Blood on the Sun (CSI: NY) Read Online Free Page A

did find this.”
    He held up a thick see-through sealed plastic bag. Inside the bag were dozens of pieces of colored glass. Mac took the bag and held it up to the light.
    “I used the spectroscope,” Danny went on. “No sign of any blood on the fragments. Not surprising, since they were all killed with a knife, but…”
    “I’ll take this back to the lab,” said Mac.
    Danny and Mac were standing outside the bedroom where the dead were lying. Mac looked over the wooden railing and down at the polished wooden floor of the living room. The sofa was a dark green. Two oak, brown leather armchairs with matching hassocks. A solid, dark oak coffee table and standing lamps with glass shades. A large, colorful rug that looked handmade and Native American lay at an angle on the floor. A single, large gold-framed painting on the wall, the Vorhees family, about five or six years old. The girl was no more than twelve, the boy about seven. All were looking directly forward, displaying the same artificial smile that failed to capture anything about what any of them were thinking or feeling.
    Danny followed Mac’s gaze and looked at the painting. Mac didn’t look at him as he said, “When we get back you make an emergency appointment to see a department psychologist about that tremor.”
    Mac also noticed—but said nothing about—the raw, red bruises on Danny’s knuckles.
    Danny searched for something to say, but couldn’t come up with anything. Besides, Mac was right.
    In the parents’ bedroom, Mac found a framed nine-by-eleven color photograph of the entire family. The parents were seated and smiling. The children stood behind them, also smiling. All the smiles were those of people who had been told to smile, the same smile Mac and Danny had seen in the painting in the living room.
    “Recent,” Danny said, looking at the photograph. “The girl looks about the same.”
    Mac agreed and kept looking at the photograph. “Possible scenarios?”
    Danny adjusted his glasses, looked at the photograph.
    “The boy killed them and ran,” he said.
    “But?” asked Mac.
    “But, the kid’s no more than one hundred pounds, puny,” said Danny. “Whoever did this picked up the two women and placed them on the bed. The mother weighs at least 150. The daughter weighs about 120. Blood drops but no drag marks. Whoever did this picked up the women, placed them gently on the bed and folded their arms, which leaves out the boy.”
    Mac nodded. Danny didn’t know what the nod meant.
    “Intruder,” tried Danny. “Came in to rape the girl, got caught by the mother and father, killed everyone, felt guilty and laid out the women.”
    “You checked the windows?” asked Mac.
    “No sign of forced entry. Windows all locked.”
    “How did he get in?” asked Mac.
    “Don’t know yet,” answered Danny.
    “And the boy?”
    “Saw or heard what happened,” said Danny. “Ran. Or the killer caught him and decided not to kill him, at least not here.”
    “Why?” asked Mac.
    “Hostage,” said Danny. “Or…”
    “Pedophilia,” said Mac. “Get all the samples to the lab. Tell Jane to get the DNA run as fast as possible.”
    “I’d better get to the lab,” Danny said as they went downstairs.
    “Psychologist,” Mac reminded him.
    Danny didn’t speak.
    “As soon as you get back,” said Mac.
    The front door opened and Detective Defenzo stepped in.
    “Side door of the garage is wide open,” he said from the living room. “Cleaning lady says the boy has a bike. There’s no bike in the garage.”
    “I’ll check it before I leave,” said Danny, starting down the stairs.
    Mac nodded an okay and moved down the hall. They had already gone over the other bedrooms. No blood, everything in place in the parents’ room. Clothes neatly hung in the closet, bathroom clean with white towels hung symmetrically on white plastic rods.
    The boy’s room was small, relatively neat, with a pair of jeans and a shirt slung over a chair that faced