Film at Eleven. Kelsey Roberts

thing that struck her was the organization. It wasn’t just orderly; it was Obsessive-Compulsive-Disorder neat. His functional desk was gray laminate and formed an “L” shape out from the wall. He’d divided it into two separate and distinct areas. The portion facing the door was devoid of anything but the telephone. Not a pencil, not a scrap of paper, nothing. Just the telephone. With a perfectly coiled cord. Very precise.

      On the short portion of the “L” sat a state-of-the-art laptop. It was one of the sleek, chrome models that supposedly traveled well. Next to the computer was a small tower of disks, color-separated and labeled in bold, block letters that were so perfectly matched in shape and size that she had to look twice to confirm they were handwritten.

      Dropping her purse next to the chair, Molly rose and went to the first of three bookcases that lined the opposite wall. Black plastic videotape cases were lined like soldiers on the first three shelves. A closer inspection revealed that they were in alphabetical order. Seriously anal.

      The second case was a collection of reference books, alphabetized and separated by size, color and topic. He had everything ranging from the Annotated Laws of the State of Montana to a Zoologists Guide to Bears. Pathologically anal.

      Had it not been for the contents of the third bookcase, she would have started wondering about his mental health. On these shelves she found glimpses of him as a man. There were several framed photographs. Many, she guessed, were family pictures. They seemed to cover decades. One in particular caught her eye. Carefully, she lifted it off the shelf. Nine sets of smiling eyes looked back at her.

      She shivered at the mere thought of such a huge family. The parents made a handsome couple. Chandler obviously came by his good looks honestly. His father was a very handsome man and his mother was stunning. She looked quite out of place among all that testosterone.

      She also looked sad, Molly thought. There was something in her clear-blue eyes that seemed distant, unconnected. Molly felt herself smile, the poor woman was probably sleep deprived. She probably hadn’t had a decent night’s sleep since the birth of her first of seven sons.

      “I’m the cute one—second from the left,” a slightly familiar male voice said from the doorway.

      Molly turned to find Seth Landry smiling a greeting. He looked quite official in his sheriff’s uniform. And her brain made the predictable comparisons. Seth, like Chandler, was tall, dark and incredibly fit. His smile was warm and charming. Charm seemed to be an inherited trait among the Landrys.

      Molly replaced the picture in its spot and extended her hand as she stepped forward. “Nice to see you again, Sheriff.”

      “That’s right,” he acknowledged with a slight nod. “You worked with my nephew a few years back.”

      “How is Kevin?”

      “Great. Spoiled. Adjusting to being a big brother.”

      “I ran into Callie at the grocery store,” Molly recalled. “She had little Sheldon with her. He’s adorable.”

      “I think so, but then, I’m the favorite uncle, so I’m prejudiced.”

      “I’m the favorite uncle,” Chandler insisted. He moved past Seth to place two mugs of coffee onto the desk, then hugged Seth and gave him a loud slap on the back.

      Molly looked on with a twinge of envy. It must be nice to have a sibling. She hadn’t had that kind of physical contact with anyone since her father’s death. While she adored Gavin, it wasn’t the same. It wasn’t this.

      “Sorry to drag you out here,” Chandler said. “I’m sure it’s a waste of your time.”

      “I disagree,” Molly insisted. “I think that once you review the call, Sheriff, you’ll believe, like I do, that there is cause to investigate.”

      “I’ll defer to you, Doctor,” Seth replied easily. “Chandler rarely takes anything seriously enough. It’s been a problem his entire life.”

      Chandler tossed his brother a “kiss-off” look, then turned his attention back to Molly.

      Her pretty eyes were little more than angry gray-green slits. Her pale skin was flushed but otherwise perfect. She was beautiful. And she was wrong.

      “I’m sure it was just a crank call,” he reiterated.

      “I disagree,” she countered. “I think if you listen to the tape—I assume one was recorded?”

      “Yes,” Chandler supplied.

      “It’s being cued in the control room as we speak,” Seth added. “I’d like the two of you to walk me through it.”

      “My pleasure,” Molly said, spinning on her heel and walking ahead of them.

      Chandler shook his head at the sight of her rigid back. His expression softened as his eyes dropped lower. Down to the gentle slope of her hips, lower still, to her shapely, toned legs. The woman had a great body.

      Chandler’s brother grabbed his upper arm, holding him back and leaning closer before whispering, “Killer body.”

      “You’re an old married guy, you shouldn’t be noticing bodies anymore. Killer or otherwise.”

      “Just doing my job,” Seth retorted.

      “How is admiring the good doctor’s tush part of your job description?”

      “Investigation.” Seth shoved his Stetson back against his forehead and tilted his head slightly to the right as they slowly followed Molly down the hallway.

      “Knock it off,” Chandler groused. “You have a beautiful wife. Go look at her.”

      “I do,” Seth said on a contented sigh. “Every chance I get.”

      “Then leave this one for me.” He saw Seth’s reproachful look out of the corner of his eye. “What?”

      “She knows Callie. And Sam. And Kevin. And Taylor.”

      Chandler’s brain flashed the images of his sister-in-law, his brother Sam, their son, and the Landrys’ housekeeper, Taylor Reese. None of the pictures in his mind deterred him from admiring the enticing view of Molly in her fitted navy suit. “So?”

      Seth made a sound somewhere between a grunt and a groan. “Don’t be stupid, Chandler. You know better than to fool around with a friend of the family. When it ends—and we both know it always does—there’ll be divided loyalties and hell to pay.”

      Chandler shrugged, knowing there was some merit to Seth’s argument. Very few things in life were as scary as the wrath of a woman. One surefire way to incur said wrath was to date and dump a friend. Women were amazing. Their friendships created a universal agreement that made the Musketeers look like pikers. Dump one and the others made you pay. Big-time.

      “I’m just window-shopping,” Chandler said. “No harm in that, is there?”

      “With you?” Seth asked. “Hell yes. You’re never satisfied by looking. Never were, never will be.”

      Chandler jabbed his brother in the ribs with his elbow. “I’ll have you know I’m the picture of self-control.”

      Rolling his eyes, Seth snickered. “You’re like a two-year-old, little brother. You need instant gratification. You see something you like, you want it five minutes ago. And you bore easily.”

      Chandler watched as Molly shifted her purse from one dainty hand to the other. “How could anyone get bored with such a stunning creature?”

      “You’d find a way,” Seth insisted. “Try some restraint. It builds character.”

      “Screw character,” Chandler whispered as he donned his best poker face.

      They reached the end of the corridor and Molly appeared to be at a loss. Placing his hand at the back of her waist, Chandler nudged her gently in the direction of the control booth. Inwardly he smiled as he felt her body