Cut to the Bone Read Free

you?”
    Rhona played dumb. She didn’t want this assignment. Sifting through files, following up on cold cases, talking to families who had lost hope, was not what she wanted to do. She shook her head. “No.”
    Wisely, Ian said nothing.
    Frank waved the paper. “To follow up on each and every Toronto case which involved an Aboriginal woman and make sure we’ve done everything possible to find them or the perp that killed them.” He slapped the paper on the edge of the desk. “According to this, there aren’t many cases in Ontario, let alone Toronto, so it shouldn’t take you long, especially with two of you working on it. I want to be able to tell the police commissioner and the mayor that we have a perfect record, that we do not neglect any of our citizens.”
    He must be hoping for a promotion or at least a commendation from the city.

THREE
    â€œHello. Anybody home?” Hollis called after she opened the door.
    No answer. Although easy listening music flooded the apartment, it felt empty.
    â€œCome in with me,” Ginny said.
    Hollis felt sorry for Ginny and agreed. With Ginny, still clutching the grocery bag, following her like a puppy on a leash, Hollis flicked on the lights in the hall and then in the living room. Two black leather sofas with contrasting red suede cushions aligned at either end faced each other across a gleaming brass-and-glass coffee table. Black velvet drapes were drawn across the window and a white floktari carpet completed the décor, which looked as if it had just been delivered from Leon’s furniture store. When Hollis turned on the kitchen pot lights, they reflected from a black granite countertop and highlighted stainless steel appliances. Only a coffee maker marred the pristine counter. It could have been an advertisement from Home Depot or IKEA. Perfectly appointed, sparkling clean, and empty.
    â€œEverything is very new,” Hollis said.
    â€œIt is. Fatima thought it needed new furniture.”
    â€œFatima?”
    â€œYes. I rent the apartment from Fatima Nesrallah. You know that she owns all the apartments on the fifth, don’t you?”
    â€œActually, I didn’t. The fees go to the accountant.”
    Hollis knew Fatima and wouldn’t have pegged her as an entrepreneur. People constantly surprised her.
    â€œWhy does it feel spooky?” Ginny whispered.
    Hollis also lowered her voice as they moved down the hall to the two bedrooms. “Maybe because you left all the curtains and blinds shut,” she said as she pushed a door open.
    â€œThis is the master bedroom,” Ginny said.
    An unmade king-size bed with a quilted red satin duvet pulled partly back, piles of silk and velvet pillows tossed on the white rug, along with discarded clothing reflected in the ceiling’s mirrors.
    Mirrors on the ceiling — she wondered if they featured in all the fifth floor apartments. She associated them with honeymoon hotels and bordellos.
    Hollis backed out of the room, colliding with an anxious Ginny. “One to go,” Hollis said.
    Ginny hung on to the shopping bag as if it was a life raft. “I’m afraid,” she whispered.
    â€œI think it’s contagious,” Hollis confessed as she slowly turned the knob and gently pushed the second bedroom’s door open.
    Blood, urine, and feces — the smell assaulted them.
    â€œOh my god,” Ginny whispered.
    Sabrina lay on her back, her throat gaping. Blackened blood stained flowered white sheets, the bedside table, the adjacent wall, and her neatly folded clothes on a chair close to the bed. Blood had spattered her pink coat. Her blood-soaked Snoopy pyjamas added an extra element of pathos to the scene.
    â€œSabrina …” Ginny exhaled the word.
    Hollis stepped into the room and touched Sabrina’s cold hand.
    â€œShe’s dead, isn’t she?” Ginny said.
    â€œShe is. We mustn’t touch anything.” Hollis