CHAPTER NINETEEN
Alexa surveyed the humble but clean apartment she had visited only a few hours before. Ducking under the police tape, she edged around a large bloodstain taking up half the floor of the hallway, saw a bit of spray on the wall near the door, and noticed the baseball bat lying on the floor in the middle of the pool of blood.
Stuart edged past her and into the living room while the officer on guard remained in the hallway, shooing away curious neighbors.
She looked into the bedroom and saw Erasmo laid out on the bed, body straight, hands folded over his chest, eyes shut. Only the garish puncture wound in his throat showed her he wasn’t playing dead.
“Annette says he was killed almost instantly,” Stuart said. “No other wounds. No gunshot wound to the back of the head as us
