Blood Money Read Online Free PDF Page B

Christmas tree twinkled with bee lights and antique ornaments. Presents were elegantly wrapped and orchestrated in layers under the tree. The “Hallelujah Chorus” from Haydn’s Messiah played softly through discretely hidden wall speakers. The setting was belied by the grisly scene in the study.
    Nick stopped in the foyer and watched as the children’s bodies were brought down from the bedrooms. Attendants from the coroner’s office wearing white jackets and latex gloves carried the small, zippered black bags. Their feet wrapped in surgical booties, the attendants carefully trod down the thickly carpeted staircase. Nick’s stomach churned. He swallowed hard. It was all he could do to prevent himself from heaving last night’s champagne.
    Mike Rosa pointed to the study at the rear of the house. The two men didn’t speak as the DA led the way. Nick mustered all his strength and followed.
    The bodies of Joe and Christy were in plain view just beyond the open door. Forensics were busy inside the dimly lit room dusting for fingerprints on the books, the mahogany paneling, the phone, the surveillance system, and scraping fibers from the carpet. Other members of the team were outlining the bodies with spray chalk on the Persian Herez carpet. Christy lay face up, wide-eyed, her mouth slightly open as if she were surprised and about to speak. The small dark hole in her forehead was crusted with dried blood, which had trickled onto her blond hair. Joe was facedown just in front of her. His head was turned to one side with his mouth twisted where it pressed heavily against the floor in a coagulated pool of blood. The bullet entrance wound was to his temple. His was a larger hole. Hair and bone were missing. It was definitely not as clean a job as Christy’s. His eyes were squeezed shut as if in pain. His legs were splayed apart and his feet turned inward. A gun lay on the floor to the right of his body.
    Rosa rubbed his hands together as always when he was tense. He paced for a few seconds between two Chippendale sofas while Nick looked on. His riding boots squeaked lightly with each step. He had been giving orders nonstop to county police and detectives—coordinating with the attorney general’s office and the State Police while keeping the press at bay. What a mess, he thought. Just four hours ago he had been on the trail, riding his favorite horse.
    “I’m sorry, Nick. I know how close you were to him.” Rosa’s voice was like sandpaper. It scratched and skipped over theunthinkable—murder, suicide—Joe had killed his family, the ones he loved most, and then himself. The evidence clearly pointed in that direction. The only question now was why.
    Expressionless, Nick stared at the grisly scene. He wanted to pick Joe up from the floor and shake him. “Wake up, Joe! Wake up ,” was what he wanted to say. Instead he turned to Rosa.
    “Nah, Mike. You can’t possibly believe this. Not really.” Nick’s chin trembled as he gritted his perfectly white teeth. “This murder-suicide is crap. Joe would never hurt his family. You know that.” His brown eyes fixed themselves defiantly on the DA. Rosa shifted uncomfortably.
    “Look, Nick—the evidence is preliminary, but it looks pretty clear. Joe left a letter of apology on his computer. We’re sending prints to the lab. There’ll be autopsies, naturally, and ballistics will have a report. But it doesn’t look like an outside job.”
    “I see,” Nick retorted. “Guilt by computer. You’re doing what you’re supposed to do. You’re being a cop—that’s all. I understand.” He paced. “The number one cop in the county—right? Well I want more than a note left on a computer. What else do you have? Where’s the motive? He was a happy, successful guy. He had a beautiful wife, great kids, a storybook marriage.”
    “Nick, you’re going to have to wake up.” Rosa hesitated, almost apologetically. “There were a lot of problems.” The DA’s expression was