“Todd Long!” I shout. “Open the door now!” I’m about to pull away and wait for Glock to pile-drive the door when something snags my eye. Cupping my hands, I put my face to the glass. At first, I think the massive stain on the wall behind the sofa is food or drink. The kick of adrenaline in my gut tells some part of my brain it’s not.

“Shit.”

“No sign of anyone.” Tomasetti takes the steps two at a time and stands next to me.

“I think that’s blood on the wall,” I say.

Grimacing, he puts his face to the window and looks inside. “I think you’re right.”

He’s nearly a foot taller than me and has a better vantage.

“Any sign of a body?” I ask.

“Can’t see much from this angle.” He looks over at me. “Are you reasonably suspicious of foul play here?”

I jerk my head and try not to think of his unofficial status. “Do it.”

He steps back, then lands a kick next to the lock.

Wood splinters and the door flies open. Before I can move, Tomasetti drops into a shooter’s stance and thrusts himself inside. “Police! Put your hands up!”

My weapon leading the way, I follow him. Tomasetti goes right, toward the kitchen. I go left where the living room opens to a hall. I smell blood an instant before I see the body. On the other side of the room, Todd Long is sitting upright on the sofa, his arms and legs splayed. His head leans against the back-rest. His face is angled up, toward the ceiling, as if he fell asleep while watching TV. From where I stand, I can see that the back of his head is missing. His hand grips a big .45 revolver.

“Aw, shit.” Tomasetti’s voice reaches me as if from a great distance.

“Looks like we’re a little late,” I hear myself say.

“Or maybe we timed this just right.” I look at him and he shrugs. “Son of a bitch saved everyone a lot of time and trouble.”

I don’t agree with that; I have too many questions rolling around in my head. That’s not to mention my need to see justice done for the Plank family. But my thoughts are too scrambled at the moment to rebuff his statement.

“I’m going to clear the rest of the trailer.” Tomasetti heads down the narrow hall toward the bedrooms.

I can’t take my eyes off the dead man. Sightless eyes stare at the ceiling. His mouth is open and filled with blood. I see powder burns on his lips. Broken front teeth. Blowback covers the wall behind him. I can make out tiny pieces of brain tissue, blood and small flecks of bone on the dark paneling.