The Skin Collector by Jeffery Deaver Read Free Book Online Page A

woman’s scalp carefully and looked under her blouse, front and back. ‘No. And I don’t see any signs of Taser barbs. No stun gun welts … Ah but, Rhyme, see that?’ She pointed out a tiny red dot on her neck.
    ‘Injection site?’
    ‘I think so. I’m guessing sedative, notpoison. There’s no sign of any swelling or other irritation that toxin would cause.’
    ‘The blood work will tell us.’
    Sachs took pictures of the wound and then bent down and swabbed the area carefully, lifting trace. Then the rest of her body too and the ground around her. It was likely that a perp this diligent would have worn gloves – it certainly appeared that way. Yet valuable evidence fromeven a gloved-and-gowned perp could still easily be transferred to the victim or crime scene.
    Edmond Locard, the French criminalist who lived a century before, formulated the Exchange Principle: that every time a crime occurs there is a transfer of evidence between criminal and scene, or criminal and victim. That evidence (which he referred to as ‘dust’) might be very, very difficult to detectand collect but it exists, for the diligent and innovative forensic scientist.
    ‘There’s something odd, Rhyme.’
    ‘Odd?’ A splinter of disdain for the artless word. ‘Go ahead, Sachs.’
    ‘I’m using only one of the first responders’ spotlights – the other’s pointed up the tunnel. But there’re two shadows on the ground.’ She looked up and walked in a slow circle to get a clear view. ‘Ah, there’s anotherlight near the ceiling, between those two pipes. It looks like a flashlight.’
    ‘Not left by the first responders?’
    ‘What cop or medic is going to give up his Maglite?’
    The big black tubed flashlights that all cops and firemen carried around were invaluable – great sources of illumination and they doubled as bone-breaking weapons in a clutch.
    But she noted it wasn’t one of those expensive models.This was cheap, plastic.
    ‘It’s taped to the pipe. Duct tape. Why would he leave a light here, Rhyme?’
    ‘That explains it.’
    ‘What?’ she asked.
    ‘How the store manager found the body. The flashlight. Our perp wanted to make sure we found the message from our sponsor.’
    The words seemed a little flippant to Sachs but she’d always suspected that much of Rhyme’s gruff façade and sardonic deliverywere defense mechanisms. Still, she wondered if he raised the barricade of protection higher than he needed to.
    She preferred to leave her heart unguarded.
    ‘I’ll collect it last,’ Sachs told him. ‘Every bit of light helps.’
    She then walked the grid, which was Rhyme’s phrase for searching a crime scene. The grid pattern was the most comprehensive approach in looking for evidence and assessingwhat had occurred. This technique involved walking slowly across the scene, then pivoting and moving one step to the right or left and returning to the far side. You did this over and over until you’d covered the entire space. Then you turned 90 degrees and covered the same ground again, perpendicular. Like mowing a lawn twice.
    And with each step you paused to look up and down and side-to-side.

    You smelled the scene too, though in this case Sachs couldn’t detect more than Chloe’s vomit. No methane or feces, which surprised her, considering that one of the pipes here was connected to the city’s sewage system.
    The search didn’t reveal much. Whatever implements the perp had brought with him he’d taken – aside from the flashlight, cuffs and strips of duct tape. She did make one find, asmall ball of crumpled paper, slightly yellowed.
    ‘What’s that, Sachs? I can’t see very clearly.’
    She explained.
    ‘Leave it as is; we’ll open it back here. Might have trace inside. Wonder if it’s from her.’
    Her
.
The Vic.
    Chloe Moore.
    ‘Or maybe from the perp, Rhyme,’ Sachs added. ‘I found what looked like fibers of newsprint or paper under her nails.’
    ‘Ah, that could be good. Did they