Читать книгу Beverly Barton 3 Book Bundle - BEVERLY BARTON, Beverly Barton - Страница 25
ОглавлениеThe past three days had been a guilt-ridden exercise in hindsight torment for Jim. If he had it to do over again… But what was done, was done. He couldn’t change the fact that his son and his boss had caught him making out with his boss’s sister. Well, making out might be too strong a phrase. He’d tried to turn down Robyn’s advances, but she hadn’t taken no for an answer. When she’d rubbed herself all over him and practically thrust her tongue down his throat, he had reacted like any normal man would have. He’d kissed her back, even though he knew the woman was trouble and not somebody he wanted to get mixed up with. But to be totally honest, he wasn’t sure how far things would have gone if he and Robyn hadn’t been interrupted.
Kevin hadn’t spoken more than half a dozen words to him since Saturday night and here it was Tuesday afternoon. It didn’t help that Mary Lee hadn’t called Kevin since her surgery, and when he’d telephoned her, Allen had interceded and said she was resting and couldn’t be disturbed. If it hadn’t been for Bernie and her parents, Jim wasn’t sure what he would have done. When he and Bernie had caught up with Kevin Saturday night at the country club, they’d taken him outside and tried to explain things to him.
“Your dad and I are just friends,” Bernie had said. “He didn’t do anything to betray me or you. You know, it’s not against the law for a man to kiss a pretty woman.”
But no matter how much he and Bernie had tried to explain the situation, Kevin didn’t respond, except to finally ask if he could spend the night with J.D. Reluctantly, Jim had agreed. When he’d picked Kevin up at the Simms’s house Sunday afternoon, his son had made it perfectly clear that he was still pissed at him.
“I talked to Miss Brenda and asked if I could stay overnight with them for a few nights and she said it would be okay.” Kevin had refused to make eye contact with Jim.
He had wanted to tell Kevin no, that they should work things out at home, but he reconsidered, figuring a few days apart might help Kevin come to terms with his anger and disappointment. Once again, Jim felt like a total failure as a father.
And as if his problems with his son weren’t bad enough, things between him and Bernie were strained, to say the least. She’d been decidedly cool around him at work and seemed to be deliberately avoiding him. He’d seen her once since they had parted company Saturday night. He wasn’t sure if she was pissed at him on Kevin’s behalf or if she just didn’t like the idea of him fooling around with her sister. The bottom line was that he was in the doghouse with the two people he most did not want to disappoint—his son, who meant everything to him, and his boss and newfound friend, whose opinion truly mattered to him.
Robyn had called him a couple of times on Sunday, both times on the pretense that she was concerned about him. Maybe she was. He didn’t know, didn’t care. He was attracted to Robyn the way he’d be attracted to any good-looking woman, but he didn’t have any real feelings for her and he seriously doubted that she had any for him.
Jim had woken up with a headache this morning. He’d drank a little too much Jack Daniel’s last night, so the headache was his own damn fault. As he sat behind his desk, rubbing his temples and berating himself for overindulging, his phone rang.
He grabbed the receiver off the base. “Captain Norton here.”
“Captain Norton, this is Derek Lawrence. I have the profile of your killer ready. Do you prefer that I fax it or e-mail it?”
“Whichever you’d rather do. And thanks. I appreciate this.”
“Thank your friend Griffin Powell.”
“Yeah, I’ll do that.”
“Captain Norton?”
“Yes?”
“I believe the man who has killed the two women in your area and kidnapped a third is more than likely the same man who committed the similar murders in the other southeastern states over the past six years,” Derek said. “There’s a good chance that Heather Stevens was his first victim, and either all the other women have reminded him of her or she and the others all remind him of someone from his past.”
“I figured as much.”
“There’s one other thing …” Derek paused. “It’s apparent that he’s killing more frequently now, and that’s not likely to change. He will continue killing until he’s caught, and he’s probably not going to put much, if any, time between the murder of one woman and the abduction of another.”
“Not what I wanted to hear, but what I expected.”
“I’ll fax my report to you.” He called out the fax number Jim had given him to confirm it was correct, then said goodbye.
Jim hit the off button on the phone, then dialed the sheriff’s office. Lisa Wiley answered on the third ring. “This is Jim Norton. I need to speak to the sheriff on official business.”
He’d added the bit about official business because he wasn’t sure Bernie would take his call otherwise. Not that he’d called her since Saturday night, but all things considered, he didn’t know how she would react.
“Jim, what’s up?” Bernie asked.
Well, at least she’d called him Jim and not Captain Norton. “Derek Lawrence is faxing our killer’s profile to me and I thought you might want to come over so we can take a look at it together.”
“I’ll be over in about five minutes. Put on a fresh pot of coffee.”
“I’ll go do that now. See you in five minutes.” When she hung up, he smiled. She’d sounded like her old self, not angry or upset. But don’t assume you two can go back to where you were before the Robyn incident. You’ll have to rebuild her trust in you, just as you’ll have to rebuild it with Kevin.
Both Ron and John were working other assignments today and were out and about, so when Jim walked into the outer office, he expected to find it empty. Instead, he found Robyn Granger standing there in skintight jeans, a tank top, and sandals. She offered him a let’s-be-friends smile.
“What are you doing here?” he asked on his way to the coffeemaker.
“I came by to apologize. Again.”
“That’s not necessary.” He lifted the nearly empty coffeepot and took it into the adjacent bathroom.
“I talked to Kevin this morning over at Mom and Dad’s,” Robyn said. “I told him that what happened between us Saturday night was all my fault.”
Jim dumped the black liquid into the sink and rinsed out the pot and then the sink. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“Oh, yes, I did. I had orders from Mom to do what I could to make things right between you and Kevin.”
“Did you do any good?” Jim refilled the pot with fresh, cool water and came back into the outer office.
“I think so. Well, maybe. A little.”
“Thanks.” Jim put a new filter in the coffeemaker and measured the ground coffee, then poured the water into the reservoir.
“Mind if I ask you a question?”
“Depends.” Jim turned to face Robyn.
“Did you leave your ex-wife or did she leave you?”
“I left her.”
“And you filed for divorce?”
“Yeah, why do you ask?”
“My bet is that you wouldn’t have left her and filed for divorce without a really good reason. Right?”
Jim narrowed his gaze. “What’s this all about?”
“It’s about the fact that your son blames you for the divorce. He thinks it’s all your fault. If that’s not true, why haven’t you told him?”
“Because I will not bad-mouth his mother. She is his mother and he loves her.”
Smiling, Robyn shook her head. “Jim Norton, you’re a good man. Much too good for the likes of me.” She walked over and kissed his cheek.
Naturally, Bernie chose that moment to arrive—earlier than the five minutes she’d told him. When she saw Robyn kissing Jim, she halted in the open doorway.
“Excuse me. I didn’t mean to—”
“It’s not what you think.” Robyn turned to face her sister, a pleasant smile on her face. “Not this time.” She glanced at Jim and sighed. “If you ever change your mind about the two of us, give me a call.”
Jim didn’t respond; he was too busy studying Bernie’s face, trying to discern her reaction. Other than the fact she wasn’t smiling, he couldn’t tell if she was upset, disappointed, concerned or what.
“See you later, big sister,” Robyn said as she headed for the door.
“Yeah, later.” Bernie spoke to her sister, but kept her gaze on Jim.
As soon as Robyn left, Bernie closed the door and walked into the outer office.
“Have you received the fax from Derek Lawrence?” she asked.
“Not yet, but it should be coming through soon.” Jim nodded to the coffeemaker. “It’s perking. Why don’t you go on into my office and I’ll bring us both a cup as soon as it’s ready.”
A phone rang twice, then the fax machine clicked in and began processing the message.
“You get the coffee,” Bernie said. “And I’ll get the fax.”
Jim nodded. “Bernie?”
With her back to him as she walked toward the fax machine positioned on a small stand between John’s and Ron’s desks, she paused. “Hmm …?”
“About Robyn and me …”
Bernie’s shoulders tensed as she continued walking toward the fax machine. “You and Robyn are none of my business.”
“That’s just it—there is no Robyn and me. There really never was.”
Bernie stood over the fax machine as the report from Derek Lawrence printed out.
When she didn’t respond to his declaration, Jim wondered if he should elaborate or just let it drop. He watched the coffeemaker as the liquid dripped into the glass pot. Come on, will you, fill up as quick as you can.
The fax machine clicked off just about the time the coffeepot filled almost to the rim. Jim glanced over at Bernie and saw her collecting the faxed pages. He turned over two clean cups, lifted the pot and poured the coffee.
He and Bernie met at the partially open door to his office. He stood back and waited for her to enter.
“Take my chair,” he told her.
When she sat in his chair and laid the thin stack of papers on the desk, he placed both cups of coffee on his desk, side by side, then dragged up another chair. He sat down beside Bernie and picked up his cup.
She eased her cup to her lips, took a couple of sips, and then set down the cup before focusing on the profile. After she scanned the first page, she handed it to Jim.
“Mr. Lawrence has pegged our serial killer as an organized, violent offender,” Bernie said. “No surprise there. Highly intelligent, socially and sexually competent.”
Jim read the first page. “Controlled moods. Maintains a stereotypical masculine image, is charming. Possibly an only child who suffered some type of abuse as a child or teenager.”
Bernie read aloud. “This type usually moves the body from the murder scene and disposes of the body to advertise the crime.” Bernie continued reading, then handed Jim the second page. “He’s got our guy down pat. It all fits.” She gave Jim the third and final page of the report.
Jim read over the listing of other characteristics. Plans the offense. Personalizes the victim. Controls the crime scene. Requires the victim to be submissive. Uses restraints. Acts aggressively. Moves body. Removes weapon. Leaves little evidence.
“Our guy is definitely power/control oriented,” Jim said. “Lawrence believes he tells his victims what to say during the assaults in order to recreate previously fantasized scenarios with idealized partners.”
“Lawrence also theorizes that our killer keeps records—writings, drawings, photographs.” Bernie closed her eyes and shivered. “Thomasina Hardy has been missing for thirteen days and we’re no closer to finding her than we were the night she disappeared.”
“Our boy’s smart. He’s out there laughing at us. He thinks he’s invincible.”
“What good is this profile if we don’t have even one suspect?” Bernie wrapped her hands around her coffee cup.
“It can help us rule out quite a lot of men,” Jim said. “Lawrence thinks our guy is young, under thirty-five, highly intelligent, possibly with some college or even a degree, and that he’s a mobile killer, that he moves around.”
“So what do we do—interview every man in Adams County under thirty-five who is intelligent, educated, and charming?”
“I think we need to find out more about the victims in the other states, starting with Heather Stevens and Shannon Elmore.”
“You’ve already talked to the lead detective on those cases, what more can you do?”
“I can talk to him again, ask him more questions. My guess is he knows more than he realizes. Things that might shed some light on who our killer is.”
“So call him.”
“I did first thing this morning. I’m just waiting for him to return my call.”
Bernie lifted the cup to her lips and drank. “You make good coffee.”
Jim grinned. “You make a good friend. One that I don’t want to lose.”
When she didn’t look at him or respond, he clamped his hand down on her shoulder. She tensed. “Bernie?”
She lifted her head and looked at him. “You haven’t lost me. We’re still friends.”
“Good friends?” he asked.
“I think we’re headed in that direction.”
“I’m not going to be dating your sister, so if you’re worried about me chasing after Robyn, don’t be. I know you were concerned about my using her and—”
Bernie laughed and shook her head.
“What’s so funny?” he asked as he lifted his hand from her shoulder.
“You are. I was never concerned about your using Robyn. Don’t you think I know that my sister is the user and not the usee in each of her relationships. I was worried that she’d break your heart.”
“Were you now?”
“I was. I worry about my friends.”
“That’s good to know.”
“Dad tells me that Kevin is still upset with you. What are you going to do about mending fences with your son?”
Jim raked his hand through his hair and reared back in his chair. “Damned if I know. I love that boy more than anything on earth, and yet all I seem to do is hurt and disappoint him. I can’t believe he walked in on Robyn and me. What were the odds of that happening? And I don’t know where he got the idea that there was something going on between you and me.”
“The three of us have spent a great deal of time together lately and we’ve had a lot of fun. Kevin and I have a marvelous rapport. I believe he liked the idea that if his dad was going to have a girlfriend, she’d be somebody he genuinely liked and someone who felt the same way about him.”
“It makes sense. You’re the kind of woman most kids would like to have for a mother.”
“Well, thank you, Captain Norton.”
Jim chuckled. “So, should we return to the way things were—you and Kevin and me? Or would the three of us spending more time together feed this fantasy he has of you and me as a couple?”
“That’s a difficult question. I don’t know. Maybe we should both talk to him again. Together.”
“Tonight?”
“Tonight’s fine with me. Why don’t I call Mom and tell her that you and I are coming to dinner, and that afterward we plan to talk to Kevin about our relationship.”
“Thanks.”
“For what?” she asked.
“For being my friend.”
He couldn’t go to her until tonight. They would make love for the final time, and then he would say good-bye. She’d be heartbroken when he told her that he no longer loved her, but she wouldn’t be surprised. She had to know what a disappointment she’d been to him. Poor Thomasina. She had tried so hard, done everything he’d asked her to do, and yet she hadn’t measured up. None of them had measured up to his ideal. To his perfect woman.
Perhaps Abby would be different. She wasn’t classically beautiful the way some of the others had been, but she was lovely in a sultry, earthy way. And she was older, already thirty, but still young enough. And she had the kind of body that men had wet dreams about. He fantasized about sucking on her big tits. Licking, sucking, biting. Just the thought of her whimpering with pleasure and pain excited him. She was the type who would enjoy variety. Ass fucking. Blow jobs.
But he couldn’t begin his courtship, his seduction of Abby Miller, until he ended his relationship with Thomasina.
He sat and watched the students as they walked from the building, some preparing for another class, others heading for their vehicles. It was such a delicious little coincidence that Jacque and Stephanie had both attended the community college and that Thomasina had taught here. And now there was Abby, another night school student, who’d signed up for classes she seldom attended as a smoke screen to cover up her illicit affair.
He smiled, thinking about how the sheriff’s department was wasting time trying to figure out what it meant that all the victims were somehow connected to the college. He hadn’t deliberately set out to choose women who were students or even teachers at the school. But it had worked out to his advantage, giving the authorities a red herring.
If only Sheriff Granger and her hotshot chief deputy knew that there was a far more important reason they should be looking at Adams County Junior College than the obvious.
He would outsmart the local law just as he’d outsmarted the others—in Georgia, in Tennessee, in North Carolina, and in South Carolina. He was a smart man. He’d been a smart boy. But women didn’t appreciate men with brains, not any more than girls appreciated boys with brains.
Don’t go back there. Don’t remember what happened.
She had been the prettiest, most popular girl in school and he had worshipped her when she hadn’t even known he was alive. The first time she smiled at him, he’d nearly died on the spot. And when she spoke to him one day, he’d been speechless at first, and then tongue-tied. She’d been so sweet, so friendly, so nice.
He could see her clearly in his mind’s eye—slender and dark haired, with big brown eyes and a smile so warm that it could have melted the polar ice caps. She always wore pink lipstick and nail polish, not a gaudy hot pink, but a pale, ladylike shade. Even now, he could still smell her delicate perfume, a flowery gardenia fragrance. And he’d never forget the delicate gold ankle bracelet she wore every day, whether she was in slacks, shorts, or a skirt. Her parents had given her a string of real pearls for her sixteenth birthday, and whenever there was a special event at school where everyone had to dress up, she wore her pearls.
He had loved her with all the innocence and adolescent passion of an inexperienced sixteen-year-old boy. A virgin. A nerd. A bookworm.
Emotion tightened his throat. The memories were bittersweet. Ecstasy in the beginning, and then a torment beyond bearing in the end. Tears clouded his vision.
Her laughter echoed inside his mind. No matter how many years had passed, how hard he’d tried to forget, he could never escape that mocking laughter.
Thomasina lay beside him, as silent and still as death. After raping her in the anus with the wooden phallus until she’d wept from the pain, he had turned her over and taken her with brutal force. No matter how much she tried to please him, he was never satisfied. He punished her if she fought him and yet he punished her even when she obeyed his every command. He enjoyed tormenting her, derived some sadistic pleasure from hurting her.
In the quiet stillness, with her abductor asleep at her side, the sound of her own pleading voice echoed inside her head. She had told him repeatedly what he demanded to hear.
“I love you. I love you more than anything or anyone. Please make love to me.”
Cutting her gaze in his direction, she noted that his eyes were closed and his mouth was open. Lifting her head a few inches, she dared a closer glance at his handsome face.
Thomasina’s heartbeat accelerated. He was asleep. She was awake. Lifting up her arms, she stared at her unbound wrists; then she arched first one foot and then the other, reminding herself that she was not shackled.
Rising to a sitting position, she paused, took a deep, steadying breath, then gazed at his naked body. A perfect male body.
After easing her legs off the side of the bed, she placed her feet on the floor and sat there, her arms wrapped in a comforting hug around her bruised breasts. She had lost count of how many days he had held her prisoner in this underground hellhole. There was no way to tell day from night. Time had no meaning to her. She counted her life not by minutes and hours, but by the number of times he visited her. And with each subsequent visit, she lost more and more of herself to the fear of waiting and wondering when he would return. If only she could get away from this madman.
She rose to her feet and took a few tentative steps away from the bed.
He made an odd, snorting noise.
Her heart leapt to her throat. Terror zinged along her nerve endings. She glanced over her shoulder. He was snoring. Relief spread through her, relaxing her taut muscles.
Tiptoeing, she crept to the foot of the bed, then rounded it, her gaze fixed on the stairs that led to the only door, the only means of escape. But he kept the door locked, so what good would it do her to climb those stairs?
Suddenly she stepped on something lying on the floor. When she glanced down in the semidarkness, she saw his shirt and slacks crumpled in a heap where he’d discarded them. She lifted her foot, leaned over and stared at the small metallic object shining there on the cool concrete floor.
It’s a key.
Oh my God, the door key must have fallen out of his pants pocket when he took off his clothes.
Listening to the sound of his soft snoring, she assured herself that he was still asleep. Bending her knees, she crouched down, reached out and pinched the key between her thumb and forefinger. Her heartbeat drummed in her ears; perspiration coated her palms.
Her captor was sound asleep. She had the key to the door. If she could manage to climb the steps and unlock the door without waking him, she could escape.
For the first time since she had awakened in this dark, dank prison—days ago? weeks ago?—Thomasina felt that there was actually a chance she might get away, that she might live.
With the key in her hand and hope in her heart, she made her way across the room to the stairs. Before taking that first step upward, she paused and looked back at the snoring man. Lifting her foot, she hesitated; then when the stairs didn’t creak, she followed one cautious step with another, increasing her speed until she practically ran up the last few steps to the door. Trembling and sweating profusely, she narrowed her gaze on the door lock, then aimed the key at the lock. Her fingers quivered so badly that she almost dropped the key. Clasping it tightly, she shoved the key into the lock. Her chest ached. Her breathing came in ragged gulps. She smelled her own sweat mixed with the heavy odor of sex.
All she heard was her own breathing. All she saw was the key in her hand.
Turn the key, unlock the door and open it to the outside world. Then run like hell.
She turned the key and twisted the knob. The lock didn’t budge.
She turned the key in the opposite direction.
Click.
She emitted a whooshing breath of relief as she grasped the doorknob and turned it.
The door creaked as she opened it.
Damn!
Instinctively turning around to check and make sure the noise hadn’t awakened him, Thomasina gasped when she came face to face with her captor.
“Where are you going, darling?” he asked.
She whirled around and yanked open the door, trying her best to get away from him before he grabbed her. Thomasina stepped forward as she shoved on the door and managed to open it halfway before he grabbed her, flung one arm around her waist and pressed her back against his chest.
Screaming and crying, her instinct for survival strong, she fought him like a wildcat when he jerked her backward and slammed the door shut. There at the top of the stairs, he held her so tightly that she could barely breathe, held her as she wriggled and squirmed and clawed at him.
She’d been so close, had almost escaped.
Tears streamed down her cheeks.
Finally, when all the fight had gone out of her, he bent his head and kissed her shoulder. Then he bit her neck. She yelped in pain.
“You failed the test,” he whispered in her ear.
“What?”
“You’ve told me again and again how much you love me, but I’ve had my doubts from the very beginning. So I devised a plan to test you, to allow you to prove your love.”
Sobbing, trembling, immobilized by fear, Thomasina realized that he hadn’t been asleep at all, that he had been faking. “The key?” she asked.
“When I took off my clothes, I placed it right where you could find it,” he told her. “If you’d left the key lying on the floor, if you hadn’t tried to escape, I would have known you truly loved me.”
A test? The whole thing had been a test! And she had failed.
There would be no escape. She was trapped.
“There can’t be a happily ever after for us,” he said. “You’ve ruined any chance we might have had.”
Icy fear chilled Thomasina. The certainty of her own death confronted her.
“Please …”
“Please what?” With his fingers threaded in her hair, he yanked her head back and kissed her cheek. “Do you want me to set you free, my darling?”
“Yes,” she replied, knowing that there was only one way she could ever escape from this madman.
