folder.”
Lucy read the autopsy report. Victoria had been stabbed twice in the stomach, fully clothed, then pushed into the pool. Chlorine had destroyed any evidence on her person. The knife hadn’t been recovered.
Lucy held the autopsy photos under the hotel lamp. The coroner had measured the wounds and determined the angle. Whoever stabbed her had gone for center mass, slightly on Victoria’s left side, suggesting the killer was right-handed—like 90 percent of the population. He held the knife at waist level and stabbed Victoria, up close and personal. Once, twice. Knife wounds were always messy and Victoria may have been able to survive the attack if she’d had immediate medical attention—her heart had not been compromised. But the killer pushed her into the pool and she drowned, secondary cause blood loss.
“This was personal,” Lucy said. “Whoever killed her waited to ensure she didn’t get out of the pool. The water hastened blood loss, loss of consciousness, and subsequent death by drowning. But theoretically, Victoria could have pulled herself out of the pool, so the killer would want to make sure she was dead. It wouldn’t take long. Five, ten minutes tops.”
She closed the folders and put them back on the desk. “The killer was face-to-face, inches away. He stabbed her in the stomach twice. She didn’t see it coming. There were no defensive wounds on her hands or arms, and the only other injury was a cut on her ankle from when her foot hit the edge of the pool as she was pushed in. She trusted whoever killed her, or didn’t see him as a threat.”
“She expected to meet someone there,” Max said.
“Yes, or when he showed up she wasn’t surprised or he had a good reason for being there. Which can point to Grant or Monroe or her ex-husband or her brother. It isn’t a random act of violence. Not a break-in, and I can’t see at this angle of wound, and the depth, that it was someone she didn’t know. If you encounter a stranger and they get close enough to stab you, you’re going to back up. If they’re running at you or attacking you, they’re going to stab overhanded, using their strength and momentum to penetrate. But underhanded, you get close, and the victim may not even notice you have a knife. It was dark, they were outside, Victoria knew the killer, was likely having a conversation with him. She didn’t run away when he got closer. Nothing was disturbed—at least from the pictures you have, I couldn’t see that there was overturned furniture or anything broken. But the killer would have had blood on him—his hand, his clothes. You can’t stab someone that close and not get blood on you.”
“Two months have passed,” Max said. “Wouldn’t all that evidence be gone?”
“Most likely,” Lucy said. “The knife would be a key bit of evidence, and the chances that the killer wore gloves are slim to none. Not in early September. I’d think Victoria would have noticed.” SAPD would have completely printed the house, the yard, anything the killer might have touched. Any fingerprints would be gone two months later. But the reports Max had didn’t show the house, only Victoria’s body and immediate area. There had to be a blood trail. The killer had left the property. Touched a door or a gate. Wouldn’t the police have checked?
She shook her head. She couldn’t second-guess SAPD—they were a competent department that had investigated thousands more homicides than she had. She didn’t know Detective Reed, but she was a senior detective and would have done due diligence. And Max didn’t have everything here, only a small part of the investigatory detail.
Grant confessed … What happened after his confession? What other inquiries had they started prior to the confession that stopped because they thought they had the killer in custody? Time … time was not a friend of evidence. Evidence disappeared. Disintegrated. Became corrupted.
She could talk to Ash Dominguez. They were friends, he would let her look at the evidence on the QT. Though she didn’t want to go that way. She wanted Reed’s cooperation.
“You’re thinking about something,” Sean said.
“I need to handle the bank tomorrow, then I’ll talk to Reed and the crime scene investigators.” Not necessarily in that order. “They don’t have to share anything with me, but I’ll be on my best behavior.”
“Don’t mention my name,” Max said. “I may have irritated the detective with my questions.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised,” Lucy said with a smile.
Chapter