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The second case was a collection of reference books, alphabetized and separated by size, color and topic. He had everything ranging from the Annotated Laws of the State of Montana to a Zoologists Guide to Bears. Pathologically anal.
Had it not been for the contents of the third bookcase, she would have started wondering about his mental health. On these shelves she found glimpses of him as a man. There were several framed photographs. Many, she guessed, were family pictures. They seemed to cover decades. One in particular caught her eye. Carefully, she lifted it off the shelf. Nine sets of smiling eyes looked back at her.
She shivered at the mere thought of such a huge family. The parents made a handsome couple. Chandler obviously came by his good looks honestly. His father was a very handsome man and his mother was stunning. She looked quite out of place among all that testosterone.
She also looked sad, Molly thought. There was something in her clear-blue eyes that seemed distant, unconnected. Molly felt herself smile, the poor woman was probably sleep deprived. She probably hadn’t had a decent night’s sleep since the birth of her first of seven sons.
“I’m the cute one—second from the left,” a slightly familiar male voice said from the doorway.
Molly turned to find Seth Landry smiling a greeting. He looked quite official in his sheriff’s uniform. And her brain made the predictable comparisons. Seth, like Chandler, was tall, dark and incredibly fit. His smile was warm and charming. Charm seemed to be an inherited trait among the Landrys.
Molly replaced the picture in its spot and extended her hand as she stepped forward. “Nice to see you again, Sheriff.”
“That’s right,” he acknowledged with a slight nod. “You worked with my nephew a few years back.”
“How is Kevin?”
“Great. Spoiled. Adjusting to being a big brother.”
“I ran into Callie at the grocery store,” Molly recalled. “She had little Sheldon with her. He’s adorable.”
“I think so, but then, I’m the favorite uncle, so I’m prejudiced.”
“I’m the favorite uncle,” Chandler insisted. He moved past Seth to place two mugs of coffee onto the desk, then hugged Seth and gave him a loud slap on the back.
Molly looked on with a twinge of envy. It must be nice to have a sibling. She hadn’t had that kind of physical contact with anyone since her father’s death. While she adored Gavin, it wasn’t the same. It wasn’t this.
“Sorry to drag you out here,” Chandler said. “I’m sure it’s a waste of your time.”
“I disagree,” Molly insisted. “I think that once you review the call, Sheriff, you’ll believe, like I do, that there is cause to investigate.”
“I’ll defer to you, Doctor,” Seth replied easily. “Chandler rarely takes anything seriously enough. It’s been a problem his entire life.”
Chandler tossed his brother a “kiss-off” look, then turned his attention back to Molly.
Her pretty eyes were little more than angry gray-green slits. Her pale skin was flushed but otherwise perfect. She was beautiful. And she was wrong.
“I’m sure it was just a crank call,” he reiterated.
“I disagree,” she countered. “I think if you listen to the tape—I assume one was recorded?”
“Yes,” Chandler supplied.
“It’s being cued in the control room as we speak,” Seth added. “I’d like the two of you to walk me through it.”
“My pleasure,” Molly said, spinning on her heel and walking ahead of them.
Chandler shook his head at the sight of her rigid back. His expression softened as his eyes dropped lower. Down to the gentle slope of her hips, lower still, to her shapely, toned legs. The woman had a great body.
Chandler’s brother grabbed his upper arm, holding him back and leaning closer before whispering, “Killer body.”
“You’re an old married guy, you shouldn’t be noticing bodies anymore. Killer or otherwise.”
“Just doing my job,” Seth retorted.
“How is admiring the good doctor’s tush part of your job description?”
“Investigation.” Seth shoved his Stetson back against his forehead and tilted his head slightly to the right as they slowly followed Molly down the hallway.
“Knock it off,” Chandler groused. “You have a beautiful wife. Go look at her.”
“I do,” Seth said on a contented sigh. “Every chance I get.”
“Then leave this one for me.” He saw Seth’s reproachful look out of the corner of his eye. “What?”
“She knows Callie. And Sam. And Kevin. And Taylor.”
Chandler’s brain flashed the images of his sister-in-law, his brother Sam, their son, and the Landrys’ housekeeper, Taylor Reese. None of the pictures in his mind deterred him from admiring the enticing view of Molly in her fitted navy suit. “So?”
Seth made a sound somewhere between a grunt and a groan. “Don’t be stupid, Chandler. You know better than to fool around with a friend of the family. When it ends—and we both know it always does—there’ll be divided loyalties and hell to pay.”
Chandler shrugged, knowing there was some merit to Seth’s argument. Very few things in life were as scary as the wrath of a woman. One surefire way to incur said wrath was to date and dump a friend. Women were amazing. Their friendships created a universal agreement that made the Musketeers look like pikers. Dump one and the others made you pay. Big-time.
“I’m just window-shopping,” Chandler said. “No harm in that, is there?”
“With you?” Seth asked. “Hell yes. You’re never satisfied by looking. Never were, never will be.”
Chandler jabbed his brother in the ribs with his elbow. “I’ll have you know I’m the picture of self-control.”
Rolling his eyes, Seth snickered. “You’re like a two-year-old, little brother. You need instant gratification. You see something you like, you want it five minutes ago. And you bore easily.”
Chandler watched as Molly shifted her purse from one dainty hand to the other. “How could anyone get bored with such a stunning creature?”
“You’d find a way,” Seth insisted. “Try some restraint. It builds character.”
“Screw character,” Chandler whispered as he donned his best poker face.
They reached the end of the corridor and Molly appeared to be at a loss. Placing his hand at the back of her waist, Chandler nudged her gently in the direction of the control booth. Inwardly he smiled as he felt her body shudder beneath his touch. To a lesser man, that might have been a deterrent. But he knew better. That small flinch was an acknowledgment, tangible proof that she was aware of his fingers splayed against her spine.
“In here,” he said, stepping to the side of the door and gallantly making a production out of allowing her to enter first.
Seth stepped forward and mumbled, “Suck up.”
“Jealous.”
“Hardly. I’ve got a wife, remember?”
“Who wants a wife when you can have her?”
“Who says you can have her?” Seth countered. “She seems pretty uninterested to me.”
“She won’t be for long.”
“Don’t go there, Chandler. She’s a nice lady. Been good to our family.”
“And those are two very good reasons for me to invite her to dinner.”
“Suit yourself,” Seth sighed. “But when you mess this up, I won’t save you from Callie or Taylor.”
“Who says I’m going to screw up?”
“Your entire life history.”
He shrugged and muttered, “I wish I’d been an only child.” Still, Seth’s words struck an unpleasant chord. Though he’d bite off his tongue before admitting it to his brother, Chandler knew his dating credentials fell far short of stellar. He did tend to rush into relationships, only to discover after the fact that he’d chosen poorly. But that didn’t make him incapable of having a real relationship. Did it? He sighed. Okay, so he’d done some borderline wrong things. But never once, not even for a split second, had he ever intended to hurt anyone.
Molly was fascinated by the vastly complicated electronic equipment crammed into a small, two-tiered room. One entire wall was monitors. Some were tuned to network programming, others were blank, still others were live feeds from the cameras located in the studios.
There were two long consoles in the room, with too many switches, dials and colored buttons to count. Several casually attired people with headsets manned the control boards. Yanking off his headset, a rotund man in a rumpled golf shirt stepped forward to welcome them.
She recognized the voice immediately. He was the producer who had called her with arrangements to do Good Morning Montana. He was also the disembodied voice she’d heard over the studio’s speakers.
“I’m Mike Murray,” he said, offering a beefy hand, and looking at Seth over her shoulder. “We’ve got the tape all set-up, sheriff.”
“Thank you,” Seth said. “Mind if we do this in private?”
The producer looked perplexed. “Yeah, I do. This is a newsroom. If it turns out there’s something to this call, then we have a responsibility to our viewers to stay on top of it.”
Seth did not appear pleased. “You also have a responsibility not to hinder my investigation.”
The burly producer seemed to be mulling it over.
Chandler stepped up and said, “Don’t sweat it, Mike, I’ll run the tape machine and if anything of interest comes of this, I’m on it.”
As soon as the other employees were dismissed, Molly and Seth were given seats at the console. Chandler opted to lean against the edge of the second row, his fingers within easy reach of the machine’s controls.
They watched the tape twice in silence, then Seth began asking for their impressions at various parts. After almost three hours, Molly had memorized every syllable of John’s call.
“He’s young,” she said when the tape ended. “Early twenties.”
“Why do you say that?” Seth asked.
“He mentions the government screwing him. Teenagers don’t really have much interaction with the government.”
“But he could be older than twenties, right?” Seth asked.
“Assuming he isn’t a crackpot,” Chandler spoke up, “his vocabulary is more in keeping with a young adult.”
Molly turned and gave him a smile. “Very good. And I agree. He used ‘lousy’ and ‘crappy’ which would be more appropriate for a twenty-year-old than a thirty-five year old. He also said his mother needed him. It indicates an inflated sense of self-importance.”
“Aren’t all men self-important?”
Molly again had to smile at Chandler’s question. “Pretty much,” she agreed, amused. “But in this case, he lumps his mother in with all his other problems. It shows minimal separation. I would guess this guy hasn’t had a great deal of life experience apart from his nuclear family.”
“This is good, I think—” Seth’s thought was interrupted by the sound of his cell phone. Grabbing it from the clip on his belt, Seth flipped it open and placed it against his ear. “Yes?” There was a lengthy pause, then “Say that again. Got it. I’ll be right there.”
“Problem?”
Seth’s brow wrinkled into a deep frown that reached the corners of his eyes. “Maybe. Just got a 911 call for a floater in Spawn Creek.”
“A woman?” Molly asked, a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. “Could it be John’s mother?”
“Won’t know for a while.” Seth stood and put his notepad into the breast pocket of his uniform shirt. “I’ve got to go.”
“I’ll go with you,” Chandler offered.
Seth shook his head. “No way. I don’t want any press on this just yet.”
“It’s a crime scene, Seth,” Chandler argued. “I’ve got every right to be there with a camera crew.”
Molly saw a flash of anger pass between the two men. It was so intense that she actually flinched.
“No camera, Chandler. Not on this one.”
“Why? What’s so special about this one?”
“It’s bad,” Seth answered slowly. “Really bad.”
Chapter Three
“Is she still hurling?” Seth asked without turning. He was crouched close to the remains, overseeing the horrific but necessary task of pulling the torso from the brackish shallows of Spawn Creek.
Chandler glanced over his shoulder to where he’d hurriedly parked the car. Molly was doubled over behind a shrub, about fifty discreet yards away. He didn’t blame her one bit. It was everything he could do to keep his own revulsion in check. “Yep. We’ve all been there.” He felt genuine sympathy for the woman but was a little perplexed by her reaction. “She has an M.D., you’d think she’d be better equipped for something like this.”
Seth shot him a quick glance. “I don’t think anyone can be prepared for something like this. Hell, I’m not prepared. What kind of animal could do this?”
Chandler shrugged, knowing his brother’s question was rhetorical. There wasn’t an explanation for this kind of savagery. At least, none that any sane person could conjure. This was brutal, ugly and violent. As bad as anything he’d seen during his tour in the first Gulf War.
“It’s going to be tough to get an ID,” Seth remarked to the crime-scene tech preparing to transport the remains. “Whoever did this went to a lot of trouble to make it virtually impossible for us to identify her.”
“Unless you can find the rest of her,” Chandler suggested. That thought made his stomach clench with renewed repugnance.
Seth stood and expelled an audible breath. Chandler knew his brother well. Seth would do whatever it took to find justice for this poor woman.
As the tech was lifting the remains onto the body bag, Chandler spotted something. “What’s that?” he asked, pointing in the general direction of a dark impression on the torso’s left shoulder.
Both men peered closer, examining the bizarre marking. “Maybe that’ll help you with the identification.” Chandler suggested.
“Looks postmortem,” the crime tech offered as he stopped to photograph the marking from various angles. “A burn of some kind.”
