She knew one of the IV lines was probably providing some nutrients but sometimes food was one of the best ways to gain a child’s attention and trust.
“How about we order you some soup? Do you like grilled cheese?”
The girl nodded. Gwen glanced at Cunningham. Without a word he scooted the chair backward so he could reach the phone.
“Katie,” Gwen said, waiting again, for the girl’s eyes. “Did you see what happened to your dad?”
She stared at Gwen then her eyes drifted over Gwen’s shoulder and she shook her head. “He told me to hide. Something was wrong.”
“So you went down into the cellar?”
She nodded but her eyes didn’t return to Gwen’s.
Cunningham was finished ordering the food and now she could see him sitting as still as possible, watching and listening.
“Katie.” Another few seconds waiting until the girl looked at her. And then Gwen asked the million-dollar question. “If you were in the cellar how do know your dad fell in the river?”
Chapter 14
Quantico
When Maggie arrived at the forensic lab she realized she shouldn’t be so relieved to be at work instead of at home. But she felt like she had dodged a bullet. She had made it through breakfast and even managed to switch the conversation quickly from her first real crime scene to Greg’s upcoming trial. His law firm was taking on a mega lawsuit and Greg would be the lead attorney.
When they met in college he couldn’t wait to get into a courtroom. They used to laugh about how Maggie would hunt down the criminals and Greg would put them behind bars. Somewhere along the way he decided to take on the bad guys in corporations instead of killers and rapists.
Actually she was glad he enjoyed what he was doing. She only wished he felt the same way about what she was doing. These days, too many of their conversations turned into yelling matches. If he wasn’t lecturing her, he was trying to convince her to come work for his law firm as an investigator.
“Seriously, Maggie, wouldn’t you rather be digging through computer files than Dumpster-diving for body parts?”
Maybe something was wrong with her, but the thought of spending hours going over cell phone records and credit card statements, hunting for indiscretions of a scandalous nature seemed mind numbing to her. And yes, as crazy as it sounded and as nauseated as she felt back at that double-wide trailer, she would not trade places.
Thankfully this morning Greg was more anxious to share his good news than he was about sharing hers. And she almost got out the door before he noticed her hands.
“What happened to your wedding ring?”
She knew he would be angry but less so if it was something he already expected.
“You were right. I should have been more careful.”
“Oh Maggie, for God’s sake! I told you a dozen times.”
“I know. At least a dozen.”
“What am I always telling you? Take it off when you’re washing dishes or you’ll lose it down the sink.”
“I’m sorry I wasn’t more careful.”
On the drive to Quantico she wondered why she wasn’t more upset about losing the ring. Yes, she was sorry she hadn’t been more careful. But why wasn’t she upset? In some ways she wondered if losing the ring was just another piece of their relationship that had slipped away.
She walked into the lab and saw that Keith Ganza had already started without her. Pieces of evidence were lined up on the counter – at least those that didn’t require refrigeration.
He nodded at her as she gloved up. Yesterday had been her first visit to a real crime scene but Ganza and her had been working together on evidence and trace for a couple of years. The law enforcement departments that sent in crime scene photographs for her to analyze also included bags of evidence. The two of them would work the puzzle pieces.
Ganza reminded Maggie of an aging drummer for a rock band. Tall and lanky, he slouched a bit and looked out of sorts in the long white – more gray than white – lab coat. Underneath he had on a black T-shirt and blue jeans. He kept his stringy hair tied in a ponytail. Sometimes he wore a goatee. Lately he was sporting a soul patch.
“Heard you won a trip to your very first rodeo yesterday.”
Immediately she felt the heat flush her face, but Ganza remained bent over a slide he was preparing.
“So you heard about me flipping my cookies.”
Now he looked up, eyeglasses almost at the tip of his nose.
“No, I didn’t hear about that.”
“Seriously?”
“Turner just said what I just said – that you won a trip to your very first rodeo.”
She could see he was telling the truth. She was surprised.
“Sorry about the cookies,” he said and went back to his slide. “Was it the pie?”
“More or less the combination of pie and flies and whatever he left on top.”
“It’s a spleen.” He pointed to a photograph to his left. It looked like the CSU techs had managed to keep the gooey masterpiece all together. “Dutch apple pie and French vanilla ice cream.”
“You can tell that it’s French vanilla?”