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Another gentleman and woman got to work securing the scene.
“I checked for pulses when we first entered the room,” Iker admitted.
That was a practical move. Had either of the victims had a pulse, they would have been calling for the EMTs to come into the house to perform life-saving measures.
Iker held up his glove-encased hands. The corner of his mouth tilted up into a smirk. “I’m not a rookie, Milton.”
“Darla, please add to your documentation that Officer Baldwin palpated for a pulse on both bodies.” Milton threw a glare at Iker before turning around to face the scene. The lead CSI tech was very particular about his crime scenes and had read all of them the riot act at least once about his scenes.
Jordan couldn’t be mad at him. It was his team who collected all of the evidence and ensured everything was processed by the book.
But at the same time, they needed to check for proof of life. Had they not checked, then they would have gotten a mouthful about that.
“Got it,” Darla, the female technician, announced.
“Let’s let them do their job. Team, follow me.” Mac was short on his words, but again, that wasn’t unusual. When on the job, the sergeant had a focus like no one Jordan had ever seen.
They all filed out of the room behind Mac. Jordan was curious as to where they were going, but she wouldn’t ask. If Mac said let’s go, then that’s what they did.
They walked through the home that was now crawling with officers, FBI agents, and CSI members combing for clues as to what had happened here. Jordan side-stepped a uniformed officer sweeping something up off the floor into a bag. She didn’t know what it was, nor did she care. She just wanted to make sure she didn’t trip and fall over the man.
Shaking her head, she continued on and followed behind Iker and Zain. She tried to push the phone call with Tamicka from her head, but she had a hard time. She was going to have to start upping her security measures at home. It wouldn’t be hard to find her. Not that she had tried to hide herself.
The team arrived at the door that went to the lower level and into a family room with couches, an insanely large television on the wall, a pool table, and a few arcade video games.
But it wasn’t all of the cool fancy items in the room that drew the attention of every member of the SWAT team.
It was the writing on the wall.
In a dark crimson color.
“Is that blood?” Jordan asked. She moved to stand in front of the team who had gathered around the wall. She hated being the shortest member of the SWAT team. Each of the guys stood over six feet tall while she was five feet five inches.
Ice filled her veins as she took in the writing. This was no suicide note, no deranged ramblings of a man about to kill his girlfriend or himself. Just letters.
Initials.
J.K.K.
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Declan folded his arms.
The other sergeant scowled while staring hard at the wall as if expecting it to answer.
“Have no clue,” Mac said. He turned around, his gaze sweeping the team. The steadfast sergeant had a serious glint in his eyes. By the looks of it, he didn’t like it one bit.
And neither did Jordan.
She glanced back at the wall and knew what the initials stood for. She swallowed and closed her eyes briefly.
J.K.K.
Jordan. Kinsey. Knight.
Her initials, and she knew who was behind it.
How the hell did he find me so damn quickly, and why the hell would he do this here?
“Knight. Are you okay?” Mac’s voice cut through her thoughts.
