There were bloodstains consistent with Toller’s head injury, apparently delivered by the heavy fireplace poker being photographed by an evidence technician. Ben could see blood and hair on it. He glanced across the room, and saw the rest of the set of tools near the fireplace. There were no ashes in the fireplace.
Ben said, “You think his attacker probably dropped him where he stood?”
The evidence technician looked up, first at Ben, and then at Frank.
“It’s all right,” Frank said to the technician. “He’s authorized to be here. This is Dr. Ben Sheridan. He’s a forensic anthropologist, but he’s also a search dog handler. He’s going to help us look for the boy. Ben, this is Mark Collier, one of our crime scene specialists.”
Collier nodded. “Good to meet you. Look up on the ceiling and this nearest wall-judging from the spatter patterns, someone swung hard, connected, then stood over him here and made sure he was a goner. You should show him the boy’s room, Frank. Dr. Sheridan, if I can be of help, let me know.”
“Who found the body?”
“Toller has a hunting buddy who came by for him about five this morning. Got a little worried when he saw the car here but didn’t get an answer, so he looked in the window and saw this.”
Frank carefully led Ben down a hallway-both of them doing their best not to disturb another technician, who was trying to raise prints from the hall door. “Note that there are no visible bloodstains leading away from the body or on the hall carpet up to this point,” Frank said, as they reached a bedroom door. “So, my guess is the same as yours-Toller didn’t get up again after he received that blow. But what worries me is that there are some bloodstains in the boy’s bedroom, and some blood drops leading from here.”
Ben saw crime lab markers near a few blood spots on the hall floor. He bent closer, and saw that they were slightly elongated, as if whoever was bleeding was moving. He looked toward the end of the hall, where sunlight came in through the barred window of a door. “That leads to the backyard?”
“Yes.”
“Why the bars? Is there some treasure in the kid’s room?”
“Far from it. Take a look,” Frank said, gesturing to a doorway to the left. “At first glance, I wondered if this room was some sort of guest room. Didn’t seem lived in. Especially not by a boy. Toller had a gun collection in his own room. I suspect that’s what the bars were for.”
When he looked in Lex’s room, Ben agreed-it didn’t look like a child’s room at all. No toys were visible, just a few school books, aligned with the corner of a small desk. No posters or pennants on the walls. No radio, no CD player. No computer or electronic games. Not so much as a teddy bear. Another crime lab worker was photographing the two exceptions to the orderliness-the shattered glass of a picture frame and bloodstains on the pillow of the otherwise neatly made twin bed. Some of the shards of glass from the frame were bloodstained, too. In the photo, a thin, dark-haired woman held Lex in an affectionate hug. “Is this the boy’s mother?” Ben asked.
“I don’t think so. Neighbors say the mother was blonde, and died about four years ago. When I described the woman in the photo, they told me she’s probably his aunt-his mother’s sister. She was over here last night, and two of the neighbors heard loud arguing.”
“You’ve tried to reach her?”
“Pete just talked with her.”
“So does your partner think the boy could be with her?”
“She says no, but Pete’s still not sure about that. With the blood you see here-you can understand why I’d like to have Bingle and Bool go through the place.”
“Yes. I’ll start with Bool. Is there a laundry hamper here?”
There were socks and underwear in the hamper, along with a pair of pajamas. “Anybody else touch these clothes today?”
Frank asked Collier, who said, yes, there was a preliminary look through the hamper-the outfit the kid was last seen wearing was not with the other laundry, so they were assuming he was still in his jeans and T-shirt.
“Why don’t you pre-scent the dog with that bloody pillow-case?” Collier asked.
“Because I don’t know that the blood is the child’s.”
“Oh.”
“Maybe the bathroom-”
“Looked like somebody had washed up in there,” Collier said. “Towels were a little damp. May have bandaged a wound-there were fragments of gauze in the wastebasket.”
Ben raised a brow and turned to Frank. “Toothbrush or fireplace poker-you want the child or the suspect?”
“Both, but the boy is our first concern.”
“Toothbrush it is, then,” he said, and went into the bathroom. He used gloves to take the child-sized toothbrush from its holder and placed it in a plastic bag. They walked out to the shady spot where another officer-a dog lover who had worked with Ben on previous cases-was keeping an eye on the crated dogs.
Bingle greeted him with a little song of anticipation, perhaps already smelling Toller’s body. Like Bool, Bingle was trained in cadaver work, and probably thought this would be an easy day’s work. But it was big, drooling, sweet-natured Bool he’d work with first today.
Frank held the toothbrush bag while Ben put on a daypack with water and other basic supplies for the search. He clipped a small two-way radio on his belt, gave the other one to Frank, and put Bool in his working harness. The harness was necessary for any control over Bool-and for the safety of both Ben and the dog. Once on the trail, the big bloodhound would become oblivious to everything but the scent-he’d walk out into traffic if he was trailing someone who had stepped into the street. David had once told Ben of a time when Bool had been following the trail of a lost hiker, and had gone halfway over a cliffside before David managed to haul him back-the hiker, it turned out, had fallen to his death at the same spot several hours earlier.
Ben wasn’t very optimistic about what they’d find in this type of search environment today-concrete and asphalt wouldn’t hold the scent the way a more natural environment would. But Bool had surprised him before.
“Since we’ve got blood drops in the hallway leading toward the back door,” he said, “let’s start on the back porch.”
Frank had done search work with Ben in the past, and knew that his role would be that of “second man.” Ben would be focused on the dog, while Frank followed at a short distance to ensure Ben’s safety. He’d keep a clear view of the search terrain, call for back up if needed, and take control of the dog if Ben was hurt. With luck, he’d also have the role of helping Lex Toller once he was found. If a suspect was with Lex, Frank would be the one to apprehend him.
When they reached the Tollers’ back porch, Ben took the plastic bag from Frank and removed the toothbrush. Making sure the dog had his nose directly over the bristles, Ben said, “Find ‘em, Bool!”
With Bool, this pre-scenting-giving the dog a “sample” of Lex’s scent to work with-was essential. The dog put his nose to the porch and immediately caught a trail, almost pulling Ben off his feet as he headed to the side of the house. From there, he quickly found a small opening and was ready to burrow under the porch before Ben called him back and praised him.
A burly uniformed officer who had been watching them with some curiosity said, “He’s not under there. That’s one of the first places we looked.”
“You looked under the house?”
“Yes, sir. Figured if he was scared, that’s where he might hide. I didn’t crawl, but I used a flashlight-”