Odd, to say the least.
"There're three apartments on each floor. Douglass lives in ten-o-three, which is the one with the lake view." Illie was looking at his notebook more than where he was going, and Gabriel rather churlishly hoped he'd run into something. But the man seemed to have a six sense when it came to objects in his path and sidestepped each one at the last moment. All without actually looking up. "The building has keypad number and thumbprint code security in place, and the system records details of all visitors."
"You've checked the records for her apartment?" He flashed his badge at the officer standing at the heavily-barred front door, and nodded a thanks when the officer keyed open the door for them.
"Yes. No visitors recorded for the last forty-eight hours,"
Illie said. "She left her apartment at five-forty five this morning, and returned at two thirty this afternoon. She was alone both times."
Another state police officer stood at the elevator. Gabriel again showed his badge, and asked, "Who's the officer in charge up there?"
"Captain Marsdan."
Who was the head of Sam's squad when she'd been a state police officer, and a man who had no real liking for SIU interference. But he was an excellent cop and, despite his adverse opinion of the SIU, he was probably the reason they'd been called in so fast.
They made their way up in the elevator. Illie shoved his notebook back in his pocket and clicked the record button on his viaphone.
Gabriel watched with mild amusement. It was always easy to tell raw recruits from those who had been with the bureau for years, simply because the newbies followed the rules to the letter. Those who had been around for a while only recorded information when there was actually something to record. And in cases like this one, there'd be a crimecorder in place, anyway, so there was really no point in doubling up.
Black uniforms dominated the fifth floor, several interviewing neighbors and others guarding Douglass's door.
Gabriel flashed his badge yet again and stepped inside the apartment.
A spherical-shaped crimecorder hovered in the middle of the living room, red light flashing to indicate it was recording. It swung around as he entered. "ID please."
"Assistant Director Gabriel Stern, SIU, and Agent James Illie, SIU," he said almost absently as he looked around.
Douglass might have made a ton of money, but aside from the location of her apartment, there was little else to indicate wealth of any kind. There was only a small TV, a coffee table and a brown leather sofa that had seen better years in the living room. The pale gray walls were bare, and the claret colored, heavily brocaded curtains had that aged, dusty look that only came after years and years of neglect.
"A woman of minimalist taste, isn't she?" Illie commented.
"Hard to imagine, given the image she'd presented at the Foundation."
"Yeah, it is. You want to check out the rest of the apartment, see what you can find?"
Illie nodded. Gabriel looked around as a balding man in his mid-forties came out of a doorway to his right. The captain himself. Surprise flickered briefly through Marsdan's small brown eyes. "Didn't think this case was big enough to bring out an assistant director."
"It is when the case has links to an investigation already underway." He walked across to the doorway Marsdan had exited. It led into a bedroom—the place where Kathryn Douglass had met her death.
And it hadn't been an easy one, if the evidence indicator tags were anything to go by. There were at least ten of them, but only five of those caught immediate attention. They were spread through the room, each one joined by a trail of blood that was already beginning to dry and darken. They were an indication of where the body lay. Kathryn Douglass had been torn apart.
His gaze rose. A warning had been painted—in what looked like blood—on the wall.
Do not revisit Penumbra.
Something inside him went cold. Penumbra. The project that seemed the one most likely to have produced Sam.
What the hell did Kathryn Douglass have to do with that project? She was far too old to be one of the children raised from those projects. According to her records, she'd never been a part of the military, even if the foundation she controlled had deep military links.
So who was the warning aimed at? The military? The SIU?
Or someone else entirely?
Someone like the mysterious, ever elusive, Sethanon? But what did he have to do with someone like Kathryn Douglass?
"Who reported the murder?" He walked over to the wall, carefully avoiding the outlines, blood trails and evidence markers.
"Neighbor. Apparently she heard screams and strange thumps."