He scrubbed a hand over the stubble on his head. “I guess it was a game they played more than once. I dunno. But the manager says he doesn’t know shit about anyone else coming to the room.” He scowled. “Manager doesn’t know shit about a lot, but I’m about to run his ass to see if he has any warrants, because he’s being a pain in my ass.”
“If you could lean on him, that would be a big help. Why’d it take so long for her to be found?” My gaze swept the exterior of the building. “Place like this probably turns the rooms over pretty quickly, I would think.”
He scowled. “Manager said that she would always be out in a few hours, so he didn’t bother checking in the morning.” I made a face, and he sighed and nodded in agreement. “And the chick who cleans the rooms called in sick yesterday, and obviously he’s too much of a lazy fuck to do it himself.”
“At least she was finally found.” I grimaced and swiped at the sweat that snaked down my forehead. “Maybe now we can figure out what the hell happened. I guess there’s no such thing as surveillance cameras around here?”
He shook his head. “Not that work. I already checked.”
I gave his arm a companionable squeeze. “I appreciate the effort.”
“Yeah,” he said with a sigh. “I just wish the whole situation wasn’t so fucked up.”
I merely nodded in response, suddenly very glad that no one knew the other horrific detail about Brian’s death. It was hard enough on everyone to lose a member of the force, especially under these circumstances, and it wouldn’t help to know that, on top of all that, his essence had been eaten.
A shiver walked down my back, and I turned to step into the gloomy hotel room, steeling myself against the knowledge that this body might be like the others, with nothing but tattered remains of essence fluttering in an ethereal wind.
Jill was inside, taking measurements. She looked up and gave me a small nod of greeting as I entered. “Hell of a way to spend a day, huh?” she said with a shake of her head. “Anyway, I’m finished here. She’s all yours.” She gestured to the floor on the other side of the bed.
I stepped around and was rewarded by the sight of a woman’s body, nude except for a red silk scarf that hung loosely around her throat like an accessory. She lay on her side as if sleeping, eyes half closed with the flat, dull look of death in them. Her hair, auburn and artfully highlighted, snaked across her face, plastered in spots with dried sweat and saliva. She was young—late twenties perhaps—and she had the kind of slender figure I could never hope to attain, no matter how much I exercised. The portion of her body nearest the floor was mottled in red, and a na?ve observer might first believe that she was heavily bruised, but I’d seen lividity—or livor mortis—on enough corpses to know that the redness was due to the settling of the blood in the body once the heart ceased pumping.
I crouched by the body, placing my feet cautiously even though the scene had already been photographed and processed. I was still learning the ropes when it came to homicide investigations, but I’d been a cop long enough to know that you had to watch where you stepped on a scene.
I couldn’t tell how long she’d been dead—that determination would have to come from the coroner’s office—but even my limited experience told me that she obviously hadn’t died in the last few hours. But that was a minor concern for me right at the moment.
I was far more focused on her essence, or what might remain of it. I shifted into othersight, nearly swaying in relief when I saw nothing more than a faint shimmering glow. Yes, this was what it was supposed to look like. No tattered threads, no torn edges. Just a soft residue from an essence that departed its shell the normal and natural way instead of being ripped free. This residual glow would linger for a day or two more, then naturally dissipate.
I pulled myself out of othersight and let my gaze travel over her, taking in the whole scene. There were articles of clothing scattered on the floor, but I didn’t see any suitcases or bags.
I glanced back at Jill. “She had a purse?”
“It’s on the table.”
I glanced over. It was a small clutch-size thing—not one of those career-woman monstrosities that could have held a week’s worth of clothes and toiletries. It didn’t look as if she’d planned an extended stay. Or even an overnight one. “Any trace evidence? Fingerprints?”
Jill grimaced. “Sure. Tons. Which is the problem.”
I echoed her grimace. “A few hundred people have been through here, and it all becomes one noisy mess.”
“You nailed it, chick. I’ll do my best, but I think you’re gonna get your best evidence off the body.”
I nodded in understanding, and she stepped away to write dates and times on her evidence bags. I looked again at the strewn garments. I murmured under my breath, “We just liked to play.…” That’s what Brian’s suicide note had said. Damn.
“You find something, Kara?”