“Where is Cantu now?” Jessie asked.

“At her date’s place,” Officer Martin answered. “He lives just over the hill off Mulholland Drive. She doesn’t have any family in town so he said he’d let her stay there until she felt better. She obviously isn’t comfortable coming back here any time soon.”

“Where was Stanton’s body found?” Dolan asked.

“In the bathroom,” Martin said. “I’ll show you.”

As he led them down the hall, Jessie noticed that marshals Murph and Toomey kept their distance. They seemed less interested in the minutiae of the case than in scoping out everyone else—officers, crime scene folks—in the house. Even in a home filled with law enforcement, they were all considered potential threats to the protectee, in this case, her.

She wondered what kind of business Gabrielle and Claire were in that they could afford to rent a place like this in their early twenties. She supposed they could both be associates at white shoe law firms.

But her experience in this job so far told her they were more likely models or trust fund babies. They might be actresses too. And though it was a stereotype, the fact that they lived in the San Fernando Valley increased the chances that they were performers of an adult variety.

The living room had a big-screen television with surround sound speakers, leather couches, and a bar. As they entered the hall to the bedrooms, Jessie noted that there wasn’t much to speak of in the way of art. There were toys and tech but nothing that suggested the residents had a long-term investment in the place.

When they reached the first bedroom, Officer Martin stopped.

“This was Claire Stanton’s room,” he said. “The bathroom connects with the other girl’s bedroom. That’s how she found her. Stanton was in the tub.”

“Has the crime scene team finished up in there?” Jessie asked. “Is it okay if we go in?”

“Yes. The body has been transported. I can have the lead CSU investigator text you the photos if you like.”

“Please,” Jessie said, stepping into the bathroom.

The body may have been gone but the remnants of the carnage remained. While the rest of the bathroom looked unaffected, the tub, an old-fashioned freestanding type in the middle of the room, was covered in blood, much of which had pooled into a dark, viscous puddle near the drain.

As Jessie studied the scene, the photos from CSI popped up on her phone. She pulled them up while Dolan, who had gotten the same message, did the same on his.

In the first wide shot, Claire Stanton’s body could be seen lying in the tub, face-up, with one arm extended over the edge. Her eyes were open and blood extended out from her neck, covering her chest and much of her face.

Despite that, Jessie could tell the girl had been beautiful, even more so than the busloads of pretty, aspiring Hollywood transplants. Blonde and petite, with toned, tanned limbs, she looked like the head cheerleader for a major university.