Film at Eleven. Kelsey Roberts

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СКАЧАТЬ even though her skin was still a pasty shade of gray.

      He reached his hand out to pull her up. She wobbled unsteadily. He shot out his other hand to support her elbow, and at the same time she put a shaky hand on his chest to brace herself. “Ready to go?” he asked.

      “About half an hour ago would’ve been fine. Thanks, I’m okay now.” She took a small step back, and reluctantly he let go, allowing her to brush the grass and debris from the back of her skirt in what he recognized as a “hands off” sign. Interesting.

      He pointed to his car. “How about I run you home?”

      “Oh, I—”

      He started walking toward the row of vehicles parked off to the side. “I’ve got a bottle of water in the car. You still look a little green.” And, God only knew, he felt a little green himself.

      She gave him a small smile. “Sorry about that.”

      “No need to apologize. I’ve seen battle-tested soldiers and seasoned detectives have the same reaction. It’s basic human nature to be nauseated seeing something like that.”

      “I should have been able to handle it. I thought I’d graduated from being a total wuss.”

      Chandler smiled sympathetically. He gave her points for maintaining her sense of humor. “I had no idea there was a graduation process for wussiness.”

      She rolled her pretty, green eyes. “Silly, I know.” Her soft mouth curved. “But medical schools insist on future doctors having some sort of qualifications before they practice. I made it. But unfortunately not before earning the nickname ‘Meltdown Molly’ after my first anatomy class. Saw the body on the slab and dropped like the proverbial stone.”

      He laughed. “Since you’ve got an M.D. after your name, I assume you overcame that tendency.”

      “Yeah. So did I,” she said on a deep sigh. “Until a little while ago.” Her eyes flickered toward the activity on the shore, then back to him. “That poor, poor woman. Only someone consumed with hatred could’ve done something that vicious.”

      “There are a lot of sick bastards out there,” he agreed grimly. “I believe you nailed it this morning. Caller John wasn’t a hoax.”

      She stopped in midstride to clutch his arm, surprising him by the strength of her grip. And his own reaction to having her slender fingers clasped around his bicep. Heat shot up his arm. Talk about bad timing.

      “Is that—I mean is she John’s mother?”

      “Since Jasper isn’t the murder capital of the world, it only makes sense that whoever called in this morning was telling the truth.”

      “Sick bastard is right,” she agreed under her breath, surprising him again.

      Her hand fell away and they continued up to where his car waited. “Isn’t that a little harsh for a shrink? Aren’t you supposed to understand depraved behaviors?”

      “Understand—sure. I also understand that anyone who can decapitate a woman’s head, as well as her hands and feet, deserves whatever severe remedy is available from the courts. Hopefully something that involves a lethal injection after he’s spent all those years of appeals locked in his cell watching an endless loop of videos of his victim.”

      HE WISHED HE’D MADE A VIDEO so he could watch himself killing her over and over again. But he wasn’t that stupid. Hell, he didn’t even have a video camera. He’d have to make do with the sharp, full-color mental images of the Big Event.

      “This is so cool!”

      He looked at his friend and easily accepted the praise. Now if you could just see the movie in my head—that would really impress you. “All I have left to do is connect these two wires.”

      He liked having an audience as he worked. Even if the audience was only two of his peers. Well, he didn’t think they were his peers. While they were the same age and had grown up together, the other men were followers, and he was a leader. Soon everyone would know that. Soon everyone would see that he really was destined for greatness.

      “Will this, like, totally blow up the whole street, or what?”

      He finished capping the twisted wires and fit them inside the remote-control device. “It’ll get the job done.”

      “So then we call the TV station and the papers and—”

      His pointed stare silenced his friend. “We don’t do anything. I make the decisions.”

      “We’re in this, too,” the youngest member of the group whined.

      Man, he hated whining. It reminded him of her. And thinking about her always made his heart race and his palms sweat with helpless rage. Ha! he thought triumphantly. Not so helpless now, am I Mama? He gave the other man a cold look. “Do you want to end up like my mother?”

      The younger man gulped and shook his shaved head.

      “This operation has one leader and that’s me.” Jesus. Power was euphoric. His heart raced, but this time from excitement. It was all coming together. Just like he’d said it would. Like a ball rolling downhill, his confidence gained momentum. He was empowered by his own smarts and skill. “I chose you all,” he looked from one to the other. The boss man. In charge. Master of his own fate. Hell, yeah!

      “Handpicked each one of you,” he said as if it were God’s hand that had chosen them. And why not? He was the next best thing. “This mission is critical. If my orders aren’t followed to the letter, or if either of you gets out of line, you’ll be replaced.” He paused for effect. Nice, real nice. They were about wetting their pants. “Is that clear?”

      He gloated inside as they nodded, eyes wide, showing fear and demonstrating the respect he so richly deserved. His mentor was right. He was a natural-born leader. This was his destiny. It was so close now, he could almost taste it.

      “We’ll store the bomb in the shed out by the old Greeley Mine,” he told them.

      “Why not just plant it now?”

      Again his authority was being challenged and again he felt a sudden and intense rush of rage. Pain, sharp and intense stabbed behind his eyes, and blood rushed to his skin like fiery sheet lightning. He grabbed his questioner, balled up his fist and punched him. The other man staggered backward from the blow, crashing into a table and scattering components onto the floor.

      “Don’t.” He got a grip on the fallen man’s shirt and hauled him to his feet.

      “Ever.” He punched him again, this time blood spurted from his friend’s nose.

      “Question.” He pulled back and gut punched him. His pal doubled over.

      “Me.” He jerked up his knee and made contact with the other man’s chin.

      Bleeding and unconscious, the guy crumpled to the floor, then lay motionless.

      Power. He had it. He was invincible now. He gave the other man a hard look. “Any more questions?”

      “Not me, dude.”

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