Near You (Montana Series #2) - Mary Burton Page 0,80

two slices as my fee,” Maura said.

Ann would do better than that, but for the sake of no argument, she said, “Deal.”

The next half hour—or was it an hour?—she changed, placed her order, got the boys set up in the kitchen to do homework, fed them, and cleaned up. It was the usual evening school-night chaos, and she was glad to have it back.

When she made her way to the living room, she dreaded the ongoing mess waiting for her. But when she entered, the four bookshelves had been assembled and lined the wall on either side of the small fireplace.

“Is that where you want the shelves?” Maura asked as she opened the first box of books.

“Yes, that’s perfect. I can see the floor,” Ann said. “It doesn’t feel like an obstacle course anymore.”

“Like I said, this is my thing.” Maura held up a book on forensic psychology and behavior. “Thick reading.”

“Hazard of the work.”

Maura carefully placed it on the shelf. “Do you enjoy your work?”

“I do like teaching,” Ann said.

“Have you ever worked with the cops? Seems they’d want your insight into cases.”

“Not really.” Ann carried a collection of books and handed them to Maura. “These go with that one.”

“I read about that body they found near town last week,” Maura said.

“Yes, it sounds horrible.”

“That seems to me to be the kind of case a doctor like you would consult on,” she said.

“Maybe.”

“What would make someone do that to another person?” Maura asked.

“The human mind goes to some very strange places. It would be difficult to drill down on the motives.”

“Sick, if you ask me.” Maura aligned several more books, then rearranged a couple so that they lined up in descending order.

Putting names to the faces of the charred remains had been a stark reminder that what she had examined in the autopsy suite was not just evidence but the last vestiges of women. They had had hopes and dreams, made mistakes, enjoyed triumphs, made love, laughed, and cried. They had not deserved their grisly fates.

“Where’d you go?” Maura asked.

“Sorry. I do that from time to time. Absentminded professor.”

“Are you worried about him?” Maura asked.

“About who?”

“A killer like that on the streets. Jesus, you never know when he’ll strike.”

“I doubt we’re in danger.”

“How can you say that?”

“I just don’t see why we’d be a target.” She recalled the nights she had heard noises outside her house and found the small paper airplane left outside Nate’s window. She could not say for certain that she was not a target.

Bryce arrived back at his ranch and was greeted by the new female dog, Venus. She met him on the front porch, daring him to pass.

“I pay the light bill here, kid,” he said, meeting her gaze.

His tone was stern but intentionally nonthreatening. That would come next. As a gesture of goodwill, he extended his hand and waited patiently for her to sniff. She took her time, smelling his palm, his coat sleeve, and then his shoes.

“Dylan,” he said. “Call your dog.”

“Venus,” his brother shouted as he opened the front door. “Come inside, girl.”

The dog’s ears perked, but she kept a close eye on Bryce.

“It’s okay, girl.” Dylan walked up to the dog, scratched her between the ears, and then fed her a small kibble treat.

“You’ve just rewarded her for keeping me out of my house,” Bryce said.

Dylan handed him a kibble treat. “Make friends with her.”

Bryce held out the treat for the dog. After a brief hesitation, she took it. “She’s picky.”

“Nothing wrong with a woman with discerning tastes.”

“Maybe.”

Dylan turned back toward the house, and the dog trotted after him. “Just made a big pot of chili.”

“Terrific. I’m starving.”

“Change and then you can give me a rundown on your case.”

“Will do.” It was nice to have company when he came through the front door.

As he grabbed a beer from the refrigerator, he wondered what it would be like to have Ann here. He had heard enough from Gideon to know they had grown up on a ranch, though he would wager the Bailey outfit was a hell of a lot more sophisticated than this ramshackle house and patch of dirt.

Ann reminded him of a purebred. Long and lean, beautiful. Each time he saw her, he searched for flaws but had yet to find one. Smart, a great mother, she was also recovering from the husband who had lied his way into their marriage.

Dylan came in the back door. “You’re making the face again.”

“Face?”

“The worried face.”

“That’s what I do.”

Dylan dunked a wooden

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