"May, we need to get in here! Quick! I’m calling the ambulance now." He had his phone out and was already dialing.
As May turned to look through the window, Owen was already on the call, speaking quickly and in a tense voice.
Now she saw why Owen had let out such a horrified cry.
The window looked into a bedroom. But there was nobody on the neatly made bed. The occupant of the room, a dark-haired, slim man, was collapsed on the floor. From the glimpse of his face that she could see, May saw his skin was sheet white.
Beside him, on the floor, she saw a bottle on its side, which looked to have contained pills.
Suicide. The word felt like a punch in the gut. Her witness, their only chance to catch the killer, had attempted to take his own life. Now, every moment counted in the race to possibly save him.
“Shall I smash the window?” Owen asked, disconnecting the phone. “Perhaps we can do CPR. The ambulance is on its way.”
May stared at the thick, solid window glass.
“The door might be easier,” she decided. Then there wouldn’t be a heap of broken glass lying near the collapsed nurse.
Anxiety flaring, May raced to the front door of the house, intent on her mission. Perhaps they could save this man, and they could learn the truth. She was determined not to waste another moment.
May slammed her shoulder against the door. It didn't give. She raised her foot and lashed out in a kick, directly at the lock. The lock was the weakest point of a door. That was where it gave.
Her foot made contact with a satisfying crunch, punching out the splintered wood. The door jolted open from the impact. With the sole of her foot throbbing, May rushed inside at a limping run.
She headed through the tidy house to the bedroom, where Nurse Keyes lay on the floor, his body motionless.
May rushed over to him, bending down, checking his pulse while at the same time, glancing at the empty bottle on the floor.
It was sleeping tablets. She had no idea how many he'd taken. He was unconscious and from May's first aid training, she knew that if he vomited now, it could be fatal. He could choke and die.
His pulse was weak, but she could feel it. His breathing was shallow, barely visible, but he was still breathing at least. If the ambulance was on its way, May thought that he would have achance, but there was still something important she could do, remembering her first aid training.
Quickly, she turned him onto his side, into the recovery position, wanting to make sure that he did not choke if he did vomit the pills up. She watched him again. His breathing looked better now. And then, a thought occurred to her.
This was a suicide attempt for sure. Had he left a note?
May looked around the tidy bedroom, her eyes searching for any sign of one. Most suicide victims left notes. If he'd mentioned the killings, that could provide evidence of his guilt.
There was something, on the bedside table. A folded piece of paper.
Mindful of the evidence trail, May rushed out again to the car. In the trunk, she kept a container with a few gloves and evidence bags for situations like this. She quickly pulled on a glove, grabbed the evidence bag, and rushed back into the silent house.
Then, she approached the bedside table, and picked up the paper.
It was a note. A handwritten one. The note was short and to the point, penned in a hurried scrawl, like the man who wrote it was in a rush, like he'd made up his mind to take final action, and wanted to get the explanation out of the way as soon as he could.
In wobbly handwriting, it said simply,"I can't live with this stress. I didn’t ever mean to treat anyone wrong. Now my life is in ruins. Goodbye, world, forgive me for what I did."
May narrowed her eyes.
This was pointing the way to a confession, especially the mention of stress, but he hadn't referred to the murders directly. It wasn't enough.
But she knew that if they saved Nurse Keyes' life, he might still be able to tell them the truth.
She bagged the note and stepped away from the body, taking out her phone and snapping a shot of the man on the floor, in case it, too, was needed for the case.
Even as she did that, she heard a commotion in the street outside, as the ambulance turned onto the road. Sirens wailed as the vehicle powered up the driveway and then stopped. She heard voices outside as Owen ran to meet the crew, urgently explaining the situation in this home.
May ran to open the front door wide, to allow access for the stretcher. The paramedics rushed in, the stretcher clattering between them.