The front door was unlocked, and Stutely was through it even before the second message reached him. The Sheriff had been here. Was still here, maybe; Scarlet's message hadn't said. Fuck! Why hadn't they had eyes on the house?
"Tuck?" Calling out wasn't the smartest thing he'd ever done. If anyone else was in the house, he'd just announced himself. But Scarlet had said Tuck was hurt, said to hurry, and the memory of packing bags of ice round a corpse in the bathtub curled around his lungs. "Tuck—"
Then came the answering shout and he was running, dropping to a crouch by his friend's side. "Shit! Tuck, what happened?"