Chapter 9 - Sylvia’s Bleach Bottles in the Laundry Bin
While the forensic team continued documenting the blood trail in the foyer, two federal agents escorted Sylvia into the master utility wing.
Sitting inside the commercial stainless-steel washing machine was Sylvia’s five-thousand-dollar Isfahan Persian rug, soaking in a concentrated bath of industrial bleach and detergent.
Beside the washer sat three empty gallon jugs of concentrated sodium hypochlorite bleach, along with a pair of heavy rubber cleaning gloves covered in diluted blood residue.
Specialist Bradley used sterile tongs to pull Sylvia’s diamond cocktail ring—the one she had worn during the assault—from the laundry counter where she had left it to dry.
Under the ultraviolet forensic light, the underside of the three-carat diamond setting luminesced bright orange, revealing microscopic traces of Chloe’s skin and dried blood trapped beneath the platinum prongs.
“We have the weapon used to inflict the facial lacerations,” Bradley confirmed over the tactical radio.
Sylvia collapsed onto the laundry room floor, sobbing hysterically into her emerald velvet dress, the high-society matriarch reduced to a pathetic, shivering wreck.
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“Marcus made me do it!” Sylvia wailed, pointing through the door toward her son. “It was Marcus’s idea! He said if we didn't get rid of Chloe, she would divorce him and take half the defense stocks! He told me to clean the floor! I was only trying to protect my boy!”
“You held my daughter’s arms while your son beat her into the marble floor, Sylvia,” I said, standing in the doorway with my arms crossed. “In the federal system, that is called aiding and abetting aggravated assault with a deadly weapon resulting in grievous bodily harm. You will be serving your sentence in a federal correctional institution in West Virginia.”
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