The Detective's Dilemma. Karen McCullough

then left without shutting the door. A young woman huddled in a chair. She was barefoot, with long, tangled dark hair, wearing a blood-stained robe. She looked young, early to mid-twenties maybe, pale, shaky, and very attractive, even with her hair a mess and no makeup on her tear-streaked face. Her dark eyes, wide but glazed, tracked them as they crossed the room.

      “Ma’am?” Sam said.

      Her eyes widened and her gaze focused on Sam. “He’s dead, isn’t he?”

      Jay glanced at Sam, who nodded.

      “Yes, ma’am. I’m sorry,” Sam said.

      She drew in a sharp breath, and a single tear slid down her cheek. She wiped it away, leaving a pink smudge, and looked up at them, her glance moving from one to the other. “You’re police officers?”

      “Detectives, ma’am,” Sam said. He introduced himself and then Jay. “And you are?”

      “Sarah Martin.”

      “Are you a relative of the deceased?”

      “Vince. His name was Vince. No.”

      “You live here?”

      She nodded. “I’m his-- Was his…companion.”

      “Companion? What does that mean?” Jay asked.

      She looked up at him and shrugged but didn’t say anything.

      She’s either in shock, none too intelligent, or very clever indeed. Jay’s mental antennae began to vibrate. She’s certainly pretty and knows it.

      His hormones knew it, too. Even though she might well be a murderer. Christ. He suppressed the surge of anger along with the message from his groin.

      As he met her gaze, though, something else inside him responded. She looked dazed, confused, and helpless. The stupid, gallant part of him that had failed to rescue Theresa woke, suggesting he had another opportunity to rescue someone in need.

      No way. He wouldn’t go there again. Not in this lifetime. He needed to focus on the case.

      “Can you tell us what happened?” Sam asked.

      She stared at them for a couple of moments, her gaze flicking between them. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I was asleep. A noise woke me. I thought Vince might have… He had heart problems, you know. Anyway, he doesn’t always sleep well, so I went to see if he was okay, and… There were men in the room with him. They had masks on, and they had guns. Another one came over to me and shoved a gun into my hand. He held it there, and then he pushed my finger onto the trigger and squeezed. The bullets… They hit Vince. The gun kept bouncing up, but the guy holding me dragged it back down. The noise… My ears are still… And the blood, the blood, everywhere. I crawled through it. I thought they would shoot me, too. I guess I panicked. I went to him and he tried to talk, but then he just went still. I guess he… He…” She shook herself and closed her eyes. Tears leaked out from beneath her lids, and she drew her knees closer to her chest. Her bare feet poked out from below the edge of the robe. A smear of crimson stained her toes.

      Only her sob broke the silence that fell after she stopped talking. Jay looked at his partner, and the older man stared back at him. Sam shrugged. It was a damned far-fetched story, but it had the ring of truth. Of course, she might be one hell of an actress. He’d met some good liars.

      “One of them pushed a gun into your hand and put your finger on the trigger?” Jay didn’t quite succeed in masking his disbelief. “Why would he do that?”

      She shook her head. “I don’t know. I don’t know why any of it happened. Why did someone want to kill Vince?”

      “You don’t have any idea?” Jay tried to force his tone to neutral and failed. The harshness remained.

      She frowned. “He… His business, maybe. Some of it was…”

      “Illegal?”

      “I don’t know about illegal. Maybe on the edge, though.”

      Jay turned to Sam again, checking for his reaction.

      The other man’s eyebrows rose. “What kinds of things--?”

      A cop stuck his head in the door. “Detectives?”

      The photographers must have finished. Jay told the officer at the door to stay with Sarah while he and Sam looked at the scene.

      “What do you think?” Sam asked as they walked down the hall.

      “Wildest story I’ve heard since that kid on the Ridge claimed his gun went off in his pocket and just accidentally killed three people.”

      “Still, she’d have to be a hell of an actress to bring it off.”

      “And who’s to say she isn’t?” Jay said. “Pretty young woman, ‘companion’ to a wealthy middle-aged guy… I bet she’s been doing some acting.”

      “Open mind,” Sam reminded him.

      “Brain hasn’t fallen out yet.”

      The medical examiner and an evidence specialist talked near the door of the blood-spattered office but looked up as Sam and Jay entered.

      “What do you know?” Sam pulled a notebook and pencil from his pocket.

      The medical examiner glanced down at the body before answering. “White male, late forties, early fifties, three entrance wounds, two exit wounds. Matching holes in the wall behind him. Won’t be sure until the autopsy, but I’m guessing two of the three shots could have been fatal, one in the head, one in the abdomen. Third shot through the upper arm. Angle of the head wound says death would have been quick, if not immediate.”

      “How long ago?” Sam asked.

      “Hard to be exact at this point. No livor mortis yet and very little cooling. I’d guess within the last couple of hours, but you know better than to hold me to anything at this point.”

      Jay nodded and turned to the evidence specialist.

      “Got three shell casings and the gun, of course,” the woman said. “Ten millimeter Glock. Eyeball says the casings match the gun. Blood spatter consistent with placement of bullets in him. Lots of blood on the floor, too, and a stream on the clothes suggests he didn’t die right away but bled heavily for a few more minutes after he fell. There’s a series of handprints going through the blood toward the body and then away, with some smearing, possibly from cloth dragging through it. And there’s this.” She moved to the left and pointed at the largest pool of blood near the body.

      Jay stared down at the plush blood-splotched carpet but didn’t immediately see what she meant.

      “Right here on the edge.” She indicated a fainter stain closer to the door. “It looks like someone might have stepped in the blood. And…” She moved a few steps over. “Traces of bloody footsteps going to the door.” A rust-colored print in the shape of the back half of a shoe stained the gray carpet.

      “Anyone here stepped in it?” Sam asked.

      She shrugged. “No one admits to it. You’ll want to check it out, but the pattern looks like a running shoe to me, size eleven or twelve most likely, and no one here’s wearing them.”

      Jay did a quick footwear scan. He wore loafers, Sam wingtips, the M.E. deck shoes, and the other cops all had on uniform footwear.

      “Do a shoe check on everyone who’s been in the room since the call came in,” Jay said.

      She nodded. “Another thing. It gets fainter, but there are more traces in the hall, and they lead to a back door, not the one any of our people have used.”

      “Show me.”

      Sam snapped on a pair of latex gloves. “I’m going to look through the desk while you go.”

      Jay nodded and followed the evidence