Page 258 of Secrets Hidden In The Glass

The hair stood up on the back of Nate’s neck as his gaze tracked over the nine simple words, mostly sure he knew what “it” was.

“Nathan.”

Nate turned, looking at Matthew already gloved up and bootied in the doorway.

Matthew took a step farther inside and stopped, closing his eyes as he shook his head. “I’ve seen death more times than I can count, but this takes my breath away.”

Nate didn’t want to think about it. He wanted to stay focused on the job—on autopilot.

Matthew walked closer and sighed as he bent down close to the bodies. “Still warm. Hardly has any lividity at all.” Matthew shook his head again. “Somehow it makes it worse that this just happened—that we might have been able to stop him if we’d known.”

Nate nodded, not quite sure what to say, watching as Matthew began the process of recording his thoughts on a tape recorder, then protecting Bob’s hands, covering them with bags and taping them off.

Matthew stood. “From what I can see here, I don’t believe a full autopsy is warranted. This looks to be suicide, but I imagine you’d like for me to wait for you to complete my exam back at the clinic.”

Nate nodded again.

“I’ll make arrangements with EMS.”

“Sure.” He turned away as Matthew headed back out into the dark with his cell phone in his hand.

“Nate.” Mac’s voice carried through the radio. “Michelle’s here.”

He pressed the button on his walkie-talkie. “Give her some booties and gloves and send her in.”

“Sure thing.”

Michelle walked to the doorway, her eyes red-rimmed and puffy. “Nate. I can’t believe this is happening.”

He moved to where she stood, hating that he’d had to ask her to do this, but something about Lucky’s wounds was bothering him. “I’m sorry I had to call you down here.”

She sniffled. “Whatever I can do to help.” She glanced toward the bodies and a tear started rolling down her cheek. “They were just in the office Monday for Lucky’s check-up.”

“How’d it go?”

She shrugged. “Relatively well for a senior dog. His sight wasn’t great and his hearing was starting to fade, but otherwise he was healthy—well cared for.”

Nate nodded. “I’m hoping you can take a look at the wounds—give me your impressions.”

“All right.” She shored herself up, straightening her shoulders as she put on the gloves and booties, and walked with him to the bodies. Almost immediately her brow furrowed as she bent close to the dog. “Oh, Nate.”

“What?”

“This shot here in his upper side went through his stomach.” She pointed to the probable exit wound. “It most likely wasn’t fatal, but it would have been extremely painful.”

Nate’s gaze trailed over the bloody paw prints on the concrete floor. “It looks like he walked around.”

Michelle followed his gaze. “Yes. Probably pacing. Lucky’s pain would have been undeniable—lots of whimpering and crying before the fatal shot to the head.” She fought back more tears. “Why would Bob do this? I can’t imagine him doing this to poor old Lucky. He would have suffered horribly.”

Nate clenched his jaw as he stood, unable to imagine it either. Bob loved his dog—adored him. When Nate saw Bob at the diner eight or nine hours ago, everything had seemed fine—even when they’d spoken of Samantha Fletcher. “You feel pretty confident about this?”

She stood, nodding. “Unfortunately, I’m positive.”

“Can you do a necropsy for me—make sure we’re absolutely certain?”

“Yeah, I can do that. I’ll call in one of my assistants to give me a hand.”

“I’ll want you to wait for me. I’m going to have Shawn come back out here and head over to the clinic with you.”