"Possible, but even the undead have a limit to what they can eat." I took a deep breath. "Did you find any signs of - regurgitation."
"Regurgitation." He smiled. "Nice word. No, the creature didn't eat and then vomit. At least we haven't found it."
"Then the boy's probably still around somewhere."
"Could he be alive?" Dolph asked.
I looked up at him. I wanted to say yes, but I knew the answer was probably no. I compromised. "I don't know."
Dolph nodded.
"The living room next?" I asked.
"No." He walked out of the room without another word. I followed. What else could I do? But I didn't hurry. If he wanted to play tough, silent policeman, he could damn well wait for me to catch up.
I followed his broad back around the corner through the living room into the kitchen. A sliding glass door led out onto a deck. Glass was everywhere. Shiny slivers of it sparkled in the light from yet another skylight. The kitchen was spotless, like a magazine ad, done in blue tile and rich light-colored wood. "Nice kitchen," I said.
I could see men moving around the yard. The party had moved outside. The privacy fence hid them from the curious neighbors, as it had hidden the killer last night. There was just one detective standing beside the shiny sink. He was scribbling something in a notebook.
Dolph motioned me to have a closer look. "Okay," I said. "Something crashed through the sliding glass door. It must have made a hell of a lot of noise. This much glass breaking even with the air-conditioning on . . . You'd hear it."
"You think so?" he asked.
"Did any of the neighbors hear anything?" I asked.
"No one will admit to it," he said.
I nodded. "Glass breaks, someone comes to check it out, probably the man. Some sexist stereotypes die hard."
"What do you mean?" Dolph asked.
"The brave hunter protecting his family," I said.
"Okay, say it was the man, what next?"
"Man comes in, sees whatever crashed through the window, yells for his wife. Probably tells her to get out. Take the kid and run."
"Why not call the police?" he asked.
"I didn't see a phone in the master bedroom." I nodded towards the phone on the kitchen wall. "This is probably the only phone. You have to get past the bogeyman to reach the phone."
"Go on."
I glanced behind me into the living room. The sheet-covered couch was just visible. "The thing, whatever it was, took out the man. Quick, disabled him, knocked him out, but didn't kill him."
"Why not kill?"
"Don't test me, Dolph. There isn't enough blood in the kitchen. He was eaten in the bedroom. Whatever did it wouldn't have dragged a dead man off to the bedroom. It chased the man into the bedroom and killed him there."
"Not bad, want to take a shot at the living room next?"
Not really, but I didn't say it out loud. There was more left of the woman, Her upper body was almost intact. Paper bags enveloped her hands. We had samples of something under her fingernails. I hoped it helped. Her wide brown eyes stared up at the ceiling. The pajama top clung wetly to where her waist used to be. I swallowed hard and used my index finger and thumb to raise the pajama top.
Her spine glistened in the hard sunshine, wet and white and dangling, like a cord that had been ripped out of its socket.
Okay. "Something tore her apart, just like the . . . man in the bedroom."
"How do you know it's a man?"