Echoes in Death (In Death 44)

She sidestepped him, scanned the long, narrow entranceway. Caught the scent of … oranges.

“Does the housekeeper live in?” she asked the droid.

“No, sir. Ms. Washington states she arrived at ten this morning.”

“Ten, and the nine-one-one came in at thirteen-twenty?”

“Thirteen twenty-three to be precise, Lieutenant. That is correct.”

With a nod, Eve walked to the stairs—narrow and straight—started up.

“She comes in— Does she notice the cam’s not on? Maybe not,” Eve said. “She just comes in as usual, and starts work on the main level. You can still smell the cleaner—citrus type—and the flowers in the entrance look fresh. She might have brought them with her.”

“Does the cleaning, the polishing,” Peabody agreed.

On the second floor, they glanced in doorways. Guest room, home office, a kind of office/sitting room, another guest room. Eve noted someone had brushed a few swipes of different color paint on one of the walls.

“Thinking about redoing the room,” Peabody commented. “Testing wall colors.”

They wouldn’t pick one now, Eve thought as she turned, looking into the master directly across the hall.

Xavier Carver remained bound in a chair. His head slumped toward his bloodied chest. Blood pooled beneath the chair, soaking the soft sea green of the carpet, and streaked over the walls where his severed jugular had streamed and spattered in mad patterns.

What she could see of his face was blackened from a beating.

He wore only plain black boxers.

She took the can of Seal-It Peabody held out, coated her hands, her boots. Taking off her coat, scarf, hat, she left them in a pile outside the room.

The bed nestled in a wide nook with white pedestal tables on either side, sleek silver pendant lights spearing down from the ceiling. Hands bound, secured above her head to the fancy work of the headboard, Miko lay naked on bloodstained sheets.

The flesh of her torso showed slices where he’d cut her in random patterns, as well as discolorations from blows. Her eyes, filmed over with death, stared out of a face battered by violence. Dried blood smeared the sides of her mouth, her chin, streaked her thighs.

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nbsp; The cord used to strangle her dug viciously into her throat.

She’d been beautiful once, Eve thought. The killer had taken her beauty as well as her life.

Was that part of his need?

“Take the male,” Eve ordered, and approached the bed.

She followed procedure, step-by-step, cleared her mind of pity, of outrage. “Female is identified as Carver, Miko, age thirty-three, of this address.”

“Male is identified as Carver, Xavier, age thirty-three, of this address.”

She left Peabody to add the details for the record, focused on adding her own. “Shallow cuts, primarily on the torso, evidence of blows, also to torso, to breasts. More violent blows to the face. Victim bit through her own lip. Lacerations and bleeding evident on the wrists around the zip ties used to bind them, the cord tied over that to secure her hands to the headboard. Further lacerations and bleeding on the ankles indicating binding at some point during the assault. Blood and bruising on the inner thighs indicate probable rape. A cord around the victim’s throat, used to strangle. Hemorrhaging in the eyes indicates strangulation, probable COD. ME to confirm.”

Eve stepped back. “Let’s turn her, Peabody.”

“He broke the vic’s fingers.” Peabody straightened, walked to Eve. “It looks like he smashed them with something heavy.”

Eve glanced back. “The last vic got loose, came at him. Break this one’s hands, he’s not going to be able to use them in a fight, if he gets loose.”

“Miserable coward bastard,” Peabody muttered as they turned Miko’s body over. “Oh hell.”

“Sodomized her,” Eve said flatly. “That’s new. No other injuries to the back.”