They stood at the door, both hesitant to enter. The apartment's door was ajar.
"Listen," Goren whispered.
Eames nodded as she caught the quiet sound, too. "Trisha Gunther? It's the police." There was no response.
Guns drawn, they crept forward cautiously. The noise was coming from the bedroom.
A baby looked up from a crib where she sat amidst stuffed animals. She pulled herself up by the railing, calling, "Mama?"
Goren lifted the child into his arms and kissed her head. Eames peeked into the bathroom. Their suspect lay in the tub, both arms slashed.
She quickly called for an ambulance, but shook her head sadly at her partner. They were too late.
.