The Ties That Bind Read Online Free Page A

southeast, Fiona used the car phone to call Dr.
Benson, the medical examiner, and her closest friend in the department. He
always took her call, whether at the forensic lab or in his office.
    In this case, the call had added significance. Dr. Benson
always personally performed the autopsies on child homicides, hoping that the
secrets he meticulously uncovered in the dead tissue would whip up enough anger
in the squad to speed the apprehension of the killers. It invariably
accomplished the former but rarely the latter.
    Performing them always left him deeply depressed. At times,
it fell to Fiona to nudge him back to, if not tranquility, at least normality.
He knew that he could avoid the whole process by delegating the duty to others,
but for his own inexplicable reasons, he insisted on doing them.
    "Yes, Fiona," he said, his deep bass pervading
the car. She had the phone on mike.
    "I'm here with my new partner, Gail Prentiss, Dr.
Benson."
    "Please to meet you, Doctor," Gail said.
    "I am very fond of your father, dear," he said.
Dr. Benson was always well tuned in on what was happening in the homicide squad
and invariably knew the buzz before Fiona.
    "Thank you, Doctor," Gail said. "You know,
of course, that Dad is not very well."
    Dr. Benson sighed.
    "Yes, I do."
    "We're on this Thompson girl," Fiona said softly.
    "Beyond belief. Her face was gone."
    "Poor thing," Fiona said.
    There was a long pause.
    "Why the innocent children?" he sighed.
    Fiona and Gail exchanged glances of understanding. It was a
question that could never be answered.
    "No leads?" Dr. Benson asked.
    "Not so far," Fiona said. It was rare to find any
in this type of crime, unless one of the witnesses eyeballed the perps. Most,
unless they were very close relatives, were too frightened to come forward.
    "Are you alright, Doctor?" Fiona asked gently.
    "In despair, ladies. In despair."
    His feelings were genuine.
    Fiona wanted to tell Gail more about Dr. Benson, how his
compassion and wisdom sustained her, how much she loved him and worried about
him, but she was forestalled by another call.
    "FitzGerald and Prentiss." It was the Eggplant's
voice.
    "You're off the Thompson case. Bigelow and Phipps will
take it. We've got something else for you. Female Caucasian, early twenties,
Mayflower Hotel, Room 737."
    "Nothing more?"
    "Messy sex crime. The assistant manager just hung up.
He was hysterical."
    "Be there in ten," Fiona said, swinging the car
around and heading back to Connecticut Avenue.
    "Make it five," the Eggplant said, signing off.
    Fiona made it in eight, sirens blazing. They got to the
hotel's entrance just as the uniforms arrived in three squad cars. Rushing
through the lobby, they made it to an elevator bank and crowded into an
elevator keyed in by the ashen assistant manager to circumvent the computers.
    "You won't believe this," he cried. "You
just won't believe this. There's a woman in there ... Christ ... I never saw
anything like it. You won't believe it. Checked in Thursday night."
    "Calm down," Gail said. "Just the woman in
there? No one else, dead or alive."
    "Isn't that enough? Oh, my God. You'll see in a
minute."
    Six uniforms, the two female detectives and the assistant
manager stormed out of the elevator into the corridor. In front of the door,
Fiona turned and raised both hands as the assistant manager, with nervous
fluttering fingers, attempted to open the door with a key.
    "Just myself and my partner, people," Fiona said,
turning to the others, taking instant command. "Keep everyone out until we
tell you," she barked to the senior uniform. "And secure the
corridor." She took the key out of the hands of the assistant manager, who
had continued to be unable to get his fingers to master the door-opening
process.
    "Sorry," the assistant manager said. He was a
thin, balding man with round glasses, impeccably dressed and giving off the
scent of heavy, sweetish after-shave lotion. His facial skin was dead-white. He
stepped aside and leaned