2
Nobody had bothered cleaning the blood and gore off the parents’ bed. That would have required a separate call to a separate unit, and maybe by then they knew everything was going to be turned into splinters and dust by the demolition equipment, so why bother tidying up?
Gina held the wad of napkins harder against her nose and mouth. She didn’t want to even accidentally breathe in the smell. She knew she should go in, look around, lift things, look under things, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it.
Soft, she scolded herself.
She’d own that.
But there was no one around she had to impress, and she needed to be mindful of her time. The son lived in the shed out back. She should focus her attention there.
She turned from the bedroom where the son had shot his parents while they sle
