I lower my eyes and that’s when I see it, around the corner of the stairwell. A foot sticking out, attached to a lifeless body on the ground. A pair of dead eyes stare up at the ceiling, and a pool of blood spreads slowly across the living room floor. I recognize what I’m looking at immediately, and it takes everything I have not to collapse onto the floor. It’s Jonathan Lowell. And someone’s slit his throat.
