Blood Trace Intact Novels & Stories

But he didn’t seem to understand what it was or why she was showing it to him. “You remember that man I ran into on the stairs?” She pointed to the handprint stain. “That’s from when he pushed me. I think he was bleeding and he grabbed my jacket….” She was talking fast and her words were rumbling over each other. “Can they pull fingerprints from that? The police, I mean. Or forensics or whoever does that kind of thing…DNA, whatever….” Kael nodded positively, “Yeah…” he was still staring at the mark. If the print is clear enough or if the blood hasn’t degraded too much. Yes, they could pull something from this.”

The bleeding could be self-induced. Women do it in fiction all the time—" "In fiction, Zane. This is real life. Real blood. Real Morrison confirming complications." Seth watched the stairs. "Even if it's fake, how do we prove it without looking like monsters accusing a bleeding pregnant omega of lying?" He was right. Victoria had boxed us into a corner. My phone buzzed. Text from Reynolds. **REYNOLDS: Something you should know. Picked up a faint scent trace. North ridge. Familiar but can't place it. Thought you'd want to check it out.**

Cross-referencing with available databases now. "Can you identify everyone who’s touched this car?" {Most fingerprints are either faded or belong to service personnel involved in the car’s recovery post-accident. However, one set stands out—these prints do not match anyone officially involved in the case.} {It looks like the owner tried to wipe off the traces of their prints on the car, but some of it was still left behind.} "Can you isolate those prints?" {Done. But there’s something else—anomalies detected in the car’s interior. Scanning further.}

one called. “Nope,” Elky corrected. The trail ran twenty paces, then took a magician’s bow and disappeared like it had an invisibility cloak on. Nothing but damp grass, storm wind, and rainy heaviness in the air—mocking us with their tart little perfume, as if crime scenes weren’t bad enough without storm trying to freshen the place up. I walked to the break in the grass, looked down at where the blood trail stopped. “Neat trick,” I said. “First rule of survival manual —bleed responsibly.”

“Alright, let’s start from the top.” Head, face, body — after a thorough examination, Adriana said, “Check under her nails. Women tend to scratch during struggles — there could be fibers from the attacker’s clothes or traces of sebum under her nails.” Carson said, “Trace comparison needs to be done by a professional. We’ll take samples and send them for analysis.” “Where are her clothes?” Adriana asked. Carson replied, “The physical evidence isn’t kept here. If you want to see it, you’ll have to file a separate request.”

“I’m definitely keeping you.” I narrowed my eyes. “Metaphorically,” she amended. “Better.” She handed me a folder. “Preliminary compound results. You were right to notice the bitter smell.” I opened it. The words blurred at first, then came into focus. Silver residue, creosote, ash, animal blood and wolfsbane trace. And one line Mara had circled twice. Human blood detected. My stomach dropped. “Whose?” I asked. "We don’t know yet.”

"Can you take a sample of this blood, detective?" Nic glanced at Brittany and nodded in agreement. She quickly performed a luminol test on the blood. Matching it to the tools they had at their disposal. Nic furrowed his brow in surprise when the blood match came back negative. "Negative," Nic announced. Britt looked at both of them confused. "What do you mean by negative?"

They were also all of awakened bloodlines. Were any of them members of Moon Shadow? If they were, how would I know who they were until I tried to call them? I sent out a check-in message across the network before going on to the results of the scene canvas. There was a trace of some unidentified substance on the ground and splattered on one of the walls, but the analysis hadn’t been completed on it. From the color of it, it seemed like blood, but there was something off about it. It was darker and if I looked closer, I swear there was something shimmering in it.

We'd told almost no one. Under the card: tissue paper. I pulled it back. A wedding veil. Antique. Lace. Beautiful. And soaked in blood. I dropped it. Stepped back. Heart hammering. Rachel came running. "What's wrong?" I pointed at the box. The veil. The blood. Rachel called Santos immediately. He arrived with a forensics team. Bagged the veil. The box. Everything. "The blood is fresh," one tech said. "Human. Type O negative."

The radio in the dispatch room was on, but just playing static. We found the blood in the hallway near the evidence locker. It wasn’t a splatter, not a spray. It was a drag. A streak of crimson about a foot wide, smearing from the locker room door down the corridor and disappearing into the shadows under the stairwell. No body. No bones. Just that awful smear. Jonie crouched near it and touched the edge. "Dry. Been here a while." "Still smells fresh," Rachelle muttered, covering her nose.