I did this, staying behind DeShay while he crept toward the body-definitely Billings, lying facedown. DeShay pulled a latex glove from his pocket, and I told the woman who answered the call to hang on for Sergeant Peters.
DeShay traded the glove for the phone. “Put this on and check for a pulse, Abby.”
While he asked for backup, I snapped on the glove and lifted Billings’s hand, felt his wrist. I found a faint beat beneath my fingertips. “He’s alive.”
DeShay went around to the kitchen, phone to his ear, being careful not to step in the bloody trail that seemed to lead there. I heard him ask for paramedics; then he disappeared down the hall.
I wasn’t sure where all the blood near Billings’s neck was coming from, and felt helpless kneeling next to him, knowing he might be dying and I couldn’t do anything.
DeShay returned to my side and said, “Apartment’s clear.”
Billings hadn’t stirred. I felt for a pulse again. This time I couldn’t find one. “I-I think he’s dead.”
DeShay knelt and rolled Billings over.
I saw the wound, saw where all the blood had come from. His throat was cut.
DeShay bent over Billings, his ear close to the man’s open mouth, checking for any sign of life.
All I could do was gag and turn away.
“CPR won’t do this dude any good. From what I saw he ran out of blood in that kitchen.” DeShay leaned back on his heels. “Maybe God kept him alive to carry him those last steps to this spot.”
The backup police officers and paramedics arrived not long after DeShay led me to a filthy couch and told me not to move or touch anything. By the time Don White arrived, CSU must have already taken a hundred pictures, and bright circles of light blurred my vision. Now the videographer was finishing up.
When White saw me, my skin no doubt the color of a fried egg white, he said, “I should have known you’d be here.”
DeShay was in the kitchen, where apparently Billings had been attacked, and called, “She came with me.”
“That figures.” White turned his attention to the body. Keys, wallet and rolled-up cash that probably once belonged to me had been bagged in plastic by the HCME assistant who’d arrived a few minutes ago.
White knelt by Billings’s body and stared at the neck wound. “That’s a jagged mess. What’d the killer use? A fucking butter knife?”
DeShay came around into the living area. “No weapon found. Probably took it with him. I’ve got a few uniforms searching the shrubs, drains and Dumpsters. Whatever he used didn’t kill Billings right away.”
The ME’s assistant said, “You found no arterial spray, Sergeant Peters?”
“Nope. Just blood in the kitchen where he first fell, then the trail in here. Looks like he crawled to this spot and collapsed.”
The young man nodded. “Killer cut several veins rather than the carotid. The victim probably bled for a good while.”
I said, “Could we have saved him if we’d gotten here sooner?”
White gave me his “why don’t you shut up?” look.
The assistant said, “I can’t answer that.”
“Any footprints other than the victim’s?” White asked, scanning the dark gray carpet.
“No,” DeShay answered. “No sign this was a burglary, either. Like this guy would have anything worth stealing.”
His life was worth stealing, I thought. Probably because he knew something, maybe tried to sell information to a higher bidder than me. But he paid with his life.
White addressed me. “Explain how you and Peters ended up here.”
“Sure, but somewhere else, if that’s okay. You guys may be used to a dead man in the middle of the room, but it’s making me kind of sick.” My mouth felt wiped dry inside, but I didn’t want even one sip of water from this horrible, dirty apartment.
“Somewhere else,” White said with a smirk. “Sure, princess. Wouldn’t want you to have an upset tummy.”
I had no idea why he’d taken such a dislike to me, but it had all started when Emma asked for me to be with her during his first interview with her.
White left DeShay to interview the neighbors who had gathered on the second-level cement walkway bordering the apartments. Maybe someone besides Rodolfo Aguirre heard or saw something tonight. Meanwhile, White and I went down to his unmarked car.
The moment I sat in the front passenger seat, my phone rang. I checked the caller ID and showed the display to White. “It’s Jeff.”
“By all means tell him what you’ve been doing tonight.”
I opened the phone and put it to my ear. “Hey.”
“You getting ready for bed?” he asked.
“Not exactly. I’m sitting in Sergeant White’s car at a crime scene. Hang on.” I looked at White. “Can we go to speakerphone, Sergeant?”
“Why?”
“I think Jeff would like to talk to you.” God knows I needed his help.
“Sure, princess. I’ll talk to a real cop.”
“What happened?” Jeff said. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine. Speaker okay?”
“Yes,” Jeff answered.
I pressed the speaker option. “I’m about to tell you and Sergeant White why I’m here at a murder scene.”
And I did, talking too fast at times-Jeff had to ask me to slow down more than once-and finishing with, “I hope it’s not my fault this man is dead.”
“Your fault? I don’t think you wielded that knife tonight, Abby,” Jeff said. “Don, you there?”
“Yeah, I’m here.”
“I heard about Bennie. I’m sorry, man. How’s his wife doing?”
“You know what she said? She said all these years neither one of us got shot in the line and then he goes down on the job anyway. Fucking bad luck, you ask me.”
“You’re there for them both, though. And that’s good luck. Bet you can’t think about much else,” Jeff said.
“That’s the God’s truth. I guess no one can call your girl off this case, Kline? Not even you?”
“She’s working for a client and has a license to do it. You know that, right?”
White sighed heavily. “I know, but she’s probably the same age as my daughter. She’s gonna get hurt. Then I got these TV assholes to deal with. And your partner? You can have him back the minute you show up. Wants to tell me how to do-”
“Don? If you trust DeShay and if you let Abby do her thing, I promise you they’ll work as hard as any of us. You can spend more time with Bennie that way.”
“I’m still on the job,” White said defensively. “I’m still-”
“Listen to me. Abby and DeShay are the good guys. They’re smart. They can help you.”
White bowed his head. “I never thought anything would be more important than the job. Never. Not until Bennie went down.”
I think I’d been holding my breath through the entire conversation, but I felt like I could relax a little now.
Jeff said, “Abby? You there?”
“Yeah,” I said quietly.
“Work with Don, not against him, okay?”
“Sure. Of course. I’ll call you later.”
I disconnected and looked at White. “I’ve told you all I know. I’m worried about the tail, the one Larry Murray picked up on. Someone could have been following me all day, and that’s how they got to Billings.”
“See, that’s the kind of stuff that worries me, Abby.” At least, thanks to Jeff, all his anger and sarcasm seemed to have dissipated.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“You’re saying a murderer probably followed you around,” he said. “Doesn’t that scare you?”
My turn to be defensive. “Sure it does, but that’s part of my job.”
He smiled. “Tough girl, huh? Who besides the TV company would want to tail you?”
“An investigative reporter from a TV or radio station was sniffing around my house this afternoon. Mary Parsons. She seemed to know I’m working for Emma.”
“I know her. She’s nothing to worry about. Anyone else?”
“I was seen all day with Emma on Monday-the day the house was leveled. Our pictures were even in the Chronicle. Then, after her accident, I made plenty of trips to her hotel. I’ve also had a little publicity of my own in the last few years. Guess it wouldn’t be that hard to figure out who I was and what I do if someone decided to check me out.”