Ten Times Guilty Read Online Free PDF Page B

and devour the material, she wanted time to go over it, time to savor every bit of information.
    But when Ritchie woke, he’d be hungry. Reluctantly, she set the envelope down to get supper going.
    After she put spaghetti on to boil, she took a jar of sauce from the fridge. No cheese, but she’d make do with the sauce even though there were only a few drops left. Adding water, she put it on to heat and had just settled down to open the manila envelope when Ritchie woke and called to her. Ah, the joys of motherhood. She set the envelope down and tiptoed to the doorway to peek around the corner. Ritchie saw her and giggled. Playfully bending to a crouch, she crept through the door.
    “I see that little button nose,” she said, skulking closer to the crib.
    Ritchie pulled himself up, laughing and waving his arms at her until he almost fell. He grabbed the hardwood rails and peeked through the bars.
    “There’s that little round tummy,” she chanted, almost up to the crib. “I see it...right...THERE!” Reaching in, she tickled his stomach, and in his delight he squealed and made small jumps, rattling the entire crib.
    She changed him, then picked him up, kissing him right on the soft spot under his chin. Inhaling the fresh, powdery scent of a clean baby, she carried him to the kitchen. Sounds of laughter filled the tiny apartment as they played and had their dinner. Most of Ritchie’s spaghetti went on his face and in his hair, but he managed to get some in his mouth. She wiped his face and cleaned him as much as she could, then set him on the floor. He stared up at her, his eyes gathering moisture as the grin left his face. He frowned.
    “I can’t play all day, you know,” Tracy told him. “I have things to do, plans to make.” She put her hands on her hips and blew a raspberry. He laughed and she stuck a stuffed bear in his hands, then gathered more of his toys. Soon his attention was completely on his toys.
    A half hour later, schedules and brochures scattered over the table, Tracy was ready to cry. She must have misunderstood when the advisor, Mrs. Wellington, told her about financial aid and the start date for her class. According to the school policy she just read, she couldn’t begin until all the paperwork was completed and payment had been made or was forthcoming. When she had filled out the applications for the various grants and loans, she’d been told it sometimes took months for everything to be approved.
    She checked the schedule. Classes started in three weeks; after that, the next start date was eleven months.
    Eleven months.
    Almost a year.
    She couldn’t wait that long. She needed to start now, as planned. Too many things could happen in a year. She’d learned early not to trust fate; she had to make her own. And make it now.
    But God, she needed some encouragement, something good sometimes. She didn’t ask a lot; she was willing to go it alone. Just please, no more blocks thrown her way. She closed her eyes and leaned back in the chair. What could she do?
    First thing in the morning, she’d call Mrs. Wellington and get it straightened out. Somehow, she had to be in that class in three weeks.
     
     
    Chapter Six
     
     
    Reese took one look at the battered young woman and wanted five minutes alone with the perpetrator.
    Cindy Harris lay on the table clutching a sheet to her chin. One green eye was a puffed slit, but the other tracked the detectives as they crowded into the small cubicle. She didn’t make a sound, but tears rolled to her temples. Her swollen lips had been cleaned, but tiny cracks held traces of blood and a splint covered her nose. An IV tube ran from her hand to a bottle hanging on a T-pole, and wires ran from her chest to a monitor that beeped with each heartbeat.
    Suzy Banning, a white-haired rape counselor in her seventies, stood at the patient’s right side, firmly grasping Cindy’s hand. Instead of her usual flamboyant clothing, Suzy was wearing one of those nylon