Bonnie arrived at the scene. A frown creased her forehead, but she quickly shifted into professional mode.
"No foreign footprints," she stated, her voice clipped. "Preliminary assessment rules out homicide. The deceased has multiple hesitation wounds on the arms, consistent with self-harm."
She stood over me, analyzing the wreckage of my life with clinical detachment.
"All evidence points to suicide. We'll need the autopsy to confirm."
She paused, letting out a rare sigh. "It's almost New Year's. What could have driven him to end it all right now?"
Spencer shook his head. "Yeah. No family here to identify him, either. Poor guy. He looks young."
He glanced at Bonnie, his tone turning casual. "Captain, I noticed you drove in from the south side. Were you celebrating the holiday with your husband, or out having fun somewhere else?"
Bonnie froze.
Her gaze drifted toward the residential complex in the distance—toward our apartment. Amidst the sea of festive lights, our windows remained dark.
She opened her mouth, but the words died in her throat. Instead, she shot Spencer a sharp look and returned to her work.