After Ms. Patterson disappeared around the corner, Anthony and I waited several long minutes to ensure she wouldn't double back unexpectedly. The hallway remained empty except for the distant sounds of federal investigators working in other sections of the building. When we were confident that we had privacy, we returned to the maintenance closet with the grim determination of people who needed answers despite the horrific circumstances.
Opening the door again brought back the overwhelming smell of decomposition, but this time I forced myself to focus past the physical revulsion and activate my skills.
The small closet space told a story of violence that became clearer as my Observation started processing the evidence. Cleaning supplies had been scattered and knocked over during what was obviously a significant struggle. Several containers of industrial chemicals had been punctured or cracked, their contents mixing with blood to create stained patterns on the floor and walls.
