Criminal

offered a panoramic view of Midtown. The Equitable building. Georgia Power. The Westin Peachtree Plaza.
    And, in the distance, Techwood.
    Two couches and four chairs were arranged around a fifty-two-inch flat-screen television. DVD player. VCR. CD player. There was a galley kitchen. A wet bar. Dining room seating for ten. A large desk with an Aeron chair. A half bath with a telephone mounted on the wall. The toilet paper was folded into a rose. The faucet was a gold-plated swan, its mouth opened to release a stream of water as soon as its wings were turned.
    “This way,” Amanda said. The door to the bedroom was half-closed. She used her foot to push it the rest of the way open.
    Will breathed through his mouth. He expected to smell the familiar, metallic scent of blood. He expected to find a thin, blonde girl with vacant eyes and perfect fingernails.
    What he found instead was his father.
    Will’s knees buckled. Sara tried to hold him up, but she wasn’t strong enough. He slumped against the door. There was no sound in the room. Amanda’s mouth was moving. Sara was trying to tell him something, but his ears wouldn’t work. His lungs wouldn’t work. His vision skewed. Everything took on a red tone, as if he was looking at the world through a veil of blood.
    The carpet was red. The curtains. The sun coming through the windows—it was all red.
    Except for his father.
    He was on the bed. Lying on his back. Hands clasped together on his chest.
    He had died in his sleep.
    Will screamed in rage. He kicked the door, crushing the handle into the wall. He grabbed the floor lamp and threw it across the room. Someone tried to stop him. McGuire. Will punched him in the face. And then he collapsed to the floor as a baton pounded against the back of his knees. Two cops were on top of him. Three. Will’s face was pushed into the carpet. A strong hand kept it there as his arm was wrenched around. A handcuff clamped around his wrist.
    “Don’t you dare!” Sara yelled. “Stop!”
    Her words were like a slap. Will felt his senses come back. He realized what he was doing. That he had been completely and totally out of control.
    And that Sara had seen it all.
    “Officers.” Amanda’s tone held a steely warning. “Let him go. Immediately.”
    Will stopped struggling. He felt some of the pressure lessen. The female cop leaned down so that Will could see her face. Mimi. She asked, “Are we gonna be okay?”
    Will nodded.
    The key clicked into the handcuffs. His arm was freed. Slowly, they all climbed off him. Will didn’t stand immediately. He turned his head to the carpet. He pressed his palms flat to the floor. He sat back on his heels. He was breathless. The sound of his blood pounded in his ears.
    “Asshole.” Bob McGuire’s hand covered his nose. Blood seeped between his fingers.
    Amanda said, “Mr. McGuire, I hope you’ll excuse us?”
    The man looked like he would prefer to kick Will in the teeth.
    Mimi offered, “I’ll get you some ice.” She put her hand to McGuire’s elbow and escorted him from the room. The two other cops followed.
    “Well.” Amanda let out a long sigh. “Dr. Linton, can you estimate time of death?”
    Sara didn’t move. She was looking at Will. She wasn’t mad. She wasn’t disgusted. There was a slight tremor to her body. He could tell she wanted to help him. Longed to help him. That she did not made him love her with a piercing clarity.
    Will pushed his hands to the floor. He stood up. He straightened his jacket.
    Amanda said, “The last time anyone saw him was approximately seven last night. He called room service to remove his tray. He put the breakfast card on the door.”
    Room service. Penthouse suites. Dying peacefully in his sleep.
    “Dr. Linton?” Amanda said. “Time of death would be very helpful.”
    Sara was shaking her head even before Amanda finished her request. “I don’t have the proper tools. I can’t move the body until it’s photographed. I don’t even have gloves.”
    Amanda unzipped her purse. “The thermostat was set on seventy when the first unit arrived.” She offered Sara a pair of surgical gloves. “I’m sure you can give us something.”
    Sara looked at Will again. He realized that she was waiting for his permission. He nodded, and she took the gloves. Her face changed as she walked over to the bed. He’d seen this happen many times before. She was good at her job. Good at separating who she was from what she had to do.
    Will had