We enter into the living room that’s filled with panoramic views and a stone fireplace.
“Have a seat Cipi.” He gestures to the couch. Then walks over to a built-in bookcase. Between two volumes he pulls out a manila envelope.
“Here.” He hands it to me. “One of my oldest contacts who owed me a favor found this in the archives.”
My fingers tremble as I undo the latch. By the look on his face I know this is something important related to the case.
“Oh. I almost forgot about my bagel.” Dominic walks over to the kitchen. “Would you like one? I prefer the cranberry bagels. They are limited edition and only come out around this time of year.”
“Yeah, sure.” I mutter while thinking how random that comment was. Then I realize maybe Dominc is trying to lighten the mood because I’m about to find out something that’s going to break my heart.
I pull out a piece of paper. The document has my father’s name at the top.
It's an autopsy report. Handwritten, not typed.
“What is this?” I gasp.
“It’s the original autopsy,” Dominic walks over. “Before it got switched. The cause of your father’s death was cyanide poisoning through oral administration. The toxicology analysis shows sufficient levels consistent with myocardial infarction or aheart attack.” He sits next to me. “Back in the late nineties, they wrote everything by hand. When everything got switched to the computer someone left out the cyanide poisoning part and put heart attack.”
“But the police told us it was natural causes. Forensics determined it was a heart attack. There was no foul play. My mom got the autopsy report stating that,” I whisper.
“It appears that the law enforcement at the time was on someone else’s payroll and the reports got switched.”
As I run my fingers over the document, my stomach lurches. “I should have known. I knew he was too young for a heart attack. I should have pushed more for answers but a heart attack was easier to accept.”
“Don’t be hard on yourself. You were young, too, back then,” Dominic takes my hand.
“It was all so much at once. I don’t even remember most of it. It was a few months after you left…” My voice trails off as flashbacks run through my mind of the funeral and all of us standing around the grave.
My heart sinks.
The killer had been among us acting like family, pretending they cared.
But who?
“I should have come back when I heard about your father’s death. I should’ve been there for you, Cipi, but I didn’t want to cause you more pain. I’m sorry.”
“We can’t dwell on the past. You did what you had to do, and I did too.” I put the autopsy back into the envelope and place it on the table. “Besides, once we close this case, history is going to repeat itself. We’ll both go back to our lives. You’ll be busy with your investigation firm and I’ll be running the streets.”
“Is that what you want, Cipi?” He leans closer to me.
“No…but there is no alternative…is that what you want?”
“No. Not at all.” His face is inches from mine now. “In fact what I really want is to take you to my bed and worship your body until you beg me to stop.”
Chapter thirty-one
My lips part in a shock and he takes it as an invitation, crushing his mouth against mine.
His lips are soft, plump, and gentle as he kisses me in a way that melts me to the core.
I lean into him sliding my hands up his chest and latching them around his neck.
He pulls me onto his lap, kissing me deeper like I’m his oxygen.
My fingers play with the hair at the nape of his neck as he runs his hands along my outer thighs.
I shift my weight and feel his hard length press against my sensitive area.
