Damage Control HTML version

Timothy Gilbert
Damage Control
the kitchen entrance and the surrounding wall space had been torn to shreds, drawing Joe to run
his fingers across the bullet entries. No small gun could have produced that kind of damage.
Mr. and Mrs. Harold Linder were each tied to a chair on the backside of the kitchen
island. Their throats had been slit, while Harold‟s left pinky laid on the floor. The gasoline source
blanketed Mrs. Linder, soaking her neck down and pooling at her feet. The Linders looked to be
in their 50‟s.
Joe leaned in for a closer look: the large patch of hair missing in Mrs. Linder‟s head was
just a few inches above her broken right eye socket, and her right hand fingernails had bloody
skin on them, indicating severe scratching of the attacker.
“She must have put up a hell of a fight,” Joe said calmly, running his fingers lightly
through Mrs. Linder‟s hair and finding a sizeable lump on the side of her head. Tiny glass pieces
covered the Linders‟ clothing.
“We found another guy in this hallway.” Officer Tom pointed to the back hallway
leading to the garage. “You should see the garage.”
Joe looked at Officer Tom in disbelief. “More bodies in the garage?”
“No, but the sedan is a quarter way out of the garage…its front doors are open, the keys
are in the ignition and its rear end is smashed in,” Officer Tom stated flatly.
It must have been awfully loud when all of this went down. Maybe a neighbor heard, or,
even better, saw something.
Faint laughter suddenly filled the house and the two officers looked at the detective.
Another burst of laughter….from a woman… upstairs. They drew their guns, then fanned out.
Joe spotted the staircase in the kitchen leading to the back of the house and started his
way up the stairs with his gun pointed upward to the second floor landing. The stairs led to a
bedroom, bathroom and a closed door that Joe suspected was another bedroom. This part of the