Alexander Travis Victor - Picture perfect: the Jodi Arias story: a beautiful photographer, her Mormon lover, and a brutal murder

CHAPTER 1

June 9, 2008

Slivers of light pierced the white wood blinds, illuminating a single window on the second floor. It was the only trace of light in the housethe rest lay shrouded by the night sky.

From where he was parked on the street, Dallin Forrest studied the property. It was an expansive, beige stucco house with a brown tile roof. A stream of river rocks snaked across the gravel, dividing a lawn of sparse trees and desert plants.

Dallin glanced at the clock on his car radio. The numbers glowed 10:05 P.M . In the passenger seat, his girlfriend, Michelle Lowery, stared at her lap and toyed with her cell phone. Her long, dark hair hung loose around her face, masking a fearful expression.

At the end of the street a set of headlights came into view. A car pulled alongside Dallins and parked on the opposite side of the road. A petite brunette emerged from the vehicleMichelles friend Mimi Hall. Dried tear tracks stained her cheeks, and her normally olive complexion had gone starkly white.

Dallin and Michelle stepped out of their car into the warm summer night. Mimi met them at the driveway, smiling weakly.

Without uttering a word, Dallin walked to the porch and rang the doorbell. Inside he heard the muted sounds of a dog barking. He hunched his lanky frame and peered through the decorative glass cutouts in the front door. In the dark, he saw the silhouette of the dog yapping in the foyer, pawing excitedly at the door.

A moment passed, but no one answered.

Michelle broke the silence. The lights on. Someone must be in the house.

Clutching her cell phone, she made a call. Were here, she said to the voice on the other end. No one is answering.

Dallin rang the doorbell again, five times in quick succession. Ding. Ding. Ding. Ding. Ding.

Approaching the garage, Michelle repeated four numbers0187into her phone as she typed the digits into the keyless entry pad. With a rumble, the door began to rise.

Parked inside the garage was a 2004 black Toyota Prius. There was no license plate, but a temporary registration card was affixed to the back window. Dallin immediately recognized the vehicle as belonging to the homeownerTravis Alexander.

Dallin had only met Travis a few times and knew little about the thirty-year-old motivational speaker and entrepreneur. His girlfriend was close friends with Travis, whom she had met through the local Mormon church.

Just a half hour earlier, Michelle had been at the house that twenty-year-old Dallin shared with his parents. They had gone to a nearby Walmart to run errands and had barely pulled back into his driveway when her cell phone rang. It was Mimi.

Hey, have you heard from Travis recently? she asked, her voice hollow.

No, I guess I havent heard from him for at least a week, Michelle said. Why?

We are going to Cancn tomorrow and I havent heard from him. Mimi swallowed involuntarily. Were supposed to leave in the morning.

Michelle knew about the trip. Travis and Mimi had been dating and a few weeks prior, hed invited her to join him on a business trip to Cancn. As the date grew closer, however, Mimi had had second thoughts. Shed called him and confessed she no longer wanted to pursue a romantic relationship.

I would totally understand if you wanted to take someone else to Mexico, shed added.

But it was too late to change the vacation plans. Because the tickets had already been purchased and arrangements had been made, they had agreed to go as friends. Their flight was scheduled for 9:25 the following morning, yet Mimi hadnt heard from Travis for more than a week.

I just went by his place, but no one answered the door, Mimi told Michelle. Ive tried calling him and his voice mail is full. Ive called his house and cell phone. Im really worried. Have you heard anything at all?

No, Michelle said. I dont have any idea. Let me call Taylor and Ill call you back in a bit.

Taylor Searle was Traviss close friend and business partner. If anyone had heard from Travis, it would be Taylor, Michelle reasoned.

Other people have been asking me if Ive heard from Travis too, Taylor told Michelle on the phone. I thought he was out of town.

Michelle explained that she had just spoken to Mimi and that their flight was departing in the morning.

Im concerned, Michelle said. Do you think we should go over there?

Michelle covered the receiver with her palm and whispered to Dallin. Do you mind if we drive over there and see whats going on?

Moments later, they were headed toward Traviss house on the outskirts of Mesas suburbs. Michelle phoned Mimi, and she agreed to meet them outside the residence. On the drive, Michelle told her boyfriend how Travis had seemed upset over his recent breakup.

But he seemed like he was getting better, she said. He was getting over it. Travis was organized and responsible. Theres no way he wouldnt respond to numerous e-mails, text messages, and phone calls. This isnt like Travis. She shook her head.

Turning onto East Queensborough Avenue, Dallin eased down on the brake, canvassing the block in the dim light of the street lamps. He parked along the curb painted with the house number, 11428.

Traviss two-story, five-bedroom house blended into the neighborhood. Ubiquitous stucco homes lined the blocks for miles in all directions. During the recent housing boom, new homes had cropped up rapidly across the desert, expanding the population to nearly 500,000. Despite being the third-largest city in Arizona, behind Phoenix and Tucson, Mesa was still a quiet community. Quaint boutiques, family-owned restaurants, and elaborate Mormon churches peppered the city.

Mesa was a hub for the Latter-day Saints residing in the Phoenix metro area. Travis himself had moved to the city in part to build a life in a strong Mormon community.

Through the church, Travis had cultivated a large network of loyal friends. Now, three of those friends were at his house trying to determine his whereabouts.

With growing apprehension, Dallin, Michelle, and Mimi entered the garage. Taylor Searle had given Michelle the code to the garage door.

All right well, his cars here, Michelle informed Taylor over the phone. Could someone have taken him to the airport? Maybe something happened, and he had to go out of town all of a sudden?

Dallin approached a door leading into the house, tried the handle, and found it unlocked. Groping the inside wall, he flicked on the light. The door opened into a narrow space with a washer and dryer. He stepped into the laundry room, which led to the main area of the house. To the left were the formal living and family rooms. On the right, a wide hallway opened up into the kitchen, TV room, and the stairway.

The walls were painted taupe, the floors a mottled brown tile. Dallin didnt know the layout but quickly became familiar.

As he stepped into the house, Dallin noticed a foul odor hanging in the air.

What is that smell? he muttered to himself.

Once inside, a black pug scurried toward them, wagging its tail. Michelle bent down and ran her fingers through its pelt. In the kitchen she noticed the dogs bowl, full of food.

Well, someones taking care of his dog, she said.

In the living room, on top of the couch, two tall bar stools rested on their sides. Dallin noticed a tile-cleaner machine sitting upright in the middle of the floor, as if someone was preparing to clean.

Dallin, followed closely by Michelle and Mimi, checked each downstairs room, flicking on lights. Left of the TV room was a short hallway leading to a bathroom with a shower and tub. Across from the bathroom, on the opposite side of the hallway, was a den.