left early the next morning for meetings with managers of his other companies as he traced what few breadcrumbs there were back to the source of his business troubles. Since two of his companies were in Charlotte, he chartered a jet.
Joe picked me up in front of the Gregorian. "Good morning, Miss Glass." He opened the back door.
"I'd like to sit in front, please."
"Sure." He opened the front door and went to the driver's side.
"Could you take me by my flat first? I need to pick up some clothes." I checked my phone for any messages from Isabel and tried not to worry at the lack of her response. I texted her again. Are you getting my messages?
"Is something the matter, Miss Glass?" Joe regarded me with a discerning gaze.
"Not really. I just haven't heard from Isabel today."
"Mr. Rock told me about the break-in at the condo." He stopped in front of the apartment complex. "Are you worried about the same thing happening here?"
"You're rather perceptive, aren't you?"
"That was how I survived the war." He turned off the SUV, got out, and opened my door. "I'll accompany you."
"That's really not necessary."
He ran a hand across his head. "I think it would be best."
Better safe than sorry. "Thanks."
Joe nodded. "No problem."
I jogged inside, thankful I'd worn flats, and we took the lift to my floor. I practically sprinted down the hall to the door, key in hand. It took only a cursory examination of the door handle to realize someone had forced open the door.
Joe knelt in front of it and ran his finger along the bent metal doorjamb. "Looks like they jimmied it open with a crowbar."
I twisted the knob. It turned easily—too easily. The inner mechanisms felt broken. The door opened and my heart froze with terror. The den and kitchen had been absolutely trashed. Empty cabinets hung open and all the glassware and food had been smashed and strewn all over the floor. But what truly terrified me were the crimson stains all over the carpet and the upended furniture.
The copper odor of blood filled my nostrils.
"You'd better wait here while I investigate," Joe said.
"Isabel," I croaked. Without another thought, I ran inside, Joe calling out to me to stop.
But I didn't. I couldn't. My best friend might be dead.
I checked her bedroom. It looked completely untouched, aside from some dirty clothes in the corner of the room.
My room was another story. Though nothing had been moved, a crimson pattern stained the duvet, and spattered blood streaked down the wall. I wanted to scream in sorrow and anger and horror. What had happened here?
"Shit." Joe's voice came from the hallway.
I ran to him and saw him staring at the bathtub. It was filled with blood. A blood-crusted arm dangled over the side.
A terrible scream burst from my mouth. I lunged for the tub, but Joe grabbed me.
"You can't touch it, Miss Glass. We have to call the police."
My screams drowned out whatever he said next.
He practically dragged me to the hallway and called the police. Already, other neighbors crowded the hallway, talking among themselves. I didn't know any of them.
"What happened, dear?" asked an older woman.
"We're waiting on the police," Joe said.
Another person's voice reached my ear. "Did she murder someone?"
The authorities arrived and made everyone go back into their apartments.
Agonizing sorrow held me tight in its grip. I couldn't think straight and found it difficult to answer questions a detective asked me. "Isabel," I said in a weak voice. "Please not Isabel."
"There are two bodies in there," I heard one of the blue uniforms say. "Literally a bloodbath."
"Christ Almighty." The second man shuddered. "What a world we live in."
I almost passed out when his words registered with me.
Jack and Isabel were dead.
Chapter 10
An interminable time later, a man in khakis and a polo knelt in front of me. His nametag identified him as Dudley Morgan, a lab technician. He looked back at the blue uniforms as if seeing if they were
Joe picked me up in front of the Gregorian. "Good morning, Miss Glass." He opened the back door.
"I'd like to sit in front, please."
"Sure." He opened the front door and went to the driver's side.
"Could you take me by my flat first? I need to pick up some clothes." I checked my phone for any messages from Isabel and tried not to worry at the lack of her response. I texted her again. Are you getting my messages?
"Is something the matter, Miss Glass?" Joe regarded me with a discerning gaze.
"Not really. I just haven't heard from Isabel today."
"Mr. Rock told me about the break-in at the condo." He stopped in front of the apartment complex. "Are you worried about the same thing happening here?"
"You're rather perceptive, aren't you?"
"That was how I survived the war." He turned off the SUV, got out, and opened my door. "I'll accompany you."
"That's really not necessary."
He ran a hand across his head. "I think it would be best."
Better safe than sorry. "Thanks."
Joe nodded. "No problem."
I jogged inside, thankful I'd worn flats, and we took the lift to my floor. I practically sprinted down the hall to the door, key in hand. It took only a cursory examination of the door handle to realize someone had forced open the door.
Joe knelt in front of it and ran his finger along the bent metal doorjamb. "Looks like they jimmied it open with a crowbar."
I twisted the knob. It turned easily—too easily. The inner mechanisms felt broken. The door opened and my heart froze with terror. The den and kitchen had been absolutely trashed. Empty cabinets hung open and all the glassware and food had been smashed and strewn all over the floor. But what truly terrified me were the crimson stains all over the carpet and the upended furniture.
The copper odor of blood filled my nostrils.
"You'd better wait here while I investigate," Joe said.
"Isabel," I croaked. Without another thought, I ran inside, Joe calling out to me to stop.
But I didn't. I couldn't. My best friend might be dead.
I checked her bedroom. It looked completely untouched, aside from some dirty clothes in the corner of the room.
My room was another story. Though nothing had been moved, a crimson pattern stained the duvet, and spattered blood streaked down the wall. I wanted to scream in sorrow and anger and horror. What had happened here?
"Shit." Joe's voice came from the hallway.
I ran to him and saw him staring at the bathtub. It was filled with blood. A blood-crusted arm dangled over the side.
A terrible scream burst from my mouth. I lunged for the tub, but Joe grabbed me.
"You can't touch it, Miss Glass. We have to call the police."
My screams drowned out whatever he said next.
He practically dragged me to the hallway and called the police. Already, other neighbors crowded the hallway, talking among themselves. I didn't know any of them.
"What happened, dear?" asked an older woman.
"We're waiting on the police," Joe said.
Another person's voice reached my ear. "Did she murder someone?"
The authorities arrived and made everyone go back into their apartments.
Agonizing sorrow held me tight in its grip. I couldn't think straight and found it difficult to answer questions a detective asked me. "Isabel," I said in a weak voice. "Please not Isabel."
"There are two bodies in there," I heard one of the blue uniforms say. "Literally a bloodbath."
"Christ Almighty." The second man shuddered. "What a world we live in."
I almost passed out when his words registered with me.
Jack and Isabel were dead.
Chapter 10
An interminable time later, a man in khakis and a polo knelt in front of me. His nametag identified him as Dudley Morgan, a lab technician. He looked back at the blue uniforms as if seeing if they were
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