"You question your sister yet?"

"No.You want in?"

He nodded and together they made their way to the front porch. Jane sat huddled there, Ian with her.

"You up to a few questions, Jane?" Stacy asked, squatting in front of her.

Stacy saw her sister swallow hard. Saw Ian tighten his arm around her. Voice quivering, Jane said she

was.

"Tell me again, what brought you here today?"

Stacy listened carefully as she explained about stopping to see Ian, finding that Marsha hadn't come in to

work and deciding to stop by to check on her-even though Ian had discouraged her suggestion.

Mac turned to Ian. "You discouraged it? Why?"

"I figured she...Marsha must be really bad off-" he paled "-really sick. She's never just not called in

before."

"And you didn't find that odd."

"Sure. I found it d.a.m.n odd."

"Yet you didn't check on her?"

"I called. Several times. So did Elise."

"Elise?"

"My esthetician. Marsha didn't answer. There wasn't much else we could do, patients were coming in."

He glanced at Jane, then back at Stacy. "We both had a full book today."

"Then wouldn't Jane checking on her have been a perfect solution?" Mac pressed.

Ian looked fl.u.s.tered. "What are you suggesting?"

"Nothing. Just trying to get a clear picture of your thought processes."

"Jane's pregnant. I didn't want her to be exposed to the flu or...worse."

She had been exposed to much worse, Stacy thought. Some of the worst life had to offer.

She redirected to Jane. "Tell me exactly what you found when you arrived."

Jane nodded and began, her voice broken and so soft Stacy had to strain to hear. "I rang the bell and

Marsha didn't...The dog was barking in back...it made me think...something was wrong. He was her

baby and-" Jane's eyes swam. "Has anyone checked on him? He might need food or water. He's

probably...frightened."

"We'll take care of him," Stacy said gently. "Don't worry about him."

"But where will he go? Marsha didn't have any children or-"

"In situations like this, pets go to the pound until next of kin claims them."

"No!" Jane looked from Stacy to Ian. "Marsha would hate that. We can't...not after what's happened."

"We'll take him, then," Ian said. "Ranger will have a buddy."

A lump formed in Stacy's throat at the sweetness of the offer. At the way her sister looked at her husband, love and grat.i.tude shining from her eyes.

Stacy cleared her throat and directed the conversation back to the sequence of events. "What happened after you heard the dog barking?" "I figured no way she would just leave him outside like that. I felt certain something was...wrong. So I tried the door."

"Did you see anyone? Hear anything except the dog?"

She shook her head. "I noticed...a bad smell. I figured she was-"

"What?" Stacy prodded, though gently.

"Sick," she finished, looking miserable. "I thought she was sick."

Mac turned to Ian. "In your practice, you do many breast implants?"

The question obviously caught the doctor off guard. "Excuse me?"

"Breast augmentation, you do many of them?"

"What does that have to do with-"

"Do you?"

"I used to do a lot of them. In my previous practice."

"And now?"

"Some. I specialize in facial reconstruction."

"There any money in that? Facial reconstruction?"

Ian glanced from Mac to Stacy, then back. "I need to get Jane home. Can this wait?"

"Just a couple more questions. Is there? Good money in reconstruction?"

"Sometimes. Depends on the patient. Whether they have insurance or not. Whether their insurance will

pay and how much. I try not to turn anyone away."

"You're a regular saint."

Ian flushed at the sarcasm. "I like to help people."

"Do you do any cosmetic work anymore?"

"Some. It pays the bills."

"But you're married to a wealthy woman. Doesn't she pay the bills?"

Jane made a sound of distress. Ian helped her to her feet, expression grim. "I'm taking my wife home,"

Ian said stiffly, helping Jane to her feet, arm protectively around her. "If you need anything further call me

there or at the office."

"Dr. Westbrook?" Ian looked back. "The killer stuffed Marsha's bra in her mouth. Why do you think he did that?"

"How should I know?"

"What time do you go into the office in the morning, Dr West-brook?"

"My appointments start at nine."

"So you leave your house at eight?"

"Thereabouts. Some mornings earlier, some later."

"What about this morning?"

"Pardon?"

"This morning, early? Late?"

Stacy wouldn't swear to it, but Ian seemed to pale.

"Early," he replied, tone terse. "Like I said, I had a full book. I had some calls to make, patient files to

review."

"Thanks for your help," Stacy said. "We'll be in touch."

Stacy watched as Ian helped Jane into the car, then whirled on her partner. "What the h.e.l.l did you think

you were-"

"Doing? That should be obvious. My job. Sound familiar, Stacy?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"What I'm talking about is, for a major league ball-buster, you're doing an awful lot of hand-holding here.

You want to talk about that?"

"What I want to do is process this scene. That okay with you?"