Читать книгу When Demons Float - Susan Thistlethwaite - Страница 9

I knocked on the apartment door and it swung open. It was unlatched. I called out once, my words sounding loud in the darkened room, but then I didn’t call again. The smell had hit me.

I saw the feet dangling. I forced myself to look up past the slack arms and stretched neck, all the way to the bloated face. It was grotesquely disfigured, pushed up by the choking rope. It was barely recognizable, but I knew who it was.

I had been afraid something like this would happen. And now it had.

I pulled out my cell to call 911 with one hand, while I tried to support the body’s weight with the other. I was trembling with rage.

This was one of the rare times when I was sorry I wasn’t still a cop. The room looked like the stage set of a suicide, but I doubted it.

I thought it was murder.