LITMIR.BIZ

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radio crackled. “Bravo 24. Code 117—15 Briarcrest Road, Apartment seven.”

      Code 117. Domestic dispute.

      Danny Trent must have woken up with a hangover and decided to wipe the floor with his wife, Cathleen—again. This was turning out to be a busy morning.

      “Tom, call it in. Since you’ve already had one run-in with Danny, you can have the pleasure of handling this one. Sal and I will finish processing the crime scene here.”

      “Suits me. I saw enough of that mess in there to last me a lifetime.” The older man shuffled away, speaking into his mike as he went.

      Sal escorted Liz the few remaining steps to the house, filling her in on the way. “The place has been ransacked top to bottom. Every drawer opened. Things tossed and smashed. But as far as I can see, it wasn’t a robbery.”

      “How can you be sure?”

      “The television and surround-sound system are still standing there large as life in the living room. The lady’s purse is lying on the kitchen floor with about fifty dollars’ cash still in it. A nice-size diamond ring was still on Mrs. Henderson’s left hand when we found her. Mr. Henderson’s wallet with cash and all his charge cards are still inside, too. If the family interrupted a burglar and it went bad, he would have at least scooped up that stuff before he took off.”

      “Makes sense. Let’s take a look.”

      Sal opened the front door and stood to the side.

      Liz slipped her hair inside a net. She accepted the paper booties that Sal handed her and put them over her shoes. With the use of DNA results in court, combined with advances in forensic testing, it was more important than ever to keep a clean crime scene. She was thankful that when she’d been elected to office she’d put those procedures into play and her investigation team honored them, even if they did have to ship things to state labs because they couldn’t afford their own equipment.

      “Where’s Darlene?”

      “She’s inside placing the evidence placards and taking pictures.”

      “Okay. Let’s get this over with, shall we?” Then she stepped inside.

      Liz didn’t realize she’d been holding her breath until the ache in her chest reminded her that her lungs were about to explode. She coughed out the pent-up air and quickly inhaled, pulling in lifesaving oxygen, only to realize that it was tinted with the coppery scent of blood.

      She paused for a moment in the foyer, so stunned by the chaos that she didn’t know where to look first. She found it difficult to absorb the total destruction. What hadn’t been tossed around looked like it had been shoved aside or turned over. Liz stepped to the bottom of the staircase and her eyes traced a path toward the top. She stared at the white chalk outline about halfway up.

      “That’s where we found Kate Henderson,” Sal said. “Four gunshot wounds to the back.”

      Liz couldn’t picture the singing-in-the-choir Kate with the outline sprawled on the stairs. A deep sadness came over her. She hadn’t known the woman well but no one should die like this.

      “Morning, Sheriff.”

      Liz turned toward the voice and saw Darlene standing by the kitchen. She held yellow placards in her gloved hands. Her pale complexion, framed by short carrot-colored curls, looked even paler than usual.

      “I think it started in here.” Her deputy gestured behind her.

      When Liz reached the kitchen doorway, her eyes widened but she fought hard not to let any other sign of emotional distress cross her face. The dozens of yellow evidence placards looked out of place—almost like a field of spring flowers planted in a valley of destruction. The kitchen, a place for happy family gatherings, was now a gruesome crime scene depicting violence and loss. It was one she wished she hadn’t had to witness and one she knew she wouldn’t soon forget.

      “Darlene and I talked about it, boss.” Sal came up behind her. “Best we can figure, Mrs. Henderson came in the back door unexpectedly.”

      “Yeah,” Darlene said, stress evident in her voice. “See…” She pointed to a woman’s purse and bags of spilled groceries strewn by the back entrance. “We think she surprised her husband and his assailant while they were in the middle of a fight. She got scared and dropped everything.”

      “It looks like she tried to run past them. Almost made it, too.” Sal pointed to the stain on the door frame. “But the killer must have grabbed her. Looks like she slipped and hit her head against the doorjamb. But it didn’t knock her out.”

      Darlene picked up the conversation. “Mr. Henderson probably jumped this guy from behind and tried to pull him off his wife. We figure that’s when she raced past them and headed up the stairs.”

      The three of them retraced their steps and returned to the foyer. Sal pointed a finger at the chalk outline. “She made it halfway up before she was shot.”

      They climbed the stairs and carefully skirted the chalk outline.

      At the top of the stairs, there was a loft. At the end of a six-foot railing was a short hall that led to the bedrooms. The three of them stared down at the foyer below for a better view of the crime scene.

      “This doesn’t make sense.” Sal’s puzzled expression twisted his lips in a frown and left deep parallel creases across his forehead.

      “When does murder make sense?” Liz asked. “But killers always have a reason that makes sense to them—even if it’s illogical to us. Our job is to do our best to figure it out.”

      Liz swept the area again with her gaze and offered up a silent prayer.

      Dear Lord, please help me bring the person who did this to justice.

      “Still…” Sal looked at Liz. “You’d think she would have tried to run out the front door. Why was she running upstairs?”

      “Maybe this might have something to do with it.”

      Darlene, standing in the hallway entrance, held up a large plastic bag filled with a white powdery substance. “I spotted the edge of this bag sticking out from between the box spring and the mattress in the master bedroom.”

      Sal took the bag and opened it to examine the contents. “Cocaine. Looks like we have our motive. Drug deal gone wrong.”

      Liz chewed on her lower lip. “The Hendersons? Drug dealers? I don’t know, Sal. It’s hard to believe the Hendersons were involved with drugs.”

      “Just how well did you know these people, Sheriff?” Sal asked. “Didn’t they just move here this year?”

      “I didn’t know them that well. I knew Kate from casual encounters at church. All of us have met Tom. He’s done some computer work for us at the station.”

      “Isn’t he the guy who installed the new software and GPS system in our patrol cars?” Darlene asked. “He updated the software on our desk computers, too. He didn’t look like a druggie to me.”

      “You know what all druggies look like?” Sal mocked. “I’ve been wasting my time. I should drive you around town and let you point out the possible druggies who may have killed that dealer behind Smitty’s bar last week.”

      “Knock it off, Sal. There’s a time and place for teasing and this isn’t it,” Liz reprimanded.

      Sal raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. “Just saying, boss. These days drugs are everywhere.”

      Liz sighed. Sal was right. Whether she liked the idea or not, drugs had crept into her quiet little community. But she also agreed with Darlene. It was difficult picturing the Hendersons as part of that seedy side of life.

      Needing to get back to the station to begin organizing the investigation, Liz glanced at her watch and asked, “Who did you call to take Jeremy and how long ago did they leave?”

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