I want to pretend I don’t know what he’s talking about. Part of me wants to make him take that first perilous step into the quagmire of words neither of us is good at. “I’m just trying to get my footing here.”

“Are you talking about the case or us?”

“Both, I guess.” I give him a smile. “I think I’m better at the case stuff.”

“Safer ground.” But the hard lines of his face soften. “I wish you’d felt you could call me—”

“I did—”

“And ask me for help without worrying that I was going to lose it.” He smiles. “All you have to do is ask. I’ll be here.”

“I didn’t want to drag you into it.” I motion toward the bloodstained floor. “Put you through this.”

“I’m here because I want to be here.” He looks around the kitchen, sighs, then turns his attention back to me. “I’m a cop, Kate. This is what I do. God knows it’s not always easy. But that doesn’t mean I’m going to turn tail and run every time there’s a bloody crime involving a family.”

“I know you can handle it,” I say. “I didn’t mean to imply otherwise. But that doesn’t mean a crime like this isn’t going to bring back what happened to you. I don’t like seeing you hurt, John. Maybe that’s what I was trying to avoid.”

“I appreciate that. But in all fairness, I think it’s my call. Not yours.”

“Duly noted.” I soften the words with a smile. “If it’s any consolation, I’m glad you’re here.”

We fall back into police mode. Our boots thud dully on the wood floor as we walk into the living room. The three pools of blood are dry now, brick-red and cracked around the edges. The smell is still discernible, but not as strong, and I realize the evidence of death is fading, giving way to the unstoppable force of life. It’s a rule all of us must abide by. No matter what happens, life always goes on.

I take the steps to the second level, giving Tomasetti a few minutes alone to walk and assess the scene. I do a final sweep of the bedrooms, but I know there’s nothing more to glean here. The rooms have been searched multiple times by multiple people. We’ve got everything we’re going to get. It’s not much, but we’ll just have to make do.

Taking a final look at the empty hall, I go back downstairs. I’m anxious to talk to Tomasetti now, get his take on what might have happened, his theories, see if he has anything new to add that no one else has thought of.

I find him standing near the base of the stairs with his back to me. “What do you think?” I ask.