Back in our cubicle, I finished my part of the paperwork and rested my head on my hands while I waited for Al to complete his. I closed my eyes for a moment, hoping the fatigue would somehow magically disappear. It didn’t, and for good reason. A glance at the clock on the wall told me I was well into a second twenty-four-hour period with no sleep. “Let’s go get some coffee and some food,” I told Al. “In that order. I’m ready to drop.” On the way back downstairs, we stopped off at the Washington State Patrol crime lab to see what, if any, progress they were making. My old friend, Janice Morraine, had been assigned the high-heeled shoe. “My preliminary analysis says the blood and hair we found on the shoe match that of the victim. We’ve taken some prints off the shoe, but no prints with blood on them. The blood has been smeared though.” “The killer was wearing gloves?”
