Boone is right behind me, reaching forward to unlock the deadbolt and haul the door open. The scene outside is like something from a movie. There are at least three police cars, two ambulances, and a fire truck all near the front entrance of the community.
“Do you think there’s a fire?”
Boone moves past me to step out onto the small porch without responding, leaving me to trail after him. One quick glance around tells me we aren’t the only looky-loos. Several small groups of people congregate near the ends of driveways. I’m tempted to ask the crowd closest what’s going on, but the fact that I haven’t spoken to a single one of them since staying here stops me.
“Can you see anything?” I ask Boone in a hushed tone.
“No, but I don’t think it’s a car accident unless they rammed the security shack,” he answers distractedly while reachingbackwards for me. Without hesitation, I place my fingers in his and allow him to pull me toward the sidewalk. I look back at the open front door of the condo, wishing I would have thought to lock it, but my attention is drawn by movement at the door to the adjoining unit.
The brief glimpse provides a vague impression of a man with dark hair stepping out of view and into the shadows of the house before the door snaps closed. I don’t know if I’m impressed or unnerved by his apparent lack of concern.
“Should I run back and lock the door?” I ask Boone as he continues to tow me along with him toward the corner.
“We’ll stay in sight,” he promises without looking back. A sense of dread fills me the farther we get from the house and closer we move to the police, but I can’t be certain which of the two issues is more troubling.
“Isn’t that?—”
“Hawks.” Boone fills in the male officer’s name we met before. As if he heard Boone say his name, the cop in question turns his head in our direction and does a chin dip in acknowledgement before resuming his conversation with another male in uniform. We’re much closer than all the other residents now, and I feel the weight of their curious gazes on my back. I want to check the door to the condo again to make sure no one slips inside, but it feels weird to keep looking over my shoulder.
Hawks finishes speaking with the other officer and turns to head our way. His face is set in a grim line, his mouth drawn tight and brows pulled low. Whatever is going on seems pretty serious, because two more vehicles have arrived on the scene. One is the state police, and the other looks like a cross between a converted ambulance and an RV.
Boone remains silent, even when Hawks is standing right in front of us. I want to ask what the heck is going on, but the tension in the air keeps my throat tight.
Hawks breaks the silence. “We have a real mess on our hands.”
“What happened?” Boone’s fingers tighten on mine.
“Can’t say for sure yet, but whatever it is, it isn’t pretty. I’ve never seen that much blood.”
I gasp, drawing both men’s attention.
“Sorry.” Hawks’ lips thin even more, and he shakes his head as if he’s only now realizing what he said.
“Is somebody hurt?” The sick feeling in my stomach grows.
Hawks looks over his shoulder, as if he’s deciding how or if he’s going to answer. “We have one deceased,” he finally says when facing Boone again. “Looks like it might be someone on the security staff. You guys didn’t see or hear anything last night or early this morning, did you?”
The question doesn’t feel accusatory, but Boone bristles. His back stiffens, as does his jaw. “Do you have an estimate on TOD?”
“Not yet. A few of the guys want to take him to the hospital to pronounce him, but… there’s no point. The ME should be here soon. Her office is about an hour away.”
“Crime scene investigators?” Boone questions.
Hawks takes off his hat and uses it to gesture toward the line of emergency vehicles and the RV. “The staties are already here. No one will do anything before he’s declared dead. The blood was thick, and he was cold. I’m guessing he’s been dead for a little while. Poor bastard.” Hawks looks down.
“The guard was in the shed a little before eleven last night.”
“Did you speak with him? Did anything seem out of the ordinary?” Hawks is suddenly back to business.
“No to both. I walked through.” Boone tilts his head toward a small grove of trees that conceals the condo community from the road, but he doesn’t outright say he was trying to get in without being noticed. “I did see John.” He looks back at me to confirm his name, and my heart does that thing where it feels like it’s falling into my gut.
I nod and swallow the bile crawling up my throat. I didn’t think I would ever be in the position again to know someone who was murdered—not that I knew John well, if it really is him, but still, it hits close to home.
“Not that I can say there wasn’t a shift change, but I saw his face clearly from the glow of his phone,” Boone continues.
“How do you feel about giving me an ID on the vic? Unofficial, of course.”
“I can do that.” Boone begins to move, but my feet stay planted, so he ends up tugging my arm. When he peers back at me, his features soften.
