He wanted Mendez to think for himself, read the scene in front of him, call on cases he had studied and things he had been taught at the National Academy and in the field.

“I think maybe the statement is about her more than it is about her killer,” Mendez said.

Leone nodded. “It would seem so.”

He stood up, took a step back, crossed his arms. His gaze slowly scanned the room, taking in every detail. Outside the house an engine died, a car door slammed.

“He didn’t bring the knife with him,” he said, pointing to a wooden block of knives on the counter. “The big one is missing.”

“That’s a lot of overkill for a crime of opportunity,” Mendez said.

Leone hummed a low note. “Any signs of a robbery?”

“I made a quick pass through the house. There’s no sign of forced entry. A couple of rooms have been tossed, but I don’t know why. There’s some expensive-looking jewelry on her dresser. It doesn’t look like anything in the way of electronics was taken.”

“Drugs?”

“No paraphernalia. The house is too clean for a junkie. I don’t make it for drugs. It doesn’t feel that way.”

“No,” Leone agreed. “This was personal. No question. We’re looking at maybe thirty or forty stab wounds.”

The screen door opened and Cal Dixon stepped into the scene. Dixon was fifty-four, silver-haired, and fit. His uniform always looked freshly pressed. He turned his piercing blue eyes first to the victim, then to Leone and Mendez. His expression was grim and washed pale.

“What the hell is the world coming to?”

“First murder in a year, boss,” Mendez said, as if that were a bright spot in their lives.

Dixon came over to stand with them, hands jammed at his waist. He pointedly did not look down at what remained of Marissa Fordham.

“Dispatch had a nine-one-one call yesterday,” he said. “Early morning. A child’s voice saying that daddy had hurt mommy. That was it. No address. No name. The phone went dead and that was that.

“The supervisor came to me, but what could I do? I can’t have every house in the area searched on the off chance there might have been a crime committed.”

“I read Orange County has the enhanced nine-one-one system,” Mendez said. “All the info comes up on the screen with the call. Name and address.”

“That costs big bucks,” Dixon said. “I’ve filled out the paperwork for a grant, but who knows how long that will take.”

Once again, progress progressed at a painful crawl toward Oak Knoll, California. Mendez kept abreast of the latest technology being developed for law enforcement, yet tantalizingly out of reach—particularly for smaller agencies. They didn’t have the budget or the clout.