The door swung open with a precise, controlled motion as Tori stepped into the dimly lit room. In her grip was a steaming cup of coffee, its aroma a sharp contrast to the stale air that filled the space. Her gaze flicked across the room to land on Javi, and she advanced towards him.
All night, she’d considered their angle, and now she came with an idea.
"Time's not on our side," she said, placing the cup down with a click that sliced through the silence. "We need to dig deeper into the evidence, find something that stands out—something that screams 'killer.' And I think the physical evidence is the way to go.”
“What physical evidence? The fireworks?”
She nodded once. “I was thinking about it. He's an experienced, though maybe not an expert—not a professional, I mean.”
"And studying the fireworks will help us, how?” Javi asked, his fingers turning as he tried to see the thread of her thoughts.
“I know they caught the Unabomber in part by building a psychological profile on how he manufactured his devices.” She shrugged. “Physical evidence can tell a lot.”
"Huh,” Javi grunted, considering the idea. “We could rerun the prints on the firework case," he suggested, his voice low and unsure as he continued to think.
"Exactly." Tori's lips curled into a semblance of approval, though her gaze never softened. "Even a partial or new ridge could be what we're missing. Or how he soldered the detonator, or even how he lit the fireworks. Maybe a lighter, maybe a match—maybe something else.”
Javi took one of the steaming cups of coffee Tori had brought in, and the two of them turned, hastening out into the parking lot.
The drive to the lab was grim, a silent pilgrimage through a monochrome world. Snow blanketed the city, turning familiar streets into alien landscapes. Tori's gaze was fixed on the passing scenery, each flake feeling like a threat of a new avalanche to come and she found herself tense despite the pristine landscape, and by the time they reached the lab doors, Tori found herself resolved that there would be no more avalanches.
They would find something. They would because there were no other options, and if they didn’t, someone else would die.
Tori's fingers drummed a frantic tattoo on her thigh as they crossed the threshold of the lab, the sound barely audible over the quiet hum of high-tech equipment. Javi's presence, a reassuring solidity at her side, didn't quell the tight coil of apprehension in her gut, but it did keep her from snapping at the lab techs as they arrived.
"Any luck with the re-run?" Tori's voice cut through the ambient noise, clipped and expectant as she addressed the lab assistant.
The young woman behind the counter shook her head, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear with a latex-gloved hand. "No DNA. No clear prints. It's like we're chasing a ghost."
A frisson of frustration crept up Tori's spine, but she tamped it down, her gaze never wavering from the assistant's. She had been trained to face storms, both literal and metaphorical; this was just another gale to weather. "Let me see the case, please."
The firework case—a nondescript container that held darker secrets than its plain appearance suggested—was placed before her with a reverence suited to an artifact rather than evidence. Her white-knuckled grip on the edge of the table betrayed her simmering impatience.
She took the case with deliberate care, the weight of it insignificant compared to the burden it symbolized. Tori angled her body to catch the light just right, allowing it to play across the surface of the case file.
"Anything?" Javi's query was soft, his own tension manifesting in the rigid set of his shoulders.
"Hmm," Tori murmured, not looking up from her task. She maneuvered a small penlight from her pocket, the beam bright and narrow against the darkness of the file’s interior.
Nothing with the fireworks. Standard—available at local supermarkets. Nothing with the explosives that stood out. Also, by the book soldering.
“Any knowledge of the lighter used?” she asked.
The lab tech just shook her frizzy head. “Negative.”
“We dusted for fingerprints yet?”
“Mhmm. Over there.”
Tori approached a table upon which the firework tube they’d recovered rested in a metal clamp. She held up the blue light, scanning over the tube, slowly, illuminating powdery grease stains. No clear fingerprints, but certainly fingers.
There was a method to her madness, each sweep of the light meticulous and measured. The rhythm of her breathing slowed, her entire being focused on the possibility of revelation hidden within the grooves and scuffs that marred the firework case.
"Come on," she whispered to herself, a plea to the universe or perhaps to the killer who thought they had covered their tracks so thoroughly. Her determination was a tangible force, the air around her charged with the promise of impending discovery.
"Tor—" Javi began, only to be silenced by a quick, sharp gesture from Tori.
"Wait," she breathed, her concentration absolute as the light glinted off something irregular, something previously unseen. "Javi," she finally said, the singularity of her focus giving way to a shared purpose, "take a look at this."
Tori's fingers trembled ever so slightly as she angled the portable lamp to cast its harsh beam across the firework case. The dust particles danced in the light, a chaotic ballet that seemed incongruent with the gravity of her task. She leaned closer, her storm-cloud hair falling like a curtain around her face, creating a world where only she and the evidence existed.
The surface of the case was a landscape of scratches and scuffs, each telling a story of hasty handling or desperate measures. She frowned, pulling back a barcode wrapper. It looked as if it had been hastily replaced, as if torn then returned. She removed the barcode, slowly. And there, amidst the chaos, two smudges beckoned for attention, their outlines blurred yet distinct against the metallic sheen. They were anomalous, fingerprints reduced to faint whispers of their former selves, smeared as if in retreat from discovery.
"Javi," Tori called out, her voice steady despite the quickening pulse at her throat. Her eyes remained affixed to the twin marks, "Look at this."
He moved to her side, his presence a solid reassurance in the sterile confines of the lab. Javi's gaze followed the direction of her pointing finger, his brow furrowing as he registered the findings that had piqued Tori's interest.
"Two prints," he noted aloud, his tone measured but laced with curiosity, "Same size. Same shape."
"Exactly," Tori replied, her breath forming a small cloud in the chilly air of the room. The temperature never seemed to bother her; perhaps it was the reflection of those tempestuous sea-eyes, always staring down nature's fury without flinching.
"What do you make of it?" Javi inquired, squinting at the markings, striving to see what had sparked the flame of intrigue in Tori's mind.
She paused, the gears of her intellect turning as she contemplated the implications of the find. Each second hung heavy with the unspoken understanding that time was both ally and adversary in their hunt for the killer.
"Can't say for sure, not yet." Tori's response emerged clipped, her focus narrowing further as if she could force the answer into being through sheer force of will. "But it's…” She held up her hand, splaying her fingers. “All different sizes,” she murmured.
She looked back at the firework case. “So why are these smudges all the same length?”
Tori's gaze flickered between the smeared prints and Javi, a silent question passing between them. She tilted the case, angling it under the sterile white light of the lab. The two finger marks stood out, defiant in their isolation on the cold metal surface.
"Could be nothing," Tori mused aloud, her voice barely above a whisper.
Javi folded his arms, his own breath forming faint clouds in the frigid air of the lab. "An expert in the cold," he ventured, picking up on her line of thought. "Someone used to these temperatures—but why only two identical marks?"
"Two fingers," Tori echoed, her expression stoic as she processed the information. The room seemed to shrink around them, every detail magnified under the weight of their scrutiny.
"Survivalists, climbers, they all know how to handle frost," she continued, her voice steady despite the burgeoning excitement that threaded through her words. "The cold doesn't deter them; it's their domain."
"Right," Javi agreed, his eyes locked on the case, searching for the narrative hidden within those small but telling imprints.
Then, as if a switch had been flipped in her mind, Tori's body tensed. Her eyes, so often reflecting the stormy hues of her resolve, now glinted with the sharp edge of realization.
"Javi," she said sharply, her tone commanding his full attention. "What if... what if the killer has frostbite? Consistent exposure, damage to the tissues—it could limit dexterity, leave just two usable fingers."
The suggestion hung in the air, laden with potential. Tori's eyes searched Javi's, seeking confirmation, daring him to challenge her logic.
"Could explain the precision, or lack thereof, in the placement," Javi conceded, his mind racing to keep pace with Tori's. The possibility unfolded before them, an avenue unexplored, beckoning with its implications.
"Could be our defining characteristic," Tori stated, her voice imbued with a newfound sense of direction. "If we're right, it narrows our search significantly."
"Let's follow it," Javi said decisively. “Not an expert… but experience.”
“Someone with frostbite or finger damage,” Tori replied quickly, staring at the glowing blue prints on the fireworks case.
“We could find anyone associated with the victims who has hand injuries?”
“Phone calls?”
“Yeah. Family might know. Good call. Let’s do it.” Tori nodded, but as she turned, her phone rang.
Javi’s also began to ring.
And then the lab tech’s radio crackled to life. A voice called, urgently, “We have reports of a missing woman. Olivia Bradford. Repeat. Olivia Bradford is missing. Units, please respond.”
Tori stared at the radio, a cold chill probing down her spine.