Holliday shook his head. “Kids partying. Geersen told me there had been dozens of complaints about loud music and general frivolity over the years. Not his department, obviously, but he was always kept up to speed with anything to do with the house. Neighbors even petitioned for the place to be razed to the ground.”

“Why wasn’t it?”

“Money. What else? A demolition would not have been cheap, and the owner didn’t want to pay the cash. Why would they? They don’t have to live here.”

“I guess.”

Jessica looked around. Empty beer and liquor bottles were discarded across the rotten wood flooring. Dozens of burnt-out votive candles in glass containers were dotted around the room. On a wall, someone had written RIP Eleanor in big black letters with a Sharpie. A chill crawled down Jessica’s spine. She closed her eyes and tried to get a feel for the woman who had died here. Tune into the evil that had once filled the space.

As though reading her thoughts, Holliday said, “Place gives me the fucking creeps.”

Jessica sighed and opened her eyes. “The couch is different from the one in the crime scene photos.”

“The leather couch was ripped apart and submitted for evidence,” Holliday explained. “Bloodstains belonging to Eleanor and black fabric that was never identified were both found on the seat covers. Of course, the case never went to trial anyway.”

Jessica nodded. She remembered reading about the evidence samples being collected from the house when she’d gone through the murder book. “How’d this couch get in here, then?”

“Kids probably salvaged it from a dump site,” Holliday said. “Smuggled it in here for their parties.”

“How did they even get in? Front door was locked.”

Holliday shrugged. “Beats me. Can we leave now?”

Jessica crossed the living room and disappeared inside the adjoining kitchen. She reappeared a few seconds later. “Back door lock’s busted.”

Holliday folded his arms across his chest and smirked. “If only you’d known, huh? Would’ve saved you committing a felony for the second time this week.”

“I’m going upstairs,” she said.

“Is that an invitation?” he asked.

She ignored him.

The stairs creaked and groaned as they both carefully made their way up to the first floor. At the top of the stairway, they found a small hallway with three doors, two of which were ajar. The middle one was a family bathroom. The compact space was entirely taken up by an avocado-colored bathtub and matching sink and a toilet with no lid. The walls had been decorated with pink tiles that were now cracked and faded.

The door to the left led to the master bedroom. It was empty of furnishings other than a stained double mattress with exposed springs dumped on the floor. Surrounding the mattress were more votives and used condoms and empty liquor bottles.