Read Online Nobody's Child (Georgia Davis Series) by Libby Fischer Hellmann - Free Book Online Page B

images on his screen and took a few more. “Just to be safe.”
    This time it was her turn to be hopeful. “You really think you can identify it?” she asked.
    “No promises, but…” He squinted at the back of the phone, where the last image was still displayed. “Hey…did you see this?”
    “What?”
    “This smudge.” He pointed to a darkish area on the image, then looked at the wrapper itself.
    “I did. I figured it was probably ketchup or gravy. Maybe a coffee stain.”
    “I don’t think so. Remember, there’s no coating on this wrap. Which means whatever that is was easily absorbed. But, you see, ketchup is really thick. Even a little would have congealed and hardened on top. Despite the lack of coating. But that didn’t happen. So I doubt it’s ketchup. Or gravy.”
    She looked at him. “What are you saying?”
    “It could be meat juice.” Martin shrugged. “Or coffee.” A gleam came into his eyes. “Then again…”
    Georgia finished. “It could be blood.”

Chapter 18
    T he press conference was the lead story on the news that night. Evanston’s mayor said all the right things: the cops were working hard; anyone with information about the gunman or victim should come forward; and here’s what we’re doing to make Evanston safer. There was no mention of evidence, the autopsy, or, thankfully, Georgia’s role.
    She got up and turned off the tube. She was beginning to think the incident was random. If they’d found any evidence she was the target, the police would have told her—they were all over it. But they hadn’t. That was good. She made a grilled cheese sandwich. Halfway through eating it, she realized she wasn’t hungry. She pushed the plate away, got up, and retrieved the note from the paper bag.
    She examined the smudge on the wrapper again. If it was blood, how did it get on the wrapper? Wouldn’t someone with a cut or scrape, or even a bloody nose, use a tissue? Unless there wasn’t one. In that case, someone might well have used whatever was lying around, including a food wrapper. Still, what were the chances the blood—if it was—came from the woman who claimed to be her half sister?
    Georgia tried to think it through. If a client had a relative who was pregnant and in trouble and might have traces of blood on a food wrapper, what would she advise? Track it down? Ignore it? Wait for more evidence?
    But was this wasn’t a client. This was personal. She thought about calling Sam to talk it over, but she hadn’t told Sam much about her family. There was one person who knew her history, but she wasn’t in touch with him. To call just because she had a problem wasn’t fair.
    On the other hand, they’d always bounced ideas off each other. He was a good problem solver. Despite everything, on a professional level she trusted him. He’d been a cop too. She flicked on her phone and clicked on his name. His voice mail picked up.
    “You’ve reached Matt Singer. Leave a message.”
    She disconnected.
    * * *
    The next morning she dialed a number before she changed her mind.
    “You’ve reached the Illinois Crime Lab.” A recorded voice told her to dial the extension she wanted. She punched in three numbers.
    “Lou Simonelli here.”
    “Hey, Lou. It’s Georgia Davis.” Lou, short for Louise, was a criminalist who’d worked a few cases with Georgia when she was on the force.
    “Well now. Davis. I haven’t heard from you in years. How you be?”
    “Good.”
    “Gone private, I hear.”
    “For a couple of years now.”
    “So I hear. Not doing too badly either, baby cakes.”
    Georgia smiled. She liked Lou. “Listen, Lou. I need a DNA test, and I need a referral.”
    “What kind of test?”
    “Identification and comparison. Possible siblings.”
    “For a case?”
    She didn’t answer.
    “Does it need to be legally submissible? You know, hold up in court?”
    “No,” she said. “Can you refer me to a good lab?”
    “Are the mothers willing to give