Page 16 of Skin Deep

“The ripper?” Warrick sat up straighter.

“Maya’s official cause of death was self-inflicted,” I said quietly. “But the attack contributed.”

I waited for that look to cross his face, the same one everyone got when they heard what happened. Pity wouldn’t bring Maya back, and it wouldn’t put the ripper behind bars. It was a useless thing, the pity of strangers.

But Warrick didn’t look at me with pity in his eyes. There was a fire there, the same one I’d seen the night before when I told him about Jamina, a flame I recognized as righteous rage.

It was there, and then it suddenly wasn’t, almost as if he’d flipped a switch to turn it off. War turned back to his computer, letting the whole subject go. “How old is Charlotte?”

It took me a minute to recover. “Eighteen months next week.” God, had it been so long?

He frowned, sighed, put on his gloves, and reached to retrieve his pen light from his pocket. “All right. Let’s have a look.”

Charlie flinched when he shined the light in her face.

Warrick leaned in, focused wholly on the small split on the right side of my daughter’s lip that turned into a deep groove running to her nose. “Can you tilt your head back and open your mouth, Charlotte?”

“Open your mouth, Charlie,” I encouraged.

Charlie shook her head, wide-eyed.

I sighed. “She went to the dentist a few months ago and hated it so…”

War snorted. “I don’t blame her. Dentists are evil. Lucky for us, there are no dentists here, so they won’t know if I give you…this.” He produced one of those cheap suckers from his pocket, holding it up.

Charlie squeaked excitedly and immediately reached for it, but he pulled it out of her reach.

“You have to let me see inside your mouth first,” War told her.

She considered for a minute before tipping her head back and opening her jaw as wide as it would go. War shone his light in there, looking around before Charlie snapped her jaw shut like a great white shark.

He smirked and held the sucker out to her before turning to me. “So, it’s not just the cleft lip, which I’m sure you’re aware of. The palate seems intact, although I’d like to get some x-rays to be sure. We’ll need those anyway.” He scooted back over to his laptop, typing something. “Has Charlie had any genetic testing done?”

I shook my head. “Maya didn’t want it. Does that matter?”

He turned away from the laptop, folding his arms. God, he looked sexy when he was being all professional. “Yes and no. Yes, because it might affect Charlotte’s overall picture of health and no because the cosmetic procedure and prognosis is the same. In the history, you mentioned you had a cleft lip repair, so it’s likely genetic. She has some other symptoms that are less concerning aesthetically but might indicate Van der Woude Syndrome.”

I blinked and frowned, feeling stupid. Those were a lot of big words to process all at once. Fuck, he was smart.

“What’s that?” Lettie asked.

“It means she might need more than what I can do on my own,” War said, addressing Lettie directly. “You know anything about genetics?”

Lettie crossed her arms and canted her hip, looking at War like she was the one schooling him. “I know Mamma had brown eyes and Daddy has brown eyes, so I’ve got brown eyes.”

“That’s because brown eyes are probably dominant genes in your lineage,” War said. “In genetics, there’s a dominant and recessive gene for most traits. Dominant ones are more likely to show up than recessive ones. You get one from your mom, one from your dad. In this case, your dad has a copy of a dominant gene that causes Van der Woude Syndrome, which means you have it too, even if you didn’t show symptoms.”

Lettie made a face. “How do you know that?”

“Because I can see the surgical repair scars on your dad’s face and the symptoms of the same thing showing on your sister’s.”

Lettie rolled her eyes. “Not that. I mean how do you know I got it, dummy?”

“Lettie,” I nudged her. “Be nice.”

War laughed though. “Because that’s how genetics works. Just like you got the shape of your nose from your dad’s genes. I can tell because they’re similar. Doesn’t mean your mom’s nose isn’t in there somewhere, hiding out as a recessive gene. If you have kids, your kids might have a nose like your mom’s, just like your kids might have what I think your sister has. You got any more questions about genetics, or can I go back to telling your daddy how to help your sister?”

Lettie looked him up and down, narrowing her eyes before she shrugged and waved her arm, dismissing him. “I’m done.”

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