Archibald Hendley’s dead fisheyes stared back at him. His throat had been slit. On the floor beside him was a blood-stained knife. Without moving further into the kitchen, Matt’s gaze slowly scanned the room. Where the hell are Susan and her son? He thought. And Constable Curtiss? He pulled out his cell phone and made a call.

“Bill?”

“Is that you Matt? I’m already on-site with my team, bud.”

“I know,” he sighed. &ld...