Bloodborn by Kathryn Fox Read Free Book Online

doors of ICU for anyone with news of his daughter.” She checked the rearview mirror. “Not the most satisfying part of the job.”
    Liz Gould was unusual in Homicide. A new mother and back full-time within weeks of the birth, she had to be under considerable stress. Her usual warmth was understandably lacking today. She seemed shut-down. Sitting with the father would have taken its emotional toll.
    “Should he be a suspect?”
    Liz stared at the road ahead. “Gut feeling tells me no but the stats aren’t in his favor. His grief seems pretty genuine to me, but that doesn’t always mean much.”
    Anya knew the police would need to exclude the father and close family members before they even considered any other suspects. Experience taught them to look at those closest to the victims, then work outward. Unfortunately, that caused even more distress for those already suffering the worst imaginable loss.
    “Is the girls’ mother around?”
    “Divorced years ago. She died last year from breast cancer and the girls decided to stay on in her house. There’s something I don’t understand. If the slash to the neck was so dangerous, how did Sophie manage to crawl without killing herself?”
    “No one knows. The ambulance officers did a hell of a job just transferring her safely.”
    Liz Gould’s phone rang a number of times. On speakerphone, a male voice proudly announced that their little boy had just sat up for the first time. He was about to send a photo.
    “Honey, that’s great but I’m with someone and can’t talk.”
    Liz’s husband sounded deflated when she said she would be home late.
    The female detective let out a sigh and glanced over at Anya.
    “Sorry about that. He thinks his child came out a genius.”
    Anya remembered what those early few months were like. As she was struggling with exhaustion after a marathon labor and delivery, Martin would brag to anyone who would listen about how great their child was, how well behaved and what a perfect sleeper. Her recollections of Ben as a newborn were very different from her former husband’s. Instead of time mellowing those images, they had been permanently etched onto her memory.
    “What is your son—six months?”
    “Four and a half. He probably pulled himself up and waited a second before tipping over. To his father, that counts.”
    It triggered memories of Anya’s experience. Just when she thought she could not cope any longer with sleep deprivation and motherhood, Ben looked at her with huge blue eyes and beamed a smile. One relaxation of a few facial muscles and she thought her heart would burst. From that moment on, she was tied to motherhood and adored her only child.
    Liz paused at the lights. “How old is your little one?”
    “Ben just turned five and started school.”
    With one hand, the new mother fiddled with her bra strap beneath the collar of her shirt. “Please tell me it gets better.”
    Anya grinned. “Every day. Once the overnight feeds stop, everything becomes easier. Can I make a suggestion?”
    The lights turned green and the car accelerated forward.
    “Sure.”
    “Check out YouTube. Search for laughing baby. There’s a clip on there of a baby laughing at some noise. Just hearing it makes you want to keep going.”
    “I’ll do that.”
    The car pulled up at a bend along Rosemount Place, a quiet suburban street. The crime scene had been cordoned off with tape. Up a long, sloped driveway was the house. A uniformed constable stood guard to direct any traffic around the scene. The detective removed a nail file from the middle console and slipped off both shoes.
    “New leather soles,” she said, scraping the bottoms of her shoes with the file into a backward “G.” “Now if I stick my hoof in the wrong place, everyone will know it’s my print, no one else’s.”
    Anya preferred the disposable shoe covers pathologists wore in the morgue and at scenes.
    The pair climbed out and the car beeped when the doors locked. The