Shallow Grave. Karen Harper

suicide, but I can sure think of better ways to die.”

      “Don’t say that,” Heck said, reaching out to take her wrist. “I’m just glad things are improving for us, after we’ve all been through hell and back. I’m sure Nita and Bronco’s future plans will only make things happier.”

      “I couldn’t have said it better myself,” Nick said, leaning forward and lifting his glass.

      Nita came back to join them and sat on the end of the sofa next to Claire near Bronco’s chair. “I can’t wait until your baby comes and I am back to help you with both Lexi and baby too. So hard to wait for good things you want. And yet I’m so very sad for the Hoffmans, as they are in mourning. I—I understand that.”

      Nick said, “You’re right, Nita. It’s a shock when the world shifts so suddenly, terrific or terrible, but tonight, we’ll focus on the terrific. Agreed? Here’s to your birthday, the future Markwood baby and whatever else great comes along.”

      The clink of glassware was the only sound for a moment, as the six of them toasted quietly, each, Claire assumed, with his or her own thoughts of love and loss. She sent up a silent prayer that Ann, Brittany and her brother, Lane, would get through their family tragedy together, as well as the setback for the animal sanctuary.

      You never quite knew what was coming next in life, she admitted to herself, even if you thought you had things all planned out. Nita, whose first husband had died young in a fall from a roof, had no idea she would have the opportunity to start a new phase of her life tonight. Claire had never fathomed she’d marry Nick when she’d testified as an expert witness against one of his clients. Meanwhile, the little things in life went on as well as the big ones.

      A strange, yet shared, moment of silence followed before real life set in again. Claire got up to be sure the salmon steaks were marinated enough, with Nita and Gina coming into the kitchen behind her while the men went out onto the patio to tend to the burning coals in the barbecue pit.

      * * *

      Exhausted, Brit had fallen asleep on Jace’s lap. His arms ached from holding her, but he sat still in the desk chair, listening to muted animal sounds outside. Brit had said the detective had questioned Jackson, who was like an overseer around here, then let him go back to tending the BAA denizens, so at least someone else was on the property besides the one keeper from the Naples Zoo who had stayed behind to keep an eye on Tiberia. The tiger was still lethargic from being drugged.

      To Jace, this kind of felt like being in the jungle, not that he’d ever been. He longed to get up and turn on more lights, to get Brit and her mother out of here, take them home. But they were waiting for Brit’s brother to arrive after being told of the tragedy. Brit had talked to Lane’s wife who said he’d be here soon.

      And Jace was aching with an almost physical pain over his friend’s tragic and weird death. He felt a sudden kinship to Jackson, the ubiquitous guy who oversaw the place, since he’d known Ben much longer. Jace wanted to sit and commiserate with him sometime. Misery in losing a good friend could love company.

      Ben’s death just didn’t fit with the man he knew, the man who had befriended him and thought enough of him that he’d introduced him to his daughter and encouraged their romance. Ben was long retired from what he’d done in the marine corps, but he was mentally sharp and physically well trained and basically still in shape.

      Jace admired that Ben had been in an elite section of the service, spent time on the Fleet Anti-terrorism Security Team, known as FAST. He’d been part of a fast-deployment team, armed and combat trained, ready to be sent around the world if there were threats. Ben had served in Panama in 1989 and in Desert Storm before he retired. And the guy had been so proud of his banner in the den at their house that read MARINE GRUNT: NO BETTER FRIEND, NO WORSE ENEMY. For sure, in the few months he’d known Ben Hoffman, despite one big upheaval, the man had been no better friend. And a guy who was fit and had served in a FAST unit—why in hell hadn’t he gotten fast out of that cage and why had he gone in there in the first place?

      Jace, still holding Brit, blinked back tears, then wiped them away with one hand when he finally heard fast footsteps, then feet on the metal treads to the trailer. The door burst open, and Brit’s older brother Lane stood there, in shirt and tuxedo slacks but no jacket. It was a shock to see someone so dressed up here—a loosened bow tie and long-sleeved white shirt with cufflinks, no less. It was strange that Lane didn’t resemble his parents or his sister. He was blond but long-faced with a thin nose, but that all kind of went with his artistic look.

      Brit came instantly awake and got groggily to her feet. Jace stood too, steadying her as he leaned against the desk and she went around it. He expected the two of them to hug, but they stopped ten feet apart.

      Brit said, “I can’t believe it took you so long to get here.”

      “Since Dad was dead, the orchestra manager made the decision to tell me after the concert. After all, I am first chair and key to everything.”

      He peered around Brit. “Jace. Brittany, I see you had someone to comfort you anyhow. Where’s Mother?”

      “In the little bed in back. She’s sedated. The tiger was too. Shock, of course—for Mother.”

      “Yeah, well, we’re going to help her through this, but this just goes to prove what I said more than once, and none of you listened to me. This kiddy zoo was ridiculous from the get-go.”

      “Not now, Lane, please,” Brit said. “And keep your voice down.”

      “I’m not going to let her blow any death benefit money from Dad’s will or insurance on spiffing up this grade-C sideshow, so I’m serving you notice.”

      “Death benefit money? Life insurance? On Dad? If he had that, it must have been recent. Anyway, not now. Let’s just sign a truce to get Dad’s body back from the medical examiner and help Mother make funeral arrangements.”

      Jace was no whiz at insurance policies, though he’d sure seen and known fellow pilots who needed them. He’d made out a will in his midtwenties in case he never came back from the Middle East, let alone when he became copilot on international flights and had a young family. But if Nick did go further with this case, wouldn’t a big insurance policy taken out recently on a soon-to-be-dead man seem suspicious?

      Coming around the desk, Jace said, “Brit, unless I can help you with something, I’ll head out, now that big brother’s here. Sorry for your loss, Lane, whatever your feelings about the BAA.”

      “I’m sure they told you I think it’s nuts. Well, they weren’t exactly behind me when I majored in violin in college, paid my own way, playing for weddings, gigs in an Italian restaurant, things like that. They could have been at the matinee performance today where I had the solo, since I’m now first chair, and this wouldn’t have happened. They could have seen Lane Benjamin Hoffman playing Leopold Hofmann’s Symphony in A major.”

      “Mother and I were coming Sunday afternoon, while Dad oversaw things here...oversaw...” she got out before her voice broke and she collapsed in sobs. Jace held her again, glaring at Lane over her head.

      “Well,” Lane said, “since you haven’t taken Mother out of here yet, I’ll take her home in my car. Come along if you want. She obviously needs someone with her tonight. I’ll stay there for a while, and you’d better try to help her instead of all your pets here, especially that killer tiger you were so enamored with. I can’t believe Dad went into that cage on his own, can’t believe it.” His voice cracked, and he clamped his hand over his mouth either to stop from saying more or to keep from sobbing.

      Finally, Jace thought, this jerk was showing some emotion. He’d obviously been hurt either as a child or lately—or both. Yeah, he understood a son being let down and damaged by his father, knew that up close and personal, so maybe this guy wasn’t so bad, just grieving in his own way.

      Lane lowered his hand and went on in a shaky voice, “Maybe Dad was just going to shove the food in and fell in—or the cat grabbed him, pulled him in. He wouldn’t be drinking