Look Closer

Jane gloves up, slips rubbers over her shoes, and follows Ria’s careful route up the winding staircase to the second floor, to the landing where the action happened, where the offender struck Lauren, subdued her, and put the noose around her neck.

Ria douses the wood floor with luminol from a spray bottle, the whoosh-whoosh reminding Jane of how badly her own apartment needs cleaning. “Ready?”

“Ready,” says Jane.

Ria flicks off the hallway lights, plunging them in darkness. Glowing blue patterns emerge along the second-floor hallway, dots and small puddles and streaks, the chemiluminescence reaction caused by the luminol mixing with traces of iron from the blood.

As always, there is more blood than one would think. Spatter on the hallway floor, coming in a small inkblot pattern in an area roughly between the bannister and the antique table.

“The offender hit her on the right back side of the head, probably right here,” says Ria, her pointed finger visible only by contrast with the blue-glowing blood. “The thickest blood droplets are usually the closest, then the droplets get smaller as the distance from the wound increases.”

Jane follows the line with her eyes.

“Not a lot of blood, all in all, but the head wound wasn’t that grave.”

“Then there’s more blood over closer to the little hallway table,” says Jane. “Where we found the phone.”

“Yeah, that’s interesting, isn’t it?”

Ria resprays the luminol solution onto the blood over by the table, lighting it up in an even brighter blue glow.

“Blood smears,” Ria says. “The phone slid across the floor a few feet, short of the table. Then it slid a second time all the way under the table.”

Jane sees it. The first smear stops, then starts again in a slightly different direction, maybe a ten- or fifteen-degree difference in angle, before disappearing under the table.

“So here’s what’s weird for me,” says Ria. “The first smear of blood, okay. That’s the phone sliding across the floor from where the struggle happened. The phone has a bit of blood on it, and it takes the blood for a ride.”

“Right . . . ?”

“That could have happened a number of ways. Most likely, the offender subdues her, catches her up here in the hallway, hits her, causing a blood spray, then she falls to the floor and the phone goes sliding away.”

“Maybe the offender threw the phone away,” Jane says. “To keep it away from her.”

“Maybe. Or maybe she dropped it and reached for it and knocked it away by accident, while struggling. Who knows? That’s not the problem. The phone sliding across the floor the first time isn’t my problem.”

“What’s your problem?”

“The phone sliding the second time. It’s a slight difference in angle, right?”

“Yeah, no question.”

“It’s a second, independent movement of the phone.”

“Agreed,” Jane says. “The phone was moved a second time. It slid across the floor, probably during the struggle, then slid a second time at a slightly different angle. Maybe . . . maybe she dove for it again, desperately trying to call 911. Or maybe the offender kicked it away, to make sure it stayed away from her grasp.”

“Sure, all possible in theory, but here’s the thing,” says Ria. “If you swat or kick or push a phone to make it move across the floor, you’re probably going to come in contact with the floor itself, right?”

“I . . . I suppose it’s likely, yes.”

“It’s very likely, Jane. If I dive for a phone in a desperate attempt to reach it, that first trail of blood that we see? I’d be diving right into it. I’d mess it all up. It wouldn’t look like this pristine line.”

“So nobody dove across the floor for it. How about kicking it?”

“Well, nobody stepped into the pristine line of blood, either. No shoe prints.”

“Okay, then they could have stood to the side, away from the original blood line, and lightly kicked the phone under the table. That would work, wouldn’t it?”

Ria turns on the lights.

“Well, yeah,” Ria says. “But isn’t that weird?”

Jane takes a moment to adjust her eyes.

“I mean, who are we talking about? There are only two people in this hallway, Jane. The offender and the victim. The victim isn’t going to walk over and calmly stand to the side and gently kick that phone under the table like she would tap in a putt on the eighteenth hole.”

“Of course not,” Jane says. “The victim wouldn’t be doing anything calmly. She was struggling to survive an attack. It must have been the offender.”

“Agreed. But while Lauren is still alive, the offender isn’t doing anything calmly or carefully or gently or methodically, either. Not until the victim is dead. Until the struggle is over. Agreed?”

“Agreed.” Jane takes a breath and thinks about it. “The phone was moved by the offender, and it was moved after Lauren was dead.”

“So picture it.” Ria walks over to reconstruct the theory. “After she’s dead, the offender walks over and is careful to avoid stepping in the original blood, and . . .” She kicks with her left foot toward the table. “He kicks the phone under the table, careful not to make contact with the floor.”