Courting Death Read Online Free Page A

eyes.
    I gritted my teeth so hard my jaw muscles hurt. I was not going to rehash the past. I had neither the willpower nor the control to endure opening old wounds at this point in my life. I could only focus on the here and now.
    On taking one day at a time.
    I lifted my chin. “What part of ‘I’m burnt out’ don’t you understand? I’d had enough as a prosecutor. It was time to move on.”
    My days as a public servant had meant living day and night with graphic crime scenes of the endless array of death. Images that had become constant nightmares. I’d believed I could power my way through the stress. My solution to job pressure had been to work harder.
    It had only taken the blow of my mother’s illness to split me wide open and cost me that one horrible mistake. A mistake that might take me the rest of my life to atone for.
    Sam snorted. “You call representing a baby killer moving on? Seems to me you’ve gone Dumpster diving.”
    “Claire Whitman didn’t kill her baby.”
    A person should never underestimate Sam Bowie and his lazy Texan drawl. He struck faster than a rattler. Before I could evade him, he closed the short distance between us and gripped my upper arms. A shiver of awareness that had nothing to do with fear raced along my spine.
    Through the layers of the wool gabardine suit and silk blouse I wore, I could feel every nuance of Sam’s hands—the breadth of their span, the blunt cut of his nails, even the rasp of calluses. The heat of his touch still excited me. Damn, even my nipples hardened in reaction. However, the sense of protection I’d once experienced when he held me was gone. He gave me a slight shake.
    “Use that famous prosecutorial intellect and think for a minute. Two SIDS deaths in less than five years?”
    “So?” I shot back. “That’s not an automatic indictment.”
    I’d been boning up on the internet about sudden infant death syndrome. In England it was called “cot death.” No matter the name, the unexplained death of a healthy infant almost always cast a pall of suspicion upon the parents.
    Suddenly, I became aware our bodies had drifted closer together until all I had to do was put my arms around him… We had always been such a good fit.
    You’re adversaries now, remember? He wants to put your client away for life.
    “Let go.” I gave a sideways twist to my shoulders.
    Dark satisfaction glinted in his eyes. He released me but not before letting his hands glide down my arms, leaving a trail of tingling flesh in their path.
    Needing the distance, I took a step back before once again meeting his intense gaze. “There was a study in Great Britain and at least one British family a year suffers a double cot death.”
    “Statistics aren’t going to cover the fact that the Whitmans have had a troubled marriage from the get-go.”
    No… If true, those circumstances sure wouldn’t help.
    In the criminal cases I’d studied, the most common reasons why a father committed filicide boiled down to an act of revenge or jealously against the mother, while a mother who killed her children often suffered from postpartum depression. After a series of famous cases, a medical specialty called reproductive psychiatry had sprung up. I’d already jotted down the names of possible experts to call.
    Several countries had enacted legislation to allow mental disturbance due to birth as a possible defense against a charge of infanticide. However, no such law was on the books in Florida. I would have to deal with the old insanity defense if things started to look bad for Claire.
    “You’ve got nothing until the medical examiner’s report is in, so back off. When you’ve got something other than gossip, call me.”
    “Two healthy children, both dead within a year of birth. A troubled marriage. Even if the examiner’s results are inconclusive, I’ve got enough to bring your client in.”
    I counted to ten for patience. One reason why Sam was such a good cop was his bull-headed