Her Final Breath (The Tracy Crosswhite Series Book 2) by Robert Dugoni Page A

was glad Shirley wouldn’t have to see her daughter’s body twisted and contorted.
    Shirley Berkman stepped to the edge of the table with her arms crossed, hugging herself. Lawrence kept an arm around her shoulders. Funk stood on the opposite side, hand on the sheet. When Shirley gave a subtle nod, Funk lowered the sheet. Shirley’s hand shot to her mouth, and silent tears leaked from her eyes and rolled down her cheeks, but she did not turn away or collapse. She did not cry out, disbelieving. Shirley had a look of tortured resignation, and Tracy could not help but think she had envisioned this moment, or one like it.
    “That’s Veronica,” Lawrence said, brow furrowed, eyes dry.
    Funk began to replace the sheet, but Shirley reached out and Funk stepped back. Shirley shrugged Lawrence’s arm from her shoulder and leaned close to her daughter.
    “Shirls,” Lawrence said.
    His wife ignored him. She gently caressed Veronica’s forehead and cheeks and lightly stroked her hair. Shirley Berkman looked wistful, as if reliving memories she and her daughter once shared, and now her own regrets. The tableau hit Tracy like a blow to the chest and she felt herself flush. She was having difficulty swallowing. Her eyes watered. It was a moment neither she nor her parents had ever shared with Sarah, a moment to say good-bye. Tracy blamed herself for that. She blamed herself for not being with Sarah when she’d been abducted. And now she found herself feeling guilty for not having captured the Cowboy before he’d had the chance to kill again, inflicting pain and grief on another family. Kins noticed her becoming emotional and gave her a reproachful look. Tracy willed herself to regain her composure.
    Shirley kissed her daughter’s cheek a final time, wiped her tears, and stepped back. Funk replaced the sheet.
    “What happens now?” Lawrence asked.
    “There’ll be an autopsy,” Funk said.
    “Why?” he said. “What’s the point?”
    “We need to understand why she’s dead,” Funk said.
    “It’s important to determine the cause of death, time of death, and whether there is any forensic evidence we are unable to see but that may have contributed to her death,” Kins said.
    “Or that may lead us to the person who did this,” Tracy said.
    “It’s that asshole boyfriend of hers,” Lawrence said, pupils small and fixed on Tracy. “He got her into that crap, that lifestyle. Hell, just go arrest him. What’s that piece of shit’s name?”
    “Taggart. Bradley Taggart,” Shirley said, sounding tired. She dabbed at the corner of her eyes with a tissue.
    “He was sleeping with her when she was fifteen, but you people never did anything about that. He used to beat her up too,” Lawrence said. “There’s your suspect. Go talk to him.”
    “We intend to,” Tracy said. She took a step to get out of Lawrence’s line of fire. “Mrs. Berkman, are you aware of your daughter seeing anyone other than Mr. Taggart? Did she ever talk to you about anyone?”
    Shirley shook her head. “We didn’t communicate too often.”
    “The boyfriend kept her from us,” Lawrence said. “We couldn’t even call.”
    “Any former boyfriends who might have had an ax to grind?” Kins asked.
    “She was fifteen when she moved in with him,” Lawrence said. “She didn’t have any boyfriends.”
    “Any enemies you’re aware of?” Tracy persisted. “Did she ever mention anyone following her, harassing her at work?”
    “No,” Shirley said. “No one.” Her chest shuddered, but she controlled it. “Veronica was a good girl. She was in a bad situation, but she wasn’t a bad person.”
    “I’m sure she wasn’t,” Tracy said.
    “Where did you find her?”
    “A motel room on Aurora Avenue,” Tracy said.
    Tears streamed down Shirley Berkman’s cheeks, leaving trails in her makeup. When Lawrence went to comfort her, she stepped away and hurried from the room, leaving him alone and looking uncertain. He hesitated. Then he