Jeremy donned his Windbreaker with huge FBI letters on the back. “If anyone sees us walking around out here with guns, I don’t want them to be alarmed.”

“Good thought,” Nathan said.

They walked past two covered parking areas. Nathan pointed to his eyes, then pointed to the rear of the next condo building. Jeremy veered off to the right, staying as close to the condo’s wall as possible. He watched the FBI agent weave his way through some small shrubs and cacti growing in terra-cotta pots. If anyone looked out their sliding glass doors, they’d see Jeremy for sure. There was no place to hide in this arid landscaping. Nathan and Harv continued along the sidewalk and entered the courtyard between the target building and its neighbor to the left.

“Looks like it’s the second unit on the right,” Harv said. “Are we worried about trip wires or booby traps?”

“I don’t think so. From what we believe, they left in a hurry. We’ll be careful anyway.”

They kept their Sigs holstered until they arrived at the front door.

“You ready?” Nathan whispered. “I’ll take the lead and left.”

Fingertips only, he reached for the knob.

Chapter 13

Chapter 13

Unlocked.

He slowly pushed the door, feeling for any resistance. None.

Gun first, he rushed down the hall and pivoted to his left at an open door. A small bathroom. Empty.

He sensed Harv slip past and cover his blind spot. He continued deeper into the condo and turned toward the bottom of some stairs. He pointed his Sig to the upper landing and froze. All quiet. No movement. He made eye contact with Harv and motioned to the top. He stayed put while his friend began a silent ascent.

Harv was back thirty seconds later. They cleared the other rooms before heading into the living room and kitchen. Nathan noticed it right away. The smell. One he knew well. Familiar and noxious. They glanced at each other, rounded the hall corner, and stopped.

What lay before them could only be described as hideous.

The grisly aftermath of a cruel and protracted murder.

A bloody chair sat in the middle of an expanse of plastic drop cloth. Dark red pools surrounded each leg. Dried and cracked. Countless bloody footprints encircled the chair. An end table had been hauled onto the plastic—the tools of pain adorning its surface. A filleting knife. Wire cutters. Pliers. And a small Coleman burner. A strip of plastic had also been laid into the kitchen with more bloody tracks to and from the sink.

“Do you see it, Harv?”

“See what?”

Nathan didn’t respond.

“Talk to me, Nate.”

“Rage. Montez was pissed. That isn’t like him. Neither is leaving a scene like this. He’s making a statement.”

“This was a violent interrogation, but I’m not sure you can draw that conclusion.”

“I need to see the body.”