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Hayek shook her head. “And there would be blood in that office . . . even if it were just small traces, but there isn’t any.”
Hayek’s theory was slowly sinking in. “What else do you have?”
“This mess.” Hayek pointed at the blood on the wall. “Best guess is it belongs to one of the bodyguards downstairs.”
“The one missing half his face?”
“Yeah.” Hayek edged closer to the wall. She pointed at a gooey chunk. “I have samples of everything and I’ll be able to test them for verification when we get back stateside, but I’m 99 percent sure this is brain matter with a little bit of bone and blood. Consistent with the gunshot wound received by John Doe number four downstairs.”
“And this should interest me how?”
“Look at the pattern of the splatter.” Hayek acted as if she was holding a gun. “The bodyguard would have been facing this way toward the stairs. The person came up and shot him from behind. The bullet tore through his head, exited, leaving this large splatter on the wall, and then the bodyguard fell facedown here. That’s why there’s the big pool of blood.”
Rapp studied the blood splatter on the wall. It all lined up. “I agree. So what’s your point?”
“Three of the four guards were shot in the face . . . makes sense. They were reacting to the intrusion. Going to meet the threat. This one, though, is shot in the back of the head. Doesn’t make sense. He should have been shot over there at the top of the stairs, by the perps coming up the stairs.”
Rapp ignored her police talk. He was a little irritated with himself for not seeing it sooner. “How closely did you look at the bodies downstairs?”
“Close enough.”
“Did you take measurements of the entrance wounds?”
“Not exact, but I’m pretty confident that the first three men were shot by a nine-millimeter.”
“And you know that how?”
Hayek held up a Ziploc bag with three brass shell casings. “I found these on the floor.”
“And the fourth man?”
Hayek shook her head.
“I’ve looked all over this hallway and the stairs and I can’t find the casing.”
“Best guess on the caliber?”
“Best guess . . . a .45 . . . hollow point. Definitely not the same caliber that took out the other guys.”
Rapp ran all the information through his head, knew where it was taking him, but didn’t want to go there even though he knew he had to. He looked back in the office. There was no sign of struggle. Not a thing out of place. The hallway was a bloody mess. Rapp’s eyes focused on the Rorschachlike splatter. “I suppose the slug is buried in that wall.”
“Yeah . . . I was going to dig it out but I wanted to ask you first. I don’t know this team coming in from Langley . . . don’t want to step on their toes.”
It would be a problem but Rapp could deal with it. “Dig it out as quick as you can. Anything else you need to tell me about?”
Hayek hesitated and then said, “No.”
“What is it?”
“Nothing.” She shook her head. “I’ll know more when I start matching up the blood samples with the bodies. I think we’ll be able to get a pretty clear picture of where everyone was when this thing went down.”
“Nice work, Sid. Do me a favor and keep this between the two of us. Until we know for certain, I don’t want anyone running around pedaling half-baked ideas. Anyone leans on you, send them to me. Understood?”
Kennedy had asked her to relay as much information as possible as quickly as possible. Hayek could see that she was caught between her two bosses, but Rapp was just starting to trust her, so she said, “Understood.”
“Good. Wrap things up and be ready to pull out in ten.”
“What’s the rush?”