Making Monsters Read Free Page A

first ring.
“Egan.”
     
“Hey, baby. Have any of your bodies been missing parts?” She cut to the chase. The idea of
someone removing the limbs sent chills slithering along her skin.
     
“Huh?”
     
“I’m at Rich’s tribute, and I found Elise having a conniption—something about some of
Rich’s limbs being missing.”
     
“Shit. He was completely intact when I signed off on his removal. Do you know which
pieces were missing?”
     
“I think she said pelvis and leg.” Malia walked to the far corner of the deck. “Left leg! Yeah,
it was his left leg. What the fuck is going on, Paul?”
     
“Well.” He was hedging.
     
Malia pulled the phone from her ear and looked at it like it was foreign object. She returned
it and whispered harshly into the mouth piece, “Paul?”
     
“Listen, per the powers that be … i.e. the mayor, police chief, and the head coroner … this
is supposed to be hushhush.”
     
She started taping her foot on the worn wood. Her temper flared, who the hell used the word
i.e. in a sentence ? She spoke through clenched teeth. “Tell me.”
     
“Somewhere between leaving the morgue and arriving at the funeral homes, the bodies are
showing up with missing sections.”
     
“Which parts?”
     
“Depends on the body.”
    “Why
hasn’t anyone mentioned this to me?” She posed that question, instead of asking why
he didn’t tell her. The idea that he didn’t trust her niggled at the back of her mind, clawing its
way into her subconscious.
“Everybody’s a suspect.”
     
“Excuse me?”
     
“Listen—” Paul began.
    Malia didn’t wait for an explanation. She slid the pad of her finger over the End button and
dropped into one of the wicker chairs dotting the porch. There was no doubt that the man could
try the patience of a saint, and Malia knew for a fact that she was far from saint hood. The burn
of disappointment licked in her belly. Exhaling, she rested her head on the back of the chair.
    She and Paul were lovers, but she wanted so much more. He was her hero; albeit he had a
couple flaws that at least made him human. Malia knew he didn’t understand why she chose to
stay with him. When she looked at him, she didn’t see the geek he thought he was. She saw a
tall, intelligent, sexy man.
    Paul’s six
-two height towered over her five-seven frame. His sable brown hair curled around
the collar of his shirts, and he had a lock that constantly fell in his face. Frameless glasses hid his
expressive hazel eyes, and he filled out his clothing rather nicely. His morning running regime
kept him in shape.
If onlyhe trusted her … and that was the crux of her discontentment.
    Malia rose from her seat, raising her hands high above her head and stretched. She loved
him, dammit, even if she wanted to throttle him at the moment. She looked around, stalking
toward the funeral home’s entrance. There was nothing she could do about their issues for the
time being. However, she could be there for her friend.
***
    Pain shot through Paul’s head; he’d banged it on the cabinet’s corner when he bent to
replace the files. That’s what he got for not paying attention. He’d hurt her, and he knew it. Her
pain was evident through her voice. He slammed the drawer shut and scrubbed his face with his
hands, gingerly fingering his temple. This case was giving him health issues, first indigestion and
now headaches. He strode to his chair and rifled through the other reports he’d pulled. A missing
arm here—a lost torso there—by all accounts, his home town should have body parts littering the
streets. He settled in his seat, picked up his glasses, and started perusing the different colored
sticky-notes for the common denominator to the case. Reaching for another stick of gum from
the pack, he leaned back and pulled the trash pail from beneath the counter to spit the old piece
into. Blood red, sling-back heels came into view.
“Trouble in paradise, Paul?” Chief