Back in the bedroom, Mahler could imagine Thackrey emptying and wiping down the room. In a day or two, the techs might find whatever the cleaning had overlooked—chemical traces, fibers. But for now, the room had been stripped of both crime-scene evidence and all traces of Elise Durand’s life. It was as if the victim had been literally erased from the space.

Who is this guy? If he’s so smart, why’d he kill someone? Why didn’t he run before this? More important—where’s he gone? What am I missing?

Mahler shook free of his thoughts. He went back to the walk-in closet, facing a rack of dark shirts and black suit jackets, and ran a hand across the top of the hangers. As the clothes turned to his touch, he spotted a bright color. He flipped back and saw a tiny bit of yellow rising above a jacket pocket. He squeezed it between two fingers and pulled.

A woman’s yellow silk scarf.

The scarf had a border of tiny flowers and smelled of perfume. Mahler imagined Elise Durand tying a knot in front, turning before a mirror, her fingertips tracing along its border close to her neck. He smiled.

I’m still here.

Mahler dropped the scarf into an evidence bag and went back to the living room.

Bursick was waiting for him. “Quite a house. Three guest bedrooms, home theater, pool house, wine cellar. Must have five hundred bottles. But nothing to say where this guy is. What’d you find?”

Mahler raised the evidence bag. “Scarf—might be the victim’s. The room’s cleaned out.”

“You know something, Eddie?” Bursick asked. “You do this often enough, you get a sixth sense. You ever feel that? My gut says this guy’s in the wind.”

Mahler checked the empty spot on the cabinet top where earlier in the day Thackrey had pointed out the expensive sculpture. “Yeah. He’s gone.”

Hoenig came from the office, holding a small box. “I didn’t find a map of downtown Buenos Aires like they do on TV. But I did find something else. These guys were in a desk drawer. Nine-millimeter hollow points. Two more boxes in the drawer. Weapon’s not there, so our boy probably has it with him.”

“Okay. I get he’s gone,” Bursick said. “But why doesn’t he lock the door?”

Mahler shrugged. “Because he’s not coming back.”

The three men stood silent for a moment.

“Put out a BOLO on his car,” Mahler said. “2018 Jaguar, silver, plates are in the system. And notify the airports. He’s been on the move for at least an hour.”

Mahler called Frames. “Steve, see if the two suspects there received any texts or calls from him in the last hour or so. I’ll wait.”