictable rhythm while violence festered behind closed doors.

The house’s exterior revealed nothing. No broken windows, no signs of struggle, no indication that brutality had unfolded inside these walls. The killer had counted on the assumption of safety in Coral Gables’s manicured streets.

“Well, Doctor.” Blade leaned against his car’s hood. “First thoughts?”

Sweat prickled the back of Tori’s neck. She pulled her hair back and secured it with an elastic hair tie from her wrist. “The blood patterns, the staged furniture, even that book placement, it’s all too intentional. It feels like someone wanted us to see specific things while missing others.”

“Like what?”

“The killer bled in that living room for at least thirty seconds. That’s not adrenaline-fueled escape behavior. That’s someone taking time to survey their work.” She looked back at the house. “And moving Florek’s keys and phone to the kitchen counter? That’s control.”

The medical ethics book nagged at her. Too obvious, like a breadcrumb dropped. But breadcrumbs led somewhere, and whoever killed Florek wanted them to follow a specific trail.

“We need to dig into his coworkers and his client list,” she said.

Blade nodded. “You thinking this connects to his work?”

“I’m thinking someone wanted Florek silenced before he could talk.”

The white CSU van rounded the corner and parked at the curb. Tori checked her watch and grimaced. Six fifteen. She’d promised the kids she’d be at the gym by seven.

“I gotta bounce,” she said, fishing her keys from her purse. “Warrior class tonight.”

Blade grinned and shook his head. “Still teaching those teenagers that size doesn’t matter in a fight?”

“Yes, and they still don’t believe me until I prove it.” She looked him up and down, taking in all six-foot-four of him. “Matter of fact, I’d use you as my demonstration dummy if you didn’t have that hot date with your girlfriend tonight.”

His laugh came out easy, but something flickered across his face. “Yeah, well.”

That was it? Yeah, well? She waited for him to say more, maybe tease her back about how she’d never actually take him down, but he just stood there adjusting his car keys.

“Have a good night,” he said, already turning toward the CSU team. “I’ll forward you the CSU file when they’re done shooting it. Body and all. Whatever they pull, you’ll have it tonight.”