It was around 2:30 AM when the sheriff called. Never a good thing at this hour. I swiped the screen and took the call. "What is it now?"
17
Paris Delaney and her news crew lingered just outside the apartment.
The Harbor House was a nice three-story hive with gated parking. Built in a U-shape around a central pool, it was home to a hundred units or more.
A few deputies lingered at the door, and the curious neighbor across the hall gawked.
We approached the second-floor unit, stepped inside the apartment, and made our way down the foyer to the living room.
Bleached hardwoods and pastel walls gave it a tropical vibe. It was a split design with a bedroom on either side of the living room. The tiny balcony offered a view of the pool. It was home to a few plants and plastic patio furniture. The kind of art that you could buy in a Swedish furniture store hung on the walls. The decor was stylish, but not expensive.
A young brunette sat on the couch, head in hands, sobbing. A deputy stood nearby, trying to comfort her and get more details.
Camera flashes spilled out of the bedroom. That's where all the commotion was.
JD and I hovered at the bedroom door for a moment. It was pretty crowded as first responders gathered around the bathroom. Daniels stood nearby with a grim face. He didn't much care for getting pulled out of bed at this hour.
Dietrich snapped a few more photos, then cleared out. Brenda went to work.
JD and I moved to join the sheriff by the doorframe. Another young blonde lay dead in the bathtub. The faint odor of bleach wafted.
My face tightened, and I exhaled with frustration.
Daniels said, "That makes two.”
"Same MO?"
"Looks that way. There is bruising around the neck, and petechial hemorrhaging around the eyes.” He just shook his head. "Roommate came home and found her like that."
"She’s the one on the couch?”
The sheriff nodded. “Her name is Whitney Westgate. The deceased is Polly Madison.”
Polly was an attractive young woman with piercing blue eyes, fair skin, pouty lips, and wavy sandy-blonde hair. She had a petite figure and lay naked in the tub in an awkward position.
I hated to even ask, "Was she sexually assaulted?"
"It appears that way," Brenda said. "I'll know more when I get her back to the lab."
"Do we have a time of death?”
"Fairly recent," Brenda said. "I’d put it within the last two hours." Then she added, “She’s got two minor superficial burn marks on her neck. Could be a taser.”
"I thought you boys were on top of this," the sheriff grumbled.
"Maybe we’ve been looking in the wrong direction.”
"Well, start looking in the right direction.”
"If it were only that easy,” I quipped.
JD and I stepped out of the bedroom and approached Whitney. I flashed my badge and made introductions. "I know this is a difficult time, but can you tell me what happened?"
She sniffled and blotted her eyes with a tissue. "I just came home and found her like that," she sobbed.
"I take it you two are roommates?"
