What's Left is Right: Book two of The Detective Bill Ross Crime Series Read Free

around military insignia websites I hit pay dirt. It’s Special Forces, U.S. Special Operations Command, specifically Marine Corps Force Recon.
    “We have to find out who killed this guy,” said Bill, almost in tears.
    “If we’re right, this is a man who served his country and put his life on the line every day. For someone to do this to him and for him to die in this way on the very soil he fought to protect is despicable. When we find these scumbags, I’ll throw the switch myself!”

Chapter 3: A strange message
    Bill Ross was stuck in the end-of-day, nose-to-tail commuter traffic that had become the norm in Austin. The city infrastructure was struggling to keep pace with the huge influx of people from all over the country attracted to the capital city of Texas by the lifestyle the city offered. The music scene was world-renowned and kept vibrant by students of the University of Texas. It was also a great place to raise a family, with excellent school systems and inexpensive housing. It was God’s country, and very liberal when compared to the rest of the state.
    The stop-and-go traffic gave Bill time to reflect on the day. He and the team had only scratched the surface of the burning-cross file, but even this first day of analysis suggested that it was a real hornet’s nest and he guessed that in the days ahead, with continued prodding, who knew what might fly out.
    It was early November, and as he drove into his neighborhood the trees were starting to shed their leaves. The rain had stopped but the wind was blowing and the leaves were swirling around like early winter snow. Bill loved this time of year and the lead-up to Thanksgiving. The Thanksgiving holiday was not celebrated in his native Scotland, so he had no experience of it until he brought his family to settle in the U.S. in the 1980s. He was looking forward to having most of his family around the festive table, but also sad that his daughter, Jenny, and her family from California would not be able to make the trip this year.
    Elaine was setting the table for their supper when he walked in. The smell of roast chicken hung in the air. Bill poured himself two fingers of Glenmorangie, his favorite single malt, sat down in his La-Z-Boy, leaned back and let out a deep sigh.
    “Tough day?” asked Elaine.
    “Not really, just a case that we have been asked to take a look at. I can’t discuss any of the details, but my sixth sense is telling me that it will be a real tough nut to crack,” replied Bill.
    “You, Tommy and Marie will figure it out, I’m sure,” said Elaine as she added a little more butter to the garlic mashed potatoes.
    ~
    After dinner, Bill put on his favorite sweater and went out into the backyard and fired up “Vesuvius.” Bill had the huge natural gas fire pit built a few years back, and ten people could sit around it with ease. It ignited with a whoosh , and he put his feet up on the firewall surround, enjoying the heat of the fire, as the flames danced into the night air.
    He ran through the burning-cross file page by page in his mind’s eye. Tommy had prohibited him from taking the file home given the sensitive nature of the investigation, but his police training over the years had been honed into a unique ability to store relevant facts in little corners of his brain and allow the effects of the Glenmorangie to do its work. He mused that he had probably done this a thousand times over the years and it had never failed to produce a result; tonight was to be no exception.
    Bill’s mind raced.
    The initial investigating team had searched the immediate area thoroughly. There had been blood spatter and pieces of flesh all over the gravel road for hundreds of yards. They picked up and bagged for evidence bits of clothing that had been ripped off the poor guy. They didn’t find the hands, or the lower part of the jaw.
    Why was there no wallet, no money, no keys, no rings or bracelets, none of the normal stuff that we all carry with us