Maybe there’s something else, though, she thought.
She walked back toward the hallway and stopped where it connected with the living area. If the killer had indeed come in through the window in the master bedroom, this would likely be where the shooting had started. The lack of blood or chaos in the bedroom indicated that nothing violent had happened back there.
She looked to the couch and saw the spray of blood on the floor in front of it. Probably the first shot, she thought. She observed the layout of the place and could see it all in her head. The first shot had killed someone on the couch. That would have caused anyone else on the couch to jump up quickly, perhaps knocking over the coffee table. Maybe they tripped over it or tried jumping over it. Regardless, the blood and spilled soda on the other side of the overturned coffee table indicated that this person did not make it out.
Still, it made her wonder. She slowly walked into the living room, following the path she assumed the bullets had gone. The amount of dried gore on the back of the couch gave her enough evidence that the person sitting there had died right away. She could see no entry on the couch where the bullet had torn into it, meaning it had lodged somewhere in the victim’s head.
She could easily see two bullet holes in the kitchen wall, about three inches apart. She could see them from the couch. But if there were two stray shots there, maybe there were more elsewhere. If there were, it might give them a more precise chain of events throughout the scene.
She went to the coffee table and hunkered down. If someone had stumbled here before being shot, the killer would have aimed low. She looked around for any other stray shots and saw none. The killer had apparently hit his target.
However, she did see something else that she had not even been looking for. There was a small desk pushed against the wall to her right. It held a decorative bowl and a framed picture. Stuffed between the legs of the table was a tattered wicker basket with old mail and books. Between that basket and the back legs of the table was a cell phone.
She picked it up and saw that it was an iPhone. She pressed the power-up button and the screen lit up. The lock screen was a picture of Black Panther. She pressed the home button, expecting the passcode screen to pop up. When it didn’t, she was surprised. Instead, it opened without an issue.
Must have been the son’s phone, she thought. And maybe the parents rigged it so there was no passcode so they’d have access at all times.
It took her a moment to understand what she was looking at. She saw a young boy’s face with some weird zombie-like features cartooned over it. She checked the edges of the screen and then saw the telltale signs of Snapchat. She was looking at a video (or a “snap”) that had not yet been sent.
“Holy shit,” she whispered.
She then realized how warm the phone felt. She looked to the battery indicator in the upper right corner and saw that it was in the red.
She ran toward the hallway, gripping the phone. “Rhodes, do you see a phone charger in there?” she yelled.
There was a pause before Rhodes answered. “Yeah. On the bedside table.”
By the time the full answer was out of her mouth, Chloe was already entering the room again. She saw the charger Rhodes had mentioned and instantly ran to it.
“What is it?” Rhodes asked.
Chloe couldn’t help thinking: Wouldn’t you like to know, you bitch? But she kept it quiet as she plugged the charger into the phone.
“I think the son was on Snapchat when the killer came in. And I think he was sending a snap to a friend. Only he never got a chance to send it.”
She played the video that had been on the screen when she found the phone. It was of a young boy, maybe twelve or thirteen. He was sticking his tongue out, his face highlighted with the zombie-like animation. Within two seconds, the first gunshot sounded out. The phone was jostled and then a second gunshot sounded out. The boy appeared to fall to the floor, the phone was jostled again, and then the screen went black—apparently coming to a stop in its resting place beneath the little desk.
That’s where the snap ended. The entire thing lasted about five seconds.
“Play it again,” Rhodes said.
Chloe replayed the video, this time paying attention to the jostled moments. For about a quarter of a second, there was the shape of a figure standing in the hallway, coming into the living room. It was brief, but it was there. And because the phone was a newer one, even in its hectic movements, the image was fairly clear. Chloe couldn’t make out a face with her untrained eye, but she knew the bureau would have no problem running a frame-by-frame analysis and enhancing the footage.
“This is literally the smoking gun,” Rhodes said. “Where did you find the phone?”
“Under the desk pushed against the wall in the living room.”
Chloe could tell that Rhodes was excited by the find but did not want to give her too much credit. Instead, she nodded her approval and went back to her work, dusting for prints underneath the window.
They both sensed that, thanks to the Snapchat video, their work here was just about done. They had the perfect piece of evidence and anything they did afterward was just going to be out of methodology and routine.
Chloe figured she might as well play along and not cause any further tension between them. She took the phone with her back into the living room. She walked across the kitchen and set about digging the bullets out of the wall. But she knew the key to the case was in the phone she carried, waiting to bring the killer of this family to justice. And in the back of her mind, she couldn’t help but feel that this was too easy. She was sure that Rhodes might also be thinking the same thing—as well as a way to somehow make it backfire in Chloe’s face.
CHAPTER FOUR
They returned to FBI headquarters two hours later with what Chloe felt was more than enough evidence to have a suspect in custody by the end of the day. The Snapchat video was the most powerful thing they had found, but they had also managed to come across two solid fingerprints, the footprint on the bedroom carpet, and two hairs clinging to the bottom of the bedroom window.
They presented their findings to Assistant Director Garcia, huddled around a tiny conference room table in the back of his office. When Chloe showed him what she had found on the phone, she saw him trying to bite back a smile of satisfaction. He also seemed pleased with how professionally and by-the-book Rhodes had bagged and catalogued all of the evidence they had found.
Maybe she should switch departments, too, Chloe thought with a bit of venom.
“This is some incredible work,” Garcia said, standing up from the table and regarding them as if they were prized students. “You worked quickly, thoroughly, and I don’t see why we won’t be able to get a solid arrest off of this.”
Both agents gave their thanks. It made Chloe feel a little bit better to see that Rhodes was just as uneasy with accepting compliments as she was.
“Now, Agent Fine, I got a call from Director Johnson just before you came in here. He wants to meet with you in about fifteen minutes. Agent Rhodes, why don’t you head down to the lab to see what happens to all of the evidence when it’s brought in?”
Rhodes nodded, still playing the part of the good student. As for Chloe, she felt herself panicking again. When she’d visited Johnson yesterday, he’d thrown her one hell of a curveball. What did he have planned now?
Keeping her questions to herself, she walked down the hall toward his office. When she entered the small reception area, she saw that his door was closed. His secretary gestured to one of the chairs along the wall while she spoke to someone on the phone. Chloe took the chair and finally took a moment to reflect back on what today had meant to her and for her career.
On the one hand, she had discovered a significant piece of evidence that would likely lead to the arrest of a gang member