Free Bloodborn by Kathryn Fox Page B

We’ve had only a few calls after a media appeal for witnesses to come forward, but nothing helpful as far as we know.”
    Anya had once assumed that people would feel so disgusted by what had happened to victims like the Goodwin girls that they would willingly volunteer information. She had learned over the years that many people were too scared to get involved with the police, or too busy to be aware of what appeared on the news or in papers.
    Jeff Sales looked up from his task. “What about an angry ex-boyfriend? Nothing like a disturbed lover who’s been spurned. The worst examples of violence against women are by men who claim to love them more than anyone else.”
    One of Anya’s first pathology cases was the massacre of an ex-girlfriend and seven of her family members. The former boyfriend had gone to the home and blown off the mother and little brother’s faces with a shotgun, then casually driven to the family business and killed the remaining members, leaving his ex-girlfriend until last. Even in prison he still claimed that he loved her more than anyone else ever had.
    “I can do without that sort of affection,” Kate Farrer said as she entered the suite. “Did I miss anything?”
    “Just tracking the chest wounds internally,” Jeff replied. “One of them just missed the aorta by millimeters.” He probed more. “Aha. She’s had a tamponade. This wound nicked the pericardium.”
    “Meaning?” Liz moved forward for a better look.
    “The tip of the blade pierced the outside portion of the heart, where there is a potential space between the cardiac muscle and a lining we call the pericardial sac. It’s like the lungs being surrounded by the pleura. I doubt our victim would have felt any pain for long after this.”
    Anya could see that with the volume of blood in the sac, death would have been within seconds to a minute after the knife entered her chest that time.
    “When blood rushes into the sac around the heart, it can’t escape. It constricts the heart and stops it from beating effectively. Pretty quickly the heart can’t supply blood to the body.”
    “So that was the official cause of death—stab wound to the heart.” Wheeler was scribbling notes as they spoke.
    “Whoever did this wasn’t messing around,” Kate said. “Anya, can I have a quick word?”
    Jeff Sales had removed the heart and was placing it on the scales as Anya and the detective excused themselves.
    In the corridor Kate spoke quietly. “I’ve just come from Giverny’s PM. It’s why I’m late.”
    “Please tell me they found evidence of homicide.”
    Kate stood, hands in her trouser pockets, and scuffed one shoe on the lino floor. “Unless you can confirm whether those facial hemorrhages were there before you started cardiac massage, there’s no way of proving she was murdered…Sorry, but I didn’t want you hearing this from anyone else.”
    Anya swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry. “What about the paint in the garage?”
    “Without a pathologist being able to confirm homicide, we can’t investigate the death. The coroner’s likely to come back with an open finding and we’re all hamstrung.”
    “The Harbourns had a reason to stop her testifying.”
    “Yeah, and the four with the best motive were in prison that day. The only better alibi would have been having breakfast with the police commissioner. Sure, anyone else in the family could have been at Giverny’s house, but we don’t even have enough for a search warrant. The most we’ve got is vandalism for the paint job and maybe trespass. But none of the neighbors saw a thing, and neither did Giverny’s father.”
    Anya could barely believe what she was hearing. Giverny hadn’t just been raped, she had been tormented for the duration of the trial, and on the morning of the retrial had received a death threat. In blood red.
    “What about the threat?” Anya raised her voice. “Die Slut isn’t just vandalism. It’s a direct threat to a key