“Only his brother,” Manning said with disdain. “What a disappointment he turned out to be.”

“Was he jealous enough to kill the senator?”

“Terry?” Knott said with a nervous glance toward the door, as if he was afraid the O’Connors might hear him. “I doubt it. It would require he get his head out of his ass for more than five minutes.”

“The O’Connors had their problems, like any family,” Manning added. “But they were tight. Terry might’ve been jealous of John, but he wouldn’t have done this to his mother.” Shaking his head with dismay, he said, “Poor Laine.”

“We saw them outside,” Knott said. “Our hearts are broken for them.”

“Thank you for coming in.” Sam handed each of them her card. “If you think of anything else, even the smallest thing, let me know.”

“We will,” Manning said. “We’ll do anything we can to help find the monster who did this.”

“Thank you.” Sam saw them out and headed for the morgue.

Chapter 11

Following the O’Connors into the cold, antiseptic-smelling room, Nick thought he had properly prepared himself. After what he had seen yesterday, he should have been able to handle anything.

However, nothing could have prepared him for the sight of John lifeless, waxy, and so utterly gone. Nor could he have prepared for Laine’s reaction.

With one look at her son’s face, John’s mother fainted into a boneless pile. It happened so fast that no one was able to reach her in time to keep her head from smacking the cement floor.

“Jesus, God!” Graham cried as he dropped to his knees. “Laine! Honey, are you all right?”

“Mom,” Lizbeth said as tears rolled down her face. “Mom, open your eyes.”

Several tense minutes passed before Laine’s eyes fluttered open. “What happened?”

“You fainted,” Lizbeth said. “Do you think you could sit up?”

“I need to get out of here. Take me out of here, Lizzie.”

Lizbeth and Royce helped her mother up. Without another glance at the body on the table, they escorted her from the room.

“Are you all right, Senator?” Nick asked when they were alone.

His complexion gray, his hands trembling, Graham O’Connor fixated on the white bandage covering the neck wound that ended his son’s life. “It’s all so wrong, you know?” the older man said in a hoarse whisper.

“Sir?”

“Standing over the body of your child. It’s wrong.”

Nick’s throat tightened with emotion. “I’m sorry. I wish there was something I could say…” He kept his voice down so Detective Cruz, who was minding the door, wouldn’t hear them.

Graham reached out haltingly to caress John’s thick blond hair. “Who could’ve done this? How’s it possible someone hated my John this much?”

“I just don’t know.” Nick looked down at John, wishing he had the answers they so desperately needed.

“Do you think it could be Terry?”