“There’s no luggage inside,” Ingram said. “We saw that much and then cleared out.”

The hotel room was nice for Mason Falls standards. To my right, just inside the door, was a small kitchenette with a white melamine counter that had a sink and a small Frigidaire. The counter curved to face out into a living area, and a chair was tucked underneath, making it a desk for work from the other side.

The common area was quaint, with two chairs and a couch that faced a thirty-inch TV and a door that led into the bedroom and bath area.

“I’ll take in there,” Remy said, moving into the bedroom. I started in the kitchen, gloving up and going through each of the four cupboards. They were bare, except for some essentials. Salt and pepper shakers. An extra coffee cup, wrapped in plastic. A travel-sized bottle of Dawn liquid soap.

In the trash can, I found a handful of sparkly flecks, enough to sit two inches high on your palm. I carefully collected them in a clear evidence bag and held up the bag. They looked like speckled shavings of some sort.

Placing the bag on the counter, I noticed two brownish scuffs on the melamine, each about four inches long. I took a picture of them with my phone and then wet a single gloved digit, wiping at the edge of one of the scuffs. The mark came off fast.

I moved out to the living area and pulled the drapes wide, letting light pour into the area big enough for three adults to sit and watch TV.

The couch was slate-gray and rigid, and the armchair bore a pattern of gray and blue diamonds.

I lifted each couch cushion out, one by one, but found nothing under them. It was as if no one had ever spent time in the area.

After another ten minutes, I glanced in at the bedroom.

The bed was left unmade, and Remy was lifting a brick-red dust ruffle and examining the area under it.

“Anything?”

“Nada,” she said. “You?”

“Something in the trash, but I’m not sure what.”

My partner came out and inspected the evidence bag. “Is it paint?”

“I was thinkin’, yeah,” I said.

She moved back into the bedroom, and I did round two in the kitchen, getting up under the sink.

Outside I heard the loud pop of a transformer blowing, somewhere down by the highway.

“Is there a safe in there?” I hollered to Remy.

“Yes, and left open,” she said. “Empty.”

Under the sink I found a paper coffee cup. I bagged it, but couldn’t tell if it had been there for a day or a month.

I stood near the melamine kitchen counter, staring at the shiny filings in the evidence bag. The room smelled like coffee grinds and stale air.

I turned to Yantsy, who stood by the open door that led out to the carpeted hallway. “Yantsy,” I said. “You didn’t move anything, right?”