Close Enough to Kill (10 page)

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 D.A.R.E. 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.

Thomasina had been staring at the large manila envelope for endless minutes, wanting to open it and yet afraid to see what surprise “gift” might be waiting inside for her. One of her students in the last afternoon class had found the envelope, with her name printed on it in bold black letters, lying on the floor at the back of the classroom, as if someone had accidentally dropped it there. She had thanked the student, laid the envelope on her desk and waited until the room was clear before she burst into tears. What had started out less than a week ago as an exciting romantic adventure had now turned into an unnerving nightmare. After allowing herself a good cry, she’d gathered up her things, including the unopened envelope, and driven home. Often when she had to teach a night class, as she did tonight, she didn’t bother going home; instead, she either stayed at the school and caught up on work or she drove into Adams Landing to shop and have an early dinner. But today, she had wanted—no, she had needed—to come home where she felt safe.

She’d found a note on the refrigerator from her mother, telling her that she’d gone to Huntsville with her best friend, Rose Johnson, for a shopping spree at Parkway City Mall, and they wouldn’t be home until late. In a way, she was glad her mother wasn’t here to question her about her odd mood again, which she’d been doing all week. But a part of her wished her mother was here so she could tell her what had been going on for the past week and ask her advice.

Thomasina had placed the envelope in the middle of the kitchen table, poured herself a glass of iced tea, sat down and studied the damn thing as if she could figure out what was inside without opening it.

Monday’s gift would have been sweet, even endearing, if she hadn’t thought that Brandon was playing her for a fool, stringing her along while he kept seeing other women. But the gift that she’d received on Wednesday, an envelope containing sketches and a small box, had been stuffed in her P.O. box at the college. She’d questioned the secretary, asking if she had any idea who’d put the envelope in her box.

“No, I’m sorry,” Kerrianne Gipson had said. “It’s been one of those days. I’ve been in and out of the office all day long. I’m afraid just about anybody could have left it. Why? Is there a problem?”

“No, no problem. I was just curious. I’m sure there’s a note or something inside.”

But the note hadn’t been signed.

She’d waited only until she’d reached her car before ripping open the envelope and dumping the small box out into her hand. Inside the box she’d found a small bottle of perfume. White Shoulders. She didn’t know that particular scent was still being manufactured. It was such an old-fashioned fragrance. Her mother had used it for a couple of years nearly twenty years ago.

She’d read the note before looking at the sketches.

I dream of you this way. Of our being together. Of your loving everything I do to you.

She’d found three sketches inside the envelope, each one more graphic and sickening than the one before, and all three depicting her naked and aroused in various S&M scenes. Her being whipped—the hand holding the whip large and menacing. Her on all fours, a dog collar around her neck attached to a leash. And her lying chained to a metal bed, a large dildo in her mouth and the tip of another one sticking out between her clenched thighs.

She had ripped the sketches and the note into pieces, then had shoved them and the perfume bottle back into the envelope and gotten out of her car. Without even thinking about what she was doing, she’d marched straight across the parking lot to the large, green Dumpster, opened the heavy lid and thrown the envelope on top of the other trash.

When she’d gotten home yesterday evening, she’d gone straight to her room; then she’d taken the pearl necklace, the lipstick, the nail polish, all the photos, notes, and sketches from the top of her closet where she’d stored them, stuck the nonpaper items in her slacks pocket and shoved the notes, photos, and sketches under her arm and carried them with her through the kitchen. She had taken a handful of matches from the box her mother kept in the drawer beside the sink, then had gone outside. She’d placed all the paper items inside the large brick outdoor barbeque grill and struck one match after another, placing each lit flame to various edges of the papers. After that, she had tossed the other things into the outdoor garbage container.

Brandon Kelley was no dream lover. No old-fashioned gentleman. He was a sicko. A pervert. And she wanted nothing to do with him. Robyn Granger could have him, if she wanted him. If Robyn was “into” Brandon’s kind of sex.

This morning, Thomasina had written Brandon a succinct letter warning him that if he ever sent her another package of any kind, she would call the police. She had thought that would be the end of it. She’d been wrong. So very wrong.

She kept staring at the manila envelope lying in the middle of the table. Wishing it would go away. Wishing she had the guts to open it. Knowing that if it contained what she thought it did, she’d have no choice but to contact the local authorities.

Enough was enough.

Allen Clark drove a late-model Mercedes, dressed in suits and ties and when he had moved Mary Lee and Kevin to Huntsville, he’d moved them into a three-hundred and fifty-thousand dollar house in the southeast area. The guy was in his late forties, had been divorced for eight years when he met Mary Lee and had no children of his own. As much as Jim wanted to hate the guy, he couldn’t. From what he could tell, Allen really loved Mary Lee and seemed to genuinely care about Kevin. And for the first time in a long time, Mary Lee acted as if she was truly happy. Of course, her taking Kevin away from Memphis had screwed up Jim’s life and he resented the hell out of her attitude that Allen would make Kevin a better father. Okay, so Allen had more money. Big deal. And with Kevin living under his roof, Allen spent more time with him. But Goddamn it, Allen was not Kevin’s father. He was. And he loved his son, would do anything for him—anything short of giving him up for another man to raise.

Jim hadn’t seen Kevin in nearly two months, although he called him a couple of times a week. When they talked, Kevin raved about his new room, his new computer, his fabulous dirt bike, and his great new stepdad. Unless another guy had gone through the same experience, he wouldn’t be able to understand how Jim felt, how worthless and insignificant. When the only really good thing in your life is your child and suddenly you’re no longer the primary man in his world, it’s like having your heart ripped from your chest without the benefit of any painkillers.

Despite his heavy workload at the office, Jim had taken off early to accommodate Allen’s schedule. Allen had explained that he wanted to drop Kevin off at four and be home by five-thirty to have dinner with Mary Lee.

“She needs me,” Allen had said. “She’s scared out of her mind and if I’m not with her, she panics.”

Yeah, that sounded like Mary Lee. For as long as Jim had known her, she’d been self-centered, her needs coming before anyone else’s. In Mary Lee’s world, everything revolved around her. So why, when she was facing major surgery for cancer, would anything be different? He didn’t envy Allen in the least for having to play nursemaid to a woman who could never be satisfied. It wasn’t that Jim didn’t wish Mary Lee the best—he did. He prayed she’d come through the surgery with flying colors, have a complete recovery and live to be ninety.

It had taken him a long time to stop hating her. And even longer to stop loving her.

Jim stood on the small front porch of his duplex and watched as Allen pulled his Mercedes into the driveway. By the time Allen opened his door, Jim was at the end of the sidewalk meeting him. They shook hands cordially; then Jim glanced across the hood of the car and saw Kevin’s dark head. His twelve-year-old son was already five-eight. Jim figured by the time he was eighteen he’d be as tall as Jim, at six-three.

Allen popped the car’s trunk and Kevin joined him to retrieve a couple of suitcases and a laptop computer. For a minute there, Jim halfway expected Kevin to pull his dirt bike from the trunk.

“Is that everything?” Jim asked. “Need any help?”

Allen handed Jim one of the suitcases. “He should have enough to do him for several weeks,” Allen said. “If not, buy whatever he needs and send me the bill.”

Jim growled under his breath and said in a low, rough voice, “I think I can manage to buy my son whatever he needs.”

Allen’s craggy face turned pink. “Sorry. I didn’t mean anything. It’s just…Well, okay then.” He turned to Kevin who’d walked over and now stood between his father and stepfather. Allen smiled at Kevin. “I’ll call you tomorrow as soon as your mom comes out of surgery, and she’ll call you herself as soon as she can.”

Kevin nodded.

“She’s going to be all right.” Allen’s smile wavered. “And you’ll be home with us before school starts.”

“Yeah, sure.” Kevin shrugged.

“If you need anything…” Allen left his sentence unfinished.

“I’ll be fine,” Kevin replied. “You take care of Mom and don’t worry about me.”

Jim and Kevin, each with a suitcase in hand, stood on the small front porch of Jim’s duplex and watched Allen Clark back out of the driveway and head off down the street.

“Come on in and I’ll show you your bedroom.” Jim opened the door and waited for Kevin to enter first. He wanted to reach out and hug his son, to tell him how glad he was that they were going to be living together, at least temporarily, for the first time since Kevin was six. But a boy of twelve-going-on-twenty probably didn’t want his dad hugging him.

Kevin hoisted his suitcase and laptop onto the bed and looked around at the room. Jim dropped the other suitcase on the floor beside the closet and tried to assess the room through his son’s eyes.

“It’s probably nowhere near as nice as your room in Huntsville,” Jim said.

“It’s okay, Dad. Really.”

“Hey, at least here you’ve got a room of your own. Back in Memphis, you had to bunk in with me in that tiny apartment I had.”

“Yeah, this is better.”

“Look, Kevin, I know this isn’t going to be easy for you, staying with me for several weeks when we haven’t spent more than a few days together since you were little. And I know you’re worried about your mom. I’m concerned about her, too. But if anybody on earth can lick cancer, Mary Lee can. She’s a real scrapper. Always has been. It was one of the things I always love—liked about her.”

“It’s just not fair, you know.”

Kevin looked as if the weight of the world was sitting heavily on his slender shoulders and Jim would give anything if he could lift that burden and carry it for him.

“I know,” Jim said.

“She’s really happy with Allen. And she’s different, you know. She stays at home more and she laughs a lot and—” Kevin choked up.

“Your mother’s going to come through the surgery just fine.”

“But it’s cancer. Cancer! She could come through the surgery okay and still die.”

“That’s not going to happen.”

“How can you be so sure? Besides, I know you hate Mom. Why do you care if she lives or dies?”

Jim reached out and grabbed Kevin by the shoulders and looked him square in the eyes. “I don’t hate your mother.” No point in admitting to his son that he
had
hated her for years. “And I care because she’s your mother, because she was once my wife…”

Tears pooled in Kevin’s blue eyes. Norton eyes. Eyes like Jim’s. Eyes like Jim’s father’s.

Jim squeezed Kevin’s shoulders affectionately, doing his best to comfort his son. “You can call and talk to her every day. She’ll want to hear from you and know you’re doing okay.”

Kevin swallowed hard. “I can unpack and put everything away by myself.”

“Yeah, sure.” Jim understood that his son needed to be alone for a little while, that he needed to cry without his father watching him. “You unpack and get settled in while I make a few phone calls, then later we’ll go out for supper. How does that sound?”

“Fine.”

Jim nodded, gave Kevin a keep-your-chin-up look and made a quick exit. After closing the door behind him, he stood there in the small, square hallway between the two bedrooms and said a prayer, something he hadn’t done in a long time. He prayed for Mary Lee. And he prayed that he wouldn’t screw up this chance to be a real father to his son.

Knowing she couldn’t keep her terrible secret to herself any longer, Thomasina had called her sister and asked her to come over as quickly as possible. And when Amanda arrived, she had told her everything, starting with that first “love note” and ending by showing her the unopened manila envelope lying in the middle of the kitchen table.

“You shouldn’t have gotten rid of the other stuff,” Amanda told her. “You should have saved it for the police. They’ll need all the evidence they can get if they’re going to arrest Brandon Kelley.”

“I—I wasn’t thinking,” Thomasina admitted. “I just wanted all of it gone, out of the house, out of my sight forever.”

“Want me to open it?” Amanda indicated the manila envelope.

“No, I’ll do it. I just wanted you here with me before I did it.”

“Go ahead.” Amanda stood behind Thomasina’s chair and clamped her hands down reassuringly on her shoulders. “I’m right here.”

Her hands shook so badly that she paused for a couple of minutes after she picked up the envelope. “I’m a nervous wreck. This is what he’s done to me, and I let him do it. I’ve been so stupid.” Fueled with anger and indignation, she ripped open the envelope, turned it upside down and watched as two small envelopes and three pieces of art paper drifted out and floated down onto the table. She noticed that one of the small envelopes was flat and the other was puffy, as if it contained bubble wrap.

“He always sends a message.” Thomasina reached for the flat envelope first.

“Maybe you should open the other one first and look at the sketches, then read the note.”

Thomasina shook her head, ripped open the flat envelope and removed the note.

She read it to herself first.

I know that you love me and want to please me. Soon, very soon, we’ll be together and you’ll be able to show me just how much you care.