The crime scene was a mess—blood smeared across the pristine marble floors of a luxury penthouse, shards of glass scattered from a broken balcony door. Eric Delko knelt beside the victim, a young woman in a designer dress, her phone still clutched in her hand. The Miami heat mixed with the smell of expensive cologne and something metallic.

"Forced entry," Calleigh muttered beside him, pointing at the shattered lock. "Whoever did this wanted in bad."

Eric’s sharp gaze moved to the open balcony, where the railing was bent inward. His gut told him this wasn’t just a break-in gone wrong.

"The way this railing is bent…" He stood, stepping carefully toward it. "Either she fell trying to escape, or someone dragged her back inside."

He glanced down at the ten-story drop.

"No way she survived that fall if she went over."

Horatio’s voice cut through the humid air. "Then let's find out if she did."

Eric took the phone from her hand, careful with his gloves. The screen was cracked, but still flickered on. A half-typed message sat unsent: "He knows. I have to—"

Eric exchanged a look with Calleigh. "She was trying to warn someone."