look like hell.”
“Yeah?” Seth responded. “Well I feel worse. I was up all night.”
“Want to sack out on one of my examination tables?”
Seth shook his head as Chance took him back to his cluttered office. He made an attempt to exchange pleasantries with Val, Chance’s nurse and Tara, the billing clerk who worked for Chance, but also moonlighted with Junior during tax season. Chance poured two cups of coffee, then sat on the edge of his desk prepared to listen to Seth’s dilemma.
“I heard the butcher’s bill went up last night,” Chance said.
Seth picked up a plastic heart and started to disassemble it. “Butcher’s bill?”
“During the Battle of Trafalgar, Admiral Nelson used to ask his aide for the butcher’s bill for the day. He thought it was more humane then asking how many soldiers had died.”
“Bill Grayson is currently in the morgue at Deer Lake Hospital,” Seth said. He then went on to retellthe events leading up to, during and after the discovery of Bill’s body.
“Sounds like you’ve got the Wyatt woman dead to rights—no pun intended.”
Seth glared at his younger brother. “I’ve no longer got the Wyatt woman. Some federal attorney was waiting for me when I got back this morning. Tossed a bunch of motions at me, then waltzed out of the office with Savannah in tow.”
One of Chance’s salt-and-pepper brows arched. “Savannah?”
“Yes,” Seth hissed, all but daring his sibling to make an issue out of it.
Which was precisely what Chance did. “You’ve got the hots for a woman who kills her dates? You need some serious counseling, bro.”
“I do not have the hots,” Seth insisted.
“Pu-lease,” Chance said, chuckling. “I can hear it in the way you say her name. Reminds me of when Sam fell for Callie.”
“It isn’t anything like that,” Seth insisted defensively.
That only made Chance laugh harder. “You can fool yourself, but you can’t fool your doctor.”
“My doctor is a fool,” Seth grumbled.
“Very adult, Seth. Name-calling isn’t very impressive when it comes from the town’s senior law enforcement officer.”
Seth took a long sip of the hot coffee. “Okay, somaybe I’ve noticed a few things about her that I find appealing.”
Chance grinned. “Now we’re getting to the good part.”
Seth gave his brother a warning look. “I was referring to her personality, not her body.”
“Too bad,” Chance said, raking his hands through his hair. “Because I’ve seen her body and it seems flawless to me.”
“Chance?”
“She’s not a patient,” Chance defended with poorly feigned innocence. “Every now and again I run into her on the street. I’m not sure whether it’s her pouty lips or those blue-brown eyes that excite—”
“Shut up!” Seth wailed.
Chance was laughing at him, which didn’t improve Seth’s disposition.
“I was only ragging on you to prove a point,” Chance explained.
“That point being that in spite of those dozen or so gray hairs, you’re still a childish SOB?”
“No,” Chance answered, more subdued. “You’re thirty-eight years old. It’s about time that a woman knocked you to your knees.”
“I am not on my knees,” Seth insisted. He closed his eyes long enough to let out a slow sigh. “I don’t know what I am.”
“Why don’t you spend some time with her and find out?” Chance suggested.
“I’d have to get in line. White got a federal judge to give him custody of Savannah if she’s charged.”
“Are you going to charge her?” Chance asked.
“No. In spite of the evidence, which isn’t much more substantial than her having been with all three men before their deaths, all my instincts tell me she isn’t the killer.”
“Do you trust your instincts?” Chance asked, apparently worried for his sibling. “If you’re wrong, this woman could decide to make you victim number four.”
After a brief moment of reflection, Seth said, “I’m sure. She’s not the killer. But
“Yeah?” Seth responded. “Well I feel worse. I was up all night.”
“Want to sack out on one of my examination tables?”
Seth shook his head as Chance took him back to his cluttered office. He made an attempt to exchange pleasantries with Val, Chance’s nurse and Tara, the billing clerk who worked for Chance, but also moonlighted with Junior during tax season. Chance poured two cups of coffee, then sat on the edge of his desk prepared to listen to Seth’s dilemma.
“I heard the butcher’s bill went up last night,” Chance said.
Seth picked up a plastic heart and started to disassemble it. “Butcher’s bill?”
“During the Battle of Trafalgar, Admiral Nelson used to ask his aide for the butcher’s bill for the day. He thought it was more humane then asking how many soldiers had died.”
“Bill Grayson is currently in the morgue at Deer Lake Hospital,” Seth said. He then went on to retellthe events leading up to, during and after the discovery of Bill’s body.
“Sounds like you’ve got the Wyatt woman dead to rights—no pun intended.”
Seth glared at his younger brother. “I’ve no longer got the Wyatt woman. Some federal attorney was waiting for me when I got back this morning. Tossed a bunch of motions at me, then waltzed out of the office with Savannah in tow.”
One of Chance’s salt-and-pepper brows arched. “Savannah?”
“Yes,” Seth hissed, all but daring his sibling to make an issue out of it.
Which was precisely what Chance did. “You’ve got the hots for a woman who kills her dates? You need some serious counseling, bro.”
“I do not have the hots,” Seth insisted.
“Pu-lease,” Chance said, chuckling. “I can hear it in the way you say her name. Reminds me of when Sam fell for Callie.”
“It isn’t anything like that,” Seth insisted defensively.
That only made Chance laugh harder. “You can fool yourself, but you can’t fool your doctor.”
“My doctor is a fool,” Seth grumbled.
“Very adult, Seth. Name-calling isn’t very impressive when it comes from the town’s senior law enforcement officer.”
Seth took a long sip of the hot coffee. “Okay, somaybe I’ve noticed a few things about her that I find appealing.”
Chance grinned. “Now we’re getting to the good part.”
Seth gave his brother a warning look. “I was referring to her personality, not her body.”
“Too bad,” Chance said, raking his hands through his hair. “Because I’ve seen her body and it seems flawless to me.”
“Chance?”
“She’s not a patient,” Chance defended with poorly feigned innocence. “Every now and again I run into her on the street. I’m not sure whether it’s her pouty lips or those blue-brown eyes that excite—”
“Shut up!” Seth wailed.
Chance was laughing at him, which didn’t improve Seth’s disposition.
“I was only ragging on you to prove a point,” Chance explained.
“That point being that in spite of those dozen or so gray hairs, you’re still a childish SOB?”
“No,” Chance answered, more subdued. “You’re thirty-eight years old. It’s about time that a woman knocked you to your knees.”
“I am not on my knees,” Seth insisted. He closed his eyes long enough to let out a slow sigh. “I don’t know what I am.”
“Why don’t you spend some time with her and find out?” Chance suggested.
“I’d have to get in line. White got a federal judge to give him custody of Savannah if she’s charged.”
“Are you going to charge her?” Chance asked.
“No. In spite of the evidence, which isn’t much more substantial than her having been with all three men before their deaths, all my instincts tell me she isn’t the killer.”
“Do you trust your instincts?” Chance asked, apparently worried for his sibling. “If you’re wrong, this woman could decide to make you victim number four.”
After a brief moment of reflection, Seth said, “I’m sure. She’s not the killer. But
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