“Yeah. Felt her carotid. Might’ve sat on the edge of the bed.” He paused. “Yeah, I did sit. Seeing her like this was shocking. This is fucked up.”
“I know.”
“Forensics will find my prints on the front door handle. It was unlocked. As soon as I entered, I smelled—that’s when I knew something was wrong.”
“Got it. Did you move her?”
“No, I wanted to perform CPR, but it wouldn’t have brought her back.”
“Thanks for the details.”
Emerson never liked when a civilian found a body, especially when the victim had been posed for shock value, so she wanted to get Stryker away from the crime scene. After placing a comforting hand on his arm, she said, “Let’s head back into the living room.”
He held her gaze for an extra beat before saying, “You’re the boss.”
Once there, Emerson pulled out a small notepad and pen from her back pocket. “How’d you get into the building?”
“I buzzed, got no response, so I found a neighbor on this floor. I didn’t get her name.”
“The officer said Ms. Peters worked for you.”
“Head mixologist at The Dungeon.”
“How long did she work there?”
“A while. My GM manages the staff.”
“When did you last see her?”
“Last week. Tuesday.” He paused. “No, Wednesday. I stopped by around ten.”
“Stopped by here or the club?”
His icy stare cut right through her. “The club, Detective. I’ve never been here before tonight.”
Ignoring the bite in his tone, she continued. “What do you know about Ms. Peters?”
“Nothing. I didn’t know she’d been a no-show at work until Mavis, my GM, told me. What can I tell my staff?”
“Only that she was deceased when you found her.”
“Got it.”
Emerson studied him for an extra second. “I’m sorry you had to see her like this. Do you need me to help you find a grief counselor?”
“I’m good.”
“It might help you process this.”
“I’ve seen worse.”
Hmm, okay.She wanted to ask, but she needed to stay on point.
“We done?” he asked, interrupting her thoughts.
“For now.”
Stryker studied her, his intense gaze raking over her face. “Still got my number?”
