Free The White Carnation by Susanne Matthews Page A

old woman who has a missing pregnant daughter and who was murdered in her apartment for God knows what reason. Two separate cases. You want me to believe they’re connected, prove it.”
    “I will, damn it. I know I’m right.”
    Angry, feeling almost as betrayed as he had the day Faye accused him of being dirty, he picked up his phone, dialed, and heard it ring in the morgue.
    “Amos Flynn. How can I help you? You’d better not have another body because I’m up to my eyeballs now.”
    Rob shook his head at the grouchy voice on the phone. The crusty ME’s bark was worse than his bite. “No more bodies from me tonight, Amos, but Mira Kane will transfer the Harvester’s suspected fourth victim to you as soon as the preliminary results are in. He left his latest target in Beverly. I have a few questions for you. I read somewhere that a woman carries her children’s DNA her entire life. Is it true?”
    “She does, why?”
    “Second question. Is there any way to determine paternal DNA?”
    “There is,” he said. “I took blood from all the victims, and since they’d given birth so recently, there might still be fetal blood cells in the maternal blood stream, but if that doesn’t work, the bodies are still in the freezer, and I can check the maternal brains for microchimerism—cells from two genetically distinct individuals. It’s a relatively new discovery. I can’t be sure it’ll work, but I can give it a try. But to establish paternity, I need a sample of the father’s DNA to test it against. Do you have a suspect?”
    “No, but run the tests and check them against each other. I’ve got a gut feeling about this, and if what I suspect is true, you’ll know it soon enough. For my third question, is it possible to tell how sexually active the women were before they gave birth?”
    “Unfortunately, no. Vaginal delivery would have obliterated all sign of that. It’ll take at least a couple of weeks to get your results. The DNA lab is backed up big time, and unless you have something more than a hunch, they won’t make this a priority. If I have to check the brain cells, it could take even longer.”
    “Do what you can. Let’s hope my hunch is wrong. By the way, you’ll find secondary traces on the body from Beverly. It was raining, and there were a few people attracted by the kerfuffle in the park. Pierce threw a blue tarp over her.”
    “That’s the third time that man has contaminated my corpse.”
    “I’m sorry, but it couldn’t be helped. If a picture of the body hit the Internet and went viral …”
    “I know, but it just complicates matters. Goodnight.” He ended the call, and Rob hung up the phone.
    “I think you’re way off base, but you can’t leave me hanging here. What are you thinking?” Tom stood in front of Rob’s desk, still holding the photograph of Faye in his hand.
    “It’s a long shot, Tom, and I have nothing to back it up yet, but the one thing that’s been bothering me is how did he know these particular women were pregnant? What if he knew because he impregnated them himself?”
    “Are you frigging nuts? Isn’t this bastard sick enough? First, you say the women were gay and have me thinking about insemination. Now you think they were what, bisexual and all somehow slept with the same man? They didn’t even live in the same town, work in the same field, or move in the same circles.”
    “What if he found them somehow, stalked them, targeted them, and then, when he got his chance, he took it.”
    “Gay or straight, women, especially women like these, don’t just hop into bed and have unprotected sex with a stranger. And if it wasn’t consensual sex … These aren’t uneducated women. If a woman like this is raped, she’s going to report it. Let’s back it up. Say these women all decided to have a baby and used a clinic. The information about who donates where is supposed to be confidential. How would the donor find out where his sperm had taken the plunge?”