I took the starboard side, and JD took port. We moved forward on the side decks and rejoined at the foredeck, where there was a U-shaped settee and another sun pad.
The area was empty.
We walked back to the aft deck, and I pulled on the door handle. It slid open, and I shouted into the salon, “Ethan? You around?”
The lines creaked as the boat drifted in the slip.
“Ethan?”
Shards of broken glass sparkled on the deck in the salon. A glass had been knocked off a table. A few blood drips stained the deck. My senses were on high alert.
“His car is in the parking lot,” JD said.
“Maybe he went out on a bike ride,” I quipped. My fingers pulled my phone from my pocket and dialed Ethan’s number.
Ethan’s phone rang below deck, and the ringtone drifted up to the salon.
“Maybe he’s passed out,” JD said. “Probable cause for a welfare check,” he suggested.
I drew my pistol and pushed into the salon.
Jack followed.
Between the broken glass and the blood, I felt we had probable cause.
The boat was the perfect bachelor pad. Elegant appointments in the salon, large windows, and lots of room. There was a starboard side helm station and a companionway to port that led down to the galley and dining area. The forward windows created a nice atrium, giving the galley an open feel.
We moved around the broken glass and took cautious steps down the stairway.
Another blood drip stained the deck.
The galley had a full-size fridge, stove, cooktop, and plenty of stowage.
JD and I cleared the forward V-berth and en suite, then made our way aft, past two guest berths with en suites. After clearing the compartments, we continued aft down the passageway, following the blood drips to the master.
We held up at the hatch to the master stateroom. With our weapons at the ready, I gave a nod to JD. He grabbed the handle, twisted, and flung the door open. I swung my barrel into the compartment and swept the space.
I wasn’t totally surprised by what I found.
24
Ethan lay on the deck at the foot of the bed, two gunshot wounds in his chest. Blood pooled around the body and had splattered the sheets behind him.
Jack knelt down and felt for vitals, then shook his head with a grim expression.
I called the sheriff. The cavalry was on the way.
JD and I searched the cabin while we waited.
No shell casings.
These guys were either pros or used a revolver.
I dug through Ethan’s pockets and pulled out his phone. My trick of holding the device in front of his face didn’t work. He may have had facial recognition turned off. It was a smart privacy move. Cops couldn’t compel a passcode, but biometric data had been ruled fair game by the courts.
Footsteps in the salon filtered down below.
JD and I shared a look. It was too soon to be deputies.
