Читать книгу Beverly Barton 3 Book Bundle - BEVERLY BARTON, Beverly Barton - Страница 17
ОглавлениеThomasina had worn a dress today instead of her usual slacks and blouse. Wanting to get into the old-fashioned romantic mood Brandon was setting for their relationship, she felt a dress was appropriate. Besides, she had great legs and she could showcase them in a just-above-the-knee hemline. Nothing too sexy, just slightly alluring. Of course, she’d had to contend with a few lascivious stares from her young male students, but she had simply ignored them.
Fingering the pearls around her neck, she thought about what Brandon might say or do when he saw that she was wearing his gift. Would he simply smile at her or would he tell her how pleased he was to see her wearing the pearls? Surely he would understand that her wearing the pearls was a sign of her willingness to begin a meaningful relationship.
She had arrived early this morning, hoping to meet up with Brandon in the faculty lounge since he, too, had an eight o’clock class, but he’d been a no-show. Her disappointment must have shown on her face because Marianne Clark had asked her if something was wrong. She’d lied to the middle-aged busybody who was teaching basic biology for the summer quarter.
“I’m fine,” Thomasina had said. “Just thinking about how to motivate my students. Not too many of them are actually interested in history.”
And today during the morning classes, she had been as disinterested in the rise and fall of the Roman Empire as her students had been. She’d caught herself daydreaming more than once, and for the past thirty minutes, she had practically counted the minutes until her midday break. When the class ended, she grabbed the sack lunch she’d brought, rushed out of her building and headed straight toward the arts department. If she didn’t catch a glimpse of Brandon, she could walk casually by his office, which was adjacent to the art studio. And if anyone asked her what she was doing there, she had the perfect excuse. The students’ artwork was on display for the entire month of July. Sketches, paintings, sculptures.
As nervous as a thirteen-year-old on her first date, Thomasina made her way down the corridor toward the studio. The door stood wide open, so she simply paused and glanced inside, doing her best to act nonchalantly. The studio was empty. A couple of students passed by and spoke. She smiled at them, nodded and walked past Brandon’s office. The door was closed. Approaching the door cautiously, not wanting anyone to realize that she was checking to see if Dr. Kelley was in, she eased over to the closed door and listened. Nothing. Not a sound. But he could be in there, eating quietly or reading or just resting.
Why don’t you knock on the door and say hello? Tell him you came over to look at the students’ artwork. But if she did that, would she appear too eager? Would her making the next move be appropriate or would he prefer for her to wait for him to take things to the next level?
But she didn’t want to wait, was tired of waiting. She wanted to hurry things up just a little, to at least reach the point where they acknowledged the fact that they had a relationship.
Garnering all her courage, Thomasina curled her hand into a fist, reached up and knocked on the door. Her heartbeat thundered maddeningly in her ears.
No response.
She knocked again. A little harder and for twice as long.
“He’s not there,” a familiar male voice said.
Sucking in a deep breath, Thomasina turned and faced Scotty Joe Walters with a smile. The handsome young deputy was in charge of the Drug Abuse Resistance Education. programs in the Adams County schools and assisted with the neighborhood watch programs and the senior citizens programs such as T.R.I.A.D. The junior college provided the sheriff’s department with a storage area for books, booklets, pamphlets, and other items used with the various programs and they also allowed the sheriff’s department to use their auditorium facilities for various group meetings and events. Scotty Joe was such a familiar face around Adams County Junior College that he seemed like a member of the staff. Everyone liked the good-looking deputy. The guy was always friendly and cordial, and he had the kind of gentlemanly manners every mother wished her son had. She wasn’t sure how old he was. Mid-to-late twenties would be her guess.
“I beg your pardon?” Thomasina acted innocent, as if she had no idea what he’d meant.
“Dr. Kelley. He’s not in his office,” Scotty Joe said. “You were looking for him, weren’t you?”
“Well, actually, I came over to take a look at the student art that’s being displayed this month and I just thought I’d say hi to Brandon while I’m in his building.”
“You just missed him. Robyn Granger picked him up in her snazzy little yellow sports car. I figure they’re headed out somewhere for lunch.”
“Oh.” Please, dear God, don’t let what I’m feeling show on my face. Don’t let Scotty Joe figure out that I’m hurt and disappointed and on the verge of bursting into tears.
“Hey, you okay, Thomasina? You look sort of green or something.”
“It’s nothing. I didn’t eat breakfast and I guess I’m just hungry,” she lied as she held the tears at bay.
“Is that your lunch you’ve got with you?” He eyed the small brown paper bag she held so tightly that her nails bit into the flesh of her palm.
Easing her death grip on the bag, she nodded, but heaven help her, she couldn’t respond verbally because she was choking down her on-the-verge-of-erupting tears.
“I brought my lunch, too,” he said. “Bologna sandwich, dill pickles, a bag of chips, and a couple of brownies from Cummings Bakery.” He held up his brown paper bag, which was twice the size of hers since hers contained only a banana and a bag filled with carrot sticks, raw broccoli, and raw cauliflower. “Want to join me? We could get a couple of Cokes from the machine down the hall, then go out to the gazebo and share our lunches.”
The tears Thomasina had been struggling to control suddenly broke free and trickled from her eyes and down her cheeks.
“Hey, gal, don’t do that.” He reached out as if he was going to touch her, but let his hand hang there in midair. “Don’t waste your tears on him. He’s not worth it.”
As the tears seeped into the edges of her mouth, she sucked in a deep breath, then bit down on her bottom lip to keep from crying out loud.
Scotty Joe opened his lunch sack and pulled out a paper napkin, then held it out to her. “Here, dry your eyes. You don’t want somebody seeing you like this. It would be all over school by the end of the day.”
She grabbed the napkin and dried her eyes. “What—what would be all over school?” she asked as she looked right at him and saw pity and concern in his big blue eyes.
He shook his head. “Nothing. Don’t pay any attention to me.”
“It’s not what you think.” She patted her damp face, then crushed the napkin into her fist and searched Scotty Joe’s face again. “I’m not one of Brandon’s girls, one of his women.”
Scotty Joe grinned from ear to ear. “Good. I’m glad to hear it. You’re far too good for him, if you don’t mind my saying so.”
“You don’t like Brandon?”
“It’s not that I don’t like him.” Scotty Joe’s tanned cheeks flushed. “I guess it’s just that I think it’s downright wrong of him to take advantage of the girls he teaches and of women in general.” Scotty Joe hung his head shyly.
“If that offer to share our lunches is still open, I’d like to take you up on it.” Thomasina managed a weak smile.
“You bet it is,” Scotty Joe told her. “And the Cokes are on me.”
Charlie Patterson laid the preliminary reports down on Jim’s desk, then took a seat in one of the old vinyl and metal chairs in front of the desk. Looking like a man who hadn’t gotten much sleep last night, Charlie had arrived from Huntsville fifteen minutes ago, while Jim had been out for lunch. He’d gone with Ron Hensley and John Downs to Methel’s for the Monday special—meatloaf, creamed potatoes, green peas, and homemade rolls—topped off with banana pudding, which was almost as popular as the restaurant’s peach cobbler. When they arrived back at the office, he’d found Charlie sharing coffee and chocolate chip muffins from Cummings Bakery with Lieutenant Hoyt Moses.
“I called Bernie’s office and left a message for her to come on over,” Charlie said. “No point in going over everything now and then again with her.”
“Wish I could hang around,” Downs said. “But I’m due in court at one-thirty. I have to testify in the trial about that big marijuana bust we made back last fall.”
Jim nodded, then glanced at Hensley. “Bring in another chair. We’ll be one short when Bernie gets here.”
“She’s here,” Bernie said from the doorway.
Jim looked up from where he sat behind his desk and motioned for her to come into his office. Downs paused to say hello to Bernie on his way out and Hensley spoke to her as he headed off to commandeer another chair.
“What have I missed?” she asked.
“Nothing,” Jim told her. “We’re just getting started.”
She glanced at Charlie. “Rough night?”
“Does it show?” he replied.
She grinned at him. “Only around the edges.”
He grunted. “Our ten-year-old kept us up all night with a stomach virus. When I left this morning, she was finally resting and had been able to keep down some 7-Up and crackers.”
“How many children do you have?” Bernie asked.
“Three girls. Eight, ten, and thirteen.” Charlie chuckled as he got up and offered Bernie his chair by pointing to her and then to the chair. “Lucky for them, they all look more like their mother than they do me.”
“I guess your wife will be glad for you to wind things up here and come home to stay.” Bernie accepted the offered seat.
“I think I miss her and the girls more than they miss me.”
“I doubt that.” Bernie smiled. “Take it from somebody who was a daddy’s girl, at the ages your daughters are, there’s no other man in their lives as important as their father.”
Hensley brought in a folding chair, opened it and sat; then he reared back and placed his hands on his thighs. The guy swaggered when he walked, his every action proclaiming his cocky attitude, and there he was sitting back like he owned the world. Jim studied his deputy, but when the guy’s gaze met his, Jim focused on Bernie. She looked today as she looked every day. Neat and orderly. Brown slacks, white blouse, minimum of makeup, simple gold jewelry, her hair pulled back in a loose ponytail.
As if sensing that he was staring at her, she turned and looked right at him. Their gazes connected and held. He smiled. She smiled. Jim figured they had the makings of a firm friendship. The more he got to know Bernie, the better he liked her.
Charlie tapped his fingers on the file folder lying on Jim’s desk. “I brought the preliminary report on Stephanie Preston. As we all know, her death was caused when the carotid arteries were severed when her attacker slit her throat, pretty much from ear to ear. Her throat was cut from left to right in a manner indicating the killer was behind her, probably on top of her, and that he jerked her neck backward and brought the knife down and across. There were no signs of defensive wounds, so it’s unlikely she tried to fight him. The knife had a smooth blade, which means no distinctive marks from the blade on the neck. And the knife was very sharp. The murderer probably made sure it was sharp because his intent was to end her life quickly and relatively painlessly.”
“I thought we had decided he had tortured her, so why would he care if her death was quick and painless?” Hensley asked.
“Good question.” Charlie glanced at Jim.
“He’d gotten whatever it was he had wanted from her, from raping her and torturing her,” Jim said. “When it came time to end things, he was through with her. All he wanted was to get rid of her quickly. I’d say he thought of the way he killed her as a reward to her for having given him what he’d needed from her.”
“What sort of sick mind would look at it that way, would believe that she’d given him anything?” Bernie frowned. “She didn’t give. He just took everything from her, even her life.”
“Our boy is not only one sick puppy, but he’s smart,” Charlie said. “He trimmed her fingernails and toenails and cleaned out from under the nails, leaving no trace evidence. And he washed her hair and her body before he dropped her off in the middle of nowhere.”
“Then he’s no run-of-the-mill nut case.” Bernie draped her right arm across her waist, then propped her left elbow atop her right fist and rested her chin atop her tilted left hand.
“You’re right—he is a nut case and definitely not run of the mill,” Charlie agreed. “Whoever he is, he likes rough sex, he likes to make his victim suffer and he’s smart enough to remove any evidence on the body.”
“What about any evidence from where her body was found?” Hensley asked.
Charlie shook his head. “Nada, at least so far.”
“And that’s about what we’ve got,” Jim said. “Nada. We’ve ruled out our three most likely suspects—the husband and two former lovers.”
“Yeah, their alibis checked out,” Hensley said. “So that leaves us back at square one.”
“If only someone had seen something the night Stephanie was kidnapped.” Bernie rubbed her thumb across her lips. “The last anyone saw of her, she had just exited the building and was heading toward her car. So what happened between the building and her car? There is no evidence she made it to her car, but then again there’s no evidence to indicate she didn’t.”
“Y’all didn’t find anything that belonged to her in the parking lot, did you? Not a notebook or scattered papers or her handbag or—”
“Nothing,” Bernie said. “And her purse and books weren’t inside her car either, which we figured meant she’d taken them with her.”
“Unless the guy who abducted her gathered up all her belongings after he nabbed her.” Jim tapped his fingers against the desktop as he mulled things over in his mind. “If she took the items with her, then I have one question. Why, if she was being abducted, would she have hung on to her purse and other items instead of trying to fight this guy off?”
“She didn’t fight him, did she?” Bernie tightened her left hand into a fist and huffed under her breath as she figured out Jim’s theory. “Damn it, she knew him. And for some reason, she went with him willingly.” Bernie looked straight at Jim. “Am I right? Is that what you’re thinking?”
Jim nodded. “Where is her car?”
“We had our wrecker pick it up and bring it in,” Hensley said. “We went over it with a fine-tooth comb and found nothing unusual, so we turned it over to Taylor’s Wrecker Service. Last I heard, no one in the family has come to pick it up yet.”
“Did y’all have a mechanic check the car?” Jim asked.
Hensley looked questioningly at Jim. “Why would we have had a mechanic check it? The car had nothing to do with Stephanie’s disappearance.”
“Call over to Taylor’s Wrecker Service,” Jim said. “Have them see if the car will start, and if not, why not?”
“Oh shit,” Bernie cursed under her breath.
“What is it, Sheriff?” Charlie asked, a hint of a smile curving the corners of his mouth.
“You know damn well what it is.” She glared from Charlie to Jim. “Why would a woman not drive her own car? Why would she accept a ride from someone else? Because her car wouldn’t start.”
“Yep.” Charlie’s smile widened.
“Our guy deliberately put Stephanie’s car out of commission, then he waited around to play Good Samaritan when her car wouldn’t start.” Bernie gritted her teeth and groaned. “Ooh … She knew him. Whoever he is, Stephanie knew him and trusted him enough to accept a ride with him.”
“That narrows down our field of suspects to probably at least a fourth of all the men in Adams and Jackson counties,” Hensley said.
“Maybe so, but it also means our guy is probably still around, that he either lives in Adams County or in one of the neighboring counties, that he’s probably a native.” Jim tapped his fingers against the desktop again. “And if he enjoyed what he did to Stephanie, it’s probably only a matter of time before he chooses a second victim.”
“I agree,” Charlie told him. “But that’s assuming Stephanie Preston was his first victim.”
“Are we back to the serial killer theory?” Hensley asked.
“Yeah,” Jim said. “So Lieutenant, I’d like for you to put in a call to the sheriff’s departments of all the neighboring counties within a hundred-mile radius and find out if there’s been another murder similar to Stephanie’s within the past six months. No, make that the past year.”
When Thomasina arrived home, she called out to her mother, who was in the kitchen. “Mom, I’ve got a headache. I’m going to my room to lie down for a while. I don’t think I’ll want any supper.”
As she headed toward her room, she heard the kitchen door open. Please, don’t let her follow me and try to talk to me.
“You got a package,” her mother said. “I found it in the mailbox with today’s mail, but there wasn’t any postage on it. That’s odd, don’t you think?”
A package? Another present from Brandon? “What did you do with it?”
“I put it on your dresser.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
“Want me to bring you some aspirin?”
“No, I’ll get some if lying down doesn’t help.”
Thomasina rushed into her room, closed the door behind herself quickly and went straight over to her dresser. The package, about twelve inches square and four inches deep, had been wrapped in plain brown paper and sealed with clear, wide tape. She moved close enough so that she could see her name printed in large black block letters across the top. No return address, and no postage. He had brought the gift by and left it sometime today. But when? Was it possible that Scotty Joe had been wrong about Brandon leaving with Robyn Granger at lunchtime today?
No, it’s not possible. Scotty Joe wouldn’t have lied to me.
She knew Brandon and Robyn had indulged in an on-gain, off-again affair, but she’d assumed it was over, that Brandon was now ready for real love. Had she been wrong? Had he and Robyn made love this afternoon?
Was he simply playing her for a fool, sending her love notes and presents, luring her to him, when all she meant to him was just another conquest?
When had he made the time to drive all the way over here to Verona? Or had he gotten someone else to drop off this new gift? She skimmed the top of the package with nervous fingers. What had he sent her this time?
Open it and find out.
She’d need a pair of scissors.
As if it were fragile, perhaps even explosive, Thomasina picked up the parcel and carried it with her to her bed. She sat on the edge, deposited the package in her lap, and then rummaged in her nightstand drawer for a pair of scissors. For several minutes, she sat there, the wrapped box in her lap and the scissors in her hand, and thought about what a miserable afternoon she’d had. It had been all she could do to get through the two classes without crying. If it hadn’t been for Scotty Joe’s kindness at lunchtime, she wasn’t sure she could have made it through the rest of the day. He hadn’t mentioned Brandon again; instead, he’d entertained her with jokes and cute stories about the kids he met through his work with the Drug Abuse Resistance Education program. And he’d insisted she eat one of the scrumptious but fattening brownies from Cummings Bakery.
“You don’t need to worry about calories,” he’d told her. “You’re just the right size.”
She had eaten every morsel of the delicious brownie and enjoyed it immensely. By the time she had washed down the last bite with her cola, she had been able to smile. Of course, once lunch ended and she and Scotty Joe went their separate ways, all the jealous thoughts about Brandon and Robyn came rushing back, flooding her mind with images of the two of them making love.
You cannot assume Brandon is guilty. Not without proof. You have to give him the benefit of the doubt.
Grasping the scissors in her right hand, she cut the tape holding the brown paper in place; then she removed the paper to reveal a white box. She tossed the paper aside and lifted the lid on the box. Inside she found white tissue paper covering the contents, which she promptly removed. She picked up the first two items—a bottle of pink nail polish and a tube of matching lipstick. Holding one item in each hand, she inspected them. Revlon items that could be purchased at Wal-Mart or Kmart or the local drugstore.
Thomasina laid the nail polish and lipstick on her pillow, then searched deeper into the box. She removed two envelopes. She felt certain the smaller one contained a note and the larger one possibly held another sketch.
She opened the note and read it. Then read it again.
You’re more beautiful in pink than in any other color. Will you wear pink for me, my darling Thomasina?
Tears lodged in her throat.
She placed the note alongside the nail polish and lipstick, then ripped open the large white envelope and pulled out the sketch.
“Oh my God!”
It’s me, and yet it’s not me. It’s my face and the body is similar to mine, but—
She stared at the ink sketch of her standing in a very sensual pose, her hair falling over one shoulder and almost touching the top of her naked breast. Her nipples were tight. Thomasina’s gaze moved from the obviously tight nipples down over her navel to the hand that covered her mound.
He’s drawn me naked and aroused.
Oh, Brandon, what kind of game are you playing? If I’m the woman you want, why did you go off with Robyn today? Why didn’t you come looking for me to see if I was wearing your pearls?
Tears streamed down Thomasina’s face as she curled up in a fetal ball in the middle of her bed, the ink sketch crushed in her tight fist.
Bernie rubbed the back of her neck as she stretched her other arm over her head. Ron had already left for the day and Charlie had just said he was going to head back to the Adams Landing Hotel down the street.
“I need to call Jen and check on the girls, see if anybody else has come down with that stomach virus,” Charlie said. “If Jen’s gotten it, I’ll head on home tonight. Otherwise, I’ll stay in town and try to get a good night’s rest.”
“See you in the morning,” Jim said.
“Yeah, let’s make it eight o’clock tomorrow, okay?”
“Sure thing.”
Charlie patted Bernie on the back as he headed for the door. She offered him a smile and then turned to Jim. “It’s been a long day.”
“Yes, it has.”
She wanted to ask him if he had plans for supper tonight, but she wasn’t willing to risk making a fool of herself. After all, she figured Jim Norton was the type who did the asking—if he wanted to spend time with a woman.
“Guess I’ll head on home,” she said.
“Would you be interested in catching a quick bite over at Methel’s first?” he asked.
He’d taken her off guard with his invitation. Don’t act too eager or overly pleased. “Uh … sure. That would be fine.”
“I figure we’d both be eating alone otherwise… or am I wrong? If you’ve got other plans—”
“My only plans are with a hot shower and a good book,” she told him.
“Then you’re one up on me,” he said. “I don’t even have a good book to read.”
She was having dinner with Jim and he had been the one to ask, not her.
But this is not a date, Bernie, she reminded herself. It’s just two colleagues grabbing a bite. He could just as easily have asked Charlie or Ron. Do not make a big deal out of this.
“Methel’s has great food,” she said as they walked out into the hallway together. “The dinner menu is about the same as the lunch menu. But if you want something different—juicy burgers and fries and ice cream sundaes—then we should go over to the King Kone on North Adams.”
“A burger and fries sounds good to me.” Jim closed the door, then placed his hand in the center of her back. “And instead of ice cream sundaes, how about a couple of banana splits?”
The moment he touched her, her stomach did a silly, girlish flip-flop. “Oh, Captain Norton, you are a man after my own heart. I love banana splits.”
“Somehow I figured you did.” He winked at her.
Her stomach did another crazy flip-flop.
Just as they reached the entrance that opened onto Washington Street, the door flew open and in pranced Robyn, wearing a hot pink cotton skirt that was so short it barely covered her butt. And her white blouse was completely sheer, showing off the hot pink lace camisole beneath.
“Hey, I’m glad I caught you before you left,” Robyn said, looking directly at Jim.
“Who are you talking to?” Bernie asked. “Jim or me?”
Robyn giggled. “Jim, of course, silly. Why would I be asking my sister out to dinner when I could go with her handsome new deputy?”
“You’re here to ask me out?” Jim grinned.
Bernie wanted to knock that stupid grin off his face.
“I’m sorry I didn’t call first, but it’s been wild over at the fitness center.” Robyn insinuated herself between Bernie and Jim, then laced her arm through his. “I’m running a two-for-one special this week and—”
“Bernie and I were just heading over to the King Kone for burgers,” Jim said. “You could join us.”
“Yuck, the King Kone. They serve nothing but junk food.” Robyn ran an appreciative eye over her own body and sighed dramatically. “I couldn’t keep this figure if I ate burgers and fries, now could I?”
Jim glanced over at Bernie and shrugged. “What about Methel’s?”
“Absolutely not,” Robyn said. “River’s End has great seafood and wonderful salads.”
“And it costs an arm and a leg,” Bernie said.
“So, if price is a problem”—she batted her eyelashes at Jim—“we’ll go Dutch treat.”
“Is this place fancy?” Jim asked. “I’m not dressed for fancy and neither is Bernie.”
“It’s not that fancy,” Robyn replied.
“Look, why don’t you two go on out to River’s End and have a great seafood dinner. I think I’ll just head on home and scramble myself some eggs.”
“Eggs are bad for you,” Robyn said.
Bernie forced a smile, then gave Jim a quick glance. “See you in the morning, Jim.”
Before he had a chance to say anything, Bernie rushed out the front door and walked hurriedly down the street. Her Jeep was parked at the courthouse, so she had no choice but to walk along the sidewalk, meeting and greeting people as they were leaving the antique shop and the library.
Just keep that phony smile in place, she told herself, and keep walking. You are not going to cry because you have nothing to cry about. Okay, so your feelings are hurt just a little because you know Jim would much rather have dinner with Robyn than with you. And you’re a teensy bit upset with your sister because it never entered her pretty little head that Jim might have asked you to dinner and that his invitation had thrilled you beyond all reason.
Bernie made it to the area of the courthouse parking lot reserved for her and her deputies and was forced to face and speak to several deputies who were leaving for the day. By the time she got in her Jeep, started the engine and pulled out onto Washington Street, tears clouded her vision. Lifting one hand, she swiped the tears away and called herself all kinds of a fool.
Stop acting like a girl. You are not a sissy. You’re better than that.
