Little Girl Gone (An Afton Tangler Thriller #1)(60)

“We sent a copy over to them,” Farmer said.

“I still can’t believe Bourgoyne got to this woman,” Afton said.

“Leaks,” Farmer said. “They’re what can kill an investigation.”

“Or bog it down,” Max said.

Afton looked at the paperwork strewn about the table. “Are we bogged down?”

“You tell me,” Max said. Then, “Maybe.”

Afton furrowed her brow. She wished she could be of more help.

“Or maybe not,” Max said. “Sometimes you can’t see the forest for the trees.”

“You gonna go through all those notes again?” Farmer asked Max. “You got copies of all the interviews? The stuff Dillon and I did? The ones the FBI handled?”

“We got it all,” Max said.


*

AFTON and Max were twenty minutes into their analysis when the phone rang.

Max didn’t look up, but instead aimed a pen at the phone. Afton snatched up the receiver. “Yes?”

“I thought you and Max might be in there,” Angel Graham said. “I have a call holding from a Dr. Sansevere at the ME’s office. Do you want me to put her through?”

“Please.” Afton punched the button to turn on the speakerphone. “Dr. Sansevere is calling,” she told Max. “I think she might have something for us.”

“Dr. Sansevere?” Max said. “This is Max Montgomery. How can I help?”

“I’ve got some news for you.” Her voice was brisk and businesslike.

“Go ahead. Sorry if this sounds like we’re talking from the bottom of a garbage can, but we’ve got you on speakerphone. I want my colleague to hear this, too.”

“The baby that was brought back from Cannon Falls?” said Dr. Sansevere. “There was a problem with her heart. What we call a VSD, a hole in the heart.”

Afton felt sick to her stomach. “You mean somebody stabbed her?” she asked. “Shot her?”

“No, no,” Dr. Sansevere said. “Nothing like that, not any kind of external injury. It was a congenital defect, something the child was born with. A ventricular septal defect. Lots of babies are born with it. It’s basically a hole in the septum that separates the ventricles, the two lower parts of the heart.”

Max locked eyes with Afton.

“Could it have been repaired?” Afton asked.

“Perhaps. If she’d had immediate medical attention. VSDs more often than not require open heart surgery.”

“So that was the cause of death?” Max asked. “A bad heart?”

“Probably the defect was so bad that her heart simply stopped beating,” Dr. Sansevere said.

“So she was doomed from birth?” Afton asked.

“I would say so, yes,” Dr. Sansevere said. “That was the main issue we encountered in her autopsy. I found no petechial hemorrhages to indicate she might have been smothered, which is an insidious but common way to kill an infant. There were no ligature marks, no cuts or bruises. Her head hadn’t been shaken, nothing abnormal showed up in her scan. The only thing abnormal about that little girl was her heart. And the fact that she was somewhat malnourished.”

“I’ll be damned,” Max said.

“What about the phosphorescent stuff?” Afton asked. “The little bits and pieces that glowed when you ran the black light over her.”

“Oh,” Dr. Sansevere said. “Under electron microscopic testing, they appear to be crystals of oxalic acid.”

“What is that, please?” Afton asked.

“It’s an agent commonly added to water to reduce the pH balance.”

“Is this something commonly found in baby products?” Max asked.

“Not that I know of.”

“Just the name oxalic acid sounds fairly dangerous,” Afton said.

“Yes, well, I suppose it could be.”

“Any idea how it got there?” Max asked.

“None whatsoever,” Dr. Sansevere said.

“You find anything else on her?” Max asked.

“Nothing that was atypical considering the circumstances of where she was found. Leaves, a few animal hairs.”

“Has she been DNA typed yet?” Afton asked.

“We’re still working on that.”

“Okay, thank you,” Max said. “I trust you’ll contact us right away if you learn anything else?”

“Count on it,” she said.

Max disconnected from her, then looked at Afton. “Thoughts?”

Afton shook her head. “I don’t know what any of that means.”

“Neither do I.” Max blew out his cheeks, and then said, “But I’m feeling antsy. Come on, let’s take a ride. Go blow out the carbon.”


*

WHEREVER they were headed, Afton decided that Max was taking the long way around. They sliced over to Hennepin Avenue, right in the middle of downtown Minneapolis, and cruised slowly along the thoroughfare.

“This used to be appropriately tacky and mildly interesting,” Max said. “All sorts of dimey bars, strip joints, rock clubs, magazine shops that sold dirty books in back, record stores, and waffle houses. Now it’s all chain restaurants—Italian, Mexican, Chinese. If we ever patch things up in the Middle East, somebody will probably open a McFalafel.”