Chapter 4 — The Mysterious Scuff Mark on the Table Edge
Jordan pressed the pad of his thumb directly against the dark indentation on the table edge.
The wood fibers were slightly compressed in a neat, horizontal line.
It was a fresh mark.
The grain of the mahogany was splintered inward just a fraction of an inch.
Vincent leaned forward, squinting at the dark spot on the wood.
“That’s just an old scratch,” Vincent muttered, crossing his arms over his chest.
“An old scratch doesn’t have raw wood fibers showing, Dad,” Jordan replied calmly.
Jordan pulled a small metal pocket ruler from his jacket.
He held the edge of the metal against the tabletop.
He measured the exact height of the scuff mark from the floor.
The indentation sat precisely thirty-six inches above the carpet.
Vincent watched the measurement in silence.
“Thirty-six inches,” Jordan murmured, keeping his eyes on the ruler.
Vincent refused to acknowledge the significance of the number.
“Kids bang toys against furniture all the time,” Vincent insisted, clinging to his narrative.
“Samantha doesn’t have any toys this size, and she was sitting on the opposite side of the room,” Jordan pointed out.
Jordan stood up straight and stepped back to view the corner of the table.
The height of the mark matched standard hardware heights found elsewhere in the house.
It did not match the height of a ten-year-old child’s hand or arm.
Vincent remained stubbornly convinced of his original accusation.
“She knocked it off, Jordan,” Vincent repeated, his voice defensive.
“The indentation proves something struck the table from the side rather than the top,” Jordan explained.
Jordan turned his attention away from the table edge.
He looked over at the heavy interior door swinging freely near the corner of the room.