His head was spinning. He was still half-drunk, still half-asleep, still utterly confused and completely panicked.

He vomited across the collected pile of possible evidence on the bed. Then, as his head throbbed and his vision swam, he collapsed face down into the pile of trash and vomit. The realization that he was covered in vomit, damning forensic samples and blood caused him to puke again.

“Baby,” Katie’s voice asked from behind him, “are you okay? What’s going on? What are you doing?”

He rolled in his filth, strings of bile and fast food sticking to his cheek, to face his wife. She was wet with beads of water and her hair hung in dripping strands. She stood in her blue robe with her head cocked slightly to the side. He thought of a curious owl for some reason and immediately felt like a field mouse.

“There’s someone in the bathroom,” he said meekly, “someone dead.”

“I know, babe,” Katie smiled, “we were a little rough with this one. We need to hurry if we want to get rid of her and the mess.”