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on the floor just inside the open door of number nine.
    “Stand by, Sarge ’. I think I’ve got a casualty,” he said over the radio.
    He would have loved to have hung back and waited for the other units to arrive , but with an injured person in front of him, he had little choice. Striding up to the door, he pushed it open, Sheena standing behind him, peering nervously over his shoulder.
    “Ch rist,” John gasped.
    “Shit in hell,” Sheena agreed.
    The female officer ducked past John, where he stood in the doorway and she knelt in the pool of blood beside the prostrate woman, immediately checking for signs of life.
    “Police! If there’s anyone in here, show yourself,” John shouted into the house, trying to sound as manly as he could.
    “Sierra X-ray, have we got an ETA for LAS yet?” Sheena asked shakily into her radio.
    “An ambulance is en route to you but they haven’t given an ETA,” the CCC operator responded. “What have you got there?”
    “A fe male lying on the floor, covered in blood, with a serious chest wound,” Sheena advised, desperately trying to remember what she had been told in training about the information she needed to give. “Apparent age, thirty years. Unconscious. Not breathing.”
    John craned his neck, trying to see as much as he could through the open doorways into the ground floor rooms, without taking another step further inside the address. There were no signs of movement, no sounds.
    “What’s happening, mate?” said a voice from directly behind him.
    “Jesus,” John said, almost jumping out of his skin.
    It was Spence and his operator, Danny, who had just arrived on scene. Spence leant forward and looked around John, down at the woman on the floor.
    “Shit, she’s had her soddin’ tits ripped off,” he said, reeling back in shock. “Is she dead? Where’s the suspect?”
    “Dunno,” was all John could say.
    “X-ray, get TSG running,” Spence called up. “We’ve got an armed suspect unaccounted for.”
    The Territorial Support Group was a unit specifically trained to deal with violent people. Pretty much all they did was drive around in carriers, waiting for something to kick off.
    “Go check next door,” John told Spence. “There’s a trail of blood leading into the house. There’s possibly another victim inside.”
    “Okay,” Spence replied, running across the lawn, with Danny behind him.
    “And be careful,” John shouted after him.
    “Three One Two, what have you got?” The radio said. It was the Skipper again, demanding an update.
    John didn’t respond. At the end of the hallway, from a door to the right , a man stepped into view, his face and hands drenched in blood.
    “Get on the ground. Now!” John shouted at him, brandishing his baton.
    Raj didn’t respond. He simply stared back with an empty gaze for a few seconds. Then his lips curled in a snarl and he took a step forward.
    “Get back. Get down on the ground. I don’t want to have to hurt you,” John said now, trying to reason with him.
    Blood and drool dripped from the clearly insane man’s chin, as he now looked at the woman on the floor.
    “Drag her out,” John told Sheena. “Quick.”
    As John crouched to grab the possibly dead woman’s arm, Sheena sprayed her CS, aiming it down the hall at where Raj was stood. The canister’s nozzle had become twisted however, and the jet of liquid went in almost completely the other direction, hitting John square in the face.
    “For fuck’s sake, you got me,” he yelled, already beginning to cough and squinting his eyes.
    Half-blind, he fumbled for the injured woman’s arm, grabbed it, took hold of Sheena, and pulled them both backwards out of the house. He then slammed the door shut between them and the crazed man inside. Another police car was just arriving in the road.
    “Oh shit, oh shit,” John panted and coughed, trying his best to compose himself.
    “I think she’s dead,” Sheena said, looking up at him for