“Yes.” Morgan turned her attention to the largest blood smear. “And once the artery was nicked, he went down and bled heavily. Then he lay there for a few seconds, in shock, processing what had just happened, before he dragged himself out the back door.”
In unison, they followed the long dark-brown smear. Lance opened the door, and they stepped out onto the back porch.
Morgan pointed ahead. “He was found right there, at the base of the porch.”
“Why did he try to crawl away?” Lance asked. “Calling 911 would have given him a better chance at survival.”
“He doesn’t have a landline,” Morgan said. “The police found his cell phone in his car. He must have left it there. They found Haley’s phone buried in the sofa cushions.”
They walked back into the kitchen.
Lance examined the back door. “This is where Noah crawled out of the house. There’s blood on the doorknob but not on the dead bolt. Haley and Noah probably came in through the front door when they entered the house. That’s where Noah’s car is parked. When Haley found Noah, she said the back door was open. If Noah had to unlock the dead bolt, it would have some blood on it, like the knob. Was Noah in the habit of leaving his house unlocked?”
Sharp crowded him.
“No.” Morgan shook her head. “The responding officer’s report said the front door was locked when he arrived.”
Sharp leaned closer to the door. “The knob itself has no lock. The dead bolt is the only way to secure the back door.”
Morgan closed her eyes for two seconds, then opened them again. “I don’t remember seeing pictures of the back door dead bolt in the crime scene photos, but then there are hundreds of them. I’ll check when I get home.”
“I can’t imagine Sheriff Colgate missed the absence of blood on the back door dead bolt,” Sharp said.
Morgan frowned. “But even if he saw it, neither the sheriff nor the prosecutor is going to point out anything that weakens their case.”
“You cannot always explain every single thing at a crime scene. It’s possible that Noah simply forgot to lock the back door that night. But it’s also possible that the real killer used the back door to get into the house. If that is true, then he would have needed a key.” Sharp brightened. “What if, instead of Haley surprising Noah in the kitchen, someone else did? Someone who let himself in through the back door while Noah was occupied with Haley in the bedroom.” He led them back into the kitchen. “Maybe the killer waited for Noah in the family room.” Sharp moved from room to room, his gaze roving. “When Noah went into the kitchen for food, the killer surprised him. The stabbing happened just the way we imagined it earlier but with a killer who was not Haley.”
Lance pictured the scenario. “Then how did Haley end up covered in blood?”
Sharp rubbed his clean-shaven chin. “The killer went into the bedroom and carried Haley into the kitchen. She was unconscious. He laid her in the blood, then carried her back to the bed, dripping blood all the way.”
“He would have had to have watched every step to make sure he wasn’t leaving footprints.” Lance couldn’t see it. “The toe and footprints in the blood belonged to Haley and Noah. She walked in the blood in the kitchen while it was wet.”
“Damn.” Sharp propped a fist on his hip. “You’re right.”
“Assume the real killer was able to keep his feet out of the blood and somehow set Haley’s feet down. For this to make sense, the killer would have had to know she was drugged,” Morgan pointed out. “We’ve been assuming if Haley was drugged, then Noah drugged her. But maybe the killer did it. Maybe it was part of his plan.”
“Haley is small and light. All of our potential suspects are young men capable of carrying her.”
Sharp gestured toward smears in the blood on the floor. “When I first looked at the photo of this area, I hypothesized that Haley might have slipped in the blood. But maybe not.”
“It’s the best working theory we have at the moment.” Morgan blew out a long breath.
It was also their only theory.
They returned to the kitchen, then walked through the rest of the house again. Morgan took out her legal pad and began to make sketches and write notes. They might not get another chance back inside before the house was cleaned. No doubt the landlord wanted the scene released. As a murder scene, the property would be hard enough to rent or sell. Lance took pictures of everything, finishing with the back door and dead bolt.
“I want to know how many people have keys to Noah’s house.” Morgan returned her notebook to her bag.
“The lock is old and weathered.” Sharp gave the doorknob a jiggle. “It wouldn’t be that hard to pick.”
When they were finished, Lance led the way out the front door. The sunshine on his face was welcome after the bleakness of the murder scene.
“At least we have a new lead to follow.” He slid behind the wheel and started the engine.
Morgan’s phone rang as she got into the passenger seat. “It’s my grandfather.”
She answered the call, listening for a few seconds. “Hold on. I’m going to put you on speaker. Lance is here too.” She held the phone over the Jeep’s center console. “Go ahead, Grandpa.”
“I haven’t finished watching all the tapes yet, but I wanted to call you with one bit of information,” Grandpa said. “Noah went to the bar twice. Each time he bought himself a beer and another drink made with cranberry juice, triple sec, and vodka. At one point, he also ordered nachos. I’m assuming the froufrou drinks were for the young lady. Anyway, they were doubles.”
“You’re sure?” Morgan asked.
“Yes,” Grandpa answered. “Two generous shots of vodka and one full shot of triple sec in each drink. They were ordered almost two hours apart. That’s the only interesting thing I’ve seen so far. But then, I can only see the bar and the dance floor. Mostly, people are dancing and having fun. Nothing unusual.”
“Thanks, Grandpa. Let me know if you notice anything else.”
“Will do.” Grandpa ended the call.
Lance pulled away from the curb. “I don’t even know what’s in a cosmo.”
“I drank them in college when I went out, but I don’t know exactly how they’re made. I’ll Google it.” Morgan searched for the drink recipe. “One shot of vodka and a half shot of triple sec shaken with ice and cranberry juice.”
“That sounds disgusting,” Lance said.
“They’re delicious, which is why they are dangerous. You can’t taste the alcohol. I haven’t had a cosmo in many years. One was always more than enough for me. But then most people have better alcohol tolerance than I do.”
“Kittens handle alcohol better than you,” Lance agreed.
“Haley thought she’d had two drinks, when she’d actually consumed four. That’s a total of six shots of alcohol. I’d have had a hangover, but even with my sad tolerance for alcohol, I doubt it would be enough to make me pass out, especially not if they were spread out over an entire evening and consumed with food.”
Lance’s fingers tightened on the wheel. Alcohol was the original date-rape drug. “But it’s enough to say that Noah was no choirboy.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Sharp sat at his desk, typing his notes from their visit to the crime scene while the images were fresh in his head. He was trying to be positive, but the theory they’d come up with at the scene felt thin. He could see someone breaking into the house and stabbing Noah. But carrying Haley to the kitchen and standing her in the blood? That felt sick and depraved and, frankly, physically challenging. She might be small and light, but dead weight was difficult to manage. Haley had been naked and would have been slippery.
The longer he thought about it, the less likely the theory seemed. Morgan and Lance hadn’t shot his idea down completely, but he’d seen the skepticism on their faces.
What if the killer had simply taken blood from the scene and put it on Haley’s body? That would be another way to explain the smears on the floor. Nope. Still didn’t explain her footprints in the blood. By the time she wandered into the kitchen the following morning, the blood would have been dry. The cold air coming through the open door would have slowed drying time, but her footprints were left sometime during the night, likely within an hour or so of Noah’s death.