ATTN:
“Call the police and wait for them right here,” he instructed her as he opened the door.
Harold Miller, the zoning commissioner, was staring blankly at the dead man. William brought him out to the front porch and sat him down. “I think he’s in shock,” he told Ellen, repeating that she needed to call 9-1-1.
She fumbled through her purse to find her phone. As she punched the three digits, she once again begged William to remain with her, but he was determined to locate Anna and went back in, swearing he’d be careful.
He remembered stories Marc Turnell used to tell him about cops botching a crime scene by contaminating the evidence. He stepped over what he was certain was the body of Kyle Dawson, mindful not to touch anything.
He strained to hear any noises coming from the second floor, but heard nothing. He cautiously crept down the hall to Anna's room, sighing with great relief that her body wasn't waiting to be found, but equally worried because she was still missing. The contents of her dresser, closet, and her toy box were mixed in with the fluff from her shredded mattress and the stuffing was everywhere.
Across the hall was another bedroom with its door partially closed. William used his cloth-covered elbow against the wood to slowly swing it open. On the bed lay a female body with dark hair, much like Anna’s. The face had been pulverized, and the black hair lay in a halo around what remained of the skull. Anna’s parents had both been murdered.
He raced to the bathroom.
“Will!” shouted a male voice from the main level. “Will, answer me!”
From his position over the toilet, he offered a weak response. “Marc?”
“Yeah.” The voice was getting closer. From around the corner slipped Detective Marc Turnell, gun drawn. He holstered it as he approached William. “Seeing the guy get to you?” he asked.
“The woman.” He sunk back on the floor against the wall.
“Woman?” questioned Turnell.
“Other bedroom. It’s bad.”