Alan’s body was naked, posed, Russ was certain, with his feet together, his hands clasped over his chest as if in prayer. His hair was gone. There were lash marks on his torso and thighs as if he’d been whipped. The ME carefully unclenched Alan’s hands, revealing a blood-encrusted wound directly over his heart. He said, “At the moment I’d say the victim was stabbed in the heart and died instantly. He was transported here sometime after it happened.”
“He has a name. It’s Alan,” Alex whispered, dropping to his knees. He reached for him, only to be restrained by Detective Ogden. “Why?” Alex moaned. He looked up at Ogden, then past him to Jake. “Find the bastard who did this to my love.”
“I will,” Jake whispered.
Russ expected Ogden to tell him to stay out of it, that it was police business. He was relieved when the detective had the grace, or presence of mind, not to—at least for the moment.