Diane knocked on the door of apartment 4C. �Agnes? Agnes Donovan?� Silence. The door was scuffed and dented, full of fresh-looking holes that looked like the rounded, gaping wounds caused by a baseball bat. Diane and Claire exchanged a look of concern, and both pulled their weapons and held them at the ready.

�Agnes, are you in there? It�s Detective Russell and Detective Kelly from the New York Police Department.� Silence.

Diane tried the door. The handle moved loosely in her fingers, then the bumpy brass doorknob fell off, clanging to the floor. Diane held the filament with her fingers and turned it. The door swung open with a loud creak. Inside the apartment, all the furniture and objects inside were strewn about like the aftermath of a tornado. Blood had splattered everything in the room, including the ceiling and the furniture. Claire radioed for backup and the two proceeded through the apartment to see if there were any survivors, or worse, if the perpetrator was still inside. Diane had a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach.

Diane entered the hallway, careful to look out for anyone who might be lying in wait. She made her way down the hallway with Claire right behind her, and they entered the bedroom. A hulking man stinking of whiskey was slumped over one corner of the bed, limp and lifeless. A bloody baseball bat was still gripped in his hand. Claire rushed over to him to see if he had a pulse, and if so, to make sure the baseball bat was removed from his grasp. Diane rushed into the room and checked for any signs of his killer. Huddled in a corner, whimpering almost inaudibly, sat a small woman, drenched in her own blood, with gashes on her head and arms. She held a gun, gripped tightly to her chest with both hands, as if she were clinging to it for her life. She stared in a daze at the man on the bed.

Claire said from the other corner of the room, �DOA. This guy�s missing the back of his head.�

�Agnes?� Diane stepped into her line of vision. �I�m Diane Russell. We talked earlier this afternoon?� Diane was nearly in tears.

Agnes stared blankly at Diane, and then light seemed to come into her eyes. She was coming back to reality. Suddenly, she pointed her gun straight at Diane.

�You bitch! You deserve to die for what you�ve done to me!�

Agnes pulled the trigger, and the gun exploded. Diane felt the round slam into her chest, and as if in slow motion, felt herself falling backward onto the bed, next to the dead ex-husband.

Claire leapt over the dead guy and grabbed the gun out of Agnes�s hands. Agnes screamed, �Why don�t you shoot me, you stupid bitch? Shoot me! SHOOT ME!�

�Look, if you want to commit suicide, you�ll have to do it yourself. No suicide-by-cop from me,� Claire snarled as she slapped cuffs on Agnes a little harder than necessary.