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In fact, Cami could see the splashes of blood on the stairs. Wide eyed, she moved to the edge of the treads, making sure to avoid it.
Upstairs, there was more blood, and Cami couldn't help flinching at the sight as she walked to the master bedroom.
There, she took a deep breath before walking in.
The victim was lying face down on the floor. In her hand, she held a bloody knife.
"She had a knife, and she used it on him?" Cami breathed. "What happened here exactly?" Had she heard something downstairs? Had she somehow had warning?
But that didn't make sense. If she'd been upstairs, why not lock herself away or call the police then and there? If she'd done that, Cami realized with a chill, it could have saved her. So, maybe this had played out some other way. She had the feeling that there was more to the scene, and the next moment, it was confirmed.
"Look here," one of the cops said.
Cami saw, with a confused frown, that he was pointing to a plate of sandwiches on the bedside table. They looked to have been carefully made. They were placed artfully on the plate, crusts removed, with a sprig of watercress, now limp and tired. And the sandwiches themselves were dry, their edges curling.
But even so, this was strange and nonsensical and nothing about it made sense to Cami as she stared at this bedroom.
"It seems like she got home from work. There was a glass of juice downstairs, half full," the cop said. "It looks like she's still in her work clothes."
"Any sign of forced entry?" Connor asked, in a tone that told Cami he already knew what the answer was going to be.
"None at all. The alarm was deactivated, the front door was unlocked.”
Now, Cami knew that she had to gather her courage and stare directly at the sight she'd been trying to avoid, where the coroner was already working.
Drawing a deep breath, she turned to gaze at the collapsed form of Tracy Hardy.
She was wearing work clothes, for sure. A smart jacket that was dark blue in color and now with darker stains that caused Cami's breath to hitch as she stared at them.
She was wearing a skirt and a blouse, and her dark hair was up in a tight bun.Without a doubt, this was a woman who had just come home from work, Cami thought. She must have been in her mid-thirties, and she was a smart, professional woman. And by her side, Cami saw the knife she'd used, with its bloodied tip.
It wasn't a kitchen knife. That had been her first thought. She’d assumed the woman had grabbed a knife from the kitchen and then, for some reason, rushed upstairs.
But this was a different knife, more like a high quality, large pocketknife. It folded, she saw. Had Tracy had it in her purse, which was on the floor near her? It seemed like she'd had this knife on her at the time, and Cami wanted to know why. If it had been a choice between a knife and a phone, why use the knife?
If it had been a choice between the knife and locking herself away somewhere, why use the knife?
Why had this happened to her? How could this be?
And suddenly, Cami had the answer, the only solution that made sense to her now that she was actually looking at the scene.
“I think he was waiting for her upstairs,” she said aloud, shivers coursing down her spine at the thought. “He was waiting upstairs. She got home, she poured some juice. Then she came up to get changed, and she found him here, with a plate of sandwiches for her.”
The coroner’s eyes were wide and surprised as he considered this scenario. Connor swung around to stare at her intently.
“He’s setting up a scenario like a scene from a story. Because the plate of sandwiches is weird, but there was also food on the stove in Shiree’s house.”
“True,” the coroner said.
“It’s like he’s trying to become them. To step into their world and then kill them. That’s why she didn’t have time to do anything but get the knife from her purse and use it.”
“You’ve got a good theory there,” Connor’s voice was grim, but approving.
Cami took another look around, feeling sick at the sad, gory scene that had allowed her to piece this together.
“Are we done here?” she asked in a small voice, suddenly feeling as if she couldn’t stay in this room a moment longer.
To her relief, it looked like Connor agreed. "Let's leave these people to do their work," he said quietly.
