No, no, no!
It was like a knife thrust into my heart, then twisted until I screamed. Kyle had hurt me badly, and he wanted me to know something: there was worse to come. This was just the beginning.  I stood silent and transfixed in the bedroom of Zach and Liz Taylor.
My eyes were blurred by tears. Two of my dearest friends were dead.  I had been to their house dozens of times before - for parties, dinner, late-night talks. Zach and Liz had visited on Fifth Street many times.  Zach was Godfather to little Alex.
My only consolation was that they had died quickly. Kyle was probably nervous about getting caught. He knew he had to get in and out of their apartment in the Adams-Morgan section of Washington quickly.
Whatever his reason, he had killed the Taylors with single gunshots to the head. He hadn’t bothered to mutilate the bodies. I thought the message was clear: This wasn’t about them.  It was about the two of us.
Zach and Liz Taylor hadn’t mattered one way or the other to him.  Maybe that was the worst thing of all. How easily he could kill. How much he wanted to hurt me.
This was just the start of it.
It would get worse.
There was no evidence of rage, no passion at this crime scene. I almost got the sense that once he was inside their bedroom he’d had second thoughts. Oh Kyle, Kyle............