didn't need an answer from Ryan; by then she could clearly see the problem for herself.
There on the bed next to the window--Atlanta's bed--was a large pool of red ugliness.
"Blood," Ryan said simply.
Savannah nodded and moved closer. When she was
at' Li It ts.KlAr.C.Z 1 1 1
about a yard from the bed she could smell it, the thick, coppery stench, that was instinctively repulsive and set one's nerves on edge.
"There's a lot of it," Ryan commented.
"Yes, definitely not caused by nicking your legs with a dull shaver."
Savannah heard Mrs. Lippincott at the door and turned around to see her entering the room. "Stop! Stop right there. Don't come in here."
"But I have every right to--"
"No! Nobody comes in here," she said with an air of authority that wasn't to be denied . . . even by the formidable
Mrs. Lippincott.. "Everyone stays out until we see what we have here. This may be a crime scene, and we don't want it contaminated more than it already is."
The two lamps in the bedroom weren't particularly
bright, but they gave enough light for Savannah to see that there was more than just blood on the bed. The stain itself was three to four feet across and in the center
of it was a fist-sized hunk of some sort of bloody, fleshy tissue.
"What do you suppose that is?" she asked Ryan in a voice too low for those in the door to hear.
He shook his head. "I don't know. I don't think I want to know."
"Have you got your flashlight?" Savannah said.
Ryan handed her a small, but powerful penlight. She shined the beam into the center of the gore. In the doorway she heard Atlanta gasp. She felt she should offer her some words of comfort, but under the circumstances, none came to mind.
Ryan moved closer to her, and after looking at the mass a while whispered, "A fetus?"
'That's what I thought," she said, "but I don't know
LIh J.4l. .LVIGI1C1.1r4&
Ebr sure." She pointed to the wall over the bed, just beneath the window, where a word had been scrawled in nlood on the rose-covered paper. "What do you make of hat?"
He squinted at the writing. "T-U-L-S? Tuls?" Savannah cocked her head sideways. "No, I don't hink so."
"Some of the letters are backward," Ryan observed. guess that means our offender is dyslexic or--"
"It's upside down. It's been written upside down. It lays S-L-U-T. Not very friendly."
"Not friendly at all. Who do you suppose wrote it?" "It was Barbie," Atlanta said from the doorway. "It vas that rude bitch, Barbie--excuse me, Mrs. Lippin:ott--who did that to my bed. We had a fight earlier tnd--"
Savannah hurried over to her sister and grabbed her
irmly by the forearm. "That's enough, Atlanta. You had shock, honey. And I think you need to sit down somewhere and collect yourself." She turned back to Ryan. Do you have your cell phone on you?"
He nodded.
"Why don't you call Dirk and get him over here?" "Good idea," he said.
"Who is that?" Mrs. Lippincott asked. "Who's Dirk?" "Detective Sergeant Dirk Coulter," Savannah said. He's with the San Carmelita Police Department We
lave to report this and have it checked out."
Savannah looked back to the bed with its gory stain
and at the offensive word on the wall. "Tell Dirk that he hould probably have Dr. Liu come out, too." she told tyan.
He was already dialing.
NJ N./ NJ. JI.S.K.
....
"And who's this Dr. Lou?" Mrs. Lippincott wanted to know. "Is he your family physician?"
"No," Savannah said. "Dr. Jennifer Liu is the San Carmelita medical examiner. . . the coroner."
A.
1
Chapter
0
ince Ryan had offered to guard the door to Atlanta's
Oroom until Dirk arrived, Savannah decided to take her sister a comfortable distance away from the unpleasant
scene. Believing that some fresh air would help, she led her out into the courtyard, where they Found a wrought-iron park bench near the fountain
with thick, inviting cushions.
Savannah had also chosen a spot where she could see
the front door and would know the instant Dirk or Dr. Liu
There on the bed next to the window--Atlanta's bed--was a large pool of red ugliness.
"Blood," Ryan said simply.
Savannah nodded and moved closer. When she was
at' Li It ts.KlAr.C.Z 1 1 1
about a yard from the bed she could smell it, the thick, coppery stench, that was instinctively repulsive and set one's nerves on edge.
"There's a lot of it," Ryan commented.
"Yes, definitely not caused by nicking your legs with a dull shaver."
Savannah heard Mrs. Lippincott at the door and turned around to see her entering the room. "Stop! Stop right there. Don't come in here."
"But I have every right to--"
"No! Nobody comes in here," she said with an air of authority that wasn't to be denied . . . even by the formidable
Mrs. Lippincott.. "Everyone stays out until we see what we have here. This may be a crime scene, and we don't want it contaminated more than it already is."
The two lamps in the bedroom weren't particularly
bright, but they gave enough light for Savannah to see that there was more than just blood on the bed. The stain itself was three to four feet across and in the center
of it was a fist-sized hunk of some sort of bloody, fleshy tissue.
"What do you suppose that is?" she asked Ryan in a voice too low for those in the door to hear.
He shook his head. "I don't know. I don't think I want to know."
"Have you got your flashlight?" Savannah said.
Ryan handed her a small, but powerful penlight. She shined the beam into the center of the gore. In the doorway she heard Atlanta gasp. She felt she should offer her some words of comfort, but under the circumstances, none came to mind.
Ryan moved closer to her, and after looking at the mass a while whispered, "A fetus?"
'That's what I thought," she said, "but I don't know
LIh J.4l. .LVIGI1C1.1r4&
Ebr sure." She pointed to the wall over the bed, just beneath the window, where a word had been scrawled in nlood on the rose-covered paper. "What do you make of hat?"
He squinted at the writing. "T-U-L-S? Tuls?" Savannah cocked her head sideways. "No, I don't hink so."
"Some of the letters are backward," Ryan observed. guess that means our offender is dyslexic or--"
"It's upside down. It's been written upside down. It lays S-L-U-T. Not very friendly."
"Not friendly at all. Who do you suppose wrote it?" "It was Barbie," Atlanta said from the doorway. "It vas that rude bitch, Barbie--excuse me, Mrs. Lippin:ott--who did that to my bed. We had a fight earlier tnd--"
Savannah hurried over to her sister and grabbed her
irmly by the forearm. "That's enough, Atlanta. You had shock, honey. And I think you need to sit down somewhere and collect yourself." She turned back to Ryan. Do you have your cell phone on you?"
He nodded.
"Why don't you call Dirk and get him over here?" "Good idea," he said.
"Who is that?" Mrs. Lippincott asked. "Who's Dirk?" "Detective Sergeant Dirk Coulter," Savannah said. He's with the San Carmelita Police Department We
lave to report this and have it checked out."
Savannah looked back to the bed with its gory stain
and at the offensive word on the wall. "Tell Dirk that he hould probably have Dr. Liu come out, too." she told tyan.
He was already dialing.
NJ N./ NJ. JI.S.K.
....
"And who's this Dr. Lou?" Mrs. Lippincott wanted to know. "Is he your family physician?"
"No," Savannah said. "Dr. Jennifer Liu is the San Carmelita medical examiner. . . the coroner."
A.
1
Chapter
0
ince Ryan had offered to guard the door to Atlanta's
Oroom until Dirk arrived, Savannah decided to take her sister a comfortable distance away from the unpleasant
scene. Believing that some fresh air would help, she led her out into the courtyard, where they Found a wrought-iron park bench near the fountain
with thick, inviting cushions.
Savannah had also chosen a spot where she could see
the front door and would know the instant Dirk or Dr. Liu
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