"The coffee came up into the back of her throat the way it always did. Madison Knight swallowed hard, forcing the acidic bile back down. This was a messy one; the kind she did her best to avoid. She knew the first officer on scene was speaking, but the words weren’t making it through. Despite her revulsion, her eyes were frozen on what was before her.
The victim lay on a crimson blanket of death, wearing nothing but a lacy camisole. The blood pool reached around her body in an approximate two-foot circumference. The blood had coagulated resulting in a curdled pudding-like consistency. The kitchen floor was a porous ceramic, and the blood had found its way to the grout lines, and seeped through it like veins. Arterial spray had splattered the backsplash like the work of an abstract painter who had fanned a loaded brush against the canvas." - Excerpt