Chapter 9
Lights flashed atop patrol cars in front of a Stingray Bay mansion. Curious neighbors gathered and gossiped. Deputies kept the crowd at bay.
Paris Delaney was already on the scene when we arrived.
Jack found a place to park behind the first responders. We hopped out and walked toward the chaos.
That big fat moon loomed large and bright overhead. A sense of dread twisted my stomach as I walked up the driveway of the McMansion.
“Don’t step in the blood,” a deputy cautioned as we approached. He shined his flashlight on the spot, and we walked around it.
The tiny drop tailed toward the street, indicating a forward motion.
JD and I continued up the driveway to the back door. Camera flashes spilled out as Dietrich chronicled the gruesome scene that had unfolded in the kitchen.
The home had an open floor plan, as did most in Stingray Bay. With high vaulted ceilings, the living room and kitchen area merged seamlessly. Large window walls offered a view of the patio, the pool, and the canal beyond. Lights from homes across the water flickered, reflecting in the inky channel.
The home had light gray hardwoods, black stainless steel appliances, and light walls. Imported marble countertops covered the kitchen and the island.
Sprawled on the tile between the two was a brunette woman in her late 30s. Crimson had pooled around her body.
A kitchen knife was missing from the set in a block on the island. It was one of the first things I noticed.
The woman had been mauled with multiple lacerations and punctures.
Forensic investigators had labeled the blood drops that led toward the back door, as well as multiple partial bloody footprints in different sizes—some small, some bigger.
A large, half-carved pumpkin lay on the ground beside the victim, smashed to pieces. Bloodstains speckled the orange shell.
Another brunette woman with black-framed glasses and long, straight hair sat on the couch with horrified eyes, trying to console two sobbing children—9 and 12. She was in her early to mid-30s.
My heart sank when I saw the young ones. This was bad enough, but having kids exposed to this kind of brutality was just heart-wrenching.
Sheriff Daniels looked at the victim with a grim face.
"Who is she?" I asked in a whisper.
"Hannah Quinn. 38. Mother of two.” He frowned and shook his head at the senselessness of it all.
"This doesn’t look like a wild animal," I said.
"Nope," Brenda replied. "Multiple stab wounds. There are defensive wounds on her hands and forearms. Judging by the size of the punctures, I'm going to say it was a kitchen knife. Probably the one that's missing from the block. But I'll leave that up to you to figure out."
"Whoever did this had a lot of pent-up aggression," I said.
You didn’t stab someone multiple times on accident. You had to mean it. When I saw this kind of hostility, it told me the killer likely knew the victim. You had to be pissed off to stab somebody this many times.
The back door looked intact when we entered through it. No broken panes of glass. "Any signs of forced entry?”
"No," the sheriff replied.
"Murder weapon?"
"Hasn't been found yet.”
"Who found the body?"
Daniels grimaced. "Kids were upstairs. Came down and found their mother like this.”
I winced.
"Who's the woman on the couch?" I whispered.
"Sister. Her name’s Carolyn Quinn.”
"Neighbors see anything?”
"I’ve got Erickson and Faulkner canvassing the neighborhood."
JD and I walked into the living room and introduced ourselves to Carolyn and the kids, James and Emily.
“I know this is a difficult time, but I need to ask a few questions,” I said.
Carolyn nodded. By the looks of her, she was pregnant and pretty far along. I knew better than to ask when the due date was. She grabbed another tissue and blotted her eyes.
“It’s my understanding the children discovered the remains,” I said in a delicate tone.
The kids sobbed.
Carolyn nodded. “They were upstairs when it happened.”
“Were you here?”
“No. James called me, crying. I couldn’t believe what he was saying. I came right over.”
James was a little small for his age. He had short brown hair and brown eyes that were now red, weepy slits.
“James, did you see anyone else in the house?”
He shook his head.
“Do you know if your mom had any visitors?”
He shook his head again.
I asked Carolyn to have a word in private. She took the kids upstairs to the rec room and told them to stay put, then returned to the living room.
“Where is their father?” I asked.
Her face tightened. “That’s a good question. I think that son of a bitch finally did it.”
I shared a look with JD.
“Tell me about that situation,” I said to her.