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11
Alex willed her legs to take her toward the house she’d lived in for six years. Twice she’d told herself she’d never have to step foot inside again. Now here she was. But this time it was different. Willow wasn’t here. For some reason, that made it worse, not better.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” Logan asked. “You don’t have to—”
Alex stopped him by holding up her hand. Her eyes locked on his. “Willow and I weren’t ... close. I’m fine. Really. We need to see the crime scene. It could help us figure out who did this. Remember, Walker was probably once part of the Circle. I’m convinced this was their work.”
Logan didn’t argue with her. Alex was certain that was because he knew she was right.
Logan held up the crime scene tape placed around the front yard. Lights set up by the police seemed to put the old house in a yellow spotlight. A gust of icy wind tried to whip the tape out of Logan’s hand, but he held on to it while Alex slipped underneath.
“Hey, folks, you need to get behind the tape,” an officer shouted as he hustled toward them. Logan and Alex removed their credentials and held them up.
The officer nodded. “Sorry. We heard you were coming.” He glanced toward the house. “The body has been removed, and the injured woman was taken to the hospital. We’re processing the scene now. Our Violent Crimes Unit is here, along with our CSI techs.”
“Come up with anything interesting yet?” Logan asked.
“Early in the investigation,” the officer replied, “but there’s certainly something unusual about this crime scene. I won’t tell you about it. You should see it for yourself.”
A warning bell went off somewhere inside Alex. She thanked the officer, then walked toward the front porch steps. As she passed the spot where she used to sit and grieve, dreaming of a better life, out of the corner of her eye she thought she saw a figure sitting there. She refused to look because she knew it was impossible.
Suddenly, someone pulled on the sleeve of her jacket. She jerked away.
“Hey, sorry,” Logan said. “Didn’t mean to spook you.”
“I’m not spooked,” she snapped. “But next time warn me when you’re about to grab me.”
She knew her response was overblown, but she was upset that she’d had to come back here again. It was as if someone had decided to make her relive the worst time of her life. She forced herself to remember what she’d just told Logan. It was important for them to see the crime scene. It would help them make a valid assessment.
They reached the porch and were met by an officer who handed them gloves and booties. After they put them on, he opened the door to let them in.
Alex had to bite her lip not to gasp. Blood was on the floor, the walls, the furniture. “This guy was angry,” she said under her breath.
“Very,” Logan added.
Alex stood on the plastic runner laid down on the floor so those working the scene wouldn’t contaminate the evidence.
She frowned as she looked around. “I expected something ... different. If the Circle did this, I would expect it to be ... orderly. Planned.” She waved her hand around. “This is frenzied.”
“But why?” Logan asked. “Do you think somehow Circle members found out we have Willow’s copy of The Book?” Logan shook his head slowly. “Although, I still have a hard time believing they could.”
“We certainly didn’t advertise it.” As Alex gazed around the room, she had to admit she was confused too.
A man walked up next to them. His jacket identified him as one of the crime scene techs. “You the FBI?” he asked.
“Yeah,” Logan answered. “You’ve got a mess here. Any footprints in the blood?”
“You’re not kidding, and no, the killer managed to avoid stepping into any blood.” He pointed out two large stains on the carpet where the blood had soaked through to the wood floor underneath. “Both these women were dragged from their beds and killed here. I’m convinced our guy thought they were both dead when he left, but when the police got here they found one of the victims barely hanging on. A Nettie something. Can’t remember her last name right now. She’s in the hospital. Via Christi. It’s about four miles from here.”
“Have you recovered the murder weapon?” Alex asked.
The man nodded. “A crowbar. Looks like he took it from the garage. The tools are neatly organized, and there’s one empty spot on the wall where the crowbar fits.”
“But that doesn’t make sense,” Alex said.
The man frowned. “I don’t understand.”
“If the attacker planned to kill them, he would have brought his own weapon. This scene looks like he decided to kill them after he got here. It wasn’t premeditated.” She shook her head. “Was anything stolen?”
