The Mather Triad: Series Boxed Set (Chloe Mather Thrillers)

by Lawrence Kelter

  The Mather Triad

  A Chloe Mather Boxed Set

  Secrets Of The Kill

  Rules Of The Kill

  Legends Of The Kill

  By

  Lawrence Kelter

  The Mather Triad Copyright © 2015 by Lawrence Kelter

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by information storage and retrieval system, without written permission of the Publisher, except where permitted by law.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to events, locales, or persons living or dead, is coincidental.

  Editing by

  Pauline Nolet

  Interior book design by

  Bob Houston eBook Formatting

  Two governments—one objective, stop the spread of terrorism by any means possible. America and Israel, lifelong allies in an age-old war. To win this battle they will have to sell their souls.

  A mutilated body has been discovered; a body not meant to be found, but now that it has, Pandora’s box is open and secrets never to be learned have been revealed.

  An Israeli woman living in New York has been murdered. She has been raped and butchered; an outrage that ignites a fuse that burns all the way back to Tel Aviv.

  Enter FBI Agent Chloe Mather, a hard-charging ex-Marine who has no sympathy for the kind of maggot who could commit such a violent atrocity. A veteran of the war in Afghanistan, she was one of the first woman Marines to be deployed into an active combat area. She struggles with PTSD and the consequences of a fatherless childhood, yet this is a woman who accepts no pity and operates according to a moral code that is second to none. She’ll stop at nothing to find the psychopath responsible for this unspeakable crime. In Secrets of the Kill, Mather and this code will face the ultimate test.

  What begins as a challenging homicide becomes more, much more, and Mather is pulled into an investigation that involves the mob, Israeli intelligence, and a radical terrorist faction.

  They say that blood is thicker than water but is it thicker than the bonds of patriotism? Mather will ponder this question and many others as she fights to bring an innocent woman’s murderer to justice, and prevent a geopolitical atrocity from taking place on American shores.

  Secrets Of The Kill

  A Chloe Mather Thriller

  #1

  By

  Lawrence Kelter

  Secrets of the Kill Copyright © 2014 by Lawrence Kelter

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by information storage and retrieval system, without written permission of the Publisher, except where permitted by law.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to events, locales, or persons living or dead, is coincidental.

  Editing by

  Pauline Nolet

  Interior book design by

  Bob Houston eBook Formatting

  For The Next Generation:

  Zachary, Dominick, Katherine, Liam, and Paige

  Acknowledgments

  The author gratefully acknowledges the following special people for their contributions to this book.

  As always, for my wife, Isabella for nurturing each and every new book as if it were a newborn child, and for her love and support.

  My special thanks to Corporal Dawn Moeller USMC and Corporal Lucas Moeller USMC for sharing their experiences with me and providing insights into the lives of Marine personnel.

  Secrets Of The Kill

  A Chloe Mather Thriller

  #1

  Lawrence Kelter

  Chapter 1

  The crackle of a twig.

  The rustling of leaves.

  I scanned the clearing in front of me, sweeping from right to left, searching for prey.

  “Hear that, Chloe?”

  “Uh-huh,” I whispered just loudly enough for Liam to hear me. He was no more than a yard away, belly down on the spring snow, with his eye glued to the scope of his rifle.

  I, too, was belly down in the snow, lying in wait. Just off in the distance I picked up a shadow as it cleared the forest cover. I drew my Nosler rifle into position, pressing the scope firmly against my eye socket. The full moon reflected off the snow, making the light-sensitive scope bright enough for me to make out the outline of a slow-moving animal. It was large, as large as an adult white-tailed dear. The forest creature raised its head up high, and I saw its ears rotating, listening intently for threatening sounds. “It’s a calf.” I tapped Liam on the shoulder and pointed at the animal so that he’d be able to see it as well. “An elk calf, less than a year old.”

  Liam angled his weapon, bringing the animal into view through his scope. “Where’s its mother?” he asked.

  “Don’t know, but …” The creature’s posture suddenly became stiff, and its ears lay down flat. “It knows it’s being stalked.” I didn’t know how the calf had gotten separated from its mother and the rest of the herd, but it was clearly in danger out alone on the alpine meadow. It barked twice, warning the other members of the herd of danger. A moment passed, and then it began to squeal. The calf was clearly frightened and calling to its mother.

  The calf must have noticed the first coyote moments before I did, but then I picked up on it as well, the glow of the demon’s eyes peering out of the forest shadow. “Are you ready?” I whispered.

  “Yeah. Let’s do this.”

  The coyote population had grown tremendously in the last few years and was now out of control. Continued unchecked, their growth would put some of the forest populations at risk of extinction.

  The coyote pack would attack the calf from the rear and chase it around the meadow until it became exhausted. Coyotes are persistent predators—their hunts can last several hours. My sense was that this hunt would take far less time because the calf was alone and winter-weakened, easy prey for a hungry coyote pack.

  The first one brazenly slinked toward the calf, and then the others slowly crept out of the shadows, their bodies low to the ground as they surrounded their prey.

  “I see six, no, seven,” Liam whispered. “No. Ten.”

  “Settle your nerves. Breathe—slow in and out.”

  “Good luck,” he whispered.

  “Semper Fi, babe.” There were thirty high-velocity, copper-jacketed rounds in my magazine, bullets designed to expand immediately upon impact. Liam’s weapon held twenty. “Five yotes for you. Five for me.”

  “Remember that after you’ve knocked down your fifth,” he warned with his finger pulling gently back on the trigger.

  The calf began to run, but the converging pack quickly corralled it. It slipped on the ice, and its hooves slid out and away from its body. The alpha yote sensed the opportunity. It raced toward the cornered calf and pounced, more catlike than doglike. I squeezed the trigger and heard the yote whine before it hit the ground. Panicked by the sound of gunfire, the other members of the pack froze for an instant and then began to scatter. We’d only have seconds before they dispersed and disappeared into the forest.

  Zing. Zing. Zing. Zing. Zing. The predators wailed and whimpered as they fell dead, their blood staining the snow cover crimson. Liam and I fired quickly, our rifles moving mere millimeters at
a time as we picked off yote after yote.

  Three. Zing. Zing. Four. Zing. Zing. Five. I instinctively moved on to the next one, but Liam’s warning resonated in my ears. I exhaled and took the pressure off the trigger. My five were down—the rest were his. I counted eighteen rounds discharged—twelve left in the magazine. There was just one coyote moving. “He’s yours,” I said as I turned toward Liam.

  He squeezed off a round. Zing. He missed. He moved his rifle a hair and fired again. Zing. Zing.

  I looked up and saw the yote racing toward the forest. Liam couldn’t have many rounds left. I turned to him and saw him concentrating intently. I watched as he held his breath and began pulling back on the trigger. I whispered quietly so that he wouldn’t hear me, “Slow. Steady. Squeeze to the rear,” repeating the diddy I had learned on the rifle range in boot camp. You can do it, Liam. Nice and easy now.

  He squeezed the trigger. Click. “Shit. I’m empty,” he said in disgust.

  By the time I had my eye back on the scope and squeezed off a shot, the yote was gone. “Damn it! I told you that you needed a bigger magazine. Twenty rounds just aren’t enough.”

  “Twenty was enough for you,” he said, sounding upset with his effort.

  I shook my head, disappointed that one had gotten away. “That’s all right; nine’s not bad—not bad at all.” Without the support of the pack, the lone coyote would face starvation and grow more savage in order to survive, but that could not be helped.

  I pointed at the calf. It was frozen in its tracks but looked to be calming down in the aftermath of the coyote attack. It took a few steps but then began to squeal, once again crying out for its mother. Liam and I waited silently for the cow to bark and come looking for its calf. We listened carefully, and then it came, the bark of a mature female elk. We were getting up from the ground when the air filled with the scream of a stricken animal.

  The calf stiffened its neck and then raced away from the sound of the suffering animal.

  It hadn’t taken much time for the lone coyote to adapt. Liam and I looked at one another and said in agreement, “The one that got away,” acknowledging the same revelation. We hurried off in the direction of the stricken animal, knowing the scene we were about to come upon would not be pretty.

  It was a mature female elk, well advanced in years and terribly winter-weakened. It was down on its side and bleeding. A single female coyote had its teeth in the cow’s leg, tearing away the flesh and shredding its muscle. It had hobbled its prey and was waiting for support to arrive, not understanding that the remaining members of her pack were all dead.

  Hold a séance, bitch. They’re not coming back.

  It was too late for the cow. She was bleeding slowly and crippled from the vicious attack. I aimed the Nosler and fired. A long and throaty howl trailed off through the forest as the last coyote joined her pack in the hereafter.

  It was the natural order of things. The wounded elk would become food for other carnivores in the food chain. Its wounds would cause it a slow and agonizing death made far worse as other predators found and fed from the warm-blooded animal. I knelt down and stroked the back of her head. I looked into her eyes and could almost read her thoughts. She was in agony and like all nonhuman species could not understand her predicament or foresee the inevitable.

  “Your baby will grow up big and strong,” I said. “You don’t have to worry about him any more. Rest easy, old girl, I’ve got you covered.” I stood, pulled my Glock 19, and aimed. “No more pain, old girl. Close your eyes and rest.”

  Chapter 2

  We were walking back to the truck when Liam’s insecurities surfaced. He didn’t say anything, but I read in his body language that something was off. “You did some mad shooting back there.”

  “Not quite good enough, though, was it?”

  “Don’t beat yourself up,” I said. “It was that cow’s last winter whether the yote attacked her or not. At least we saved her calf.”

  “Uh-huh,” he said halfheartedly.

  “But you’re still bummed?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Liam, you were amazing out there. You took down four crazy-fast yotes running for their lives in the pitch black. You’re more than a master marksman in my book. Anyone can put a tight grouping into a cardboard target at the rifle range. What you did—”

  “You wouldn’t have let the last one get away. You would’ve—”

  “Okay, let’s put an end to the pity party, shall we? We basically went shot for shot, and you don’t have a fraction of the experience I have. I took down five with eighteen rounds and you—”

  “I know. I know. You were a marine, and I’m a weather geek.”

  “Yeah, but you’re the friggin’ Einstein of weather geeks—name another meteorologist who knows his ass from his elbow. Most weathermen wouldn’t know a nor’easter if it blew into their living room. You’re every bit as good with the Doppler as I am with my rifle. I served with career marines who weren’t as good with a rifle as you are.”

  “I guess there’s a compliment in there somewhere.”

  “What’s the deal? I practice at the range all the time. Look how well you did. You’re a natural.”

  “I just wish I had saved the cow.”

  “Yeah, I know.” I patted him on the shoulder. “It just wasn’t in the cards, big fella.” Like most men, Liam couldn’t deal with coming in second behind a woman in anything, even a woman who had served as a marine and was currently employed as a special agent for the FBI.

  We walked a few minutes more, and I could see that Liam was still sulking. “Hell of a way to close out our vacation. Did you have fun?” I asked, hoping to take his mind off the dead cow. Predator hunting in the Pacific Northwest isn’t exactly most people’s idea of a winter getaway, but it was ours. Two years with me had turned Liam into a born-again gunslinger, the perfect partner for a tomboy-ex-marine-fed like me. Unfortunately he was always concerned about measuring up. “Did I ever tell you that I’m a direct descendent of Annie Oakley?”

  “No. You never mentioned it.”

  “I’m going to buy you a new rifle for your birthday.” My Nosler Varmageddon was one sweet little piece of ordnance, a thirty-five-hundred-dollar custom-made varmint death-dealer. It was a far better machine than Liam’s rifle. The only reason I had one was because I’d won it in a shooting competition. Otherwise I’d be picking off predators with something much more basic.

  It felt colder inside the truck than it did outside. It was like sitting in a refrigerator. It had run several minutes, and the engine still wasn’t warm enough to blow heat. I yanked off my knit cap, shook out my hair, and pressed my cheek to Liam’s. “Got any energy left?”

  He seemed to perk up in response to my hint and turned to me with a smile. Liam McDonough may have missed the last yote, but he certainly had a bead on my heart.

  We kissed.

  “Get naked,” he said.

  “What? Here? Are you nuts? It’s too friggin’ cold. I meant—”

  “Right now!” he ordered.

  It was nice to see him being a man again. “What’s wrong with the bearskin rug and fireplace back at the lodge?” Mine was a valid argument, but down deep I knew that Liam had already won. He was the victor, and I the spoils of our carnal war.

  “I’ll kiss you up and down your semper thighs.”

  My eyes gleamed. “I love the play on words, babe, but Semper Fi means always faithful.”

  “And I intend to remain always faithful to your magic muffin.”

  My eyes twinkled. “Babe, you are hot.” I pulled off my gloves and unzipped my jacket. We were parked at the edge of the forest, miles from anywhere, alone under the moon and stars. Clothing went flying like logs through a wood chipper.

  Heat finally began to blow out of the vents. It was still chilly in the truck, but nothing I couldn’t handle. I found warmth in the touch of Liam’s hands and the heat of his body against mine. The old bench seat was a tight fit, but we found a
way to make it work. The old springs creaked as we rocked the suspension, no doubt frightening nocturnal forest creatures for miles. We worked up a sweat pretty quickly. After a few minutes I was so warm that I had to reach over and turn down the heat.

  We covered ourselves with a blanket afterwards, naked, with the cracked vinyl seat covering sticking into our backs. I think I dozed for a few minutes until my cell phone rang. It was Bill Wallace, my commanding officer, calling to apprise me of a new assignment, and telling me where I was to report once back to work on Monday morning. Wallace was most often quick and to the point over the phone. This call was no different. A woman’s torso had been found in the waters of the Shinnecock Inlet on Long Island. Somehow the medical examiner had miraculously identified the victim. I was to report to the office of the Suffolk County medical examiner on Monday morning. Wallace was sending me an encrypted file so that I could get up to speed on the plane ride back to New York.

  I looked over at Liam. His eyes were closed, and he was snoring softly. I pulled on my jeans as my mind turned from vacation to work. I was going back on the clock, but nothing was really changing except that as of Monday morning I’d be getting paid to hunt predators instead of doing it for sport.

  Chapter 3

  Monday Mid-Morning

  I had just returned from my 7:00 a.m. meeting with the Suffolk County medical examiner and had stopped home for a quick pit stop before continuing west to Kennedy Airport.

  We owned a small boat and used the hell out of it. It was still a bit early in the season to put it in the water, but we enjoyed getting an early start. Liam and I stood side by side watching as Lazy Daze of Summer was lowered into the water. The marina seemed tranquil. There were just a few boats in the water as the sun rose overhead and warmed our faces. Liam put his arm around me, and we both smiled independently, almost simultaneously. I’m pretty sure that we were sharing the same emotion: joy over the arrival of spring.