little old ladies saw him as the ideal grandson. He was single, Mormon and virginal, because he never wanted to do what so many of his friends had done: marry so he could have sex. Robbie was waiting for the right woman to come along. He had long believed it was Ren. He had once broken his no-alcohol vow for one night only to be a little more like the kind of man he thought Ren would want. He had tried to kiss her and he had told her how he felt. And she let him kindly know that, though she adored him, she thought of him in a different way; the worst way possible for him: as a brother.
Even if she had been physically attracted to him, even if he didn’t believe in no sex before marriage, Robbie wouldn’t do sex. Robbie did love.
Bless you, innocent, pure, breakable Robbie.
The autopsy lasted two hours and was a difficult one for everyone. Ren, Janine, Robbie and Kohler were now standing in a corner, as Tolman talked through the findings. Tolman was a smart, thorough medical examiner, who explained everything clearly.
He glanced at Janine and Ren.
‘You know, Janine, I remember a time when you told me not to speak to Agent Ren Bryce … now look at you guys.’
‘It was a dark moment in our history,’ said Ren.
‘Darker for her than me,’ said Janine.
Shame. Shaaame.
During a previous investigation, Ren had gotten her confidential informant to steal a file from Janine’s office, but he had put it back in the wrong place, and Janine had made the connection to Ren. By the end of the mercifully successful investigation, Janine had also solved a cold case and the two women had ultimately bonded over bad things and good intentions.
‘Aw, the lesser-spotted blushing of Ren Bryce,’ said Janine. ‘Let’s just say that at the time of said incident, Agent Bryce was using her superpowers for good …’
‘Some day you will tell me,’ said Tolman. ‘OK – down to business: we’ve got a twenty-six-year-old woman, pregnant, sustained multiple gunshot wounds, while sitting in a parked car. Cause of death was a severe head injury caused by a gunshot wound at close range. I recovered one projectile from behind the left scapula. Also noted was a gunshot wound to the chest, causing severe injuries. I recovered a second projectile just beneath the scalp behind the left ear. Both appear to me to be from a large caliber weapon. Manner of death: homicide. Time of death – anywhere from ten a.m. to when you found her at 15.48.
‘The pregnancy was approximately six months gestational age,’ said Tolman. ‘The fetus was viable. If it were born today, it would have been capable of living on its own. There were no signs of deformity. The death of the fetus is associated with maternal death, caused by the gunshot wounds.’ He paused. ‘Do you know who the father is? Is there a question of paternity? I’ll retain tissue here – I can get testing through the university lab, if you need it.’
‘Great,’ said Ren. ‘We don’t know yet. We also have to consider it as a possible surrogacy situation.’
‘Well, keep me posted,’ said Tolman.
‘Oh,’ said Ren. ‘Is it a boy or a girl?’
‘It’s a girl,’ said Tolman.
Those words were not meant for this room.
Robbie sat with his laptop at a spare desk beside Janine’s. Ren was sitting on the edge of Janine’s desk, her office phone up to her ear.
‘Well, it’s ringing,’ said Ren. ‘And it’s an overseas ringtone. Nessa Lally may just be in Ireland after all.’
Her eyes were on Janine’s piano fingers as she waited.
‘You are such a fast typist,’ said Ren. ‘It’s insane.’
‘You know it, girl,’ said Janine.
‘Hello,’ said Ren, sitting up. ‘Is this Nessa Lally?’
‘Yes.’
‘My name is Special Agent Ren Bryce. I’m with the FBI in Denver. The Rocky Mountain Safe Streets Task Force. Is this a good time?’
‘The FBI?’ said Nessa. ‘Seriously?’
‘Yes, ma’am,’ said Ren. That ma’am will convince her.
‘Is everything OK?’ said Nessa.
‘I’m afraid not,’ said Ren. ‘I’ve got some bad news about your friend, Laura Flynn.’
‘Laura Flynn?’ said Nessa.
‘Yes,’ said Ren, ‘I’m sorry to tell you that she was the victim of a homicide.’
‘Oh my God,’ said Nessa. ‘No way. Laura? No way. In Denver? What was she doing in Denver? I knew she’d moved to New York, but …’
What? ‘You knew she’d moved to New York?’ said Ren.
‘It’s just … I haven’t seen her in years,’ said Nessa. ‘How did you even get my number?’
‘Aren’t you friends with Laura?’ said Ren.
‘Not now, no,’ said Nessa. ‘I used to be, there was a big gang of us used to hang around together, but we haven’t seen each other in, easily, six or seven years.’
‘Laura told her employers last week that your mother died and that because you were illegal you couldn’t fly back to Ireland for the funeral, so she was going to spend the weekend with you for support,’ said Ren. ‘We obviously now know that you’re legal …’
‘Thank God I am,’ said Nessa. ‘My mam did die last week, but yeah, I came back from Chicago for the funeral. But, Laura … that’s so weird. I haven’t spoken to her in years. Someone else must have told her about mam.’ She gave a grim laugh. ‘In fairness, she always used to use me as an alibi in college when she was lying to her mother about where she was staying.’
I wonder what she was lying about this time.
‘What did Laura study in college?’ said Ren.
‘Psychology,’ said Nessa. ‘She’s got a degree. But it’s impossible to get a job in it. And she would have needed a PhD in the States to do more with it. I don’t know anyone who can afford to do that.’
‘Was there anyone else she might have known in Chicago?’ said Ren. ‘Anyone else from your hometown?’
‘I don’t know,’ said Nessa. ‘But I can ask around for you.’
‘Did any of her friends end up in New York?’ said Ren.
‘Yes,’ said Nessa. ‘I can get their names for you if that would help?’
‘Yes,’
