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The door is wide open when they arrive.

Directly in front of them lies a carpeted staircase covered in blood, with more pooled under the bottom step.

Detective Crow is careful to walk around it as he enters

the house. He follows the blood trail down the hall and into the living room. Here, he pauses to

take in the scene. A gasp sounds behind him, followed by fading footsteps as the officer runs

outside to be sick. Crow narrows his eyes. Half of the little girl

lies on the couch. The rest of her body is on the floor beside it. She's been torn in two like a

piece of paper, albeit much messier. Blood and guts soak into the couch cushions, the smell of

death nearly unbearable. Her mother lies on the other side of

the room. Her head is split open, and half her brain is missing, leaving a crater in the skull.

Her body is so bloodied, it's hard to tell what part of her is what. There is a little boy nearby,

in a similar condition to the mother. Bone sticks out of his skin and blood covers his

gene overalls. Crow looks away and sucks in a calming breath. When he looks back, he spots another

pile of blood and organs in front of the fireplace. He carefully shuffles over and finds less

of a pile and more of a shape, or a pattern maybe.

The half-brain sits in the center, with dots and lines of blood around it, and a heart above it.

Crow cannot even begin to think what it could mean.

Now, for the father, the detective follows the sound of whimpering through the adjacent door,

and finds the man crouched in the corner of the

kitchen. He is covered in blood, but not drenched. He looks up when Crow clears his throat.

I didn't. I don't. The man shakes his head, struggling to form syllables. His eyes are glassy,

...