Page 56 of Shadows Reel

Nate shook his head.

The wooden door was unlocked as well. Nate turned the knob, pushed the door inward, went in, and moved to the side in a shooter’s stance. Geronimo navigated the storm door and let it ease shut behind him, then moved into the kitchen to Nate’s right.

He could smell roasting turkey from the oven and it made him salivate. Prentice and Smisek were cooking their Thanksgiving meal.

A radio on the kitchen counter next to the stove was playing classical music at low volume. Nate could sense no movement from any of the rooms in the house. He checked out the pots on the stove. One was filled with mashed potatoes and the other green beans. Gravy in a saucepan had been simmering on theburner for a while. It wasn’t yet fully congealed, but it appeared to be the thickness of wet plaster. He turned the burners off but kept the radio on so as not to alert anyone inside of their entry.

He lowered his revolver and pressed it against his thigh. An opening in the kitchen revealed a hallway leading to a sun-filled great room at the front of the house. Nate moved slowly and deliberately down the hall, ready to sprawl out or dart into a side room if necessary. Even as he did so, he noticed the framed photos on the walls of Smisek and Prentice. There were shots of them with falconers in the Middle East desert, sipping drinks on the beach of what looked like Mexico, skiing together, and embracing at what looked like a drunken wedding reception.

Nate smelled it before he saw it—the comingling of roasting turkey, gunpowder, and blood in the air.

He entered the great room following his raised weapon. It settled first on Ken Smisek, who was sprawled out in a lounge chair with his arms out and his head flung back. There was a dark-tinged hole beneath his chin and the top of his head was missing. Blood spatter and bone fragments covered the wall and ceiling. A heavy Ruger Redhawk .357 Magnum revolver lay on the floor under his open hand in a pool of blood.

Bob Prentice lay on his back on the floor in the middle of the room. He’d been shot twice in the chest, and the carpet below him had been dyed red by blood from the exit wounds in his back. His face was frozen into a grimace.

“Oh, man...” Geronimo said, sniffing. “This just happened. Murder-suicide?”

Nate nodded. “Or meant to look like it.”

Then he gestured to Geronimo that they should split up and clear all the rooms in the house to make sure no one was hiding out.

“Don’t touch anything,” Nate whispered.

There was no one in any of the rooms of the house, including the basement and attic. Nate was struck by how clean and orderly it was. Prentice and Smisek were meticulous housekeepers.

When they were alive.

Nate pushed open the door to a spare bedroom that also served as a home office. It had been ransacked. An extra-large gun safe dominated one wall. The door to the safe gaped open and it was empty inside.

—

When the two of themreturned to the great room, they holstered their weapons. Nate kneeled down over Prentice’s body and pressed his fingertips to the man’s neck. He was surprised to feel a very slight and wavery pulse.

“He’s alive,” Nate said. Then to Prentice, “Bob? Can you hear me?”

Prentice was long and thin with wavy ginger hair and a tattoo of a falcon on his neck. He was extremely pale from lack of blood.

He opened his eyes and they settled on Nate’s face above him.

“What happened here, Bob?” Nate asked.

Prentice worked his mouth, but no sounds came out. The bright red blood on his mouth looked like lipstick.

“Remember me, Bob?” Nate asked.

Prentice tried again to speak. He croaked, “Nate Romanowski.”

“That’s right. What happened here, Bob? Did Ken and you get into a fight?”

Prentice closed his eyes and shook his head in slow motion. His lips moved again, but all he could do was wheeze.

“Bob, was it Axel Soledad?” Nate asked. “Did he stage this? Did he clean you out of guns?”

Prentice’s eyes widened. “Axel,” he whispered.

“Man, we gotta do something,” Geronimo said. “The guy in the chair is long gone. But maybe we can call someone. Or take him into Baker City...”

Nate looked up at Geronimo and shook his head. Prentice had nearly bled out. It was a miracle that he’d even made it this long.

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