A Breath Away (20 page)

So why hadn't he lately?

“What does the report say?” Agent Adams asked.

As usual, she was oblivious to his thoughts. “We've found a connection between the victims.”

Adams moved closer, one hand snaking out across the scarred wooden table as she read the report with him. Her wedding ring sparkled in the light.

“All the victims share an unusual genetic trait,” Norton said, thinking of Logan. “The first victim had a gene for a rare disease and should have been dead by now. But a mutated gene has reversed the disease's effect.”

“Interesting.” Adams's dark brown eyes rose to meet his. “The other victims share this same unique quality.”

Norton shifted, reading her mind. Those damn test tubes Violet Baker had claimed the killer collected. Could this genetic disorder be the criteria he was using to choose his victims? And if so, why would he choose someone with an abnormality and draw their blood?

“According to the specialist at the M.E.'s office, the trait had to be passed down through the birth father.”

“But these three women weren't related. They certainly didn't share the same parents growing up.”

“That doesn't mean they couldn't have the same father.”

Their eyes connected. The possibilities registered.

“We need to check the sperm clinics,” Norton said. “And any nearby scientific research facilities.”

Agent Adams nodded. “And we have to question Violet Baker again. Maybe there's more she can tell us.”

* * *

V
IOLET'S HEAD WAS
spinning. While the paramedic checked on another patient, Grady stood beside her, his hands clenched, his jaw tight. Through the haze of smoke, she saw the new doctor in town. He was rushing around from one patient to the next, soothing their fears, administering wherever they needed him. One of the EM's pointed out his assistant, Finley, also. Violet shivered. The guy seemed creepy.

Then she spotted Grady's deputy. He stood with his hands on his hips, his face taut, as if he was transfixed by the grisly image of the fire. What was he doing here?

Grady brushed a strand of hair from her cheek. “We're going to take you to the hospital overnight—”

“No.” She pushed away the oxygen mask and sat up. She didn't want to be in the hospital. She wanted to go home with Grady.

“Violet, you've been injured. You inhaled smoke,” he said. “Let them admit you.”

She reached for his hand, squeezed it. “Please, I want to go back to my father's.” She saw the deputy approaching, and a chill skated up her spine. “Did he come with you?”

Grady twisted his head sideways, hesitating. Before he could answer, Logan reached them.

“Are you all right, Miss Baker?”

Violet swallowed. Remembered that eerie feeling that a car had been behind her on the road. “Did you follow me here?”

Logan cast his eyes toward Grady, then back. “I was worried about you, ma'am. I just wanted to make sure you were safe.”

She bit her lip. She didn't believe him.

Grady's cell phone rang, and he stepped to the side to answer it. “Sheriff Monroe here.”

Grady's mask fell back into place. “All right. We'll be right there.” He pocketed the phone, then turned to her. “Are you really feeling okay?”

Violet nodded. Although she couldn't explain the reason, she wanted to escape Logan. “What's wrong?” she asked.

“That was Special Agent Norton. He wants to see both of us at the office ASAP.”

“Should I come, too?” Logan asked.

“No. Stay here. Find out what caused that fire.”

Logan squinted at the now dwindling blaze. “You think it was arson?”

Grady glanced at Violet, then nodded. “Someone knocked Violet out before the fire started. Alert the fire marshal to check for evidence of assault as well as arson.”

Logan gave a clipped nod, his expression unreadable. “I'll get right on it.”

Violet gripped Grady's arm as he helped her stand. They argued about her driving, but she insisted, so he walked her to her car. “Has something happened, Grady?”

“Agent Norton has the forensics report. He said they found a connection between the women.”

Violet fastened the seat belt, brushing dirt from her jeans. “Maybe they're getting close to the truth.”

“Or we are.”

Violet met his gaze. Emotions clouded his eyes. Anger. Fear. Questions. That was the reason someone
had tried to kill her—they
were
getting close to the truth.

“Why did you come out here, Violet?” Grady asked.

She shivered. Glanced back at the smoky, charred remains of the wing that housed the files. “I was looking for information on my mother.”

He angled his head to study her. “What are you keeping from me?”

She explained about the receipts. “My father lied to me about my mother. She didn't die in childbirth, Grady. She died here.” Hurt welled inside her. “The story was that she had a reaction to the anesthesia when she was pregnant, then had a psychotic breakdown. Two years after she was admitted here, she overdosed.”

Grady's eyes sharpened. Then sympathy lined the edges of his mouth as he captured her hand in his. “Maybe your father didn't want you to know that your mother had emotional problems.”

Violet shook her head. “No, there are just too many strange things that happened. I think she was murdered.”

* * *

S
OMEONE HAD TRIED TO KILL
Violet.

Grady still couldn't get past that fact. A feeling of impending doom tightened his chest. They were on the cusp of learning something significant about the Bone Whistler murders, and his instincts told him it all pointed back to Darlene's killer.

And then there was Violet. Almost killed tonight. Trapped in that fire. The image would give him nightmares forever. He…was starting to care for her. Too much.

When Darlene had died and his father had written
him out of his affections, Grady had sworn he'd never get close to another living soul. His mother had abandoned him. His father hated him. And every woman since had wanted something he couldn't give.

His heart.

Now it throbbed and ached, the shell he'd built around it shattering into pieces. Violet was going to be hurt again before this was over. He knew it in his soul.

And he didn't know how to prevent it. Because something about the tone of Norton's voice had alarmed him. What had they discovered?

“You didn't see who attacked you?” he asked.

“No.” Violet shifted restlessly. “Someone followed me up the mountain.”

“You didn't tell anyone in town where you were going?”

“No.”

Grady contemplated the facts. Logan had followed her. Logan had a Native American heritage. He'd known the expression
pin peyeh obe.

But so did Joseph Longhorse. And Grady had seen Longhorse at the graveyard that day. Longhorse carved bones and hung them on the wall like prizes. Longhorse had been shunned by society, especially by Walt Monroe.

“Why do you think your mother was murdered?” Grady asked.

“I don't know.”

A long silence stretched between them. He let it linger, hoping she'd elaborate.

“But my father lied to me about her being alive, so he could have lied about everything.”

Her silence registered. She wondered if her father had killed her mother.

Grady covered her hand with his again. To offer comfort. His own skin tingled in response. His sex hardened.

“I don't understand all this, Grady.”

He willed himself to be a gentleman. The last thing Violet needed was a pawing man demanding something from her. But God, he wanted to pull her in his arms and feel her, just to make sure she was still here, alive. “For what it's worth, I don't think your dad killed her.”

“Maybe he knew why she was murdered,” Violet whispered.

Or who had murdered her.

The unspoken accusations echoed in her voice. Maybe her father had known. Maybe it had something to do with his own father's argument with Baker. And her father's death.

Twenty minutes later, Grady parked by his office, hopped out and rounded the hood to assist Violet from her car. She'd already opened the door, and met him halfway, the courage in her eyes admirable. He slid his hand to the small of her back as they entered, silently offering his support. He had no idea what was coming. But he knew it might change their lives forever.

* * *

V
IOLET'S STOMACH
fluttered with nerves as she took a seat across from the federal agents. Agent Norton shot her a scathing look. He obviously thought she was a freak.

She steeled herself not to care.

Catching this killer was the only thing that mattered. Not the man's coldhearted, judgmental attitude.

Only Grady's opinion counted. But he'd told Agent Norton he hadn't believed her….

Her gaze drifted to Grady's, her instincts warning her not to count on him. But she couldn't help it. She was so tired of being alone. She needed Grady on her side.

“What's this all about?” he asked.

Special Agent Norton gestured toward the file. Agent Adams folded her arms and leaned a hip against the desk.

“We received the forensics report and found some interesting facts,” Norton said. “First of all, the killer injects the victims with a drug called Pancuronium bromide. It paralyzes the body.”

“So we should look at suspects with medical backgrounds,” Grady stated.

“Or someone with access to medical supplies,” Agent Adams said. “With the Internet these days, anyone could access information on what kind of drug to use to cause paralysis.”

Agent Norton nodded. “We also discovered the connection between the victims,” he said in a matter-of-fact tone. “Apparently, each victim had a special genetic trait inherited from her father.”

Violet frowned.

Grady leaned forward. “I didn't think the victims were related.”

“It appears that they are, genetically. The first woman, Amber Collins, had a gene for a rare disease. She should have died at an early age,” Norton explained, “but the gene mutated and reversed the disease's effect. Our specialists tell us this is traced to past experiments—the gene had been given to the birth father in gene replacement therapy to cure an autoimmune disease.”

“And all the women have this gene?” Violet asked.

“Yes,” Agent Adams said. “We're having more extensive bloodwork done, but there are definite similarities.”

“Had each of the victims received genetic treatment?” Grady asked.

Agent Norton cleared his throat. “We believe the victims were all products of one sperm donor.”

The images of the test tubes of blood the killer collected flashed in Violet's mind. The names on the labels. Her own printed and waiting. “You think that's the reason the killer draws their blood?”

Agent Adams nodded.

Violet's head was reeling. Then
she
might possess this gene…. She might be a product of a sperm donor. Perhaps she was not her father's child….

“There's more,” Special Agent Norton said, glancing at Grady. “Before you arrived, we traced the births to the clinic where we believe the women were impregnated.”

“Where?” Grady asked.

“From the same clinic where your mother worked, Sheriff Monroe.”

Grady tensed. Violet put the pieces of the puzzle together. They had been looking for a connection between Darlene's death and the recent killings.

Violet caught her breath. Had Grady's stepmother been involved in this experiment? Could Darlene have possibly been born from this sperm donor? If so, that meant Grady's father was not Darlene's.

The reporter's words reverberated in her head.
It all goes back to your mother and father and Darlene's….

Q
UESTIONS BOMBARDED
Grady. If the victims shared a sperm donor father, then they were technically half sisters.

His mother had worked at the clinic where these women had received in vitro fertilization—had she known about the treatments? And if these victims were related through a sperm donation, could Darlene have been a product of the donor, as well?

If so, did his father know?

“This puts a new spin on the case,” Special Agent Norton said. “We need to explore that research facility and anyone with a medical background. I'll get someone to check out all the employees.”

“And you need to find a list of all those women who received donations from that sperm donor,” Grady said. “Check to see if my half sister was one of the offspring.”

Norton nodded.

“Warn the agents to tread lightly here,” Special Agent Adams advised her colleague. “Some of the parents may not be aware they received this donation. It's possible the women were duped into thinking they were receiving their husband's sperm, and that the husbands have no idea their offspring aren't their biological children.”

“We'll check with the research facility first,” Norton agreed. “But this opens up an entirely new set of suspects. If one or more of these women did know about the sperm donor and withheld the information from her spouse, and later the husband discovered his child was not legitimately his, he might have been upset enough to retaliate.”

“True,” Agent Adams said. “Although why kill the offspring? Why not kill the wife? Or go after the original donor or the doctors who performed the in vitro? They were technically the ones who betrayed the men, not the offspring.”

“There's something about the abnormality in their blood,” Violet said, gaining everyone's attention. “He's infatuated with the blood, but he's upset that it's not perfect.”

“What do you think he's looking for?” Adams asked.

Norton hissed dismissively.

Violet ignored his reaction. “I don't know yet. But he's still searching for the perfect specimen for his ultimate sacrifice. He has seven more test tubes ready.”

“Can you tell who the next victim will be?” Agent Adams asked.

“No, but he's following a definite order. I can't figure it out.”

“Being orderly fits the profile,” she said. “But he's not going alphabetically. So far it's Collins, Allen, then Cantrell.”

Grady contemplated the new revelations, not liking the questions they triggered in his own mind. They'd been searching for a connection between the past and present. If Darlene was a product of this sperm donor, they'd found it.

Teresa had died in a car accident when Darlene was
small. His father and Jed Baker had secrets—had they suspected Darlene wasn't Walt's child?

Agent Adams's theory about the fathers echoed in Grady's head.

Had Teresa's death really been an accident? If his father thought she'd had an affair… Grady had seen his dad and Doc Farmer arguing. Could Farmer be involved?

Grady's stomach convulsed at the disturbing train of thought. Although he had suspected his father played around on the side, Walt had been jealous of Teresa. Grady had heard them argue more than once, his father accusing her of flirting with someone in town, of not being satisfied with him. He'd been afraid she'd abandon him, as Grady's mother had.

“We're still wondering why you've connected with all the victims,” Special Agent Adams said, looking at Violet.

Violet's face had turned ashen. “My name is on one of the killer's test tubes.”

Grady shuddered. Agent Adams's eyes widened in response.

“You believe you're going to be a victim?” Agent Norton asked.

Violet nodded. “You think it's possible that I might have been one of these sperm donor babies?”

For a long moment the air was charged with tension.

“It's possible,” Norton finally replied.

“Then I should be tested,” she stated.

Both agents murmured in agreement.

Grady contemplated the significance. If Darlene was a product of the sperm donor and Violet was, too, that meant she and Darlene were half sisters. Then he and
Violet were related…. No, that wasn't possible. He and Darlene had different mothers. Now he realized they might have different fathers, too.

If Violet and Darlene were related through blood, that could explain Violet's psychic connection to her and to the other victims. It might also explain Violet's theory that her mother had been murdered. And if Violet's father had known and decided for some reason to come forward with the information, that might be motivation for his own murder.

* * *

S
HOCK WAVES RIPPLED
through Violet's whole being. Darlene might be her half sister. No wonder they had connected. But if she had been a product of a sperm donor, then the man she'd believed to be her father all these years was not her biological one.

Was that the reason her father had sent her away? He thought she was some kind of freak, because she didn't belong to him. Was that the reason he hadn't loved her?

Was it possible he'd discovered the truth and killed her mother out of anger?

No. Violet couldn't believe it. Besides, he was dead now. He couldn't be involved in these other killings. Maybe he'd discovered the truth and planned to tell, so someone had murdered him to keep his secret hidden….

Deputy Logan knocked and stuck his head in. “Turn on the TV, Sheriff. That reporter's on. You won't believe what he's saying.”

Grady cut his eyes toward Violet, then the federal agents flipped on the small set in the corner of the sheriff's office.

“Earlier today a fire broke out at the Black Mountain Mental Hospital outside of Crow's Landing. Police
have confirmed arson.” The camera panned across the chaos on the lawn, flickered over to where Violet sat on the gurney. “A local psychic who is helping the FBI with the recent serial killer case, now called the Bone Whistler, was at the scene. According to the director here, Violet Baker was searching for information on her mother, who died at the hospital. My own research shows that the Baker woman was directly tied to a nearby research facility that may be linked to the Bone Whistler murders. Police are looking at Ross Wheeler, a local teacher who was also implicated in a scandal involving child molestation charges. Other suspects include a local Native American, Joseph Longhorse, and Dwayne Dobbins, a psychotic young man with a history of violence.

“Interestingly enough, I've recently learned that Ross Wheeler, son of the prominent Reverend Wheeler, was the product of a sperm donation that originated at this very same research facility.”

Norton turned accusatory eyes toward Grady, then Violet. “How the hell does he know all that?”

Rage darkened Grady's eyes. “I have no idea. But he should be arrested for interfering with an official investigation.” The sheriff stood and paced, his boots clacking on the hardwood floor. “Maybe he's our killer. He's been in every city so far where there was a murder. And he sure seems to know a lot.”

“We should investigate him,” Agent Adams agreed. “I'll get someone on it right away.”

“Have you talked to this reporter, Miss Baker?” Norton asked. “Is this some kind of ploy to get attention for your hocus-pocus?”

“No. The last thing I want is publicity.” Or to be tied
to Ross Wheeler. Could he possibly be related to Darlene and the others?

“That's right,” Grady said, his voice gruff. “Going public is only going to put Violet in danger.”

Violet hugged herself. She'd seen Ross Wheeler in the crowd at the hospital. Had he been following her? Had he tried to kill her to keep her from finding out the truth? Or could Grady be right—could Bernie Morris be the serial killer?

* * *

“S
HIT
. D
AMN
. F
UCK
.” Doc Farmer slammed the remote control down, his blood pressure boiling. He had to get out of town. Do it now before this whole damn thing blew up in their faces.

He booted up his computer, located the necessary files and trashed them.

Slightly relieved, he phoned the airport in Nashville and booked a one-way flight for two to the Caribbean. First they'd take that vacation Hattie had been babbling about for ages. Yes, he'd get out while the getting was good. While his wife still admired him.

His palms damp, he grabbed his briefcase and started tossing papers in it. His will, insurance forms, the bonds he'd saved for retirement. Then he opened the safe behind his desk, removed the cash he kept stashed inside and stuffed it in one of the pockets. By the time his wife got home, he'd have them ready to go. He'd tell her he'd planned the trip for a while, that he'd wanted to surprise her. It would be like a second honeymoon.

Swiping at his bald spot, he closed the briefcase, then started up the winding staircase to pack suitcases. The doorbell rang midway. He halted, his knees nearly knocking together. It was probably Walt, who must
have seen the news report and panicked. God, he didn't know if he could calm the man or not. He might have to give him an injection. Just like the night Teresa Monroe had died. And then Darlene….

The doorbell rang again, then again. It had to be Monroe. The impatient bastard. Trying to calm his own erratic nerves, Farmer hurried down the steps and opened the door. Instead of Walt, it was Monroe's son.

Damn. What was the sheriff doing here?

“Evening, Sheriff, what can I do for you?”

Grady strode in, his feet practically pounding the parquet flooring. “I want some answers, and I want the truth.”

Farmer inhaled sharply, reached inside his pocket for an antacid and popped it in his mouth, then led Grady to his office and closed the door. As much as he wanted to throw the man out, this was the sheriff. But if Hattie came home, he didn't want her to hear their conversation.

“Years ago, you worked with the Black Mountain Research Hospital, right?”

Acid burned his stomach. But he couldn't very well deny what was public knowledge. “Yes, a while back. What's this about, Son?”

“My family. The fertility clinic.”

He had obviously seen the news report. That little scum-sucker reporter had just opened a dangerous can of worms. But Farmer wasn't offering up any confidences and getting himself killed.

“And?”

“Tell me the truth. Was Darlene my father's child or was she the product of a sperm donor?”

Farmer propped one hand on his aching stomach. “Don't you think you should ask your father this?”

“This is an official call. I'm asking as a part of an ongoing investigation,” Grady said.

“You know I can't divulge patient-doctor information.”

“My sister was part of some experiment there, wasn't she?” Grady snapped, ignoring Farmer's comment.

“She was a product of a sperm donor. Did my father know?”

Grady was getting way too close to the truth. “You need to ask him,” Farmer said. “As I told you, my medical files are confidential.”

“Did Teresa know what she was getting into?”

“Sheriff—”

Grady grabbed Farmer by the collar, but the door in the foyer slammed, and Farmer jumped aside. “My wife is home now. You should go, Sheriff.”

Grady cursed, told him he'd be back, then left. Farmer wiped his forehead with his handkerchief, gripping his stomach. Then he picked up the phone. He had to warn Monroe before he got out of town.

Then he never wanted to hear from the man again.

* * *

D
R
. G
ARDENER
, the young doctor who'd replaced Doc Farmer in town, approached with his lab technician, Joe Finley. “We finally meet, Miss Baker.”

Violet nodded, remembering the way he'd watched her at the diner. This man, with his nice green eyes and friendly smile, was handsome enough to have any of the women in town. Why would he be interested in her? The plain Jane, poor country girl…

“I've discussed your situation with Special Agent Adams,” Dr. Gardener said. “You need a complete workup, right?”

Violet nodded. “We believe I might be connected to the victims in the Bone Whistler murders.”

“Is it true you have psychic abilities?” Gardener asked.

Violet searched his face for condemnation, but thankfully found only sincere interest, so she nodded.

“It appears that way.”

The lab tech's eyes bulged as he watched her, unnerving her slightly. Finley was wiry, and appeared nervous as he assembled the supplies to take her blood. The glass vials clattered in his hands as he removed them from the box.

“Well, we'll find out what you need to know,” the doctor said.

“You're new in town, aren't you?” Violet murmured.

“I've been here a few months,” he told her. “But it's been slow getting people to accept me.”

“Laney Longhouse said all the young women speak highly of you.”

“The younger generation is more accepting. The people who've lived here for a while still want to see Dr. Farmer. They're accustomed to his way of practicing medicine.”

“I'm sure they'll come around,” Violet said, although she, as much as anyone, had borne the brunt of their judgmental attitudes.

“Are you ready?” The lab technician's voice squeaked slightly. Violet frowned, wondering if he was new to the area, too, then chided herself for looking at everyone with suspicion. It was likely that the killer had medical training, though. A doctor, lab tech, orderly, paramedic…

“Finley volunteers here,” Gardener said. “He'll take care of you while I check on another patient.”

Violet nodded, then sank into the hard vinyl chair. When she received the results from this test, she'd know for certain if the man she'd thought was her father really was her blood relative. Did her grandmother know the truth? If not, what would this do to her? Or would it really matter? Her grandmother loved her…no matter what.