The Overnight Guest(31)

“We’ll have them check you out, Shoo, while they look for Ethan, okay?” Matthew said, wiping Josie’s tears from beneath her eyes with his thumbs.

The ambulance turned down the lane and came to a stop just beyond the crime tape. Out stepped two paramedics, a man and a woman. They opened the back doors, scanned the scene in front of them, and waited for direction from one of the deputies.

Matthew waved the EMTs over. “My granddaughter was shot,” he told the paramedics, who quickly grabbed a gurney and rushed toward them. They transitioned Josie to the stretcher and carried her to the ambulance’s back deck where they could get a better look at her injuries.

“You won’t leave just yet, will you?” Matthew asked the female paramedic.

“We’ll check her out, but by the look of that arm, we’ll need to take her to the hospital in Algona. We need to get going soon, but I’ll let you know before we leave,” she said, giving Matthew a reassuring smile.

“I’ll be right back, honey,” Matthew said, and Josie clutched at his hand, not wanting him to go. “I won’t go out of your sight,” he promised. Josie reluctantly released his grip.

Once through the unlocked front door, Sheriff Butler made a mental note to ask Matthew Ellis if he had just walked into the home or used a key.

The house was dim and quiet and had the feel of being empty. Butler and Levi started in the living room, looked behind the heavy drapes and in the closet, cleared it, and then moved on to check the first-floor bathroom.

“No one in here,” Levi declared, “but it looks like we’ve got some blood in the sink.”

Sheriff Butler stuck his head in the room. The bottom and sides of the white porcelain sink were covered with a pinkish film. Butler nodded. The two moved on to the dining room. In the middle of the room was a large wide-planked wooden table surrounded by six chairs. An arrangement of dried flowers sat in the center of the table.

“Clear,” Butler called, wiping sweat from his face. The room was hotter than a Dutch oven though he noted that there was an air-conditioning unit in the window. It was odd that the unit wasn’t running in this heat, especially since the windows were shut tight.

Levi took the lead and entered the kitchen first. It too was empty. A coffee maker was filled with black liquid. Levi reached out to touch the glass pot—it was cool to the touch. Hanging on a key rack next to the back door were two sets of keys that probably went to the vehicles parked outside.

“Should we check downstairs?” Levi asked, nodding toward the basement door.

Butler checked the slide lock near the top of the door. It was in place. “Door’s locked from outside,” he said. “We’ll clear it after we go upstairs. That’s where Matthew said the victims are.”

Butler led the way up the stairs. The heat was stifling. Beads of sweat dripped into his eyes. Butler could smell fear emanating from the younger deputy’s skin. Levi had seen plenty of dead bodies before, the casualties from motor vehicle accidents, two suicides, and the corpse of a man who tripped over his own gun and shot himself while turkey hunting, but never the victim of a murder. Levi had no idea what they were walking into. The sheriff had seen it all, but it didn’t make it any easier to step into a crime scene. Was it a murder-suicide? Had an intruder entered the home and started shooting? If so, what was the motive?

On the staircase, there was a blind turn coming up. They had no idea who or what was around the corner. Butler tried to listen for any sound above them, but all he could hear was his own breathing. They needed to stay alert. The sheriff signaled for Levi to stop, took a deep breath, and quickly rounded the corner with his firearm at the ready. No one there. He paused to steady his breath and continued upward.

When Butler reached the second-floor landing, the smell hit him in the face. Rust intermingled with the scent of fecal matter. Blood and the bowels relaxing soon after death.

“Jesus,” Levi said.

“Breathe through your mouth,” Butler ordered as he moved down the hallway. He pushed open the first door. A bathroom. He pulled aside the shower curtain. No one there. “Clear,” Butler called over his shoulder. They were getting closer.

Levi stood in front of a closed bedroom door. He was afraid to touch the knob. What if he wiped away fingerprints? He didn’t want to see what was behind the door. He glanced back at the sheriff who nodded at him. Trying to touch as little surface as possible, Levi twisted the knob, nudged the door open, and stepped into the room with his gun drawn. The smell was overwhelming, and Levi resisted the urge to cover his nose.

The morning sun seeped through the edges of the blinds. At first glance, the room looked like any other bedroom. A dresser sat against the wall topped with framed family photos, an unmade bed, a stack of books, and a scattering of coins on a bedside table. But the carnage next to the bed was unmistakable. A woman. Her body already decomposing in the sweltering heat of the room.

Behind him, Levi heard Butler’s voice. “Room clear?” he asked.

It took a second for Levi to react, but he bent down, lifted the lace-edged bed skirt, and looked beneath the bed. He half expected someone to peer back at him. No one there. He checked the closet, also empty.

“Clear,” Levi breathed, running a hand through this damp hair. “First victim,” he said as the sheriff squeezed through the doorway behind him.

“Ah, man,” Butler said. “That’s Lynne Doyle. Looks like a gunshot to the chest at pretty close range.”