Martin's footsteps halted.
He instinctively reached for the small of his back and felt the hard metal casing of his weapon, which reassured him slightly.
"Take a knife and come with me." Schiller glanced toward the kitchen, then turned and left.
Martin took a deep breath. As he crouched to set the statue's box on the floor by the door, he caught a reflection off the floorboards and saw Schiller take a case bearing a medical symbol from a kitchen cabinet.
Some powerful instinct urged Martin to run, but an even firmer rationality made him walk toward the kitchen with relatively steady steps.
He picked out a sharp steak knife. The serrations on its tip gleamed coldly as the sunset shone into the room, turning every reflective surface into brilliant gold.
A warm breeze drifted through the air. This should have been a cozy evening spent reading in the dining room or on the porch, chatting on the phone with family and friends while watching the sun vanish beyond a glittering skyline. Instead, the overly lurid sunset suddenly cast a blood-red horror over it all.
Martin pushed open the back door.
Schiller had put on a plastic raincoat. A naked corpse lay before him, with a tattoo Martin recognized all too well on its back.
He clenched the steak knife in his hand.
It was already late. Gordon had finally dealt with most of the trouble Acting Director Clay had caused, leaving only the biggest problems behind.
To resolve those serious complaints, he had to speak with the parties involved. But it was too late for calls, so Gordon gathered up the documents and prepared to leave the police department.
Suddenly, hurried footsteps came from outside the office. Gordon immediately stopped what he was doing and frowned at the door.