Page 11 of Blood & Snow
Her hands still for a moment as she tucks her head down, like she doesn't want to tell me, then she resumes her work.
"Forensic science."
Now that captures my attention.
A woman with forensics training stumbling into my operation by pure coincidence strains credibility beyond reasonable limits.
Either she's lying about her background or fate has delivered exactly the resource I need for the war against the Sokolov Brotherhood.
"How much forensic science?" I press.
"Three and a half years. I left school when my mother became ill."
Nadya's voice grows quiet.
"She died last spring. Cancer."
The grief in her tone suggests honesty, but I've encountered skilled liars before.
Professional deception requires verification through testing.
If she really has been through forensic training, this should be simple for her.
"Stop cleaning," I order.
"Look at this scene and tell me what happened here."
She sits back on her heels, studying the apartment with different eyes now that she's no longer shaking from the shock and fear.
I watch her examine the blood patterns, the position of the corpse, the scattered contents of the briefcase.
"The victim entered through the front door," she begins, her voice growing stronger as she shifts into analytical mode.
"He wasn't forced inside. No signs ofstruggle in the hallway or near the entrance. He came here willingly."
"Continue."
"He was carrying the briefcase when he died, still gripping it when he fell, which means the attack came without warning. No time to defend himself or use the case as a shield."
Her eyes trace the blood spatter on the walls.
"Single gunshot to the base of the skull. Close range, probably contact distance. The killer was standing directly behind him, using a weapon identical to the one in your hand, small caliber pistol."
Accurate so far.
I shot him while he was counting the money he thought would buy his freedom from my employ and he never saw it coming.
"The blood pattern suggests he fell forward immediately," Nadya continues.
"No movement after being shot. Death was instantaneous. The killer stood over him for several minutes afterward, probably searching through the briefcase contents."
"How can you tell?"
"Shoe prints in the blood. Size eleven or twelve, expensive leather soles. The pattern shows the killer walked around the body multiple times, then stood in that spot near the kitchen while the blood pooled."
She points to an area where my footprints are clearly visible in the dried blood.
"Probably making phone calls or waiting for instructions."
