Shattered by Jay Bonansinga Read Free Book Online Page B

wasn’t exactly a perfect enunciation of the word “Papa,” but it was close enough. Grove hugged the baby to his cheek and breathed in the talcum and cream aroma of the child’s latte-colored skin.
    â€œYou been a good boy for Mommy?” Grove looked at Aaron’s mouth, saw the little white Chiclet peaking out of his drool-soaked lower gum. “All the teething keeping you up?”
    â€œPuh!”
    â€œThat’s right—Puh’s here!”
    Grove hugged the baby once more for good measure, then turned, carried the child out of the room, and descended the stairs.
    Maura had left a bottle of breast milk in the fridge alongside the pork chop, and Grove made himself and the boy a midnight snack. Grove sliced the chop thin, toasted a kaiser roll, and heated the bottle in the microwave. Then the twosome retired to the screened-in porch jutting off the rear of the house to dine in the dark silence and watch the distant storm retreat over the northwest range of the Shenendoahs. They snuggled into an Adirondack chair, the baby in Grove’s lap, chewing contentedly on the bottle’s nipple, Grove munching on his sandwich. The cool air smelled of ozone and pine. In the far distance the heat lightning snapped across the granite peaks like tinsel.
    Grove could not get the the Mississippi Ripper out of the rear chambers of his mind.
    It was something that he avoided whenever possible—thinking about this stuff around his family—but sometimes it was just plain irresistible. And tonight he could not shake the sensation that he was on the cusp of another takedown. All he had to do was collate the latest breakthroughs with the lab, and get Brian Dunham at Quantico to do his magic with the Violent Criminal Apprehension Program data, and close the net.
    Aaron tossed the empty bottle across the porch, and then fidgeted in Grove’s lap.
    â€œOkay, okay already,” Grove murmured and rose and gently put the baby down on the Astroturf floor where a pile of Fisher-Price plastic beads and blocks lay strewn. Aaron immediately started cooing and batting at the toys.
    Grove started pacing, thinking about something he forgot. He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and placed a call to Los Angeles. It was 10:00 P.M. on the west coast and still early enough to catch Cedric Gliane, the world’s foremost DNA expert, before he faded away for the night.
    â€œGliane here,” the voice crackled in Grove’s ear.
    â€œCedric, it’s Grove.”
    â€œUlysses—”
    â€œSorry to call at this hour—we’re redlining on the Mississippi Ripper. Is this a bad time?”
    There was a pause, a sigh, and a series of rustling sounds on the other end.
    â€œI can call back in the morning,” Grove said, pacing across the porch, keeping Aaron in his peripheral vision, the sound of the wind rattling something in the backyard.
    â€œNaw, it’s okay, I’m just wading through a sea of junk e-mails,” the voice said.
    â€œYou’re gonna get a new series tomorrow, Cedric, and I’m wondering if you can put a rush on it.”
    â€œFrom the St. Louis scene?”
    â€œYep, got a whole boatload of material off the vics this time, both secretions and tissues.”
    Another pause.
    Grove listened to the banging sound echoing across the darkness of deserted lawns, blending with the low intermittent rumble of thunder. What he didn’t notice was that Aaron had crawled all the way over to the opposite corner of the porch, and the banging sound was coming from the screen door, which had blown free of its latch, and now Aaron was crawling through the open doorway.
    The voice in Grove’s ear said, “You airlifting it?”
    â€œYes, sir, Hollister’s got his Tactical guys on it, they’re flying it out to you as we speak.”
    â€œOkay, I’ll clear my desk in the morning and have the rapid-test back to you before 5:00 your