Body fluids can fluoresce in the long wavelengths of black light illumination, and Marino selects that light for me. He hands me amber-tinted goggles and I put them on. The lenses glow violet and I begin painting invisible light over the bed, starting at the head of it. The pillow on the left side that had the sachet under it turns dark like a void.

“Whoa,” Marino says. “I’ve never seen that before. Why does it look black? The other pillow and sheets don’t. What could turn black in UV like that?”

“Usually blood would be the first thing that comes to mind,” I reply. “But obviously the pillowcase isn’t covered with blood.”

“Hell no. When the light’s off it looks perfectly clean. Just a little rumpled like someone’s slept on it.”

“Let’s start taking photographs, and then all of these linens will need to go to the labs.” As I’m saying this I hear the same thud, as if a heavy door just slammed in a remote area of the house, possibly the cellar.

“Jeez that’s starting to freak me out,” Marino exclaims.

Then we hear it again. The same sound. In fact it’s exactly the same.

“Makes me wonder if it’s the wind blowing something like a loose shutter.” Marino’s eyes are darting around the bedroom, the top of his head sweaty.

“It doesn’t sound like a shutter.”

“I’m not going to look right now. I’m not leaving you alone.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” I direct the UV light over other areas of the bed as he collects his camera.

He finds the thick plastic filters tinted amber, yellow and red that must be held over the lens if we’re going to capture the fluorescence in photographs.

“The good news,” he says, “is Ajax and his guys wouldn’t have left if there was even a chance someone’s in here. If they saw the slightest thing they’d be taking apart this house.”

I try a higher wavelength. “What about Hyde? Any news at all about him?”

“Nope.”

“And his car?”

“Nothing so far.”

“And his wife has no idea? Nobody close to him has heard from him?”

“Not a peep,” Marino says as small stains light up milky white.

“Dried sweat, saliva, semen, vaginal fluid maybe …,” I start to say when I’m jolted by the alert tone on my phone.

The C-sharp cord that I’ve heard three times so far today.

“Wait a minute.” Marino lowers a yellow filter from the camera lens. “How’s that possible?”

“It’s not.” I take off a glove and dig out my phone.

We’re supposed to think it’s Lucy’s In Case of Emergency line but it can’t be. She doesn’t have her phone. The FBI does. Even if she’s already gotten another phone it won’t have the same number.