“I don’t know. Drops on the floor. Like a trail. To the back hallway. I’m not sure.”

“You didn’t see anyone or hear anyone?”

“No. I don’t think so.”

“Okay. You’re okay now. You’re safe.”

She started blinking. There were tears in her eyes.

“It’s okay,” he repeated softly. “You’re okay. You’re safe.”

She wiped away the tears, tried to compose her expression. “Okay. I’m okay now.”

When her breathing began to return to normal, he said, “I want you to sit in my car. You can lock the door. I’ll take a look in the apartment.”

“I’m coming with you.”

“It would be better to stay in the car.”

“No!” She looked at him pleadingly. “It’s my apartment. He’s not going to keep me out of my apartment!”

Although it was inconsistent with normal police procedure to allow a civilian to reenter the premises under these conditions before they’d been searched, Gurney was no longer a police officer and procedure was no longer the controlling issue. Given Kim’s state of mind, he decided it would be better to keep her with him than to insist that she remain alone in his car—locked or not.

“Okay,” he said, removing the Beretta from his ankle holster and slipping it into his jacket pocket. “Let’s check it out.”

He led the way the back inside, leaving both doors open behind him. He stopped outside the living room. The hallway continued straight ahead for another twenty feet or so, ending at an archway that opened into a kitchen. Between the living room and the kitchen were two open doorways on the right. “Where do those lead?”

“The first is my bedroom. The second is the bathroom.”

“I’m going to take a look in each one. If you hear anything at all, or if you call my name and I don’t answer immediately, get out through the front door as fast as you can, lock yourself in my car, and call 911. Got that?”

“Yes.”

He moved down the hall, looked inside the first room, then stepped in and switched on the ceiling light. There wasn’t much to see. A bed, a small table, a full-length mirror, a couple of folding chairs, a rickety armoire in place of a closet. He checked the armoire, checked under the bed. He stepped back out into the hall, gave Kim a thumbs-up sign, moved on to the bathroom, and repeated the process.

Next was the kitchen.

“Where did you see the drops of blood?” he asked.

“They start in front of the refrigerator and go into the back hall.”