No Mercy by John Gilstrap Page B

of them parked in the grass. Closest to the garage, parked on the pavement, was a large van labeled CRIME SCENE UNIT in the distinctive red, white, and blue lettering of the Fairfax County Police Department.
    Of the half dozen or so officers milling about, all of them reacted defensively as Jonathan piloted his BMW M6 up the lawn to park near their vehicles. Watching their hands twitch near their sidearms, Jonathan realized that during his days in IraqI'll bring the detective out to you."
    "She was my wife , Officer. I have a right."
    The cop pointed emphatically at the ground. "Here," he said.
    For the first time, it occurred to Jonathan that he might need a lawyer, that he was very possibly being considered as a suspect in whatever had happened.
    A barrel of a man with a huge head and a fleshy face appeared at the front door. He scowled as he listened to the uniformed officer, and he followed the man's pointing finger to make eye contact with Jonathan. The detective nodded curtly, and walked down the stairs to the front yard. As he closed to within a few feet, he extended his hand. "I'm Detective Weatherby," he said. There was a humorless intensity about the man that reminded Jonathan of a thousand other pricks he'd met over the years who confused professional intimidation with the need to be an asshole.
    Jonathan shook the cop's hand and wasn't the least surprised to find that he was of the bone-crushing school of hospitality. "Jonathan Grave. What's going on here?"
    "Are you the husband?"
    "Ex. Is Ellen all right?"
    "When did you see her last?"
    Jonathan felt his blood pressure rising. "Look, Detective, I swear to God I'll answer any and all questions you may have, but I want to know if she's hurt."
    Weatherby stewed, and then nodded. "Yes, sir, I'm afraid she is. It appears that someone broke into the house and hurt her very badly."
    Jonathan's anger transformed to fear. " How badly?"
    "I'm not a doctor. I don't know how to answer that."
    "She's alive."
    "Yes."
    "And expected to remain that way?"
    Weatherby averted his eyes.
    Jonathan's world spun. "Jesus, what happened to her?"
    The detective answered carefully. "She was beaten up pretty bad. The house has been torn apart."
    "What, like she stumbled in on a burglar and he panicked?"
    "Actually, no, sir, it was nothing like that at all. To my eye, it appears as though she was targeted specifically, and that the people who did so were looking for something they thought she had."
    Jonathan let the pieces drop. "You're saying she was tortured?"
    Weatherby studied Jonathan's face. "Yes, sir, that's exactly what I'm saying. Now, I don't have any more details, okay? That's all I know. You'll have to get the rest from the hospital."
    Jonathan turned back toward his car. "Which hospital?"
    "Whoa!" Weatherby commanded. "Not yet. I need to ask you some questions."
    "Am I a suspect?"
    "Of course you are. You're the ex-husband. Next to the current husband, you're number one on the list. By the way, where is Mr. Rothman?"
    At one level, Jonathan admired the cop's candor. Mostly, though, it annoyed him. "It's not my turn to watch him."
    "I gather from your tone that you don't like him much?"
    Jonathan snorted. "Understatement of the decade. I can't stand the son of a bitch. A quick hike to the courthouse will right to own."
    Weatherby scowled. "So there really is bad blood between you all."
    "Run into a lot of friendly divorces, Detective? Of course there's bad blood. But I assure you there's no homicidal blood."
    Weatherby regarded his prey with slit eyes, then gestured toward the front door with a toss of his head. "Come on inside."

    On a different day, the first thing a visitor to the Rothman home would have noticed was the splendor of the hardwood floors and the intricacy of the moldings and wainscoting. It was a home designed to dazzle visitors, and it rarely failed in its mission.
    Today, though, the intricate architectural details were invisible against the savage dismemberment