Dried Blood On Concrete Novels & Stories

“What?” “The wood of the bird box that Kimberly won in the raffle at his fund raiser the other night, has a very distinctive grain pattern.” I took a picture out of my pocket that I had printed off earlier and handed it to the Detective Inspector. “That grain appeared on the side of the first concrete block. He’s had that wood for some time and Bernard Catterall has only been missing for a few days and I’ll bet you any money you like, that somewhere either in the house or in the garden that you will find evidence of concrete dust and the blood belonging to one of the victims.” “I’ve got the SOCO team crawling over his place right now,” DI Silver told me. “So let us hope they do find some

Unfortunately that hindered my work. I turned around, shaking my head. It really wasn't my day. First the thing with Reese, then my extremely embarrassing misjudgment with Virido and then this neighborhood. That was just for ... When I saw a large, rust-red stain on the path in front of me, I stopped. That was blood. Or? To make sure I wasn't mistaken, I crouched down to take a closer look at the stain, even running my fingers over it. But there was no doubt that this was blood. And not just a little. Crap.

He grabbed a glass of water from the dispenser, but as he went to sit on the sofa, his car keys slid out of his pocket and into the cushions. Derek knelt to grab them, but then he froze. On the side of the cream-colored sofa, there was a faint, dark red smudge. Against the pristine fabric, that dried bloodstain felt like it was screaming at him. It was blood. And it was less than ten hours old. His eyes scanned the floor again—it was so clean it almost reflected the light. He thought back to the frozen rug in the yard, and a grim theory clicked into place. Someone had bled out on that rug. They bled so much that even a frantic scrubbing couldn't hide it. And in the rush to move the body, a s

The metallic tang of blood still lingered in the air, mixing with the faint scent of bleach as the henchmen worked tirelessly to clean the mess. Their movements were efficient, almost mechanical, but no amount of effort could erase the faint crimson stains that seeped into the cracks of the old floor.

I heard one of the men shout from upstairs. Another voice echoed from the back. “Nothing here, sir.” “No one.” I refused to believe it, they had to be here. I have the best tracking team and it definitely can’t be a mixup. I walked deeper into the building, refusing to accept another dead end. That’s when something caught my attention. A stain, dark brown against the grey concrete. At first, I thought it was old paint, then I looked closer and realized it wasn’t paint, It was blood.

On the battered basin before him, nine bloody spikes lay in a haphazard pile, stained crimson, an unsettling testament to what had transpired. “Done,” I muttered, voice strained but steady. I reached for the crumpled piece of paper, now soaked in blood and sweat, tangled in the mess. The note had once been pristine—perhaps just a scribbled warning or plea—yet now it looked like a fragment of a nightmare.

She'd stayed at the terminal upstairs. "You won't," he said. Silas was already crouching at the edge of the water, one hand flat on the concrete floor where it was still above the water line. Reading. "Most of the floor is concrete," Silas said. "Standard pour. But—" He moved his hand eighteen inches to the left. Then another foot. "Here. The frequency is wrong for concrete." He pressed both palms down. "It's conducting differently. This section is metal under a surface coating."

The droplets of blood were yet to dry on the floor so they came off easily. I was done wiping off the bloodstains from the Beta's floor some minutes later, in fact, I had finished cleaning a while ago, but stayed longer in the room because I was skeptical, and didn't know what the Beta would say if he thought I was leaving too early and didn't wipe off the blood stains from the blood well enough. I was simply preventing anything that would draw his attention to me.

However, Darren stopped when he passed by the stairs. ' That's quite a bloody mess, literally. I'd be in big trouble if anyone were to come in and meet the sight of that. Not that it'll ever happen, but... I have to clean that, right?' He thought as he stared with a disgruntled expression at the trail of dry blood all over the staircase and the floor. ...

"I was just in the woods because I looked at a trail of blood and... at that moment a wolf appeared. I surprised myself, It was huge." I obviously didn't tell him the part where Riley came up and threatened me. "Blood you say? Where? Ride me." I nodded, leading him back up the same stairs where it looked as if I had dragged the body of someone injured. "You see them?" I pointed. "Are you sure it's blood?" Jon got on his knees and touched the floor, the blood was dry since he couldn't even get off the ground. how was it possible? "I don't want to disappoint you, Eva, but this looks like painting."