The apartment seemed the same as it was yesterday. Jude had driven around the block a few times before entering. More than a dozen police personnel were already rummaging through his brother’s things. Jude was frustrated more than afraid. He breezed by the warm bodies like they weren’t there and stepped underneath the yellow tape. Immediately, his eyes were drawn to the mattress at the center of the open room. He knew the girl lying there. She was the same makeup-covered siren he’d seen perusing this apartment and taking a shower a day earlier. Images flashed and dissipated. He stepped closer. She was soaking in her own blood from a stomach wound, small, rosy puddles like tortured ripples spreading on the floor. A look of unholy dread lay trapped inside her face; that stuck out the most. And her eyes seemed to beg silently for a second chance. Jude dared to get closer and inspect the body, but a firm hand stopped him suddenly.
