“You think they’ll come back?” Carpenter asked.
There was the tightness of fear in her voice.
“It’s not that,” Ballard said quickly. “I want to look for anything the patrol guys may have overlooked. And I want to figure out how the bad guys got in. You’re sure nothing was left open or unlocked?”
“Nothing. I’m OCD about locking the doors. I check them every night, even when I know I haven’t gone out through them.”
“Okay, just give me a few minutes.”
Ballard started moving around the house alone, pulling on a pair of latex gloves from her pocket. There was a door in the kitchen that she assumed led directly to the attached single-car garage. It had a simple push-button lock on the knob and no dead bolt. The door was currently unlocked.
“Does this door in the kitchen go to the garage?” she called out.
“Yes,” Carpenter called back. “Why?”
“It’s unlocked. Is that the way you had it?”
“I don’t think so. But I may have missed it because the trash cans are in the garage and the garage is always locked anyway.”
“You mean closed? Or closed and locked?”
“Well, closed and locked. From the outside you can’t open it without the remote.”
“Is there also an outside door into the garage? Besides the overhead door?”
“No. Just the overhead.”
Ballard decided not to open the door to the garage, even with gloves on, until Forensics checked it. It could have been the means of entry. She also had to consider that either McGee or Black had opened the door while checking the house during the initial callout. She could ask them but she knew that neither would admit to such a gaffe. She would only know for sure whether they had opened the door if one of them had left fingerprints on the knob.
Ballard decided she would view the garage last, coming in from the outside. She moved into a hallway that led to two bedrooms and a bathroom. She checked the bathroom first and saw no evidence of intrusion through the small window over the bathtub.
She moved into the master bedroom, where the assault had occurred. There she found a window that had been sealed shut by several coats of paint applied over many years. She looked at the bed. Carpenter had said she had not known of the intrusion until she woke up with one of the men on top of her and putting tape over her eyes and mouth. He then tied her hands to a railing of the bed’s brass headboard. He told her not to move or make a sound and then she heard him leave the room and open the front door for his partner.
Ballard got down on her knees and looked under the bed. It was clear except for a few books. She slid them out and saw that they were all written by female authors: Alafair Burke, Steph Cha, Ivy Pochoda. She slid them back under and got up. She swept her eyes across the room again but nothing stood out to her. She stepped back into the hallway and checked the second bedroom. This was neat and spare, obviously a guest room. The closet door was four inches ajar.
Ballard opened the closet all the way without touching the knob. Half the space was crowded with stacked cardboard boxes marked as Native Bean supplies. The other half was empty, apparently for the use of guests. She got down on her knees again to study the carpeted floor. She saw nothing on the carpet but there was a distinct pattern in the weave that was indicative of recent vacuuming. Still on her knees, she leaned back on her heels and called for Cindy to come to the room.
She came right away.
“What is it?”
“You said you have no Dustbuster, no vacuum at all, right?”
“No, why?”
“This closet was vacuumed. I think this is where he hid.”
Cindy stared down at the carefully manicured carpet.
“We put that in because the previous owner had stored paint cans there and some had spilled on the floor. It looks awful underneath.”
“‘We’?”
“My husband and I. We bought the place and then after the divorce, I kept it.”
“The door — do you leave it open? Like, to keep air circulating in there or something?”
“No, I keep it closed.”
“You’re sure you closed it after the last time you got stuff out for the coffee shop?”
“I’m sure.”
“Okay. Listen, I’m sorry, I know you probably just want to be left alone but I want Forensics to come here and process the closet and maybe the rest of the house.”
Carpenter was crestfallen.
“When?” she asked.
“I’ll call them right now,” Ballard said. “I’ll get it done as fast as possible. I know it’s an intrusion but we want to get these guys and I don’t want to leave any stone unturned. I don’t think you do either.”
“Okay, I guess. Will you be here?”
“If they can come now, I’ll stay. But in a few hours I start another shift. I’ll have to go check in at the station.”
“Try to get them to come now, please.”
“I will. Uh, you mentioned your husband. Is he still in L.A.? What is your relationship with him?”
“He’s here and we’re fine because we don’t see each other. He lives in Venice.”
But there was a clear tension underlying the way she said it.
“What’s he do?” Ballard asked.
“He’s in the tech industry,” Carpenter said. “Works for start-ups and stuff. He finds investors.”
Ballard stood up. She had to take a step to hold her balance. She realized that sleep deprivation was manifesting.
“You all right?” Carpenter asked.
“I’m fine — not enough sleep,” Ballard said. “How was your ex with you getting the house?”
“He was fine. Why? I mean he didn’t like it, but... What is this about?”
“I just have to ask a lot of questions, Cindy, that’s all. It’s not a big deal. Is he the one you were texting?”
“What?”
“When I came into the examination room today, you looked like you were texting or making a call.”
“No, I was texting Lacey at the shop, telling her she had to hold things together till I got back.”
“You told her what happened?”
“No, I lied. I said I was in an accident.”
She gestured to the injuries to her face.
“I have to figure out how to explain this,” she said.
This gave Ballard pause because she knew that what Carpenter told people now could come back around to haunt the case if it ever went to trial. As crazy as it seemed, a defense that the sex was consensual might gain support in a juror’s mind if there was testimony from the alleged victim’s friend that she had never mentioned being assaulted. It was a far-fetched possibility but Ballard knew she would need at some point to school Carpenter on this. But now was not the time.
“So, will you tell your ex about this?” she asked. “About what happened?”
“I don’t know, probably not. It’s not his business. Anyway, I don’t want to think about that right now.”
“I understand. I’m going to call Forensics now, see if I can get them out. You’re going to have to stay in the living room, if you don’t mind. I want them to do your bedroom.”
“Can I go get my book to read? It’s under the bed.”
“Yes, that’s fine. Just try not to touch anything else.”
Carpenter left the room and Ballard pulled her phone. Before calling for a forensics team, she squatted down and took a photo of the closet carpet, hoping the vacuum pattern would be discernible in the shot. She then called Forensics and got an ETA of one hour.
In the living room Ballard told Carpenter that the forensics tech would be at the house soon. She then asked if there was a remote in the house that opened the overhead garage door. She explained that she didn’t want to touch the knob on the door from the kitchen. Even a gloved hand might destroy fingerprint evidence.