“I’m not dead.” Molly put a mittened hand on Sky’s shoulder.
“No,” Sky agreed. “You are very much alive.”
Sky braced herself with her hands in a clumsy effort to stand.
The delivery date had come and gone, the baby was two weeks overdue and it had become increasingly difficult to maneuver her pregnant body through space. A miracle, the doctors had admitted.
Sky rubbed at the small of her back. She’d ignored the dull throb all morning but it just seemed to be getting worse.
She searched Molly’s face. No trace of the ordeal was evident. The child had been spared that memory. Axelrod hadn’t been so lucky. Manville’s bowie knife had punctured his gut and he slipped into a coma. The surgeon warned Sky and Axelrod’s mother, said he wouldn’t make it. A week later, Axelrod opened his eyes. Three months later he was back, working homicide. Nobody called him the rookie anymore.
Molly stuck a foot out and admired her new cowboy boot – her own red Tony Lamas, a Christmas present from Sky. “My mommy says you saved my life. What does that mean?”
“That means it’s time to go home and have lunch.” Sky made it to her feet and took Molly’s hand.
Tiffany ran in circles, barking and making joyful leaps. Manville hadn’t stolen the dog, after all. Somehow, against all odds, the pregnant Shih Tzu had climbed three flights of stairs. Raj discovered her beneath Sky’s trundle bed, nursing three tiny brindle females and a gigantic gold male. Izzy, Candace and Francois Duquette had each been the grateful recipient of a female pup. Sky kept the gold male and mystified everyone by naming him Yuri.
Police combed through Manville’s rolltop desk, discovered the patch of skin with the caiman tattoo cut from Nicolette’s body, and Savannah Lane’s blonde hair, attached to the two inch piece of scalp, just as R.C. Wooten had described at Pink Bud. The blue velvet drawstring pouch containing the diamond earrings Sky had given Teddy were in the desk, too. Manville had indeed shipped the red Lamborghini to Saudi Arabia. But they found Teddy’s green Camaro in a ravine behind the split-level, covered with Manville’s fingerprints.
Someone had left a folder on Sky’s desk containing a thirty-year record of Porter Manville’s travels outside the country. The folder included a companion list of unsolved murders that occurred in those countries, all women, all strangled to death; Newton homicide continued to cooperate with Interpol.
Angel Butera had come around, admitting to Sky a grudging respect for the way she’d handled the investigation. Would wonders never cease?
Ellery Templeton was released from jail, he’d already put out a new blues album, all about the ordeal. It was entitled Sky’s Lament, and threatened to go platinum. An international tour was in the works.
Professor Fisk had offered Sky a position running his Behavioral Neurobiology lab at Boston University. ‘After the baby is born,’ he’d suggested. It was something to think about.
Winter promised to be mild. They were deep into January but the morning air felt warm on Sky’s face. She thought about the babushka’s fiery ring of protection at Carnivale. It seemed such a long time ago. Sky was seeing a therapist, eight months now. She’d finally accepted her baby’s death. The panic attacks still came, but less frequently, and they seemed less intense.
“Mommy says you have a baby in there.” Molly put a hand on Sky’s belly. “Who’s the daddy?”
They’d reached Sky’s car, a slightly used Jeep Cherokee, lipstick red, purchased at Teddy’s brother’s car lot on Arsenal Street. Every once in a while, when Sky was driving, she could hear Teddy’s voice whisper, ‘Don’t worry, boss. I got your back.’
“Can you can keep a secret, Molly?” Sky opened the back passenger door and settled Molly and Tiffany in the seat. “The only person you can tell is your bear.”
Molly’s chin jutted. “I can keep a secret.”
Sky was about to buckle Molly in when a contraction gripped her belly, nearly driving her to the ground. She held on to the open door handle and felt something wet on her leggings.
“Don’t worry.” Molly cocked her head philosophically. “I still do that when I forget to go to the bathroom. You’ll grow out of it.”
Sky waited for the contraction to pass.
“I’m taking no chances this time,” she said, pulling her cell phone out. She called 911 for an ambulance, told them she was in the Newton Cemetery on Walnut, that her water had broken, that the baby was coming.
Then Sky lifted Molly and Tiffany from the Jeep and they waited together for the ambulance in the late January sun.
THE END
An Independent Author’s Plea
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Table of Contents
Title
Copyright
Dedication
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-One
Chapter Forty-Two
Chapter Forty-Three
Chapter Forty-Four
Chapter Forty-Five
Chapter Forty-Six
Chapter Forty-Seven
Chapter Forty-Eight
Chapter Forty-Nine
Chapter Fifty
Chapter Fifty-One
Chapter Fifty-Two
Chapter Fifty-Three
Chapter Fifty-Four
Epilogue
An Independent Author’s Plea
The Profiler's Daughter (Sky Stone Thriller Series) Page 46
