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I stepped closer to the table and looked into the victim’s lifeless face again. Finally, I reached over and closed her clouded blue eyes.

“We will get these bastards,” I told her.

Chapter 39

CLAIRE SAW LINDSAY and Jacobi to the door, saying that she wished that she had given them more to work with, hoping for all of them that this poor dead girl would have a name unrelated to luxury cars very soon.

She made her call to DNA and got the usual—“Of course, Dr. Washburn, we’ll get right on it,” an assurance that came with an unspoken disclaimer, namely, “Do you understand how long this procedure takes? Do you know how many cases are ahead of yours?”

“I mean it,” she said to the lab supervisor. “This is urgent, rush, high priority.”

“Yes, ma’am. I got it.”

Claire was sliding Jag Girl into a drawer, when her cell phone rang. Yuki’s number flashed on the caller ID.

“Yuki! Darlin’, how are you holding up?” she asked. “Do you want me to pick you up or can you drive over by yourself? Edmund’s really looking forward to meeting you, and he’s cooking mushroom risotto tonight.”

“Claire, I’m sorry. I just can’t—I can’t be with people right now.”

Claire gave it a respectful beat; then she said, “Of course, honey. I understand.”

“But I have to ask a favor,” Yuki said, then sighed loudly.

“Whatever you need.”

“I want you to do an autopsy on my mom.”

Claire listened intently as Yuki described her meeting with Garza, and explained that she was completely unsatisfied with his explanation for her mother’s death.

Claire wanted to sigh out loud, too, but she held it in. She didn’t want to show any disrespect to Yuki.

“You’re sure you want me to do this, baby? Can you handle whatever I find?”

“I swear I can. I have to know if her death was avoidable. I absolutely have to know what happened to my mom.”

“I understand. I’ll arrange to have her brought here in the morning.”

“You’re the best,” Yuki said, her voice cracking from the pressure of tears.

“Don’t you worry, honey. She’s family. Just leave your mom to me.”

Chapter 40

THE FOLLOWING AFTERNOON, Yuki was in her mother’s kitchen, standing over the sink. She stuffed a bite of toast into her mouth, hardly chewing. Everything about this still seemed so unreal.

She’d been up the whole night—phoning her mother’s friends, going through albums and scrapbooks, losing herself in memories. Now she wrenched herself back to the present, wondering when Claire would call and what Claire would say.

When the phone finally rang, Yuki lunged for it.

Claire asked, “How are you doing, honey?”

“I’m okay,” Yuki said, but that was a lie. She felt light-headed, her guts twisting as she waited for Claire to tell her about the end of her mother’s life. Finally, she couldn’t stand it another second.

“Did you find out anything?”

“I did, honey. For one thing, Garza was right when he told you that your mom had an embolism around her brain. What he didn’t tell you was it had to have been more than three hours before someone noticed that she was in trouble.

“The doctors should have given her an MRI to establish the size of the hematoma,” Claire continued. “But instead, they loaded her up with streptokinase, an anticoagulant.”

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