Precious Blood Read Free Page A

everyone know? Jenner stepped away, muttering he was fine, thanks.
    She let him go and said, “You’re working for her family?”
    He nodded—good, change the subject. “Yes. The roommate’s uncle is a good friend.”
    Her eyes narrowed. “Y’know, I’ve never been at a death scene with a private forensic pathologist before.”
    He shrugged. “Yeah. It’s a first for me, too. Her dad is a pretty well-connected lawyer in Boston, and he’s been pulling strings.”
    She snorted. “Not just any lawyer, Jenner—corporate counsel for Massachusetts. DA Klein called me himself to invite me here. On a Sunday, no less!”
    She smoothed her hair. “So, what do you make of the scene?”
    He looked at the body. “I really don’t have any background story. Can you fill me in?”
    The solicitousness vanished. “Well, Doc, what we have is this: victim is a law student over at Hutchins, lives here with your friend’s niece. They may be lovers, the two women who live downstairs don’t know for sure. They think so, but they’re not sure. But they’re lovers, okay?”
    “The women downstairs?”
    “Yeah, they own the building.” She continued. “Anyway, they’re at their house upstate in Woodstock, and they have a fight. Sandy drives back into the city around four a.m., drops her car at the garage, then walks home. She’s really tired, but she can’t sleep because the TV’s on really loud upstairs. So she calls up to the dead girl, Andrea, no answer.
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    “She tries to sleep, but it’s not happening, TV’s still blaring away. She calls them on the phone again, again no reply.
    Now she’s really pissed, so she goes up and knocks on the door. Still no answer. She’s starting to freak out, so she gets her passkey and goes in.
    “She says she immediately knows something’s really wrong because of the smell—apparently she’s got this thing about smell, makes scented candles and such—so she runs downstairs and calls 911.”
    Jenner nodded. “What do you have on time of death?”
    She gestured toward the kitchen. “Empty mailbox, open letters on the kitchen table, no messages on the answering machine. Oh, and the phone’s dead—the line’s cut in the kitchen. Her body’s pretty fresh, and the lights were on.
    She’s in full rigor, so we’re thinking last night, early this morning at the latest.”
    She paused, waiting for a reaction. Jenner had none.
    “We didn’t find a weapon.” She hesitated a second. “And I don’t know what to make of your friend’s niece—” She glanced at her notebook. “Ana de Jong. We don’t know if she was here, if she’s a victim, a witness, an accomplice, whatever. No one knows where she is.”
    Jenner shook his head. “There’s a good chance she’s a second victim. The bathroom door’s been kicked in, and I found a clump of long, bleached-blond hair.”
    “Shit! I was hoping she wasn’t there.” Her eyes went to the wounds on the body at her feet. “God. If he’s got her, I almost hope she’s already dead—God knows what he could do with her, tucked away somewhere private.”
    They walked down the hall toward the bathroom, where Seeley was processing the door frame. She asked, “What can you tell me about Ana?”
    “Nothing—I’d never heard of her before this morning. The victim’s father woke me six thirty a.m. Douggie Pyke—my friend—had given him my name. And now I can’t reach Precious Blood
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    Douggie—he’s working somewhere in Africa, and his satellite phone number isn’t working.”
    She shook her head. “That must have been a hard conversation, the one with the dad.”
    “He seemed pretty tough. He told me his daughter had been murdered, that Douggie said I was good, said he knew my fees, and could I start right away. And that was it—the whole conversation lasted five minutes, tops.”
    Mike Seeley, standing by the door with a hand lens, interrupted. “Jenner, what do you think? There’s some blood