"The only way you could eradicate most of the blood would be to repaint everything, repaper the walls, refinish the floors, and pitch the furniture," Vander said. "If you want to get rid of absolutely every trace, youad have to tear down the house and start over."

Wesley looked at his watch. "Weave been here three and a half hours. "

"Hereas what I suggest we do," I said. "Benton, you and I can begin restoring the rooms to their normal state of chaos, and Neils, weall leave you to do what you need to do. "

"Fine. Iall get the Luma-Lite set up in here, and keep your fingers crossed that it can enhance the ridge detail."

We returned to the living room. While Vander carried the portable Luma-Lite and camera equipment back to the bath, Wesley and I looked around at the couch, the old TV, and the dusty, scarred floor, both of us somewhat dazed. With the lights on there was not so much as the slightest trace of the horror we had seen in the dark. On this sunny winteras afternoon, we had crawled back in time and witnessed what Ronnie Joe Waddell had done.

Wesley stood very still near the paper-covered window. "Iam afraid to sit anywhere or lean up against anything. Christ. Thereas blood all over this G.o.ddam house."

As I looked around, I pictured fading white in the blackness, my eyes traveling slowly from the couch, across the floor, and stopping at the TV. The couchas cushions were still on the floor where I had left them, and I squatted to take a closer look. The blood that had seeped into the brown st.i.tching was not visible now, nor were the streaks and smears on the brown leather backrest. But a careful examination revealed something that was important but not necessarily surprising. On the side of one of the seat cushions that had been flush against the backrest I found a linear cut that was, at most, three-quarters of an inch long.

"Benton, was Waddell left-handed, by chance?"

"It seems to me he was."

"They thought he stabbed and beat her on the floor near the TV because there was so much blood around her body," I said, "but he didnat. He killed her on the couch. I think I need to go outside. If this place werenat such a sewer, Iad be tempted to pinch one of the professoras cigarettes."

"Youave been good for too long," Wesley said. "An unfiltered Camel would land you on your a.s.s. Go on and get some fresh air. Iall start cleaning up."

I left the house to the sound of paper being ripped down from the windows.

That night began the most peculiar New Yearas Eve in memory for Benton Wesley, Lucy, and me. I wouldnat go so far as to say the holiday was all that odd for Neils Vander. I had talked to him at seven P.m., and he was still in his lab, but that was fairly normal for a man whose raison daetre would cease to exist were the fingerprints of two individuals ever found to be the same.

Vander had edited the scene videoca.s.sette tapes to a VCR and turned copies over to me late that afternoon. For the better part of the early evening, Wesley and I had been stationed in front of my television, taking notes and making diagrams as we slowly went through the footage. Lucy, meanwhile, was working on dinner, and came into the living room only briefly from time to time to catch a glimpse. The luminescent images on the dark screen did not seem to disturb her. At a glance, the uninitiated could not possibly know what they meant.

By eight-thirty, Wesley and I had gone through the tapes and completed our notes. We believed we had charted the course of Robyn Naismithas killer from the moment she walked into her house to Waddellas exit through the kitchen door. It was the first time in my career I had retrospectively worked the scene of a homicide that had been solved for years. But the scenario that emerged was important for one very good reason. It demonstrated, at least to our satisfaction, that what Wesley had told me at the Homestead was correct. Ronnie Joe Waddell did not fit the profile of the monster we were now tracking.

The latent smudges, smears, spatters, and spurts that we had followed were as dose to an instant replay as I had ever seen in the reconstruction of a crime. Though the courts might consider much of what we determined was opinion, it did not matter. Waddellas personality did, and we felt pretty certain that we had captured it.

Because the blood we had found in other areas of the house clearly had been tracked and transferred by Waddell, it was realistic to say that his a.s.sault of Robyn Naismith was restricted to the living room, where she died. The kitchen and front doors were equipped with deadbolt locks that could not be opened without a key. Since Waddell had entered the house through a window and left through the kitchen door, it had been surmised that when Robyn returned from the store, she had come in through the kitchen. Perhaps she had not bothered to relock the door, but more likely she had not had time. It had been conjectured that while Waddell was ransacking her belongings, he heard her drive up and park behind the house. He went into the kitchen and got a steak knife from the stainless steel set hanging on a wall. When she unlocked the door, he was waiting. Chances are, he simply grabbed her first and forced her through the open doorway that led into the living room. He may have talked to her for a while. He may have demanded money. He may have been with her only moments before the confrontation became physical.

Robyn had been dressed and sitting or supine on the end of the couch near the ficus tree when Waddell struck the first blow with the knife. The blood spatters that had appeared on the backrest of the couch, the planter, and the dark paneling nearby were consistent with an arterial spurt, caused when an artery is severed. The resulting spatter pattern is reminiscent of an electrocardiogram tracing due to fluctuations of arterial blood pressure, and one has no blood pressure unless he or she is alive.

So we knew that Robyn was alive and on the couch when she was first a.s.saulted. But it was unlikely she was still breathing when Waddell removed her clothing, which upon later examination revealed a single three-quarters-of-an-inch cut in the front of the bloodstained blouse where the knife had been plunged into her chest and moved back and forth to completely transect her aorta. Since she was stabbed many more times than that, and bitten, it was safe to conclude that most of Waddellas frenzied, piqueristic attack on her had occurred postmortem.

Then this man, who later would claim he did not remember killing "the lady on TV," suddenly woke up, in a sense. He got off her body and had second thoughts about what he had done. The absence of drag marks near the couch suggested that Waddell carried the body from the couch and laid it on the floor on the other side of the room. He dragged it into an upright position and propped it against the TV. Then he set about to clean up. The ring marks that glowed on the floor, I believed, were left by the bottom of a bucket that he carried back and forth from the body to the bathtub down the hall. Each time he returned to the living room to mop up more blood with towels, or perhaps to check on his victim as he continued raiding her belongings and drinking her booze, he again bloodied the bottom of his shoes. This explained the profusion of shoe prints wandering peripatetically throughout her house. The activities themselves explained something else. Waddellas post-offense behavior was inconsistent with that of someone who felt no remorse.

"Here he is, this uneducated farm boy whoas living in the big city," Wesley explained. "Heas stealing to support a drug habit thatas rotting his brain. First marijuana, then heroin, c.o.ke, and finally PCP. And one morning he suddenly comes to and finds himself brutalizing the corpse of a stranger."

Logs shifted in the fire as we stared at big handprints glowing as white as chalk on the dark television screen.

"The police never found vomit in the toilet or around it," I said.

"He probably cleaned that up, too. Thank G.o.d he didnat wipe down the wall above the john. You donat lean against a wall like that unless youare commode-hugging sick."

"The prints are fairly high above the back of the toilet," I observed. "I think he vomited, and when he stood up got dizzy, lurched forward, and raised his hands just in time to prevent his head from slamming into the wall. What do you think? Remorse or was he just stoned out of his mind?"

Wesley looked at me. "Letas consider what he did with the body. He sat it upright, tried to dean it with towels, and left the clothes in a moderately neat stack on the floor near her ankles. Now, you can look at that two ways. He was lewdly displaying the body and thereby showing contempt. Or he was demonstrating what he considered caring. Personally, I think it was the latter."

"And the way Eddie Heathas body was displayed?"

"That feels different. The positioning of the boy mirrors the positioning of the woman, but somethingas missing."

Even as he spoke, I suddenly realized what it was. "A mirror image," I said to Wesley in amazement. "A mirror reflects things backward or in reverse."

He looked curiously at me.

"Remember when we were comparing Robyn Naisznithas scene photographs with the diagram depicting the position of Eddie Heathas body?"

"I remember vividly."

"You said that what was done to the boy - from the bite marks to the way his body was propped against a boxy object to his clothing being left in a tidy pile nearby - was a mirror image of what had been done to Robyn. But the bite marks on Robynas inner thigh and above her breast were on the left side of her body. While Eddieas injuries - what we believe are eradicated bite marks - were on the right. His right shoulder and right inner thigh."

"Okay." Wesley still looked perplexed.

"The photograph that Eddieas scene most closely resembles is the one of her nude body propped against the console TV."

"True."

"What Iam suggesting is that maybe Eddieas killer saw the same photograph of Robyn that we did. But his perspective is based on his own bodyas left and right. And his right would have been Robynas left, and his left would have been her right, because in the photograph sheas facing whoever is looking on."

"Thatas not a pleasant thought," Wesley said as the telephone rang.

"Aunt Kay?"

Lucy called out from the kitchen. "Itas Mr. Vander."

"We got a confirmation," Vanderas voice came over the line.

"Waddell did leave the print in Jennifer Deightonas house?"

I asked.

"No, thatas just it. He definitely did not."

12.

Over the next few days, I retained Nicholas Grueman, delivering to him my financial records and other information he requested, the health commissioner summoned me to his office to suggest that I resign, and the publicity would not end. But I knew much that I had not known even a week before.

It was Ronnie-Joe Waddell who died in the electric chair the night of December 13. Yet his ident.i.ty remained alive and was wreaking havoc in the city. As best as could be determined, prior to Waddellas death his SID number in AFIS had been swapped with anotheras. Then the other personas SID number was dropped completely from the Central Computerized Records Exchange, or CCRE. This meant there was a violent offender at large who had no need of gloves when he committed his crimes. When his prints were run through AFIS, they would come back as a dead manas every time. We knew this nefarious individual left a wake of feathers and flecks of paint, but we could surmise almost nothing about him until January 3 of the new year.

On that morning, the Richmond Times-Dispatch ran a planted story about highly prized eiderdown and its appeal to thieves. At one-fourteen P.m., Officer Tom Lucero, head of the fict.i.tious investigation, received his third call of the day.

"Hi. My nameas Hilton Sullivan," the voice said loudly.

"What can I do for you, sir?"

Luceroas deep voice asked.

"Itas about the cases youare investigating. The eiderdown clothes and things that are supposedly hot with thieves. There was this article about it in the paper this morning. It said youare the detective."

"Right"

"Well, it really p.i.s.ses me off that the cops are so stupid."

He got louder. "It said in the paper that since Thanksgiving this and that have been stolen from stores, cars, and homes in the greater Richmond metropolitan area. You know, comforters, a sleeping bag, three ski jackets, blah, blah, blah. And the reporter quoted several people."

"What is your point, Mr. Sullivan?"

"Well, obviously the reporter got the victimsa names from the cops. In other words, from you."

aItas public information."

aI donat really give a s.h.i.t about that. I just want to know how come you didnat mention this victim, yours truly? You donat even remember my name, do you?"

aIam sorry, sir, but I canat say that I do."

aFigures. Some f.u.c.king a.s.shole breaks into my condo and wipes me out, and other than smearing black powder everywhere - on a day when I was dressed in white cashmere, I might add - the cops donat do a thing. Iam one of your f.u.c.king cases."

aWhen was your condo broken into?"

aDonat you remember? Iam the one who raised such a stink about my down vest. If it wasnat for me, you guys would never have even heard of eiderdown! When I told the cop that among other things my vest had been taken and it had cost me five hundred bucks on sale, you know what he said?"

aI have no idea, sir."

aHe said, Whatas it stuffed with, cocaine?a'

And I said, aNo, Sherlock. Eider duck down.a'

And he looked around nervous as h.e.l.l and dropped his hand close to his nine-mil. The dumbs.h.i.t really thought there was some other person in my place named Eider and Iad just yelled at this person to duck down, like I was going to pull a gun or something. At that point I just left and-a Wesley switched off the tape recorder.

We sat in my kitchen. Lucy was working out at my club again.

aThe B-and-E this Hilton Sullivanas talking about was in fact reported by him on Sat.u.r.day, December eleventh. Apparently, head been out of town, and when he returned to his condo that Sat.u.r.day afternoon, he discovered that head been burglarized,a Wesley explained.

aWhere is his condo located?"

I asked.

aDowntown on West Franklin, an old brick building with condos that start at a hundred grand. Sullivan lives on the first floor. The perpetrator got in through an unsecured window."

aNo alarm system?"

aNo."

aWhat was stolen?"

aJewelry, money, and a twenty-two revolver. Of course, that doesnat necessarily mean that Sullivanas revolver is the one that was used to kill Eddie Heath, Susan, and Donahue. But I think weare going to find that it is, because thereas no question that our guy did the Band-E."

aPrints were recovered?"

aA number of them. The city had them, and you know how their backlog is. With all the homicides, B-and-Es arenat a top priority. In this instance, the latents had been processed and were just sitting. Pete intercepted them right after Lucero got the call. Vanderas already run them through the system. He got a hit in exactly three seconds."

aWaddell again."

Wesley nodded.

aHow far is Sullivanas condo from Spring Street?"

aWithin walking distance. I think we know where our guy escaped from."

aYouare checking out recent releases?"

aOh, sure. But weare not going to find him in a stack of paper on somebodyas desk. The warden was too careful for that. Unfortunately, heas also dead. I think he sent this inmate back out on the street, and the first thing he did was burglarize a condominium and probably find himself a set of wheels."

aWhy would Donahue free an inmate?"

aMy theory is that the warden needed some dirty work done. So he selected an inmate to be his personal operative and set the animal loose. But Donahue made a slight tactical error. He picked the wrong guy, because the person whoas committing these killings is not going to be controlled by anyone. My suspicion, Kay, is that Donahue never intended for anyone to die, and when Jennifer Deighton turned up dead, he freaked."

aHe was probably the one who called my office and identified himself as John Deighton."

aCould very well be. The point is that Donahueas intention was to have Jennifer Deightonas house ransacked because someone was looking for something perhaps communications from Waddell. But a simple burglary isnat enough fun. The wardenas little pet likes to hurt people."

I thought of the indentations in the carpet of Jennifer Deightonas living room, the injuries to her neck, and the fingerprint recovered from her dining room chair.

aHe may have sat her in the middle of her living room and stood behind her with his arm yoked around her neck while he interrogated her."

aHe may have done that to get her to tell him where things were. But he was being s.a.d.i.s.tic. Possibly forcing her to open her Christmas presents was also s.a.d.i.s.tic,a said Wesley.

aWould someone like this go to the trouble to disguise her death as a suicide by placing her body in her car?" I asked.

aHe might. This guyas been in the system. Heas not interested in getting caught, and itas probably a challenge to see who he can fool. He eradicated bite marks from Eddie Heathas body. If he ransacked Jennifer Deightonas house, he left no evidence. The only evidence he left in Susanas case was two twenty-two slugs and a feather. Not to mention, the guy altered his fingerprints."

aYou think that was his idea?"

aIt was probably something that the warden cooked up, and swapping records with Waddell may simply have been a matter of convenience. Waddell was about to be executed. If I wanted to trade an inmateas prints with someone, Iad choose Waddellas. Either the inmateas latents are going to come back to someone who is dead or - and this is more likely - eventually the dead personas records will be purged from the State Police computers, so if my little helper is messy and leaves prints somewhere, they arenat going to be identified at all,a I stared at him, dumbfounded.

aWhat?" Surprise flickered in his eyes.

aBenton, do you realize what weare saying? Weare sitting here talking about computer records that were altered before Waddell died. Weare talking about a burglary and the murder of a little boy that were committed before Waddell was dead. In other words, the wardenas operative, as you call him, was released before Waddell was executed."