I closely inspect a blue mist near where the head had been. Possibly expirated blood, and I think of the missing front tooth I recovered when I first got here. Chanel would have been bleeding inside her mouth, and when she was down on the floor, unconscious and dying, she was exhaling blood mixed with air. It appears someone wiped up this area of the floor, attempting to eradicate anything that might not be consistent with an accidental death.

That’s what it’s looking like but I need to be conservative and cautious. There could be other explanations such as a false positive chemical reaction to something other than blood. Or even if it is nonvisible blood it could have been on the floor for a while. It might be completely unrelated to Chanel Gilbert’s death. But I don’t believe it.

Next I conduct a quick and easy presumptive test, moistening a swab with distilled water, gently rubbing a small area of the rectangular shape that is fluorescing blue. Then I drip a phenolphthalein solution and hydrogen peroxide onto the swab and instantly it turns pink, which is positive for blood. Next I take photographs using a plastic ruler as a scale.

“Marino?” I look for him.

The house is empty except for the two of us. Hyde, the gray-haired Cambridge officer and the state trooper are en route to Dunkin’ Donuts or headed who knows where. I detect sounds in the area of the kitchen. Then I hear a door shut, the thudding distant and muffled, possibly downstairs, and that’s perplexing. I could have sworn everyone was gone, that no one is left on the property except Marino and me. Maybe I’m mistaken, and I listen. I detect more movement in the kitchen area.

“Marino?” I call out loudly. “Is that you?”

“No it’s the boogeyman.” I can’t see him, only hear him, and now the sounds are coming from the hallway beyond the staircase.

“Are you sure there’s nobody here besides us?” I ask the empty foul-smelling air.

“Why?” Slow heavy footsteps coming closer.

“I thought I heard a door shut. I heard something thud. It sounded like it came from the basement.”

No answer.

“Marino?” I swab several other fluorescing stains and the presumptive test continues to be positive for blood. “Marino?”

Silence.

“Marino? Hello!”

I shout to him several more times but he doesn’t answer, and I text Lucy again. Then I call her ICE number and it goes straight to voice mail, and next I try the cell phone line I usually reach her on. She doesn’t answer that either. When I enter her unlisted unpublished home number I get an error tone and a recording.

The number you have reached is no longer in service …

The sound of a door shutting again, distant and muffled. It doesn’t sound like a normal door. It’s too heavy.

Like a vault door slamming.