Mission: Cavanaugh Baby. Marie FerrarellaЧитать онлайн книгу.
when he’d been shot by a thief whose path they had accidentally crossed.
That had had not just one repercussion, but two. He’d temporarily lost his partner—and permanently lost his fiancée.
Better to find out now than later, he told himself not for the first time.
It still didn’t help.
Wilson would be back on his feet soon enough, Shane thought. Right now, he was going to just enjoy the fact that he was unencumbered in the car and that no one was chattering nonstop about the “rare herbs and spices” he’d used to prepare some exotic recipe and coaxing him to sample something that appeared better suited to a landfill than a plate.
Shane got to the apartment complex in less than ten minutes. The ambulance had beaten him.
Because there appeared to be no parking spot readily available in what was designated as guest parking, and all the regular spaces corresponding to the apartments were already filled, Shane decided to park his sedan behind the police department’s Animal Control truck. He had little use for people attached to the department who spent their days picking up roadkill.
A crowd was beginning to gather right outside the ground-floor apartment the captain had scribbled down on the paper.
“This must be the place,” Shane said to himself. Getting out of his vehicle, he crossed to the first patrolman he saw and issued an order. “Keep these people back until we know what we’re dealing with. Can’t have them trampling all over what might be part of the crime scene.”
The patrolman, a veteran of the department for twenty-two years, laughed softly to himself as he muttered under his breath. “Too late,” Shane heard him say as he was about to walk away.
Since his father, Sean, was the head of the day shift’s Crime Scene Investigation unit, Shane was exceedingly mindful of the preservation of any and all evidence that might pertain to the crime under investigation.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” He wanted to know.
Rather than apologize or retract his comment, the officer explained his remark. “Dog’s been running through everything.”
Shane scowled, looking around the immediate area outside the apartment in question.
“What dog?” he asked. Before the officer could say a word, the incessant barking began again.
The officer Shane had confronted winced. “That dog,” he answered, pointing at the open door and into the apartment.
Taking a step to the side, Shane peered in and was stunned. The dog, so boisterous just seconds ago, had stopped barking. Instead of running around the way the patrolman seemed to indicate he’d been doing, the animal was now safely and silently in the arms of what appeared to be a policewoman.
Leaving the patrolman to herd the onlookers back behind the barricades that had been put up, Shane walked into the apartment to look around.
There was an absolute maze of red paw prints zigzagging all over the faded beige carpeting in the living room and the cracked vinyl kitchen floor.
Apparently the policewoman hadn’t been nearly fast enough scooping up the neurotic canine. It was obvious that the terrier had run through the victim’s pool of blood more than just a few times.
Someone from his father’s department was there already, taking copious photographs. The clicking shutter was just so much background noise as Shane made his way over to the body on the floor.
For the first time since he’d joined the force, Shane came dangerously close to revisiting his breakfast. The gaping wound in the woman’s abdomen was almost surreal.
No one could lose this amount of blood and live, he thought. He touched the side of her neck just to be sure. There was no pulse.
“This woman doesn’t need a bus any longer. She belongs to the medical examiner now.” Looking closer, he saw there was something about the way the blood was smeared on one side that didn’t look right to him. His field of expertise was mainly white-collar crime, but he knew a bit about blood patterns, thanks to his father. “Who moved the body?” He wanted to know.
“I did.”
The answer came from his right. Turning, Shane found himself looking at the officer who was holding the terrier. For the first time, as he focused on her, he realized that the perky-looking policewoman was covered with blood herself. Lots of blood. More, he thought, than he would have expected from someone checking out the crime scene.
“Why did you move her?” he asked.
“I thought she was only wounded,” Ashley explained. “I didn’t realize that someone had cut out her baby.”
His eyes narrowed. Aurora was supposed to be this peaceful little city. What the hell was going on? He studied the woman in front of him. “You saying she was pregnant?”
Ashley nodded. As the dog began to whimper, she rocked slightly to soothe the animal in the same fashion a mother would rock to soothe a cranky child.
“Yes.”
Was there more going on here than he’d thought? “Did you know her?”
Using small concentric circles to pet the animal she held against her, the policewoman shook her head. “No.”
Had she just gotten caught in a lie? “Then how did you know she was pregnant?”
“First thing that came to mind when I saw the nature of the wound,” she responded. “And then there were her final words—”
“She was alive when you first saw her?” he asked, surprised.
Ashley couldn’t figure out if the detective was mocking her or if he just didn’t have any people skills. For now, she gave him the benefit of the doubt.
“That’s why I called for an ambulance,” she told him. “I tried to stop the blood.”
She was supposed to be a professional, Ashley told herself. After all, it wasn’t as if she’d never seen blood before, or been around something that was dying or already dead. But what had gone down here this morning had her feeling as if she was walking in labored slow motion through a nightmare. A nightmare she should be able to wake up from.
“That would explain the jacket,” he commented, glancing down at the blood-soaked article of clothing. “As well as the bloodstains on your knees.” He looked at her for a long moment, then asked, “Where were you again this morning?”
There was no “again.” He hadn’t asked that question, Ashley thought. What was he trying to do here?
“I went to work this morning. My lieutenant gave me this address, said a complaint had been lodged about a dog in the apartment that wouldn’t stop barking. The caller said the dog had been barking off and on for several hours.”
Shane nodded at the almost docile dog in her arms. “That dog?”
Without fully realizing it, she closed her arms protectively around the animal. “Yes.”
“Seems pretty quiet to me,” he observed.
Ashley continued stroking the dog. “I have a way with animals. Besides, I think he’s emotionally tired out.”
He watched as she continued to stroke the dog. The animal seemed to be leaning into her, as if he thought he was safe.
“‘Emotionally tired out’?” Shane repeated rather skeptically.
His tone, she judged, was intended to get her to back away from her observation. She didn’t. “That’s what I said.”
“Dogs have emotions.” It wasn’t a question so much as a mocking statement.
Ashley forced herself to bite back a few choice words about the barely veiled sarcasm in his voice. She had a feeling that challenging the detective would only result