spent most of their shift in interview while Cee Cee started the paperwork, Babineau stopped at her desk to update her. Instead of delivering the down low, he just gaped at her. She scowled. “What?”
“Woowee. Lookit that shiner.”
Heart doing hurdles, Cee Cee rummaged in her desk for a seldom used mirror. “Oh, shit.” Her partner was right. Over the course of the day, the bruise on her cheek had invaded tender flesh around her eye, turning it into a kaleidoscope of colors.
“Savoie is gonna throw a hissy fit.”
Fearing he was right didn’t brighten her mood. “Shut it, Babs. This isn’t the first hard knock I’ve taken.”
“It is with baby on board.”
Shit! Shit, shit, SHIT! If she could beat him home, she could do damage control. But they still had one more stop to make. No time to primp and pretty. Or hide unwelcomed evidence.
For once wishing she carried a war chest of face paint instead of her Sig, Cee Cee switched off her computer and tugged on her coat. It refused to meet over her middle. The inevitable shopping trip was the only thing she dreaded more than emotional roundy-rounds with her mate.
To distract from both inevitable cases, she asked her partner, “Think Leo’s info’ll lead to something useful, or he just stringing us?”
Babs shrugged. “Doan know. Seemed right chatty in interview ’til that high price briefcase showed up. So much for getting the little puke to play ball. If even half what he hinted at pans, and we can tie any of it to Brady,” his tone fell into a rough growl, as it did every time the newly-arrested commissioner’s name arose, “I’d be happy to fashion a noose.”
She had no desire to protect Warren Brady from whatever slow-boiled on her partner’s back burner. Though her city didn’t need another scandal, it’d be weathered better than a crooked public servant taking advantage of their trust.
That brought thoughts back to their recent collar as they walked to the car.
“This whole deal stinks on so many levels,” she muttered. “Illegal adoptions are lucrative, but they don’t leave corpses and bring in high-level players like Brady. There’s got to be more. It’s tied into the clinic. I can feel it like a sharp ache in a bad tooth.”
“You wanting to go back there now?”
His hesitation made her eyes narrow. “Got better plans?”
“No. Not unless you’re just using it as an excuse to postpone Savoie getting an eyeful of that shiner.”
Cee Cee groaned at the reminder and gave him a shove. That wasn’t what she was doing, though it did fit in nicely with her desire to avoid the scene to come. “Call it a hunch, Babs. That good enough for you?”
“Your hunches are better than a Quarter fortune teller.”
– – –
Bright Haven for Women was just another storefront on a rundown side street. Broken pavers in various states of upheaval led most folks right past it while watching their step rather than the surroundings. Above the uplifting graphic of a rising sun, the faded message on its door offered safe, confidential and, most importantly, free care to mothers-to-be, pre-and post-natal.
In her guise as Shondra Thomas, a single housecleaner in her eighth month, Cee Cee had laid the groundwork for Leo Pomarelli’s capture with the help of the clinic’s organizer. Who was more than willing to help after numerous patients had gone missing or turned up on Medical Examiner Devlin Dovion’s table minus their prematurely-delivered babies. What they needed was a link and a reason.
The investigation disturbed Cee Cee on every level from cop to expectant mother. Dreams of dark shapes tearing the child from her womb left her reluctant to close her eyes. The tussle with Pomarelli heightened those premonitions into a churning nightmare. The sooner they solved the case, the better.
Stepping away from it never occurred to her.
They’d missed something, some common denominator linking her and the other victims to a purpose they’d yet to discover. What did they have in common beyond the obvious?
A quiet step behind them brought both detectives about in defensive readiness.
“I got your call.”
With her crisp diction and brusque mannerisms, Susanna Duchamps LaRoche would never pass for a native of their city. From her background in genetic engineering to the scars on her shoulder marking her as a shapeshifter’s mate, like Cee Cee, her interest in their case was deeply personal as well as professional. Her brilliant mind provided a valuable resource, but the health of her hybrid child was the doctor’s consuming motivator. On that