CHAPTER TEN
The body hadn’t just been killed, it had been carved.
Alexa stared at the body lying on a rug in the middle of the living room. The rug and the body’s clothing were caked in dried blood. Judging from the spatter on the front wall outside and the trail from the porch over the threshold, the man had been killed on the front porch and dragged inside.
She could not tell who it was. The face had been carved up so badly there wasn’t a face left. Or ears. Or a nose. Bits of flesh lay all over the rug.
But she didn’t need an ID, because daubed in blood on the faded wallpaper were the words, “Sans Bombo = Bob Samson. Good Luck Alexa!”
Agent Barrett came into the room, his face grim.
“Nothing and no one. I’ve searched this whole place. The bed is unmade and looks like it had been s
