10At first glance, Maggie thought it looked as though every surface had been splattered with blood. The walls were a Jackson Pollock masterpiece of horror, spaghetti streaks that crisscrossed in layers. One of the victims hung from the ceiling. Electrical cord tied his feet and hands.
Although the man’s body was now bloated, Maggie knew it was his blood on the walls. It didn’t take a blood spatter expert to speculate that his throat had been slashed after he had been hung upside down.
“Looks like he fought for a while,” Turner said what the rest of them were thinking.
She had to look away, and that’s when she noticed the bloody prints on the carpet.
“Someone was barefooted.”
All of them looked up at the man’s feet, corded together at the ceiling and still laced up in tennis shoes. Tur
