Dance With Me (With Me in Seattle 12)

Red and fresh.

“Jesus,” I mutter, pulling latex gloves out of my pocket and immediately pulling them on, then slip the booties over my shoes. This crime scene is intense and won’t be tainted with any of my prints or DNA.

I’m too fucking smart for that.

“Up here,” Montgomery calls out, and I do my best to avoid most of the blood on the stairs as I climb them. “In the bedroom.”

I stop at the doorway. “What do we have?”

Matt squats beside the body of Francesca. “This is one of two vics.”

“Where’s the other?”

His eyes turn up to mine. “In the bathroom. Before you go in there, know that it’s maybe the most gruesome thing I’ve ever seen in my twenty years on the force.”

I cock a brow. “I take it that’s where all the blood came from? Because she’s not stabbed.” I indicate Francesca’s prone form.

“Affirmative,” Matt says with a nod. “Francesca was shot. Once.”

And from the looks of it, in the head.

I walk into the bathroom and have to close my eyes against the immediate onslaught of nausea. I’ve seen everything on this job.

Or I thought I had, until this.

“Fuck me,” I mutter and feel Montgomery walk up behind me, taking in the scene with me.

“Yeah.”

Karen Lubbock, or what’s left of her, is in the bathtub. She’s cut from her throat to her pubic bone, and all of her internal organs are no longer internal. More blood practically paints the walls and pools on the floor. Her head is scalped. Her eyes are gouged out.

I glance into the sink and have to cover my mouth. “Are those her teeth?”

“Looks like it.”

“Fuck, Matt, she literally dismantled her.”

“We think Karen answered the door to Fran, and Fran immediately stabbed her, pushing her inside. Kept stabbing her, and dragged her up the stairs, through the bedroom, and in here. Karen was long dead when she was disemboweled.”

“She was more than disemboweled,” I reply. “I don’t even know what this is.”

“Jeremy Lubbock was at work, working an extra night shift. Whether Fran knew that or not, we don’t know.”

“She probably did.” I bend over and look in the tub, then immediately regret my decision. “Was she pregnant?”

“Yeah.”

“Jesus Christ, Matt.”

“Jeremy came in and found them. He retrieved his handgun and shot Fran. Once. Then called us.”

“Where is he? And the kids?”

“His parents came to get the kids, and he’s at the police station, giving a statement and being evaluated.”

I walk out of the bathroom, unable to look any longer at the holes in Karen’s head where her eyes should be.

Fran is on the floor, staring up at the ceiling. Lifeless.

“I arrested her two days ago for stalking and harassment. She bit the hell out of Anderson, sending him to the hospital.”

“I know,” Matt says. “She posted bail yesterday morning.”

“And came here seeking revenge.”

“Looks that way.”

“She was one fucked-up woman. You’re not going to charge him.” It’s not a question, and Matt shakes his head no.

“It was self-defense.”

“Agreed. God. How can I help?”

“I’ll need copies of your reports, and Jeremy asked to speak to you. So, if you don’t mind going to the office and talking with him, I’d appreciate it.”

“Done. What do you say to someone whose pregnant wife was literally gutted in his bathroom?”

Matt just shakes his head. “I’m so fucking pissed off, I would kill her myself if he hadn’t finished the job. And that makes me a shitty cop.”

“It makes you a good cop and a good man. You have a wife.”

“And a baby on the way,” he says. “I can’t imagine it.”

“The medical examiner on the way?”

“He’s outside. I asked him to wait until after you got here. I’d also like you to take a look around, make sure nothing is different from two days ago when you were here. I don’t want to miss anything.”

“I’ll look around on my way out, but aside from the blood, nothing stands out.”

He nods, and I walk out, checking through the rooms I was in before. It doesn’t look like Fran was in there. Nothing is broken or moved. Nothing seems suspicious.

But when I turn to walk outside, one word is written in red on the back of the door.

Mine.~Starla~

I’ve gone over this line sixty times, and I just can’t get it right. I don’t love the melody, and I certainly don’t like the lyrics.

I lean my forehead on the piano. I’ve been at it too long. I’m tired, which is unusual for me at midnight, but I can’t go to bed.

I haven’t heard from Levi all day. I knew he was busy at work, so I didn’t try to text or call until after six, but he never responded.

And that’s not like him.

I didn’t want to seem like the crazy girlfriend, so I didn’t try again, but I’m worried now. And maybe a little crazy.