Page 6 of Sighs By the Sea

I follow behind the woman. The place is better than most. Nice furniture and clean. Another man is at the counter in the kitchen cooking what smells like a delicious grilled cheese.

He gives a quick wave as the woman leads me to Lucas’s door. She knocks once. “Lucas, your girlfriend’s here.”

“Again, not his girlfriend.” Or anybody’s, for that matter. I haven’t dated in months. My last relationship imploded all around me, and I’m not anxious for a repeat.

There’s no answer. “Lucas!” the woman yells. Still nothing.

“He probably knows I’m a cop,” I say. I step forward and understand why the woman is worried about the smell. It’s nasty, seeping from under his door.

I rap my knuckles against the hollow wood. “Lucas, I’m just here to drive you to Vicki’s. She’s worried you’ll miss your check-in.” The room is deathly silent, and my skin prickles with goosebumps. Something is off.

“Go out to my car and get my partner,” I demand, unclipping my holster.

“I’m not an errand girl,” she snaps.

“I don’t have my radio,” I say.

The man in the kitchen doesn’t say anything but starts jogging out the door. Harry and the man come back inside a few seconds later.

“Smell that?” I ask. Harry purses his lips. Being a cop means you see a lot of horrifying things. And that smell? It's death. Literally.

“Back up,” he says. I do, and Harry raises his foot. His heel smashes into the door, and it swings open.

The smell overtakes us all. Both the lady and the man start coughing. "Out," I say over my shoulder. They don't argue. I step through first, over a rolled-up towel that was along the bottom of the door. As soon as I'm inside, I let my head fall back and sigh. Our parolee, Lucas, is slumped over his desk, clearly dead. If the massive puddle of blood dried on the ground isn't enough, the wide slash on his neck is. His pale white body lacks any signs of life, and his eyes are staring ahead lifeless.

Three monitors are on top, none activated, but I can already tell the tower is missing. Harry doesn’t need to be told; he’s already calling the medical examiner. Unfortunately, halfway houses are used to calamity.

"I'm gonna get their statements," I whisper to Harry. He gives me a thumbs up but stays focused on his radio.

Out front, the woman and man are standing together, grim looks on their faces. “You know the drill?” I ask. The woman nods.

“Overdose?”

Definitely not, but I can't tell her that. “No idea. M.E. will have to look. Can I ask you a few questions?”

They agree, and I run through the standards. When the last time they saw him was, does he have any enemies, ex-girlfriends, etc. They give their answers without a whole lot of feeling. Sad. No matter how long I’m a cop, I hate this part of the job. Helping people, that’s fine. Dead people? Not my forte.

Thankfully, Harry knows and comes outside a few minutes later. “Why don’t you go grab us some burgers? I can finish this up.”

I don’t need to be told twice. "Extra onions?"

He smiles. The man is allergic, or so he claims. "You know it. Thanks, boo." He adds a wink that makes me laugh. Such a charmer. Without another word, I cross the short distance from the porch to the car. Within seconds, I'm driving away.

***

An hour later, I come back with the food. The body has been removed, and Harry is giving the room the once-over while CSI takes photos.

As if he can sense me, he says without looking up, “What do you make of this?”

“Yeah, I saw that earlier. Weird, right? He was there like he was working but with no computer?”

“What’s his background?” Harry asks. We've worked together long enough that he knows I reviewed his file while waiting for our food. I also spoke with Vicki, and she was extremely helpful. I'm starting to understand why Harry does favors for her. She was obviously upset to learn one of her parolees had died.

“IT, he was working from home supposedly, but Vicki hasn’t seen any paystubs.”

Harry nods along. “Probably had a good setup. You know anything about computers, nerd?”

I chuckle. Harry knows I’m a giant computer enthusiast. I lean down and check the brands. “Expensive monitors. No idea on the tower, though.” I look behind the three screens. All three have DVI cords. A step up from HDMI. “Oh yeah, he had to have some serious graphics power to run three monitors.”

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