Close Enough to Kill (13 page)

“Call Ron and have him track down Brandon Kelley,” Bernie said.

Jim nodded, then made the call while Bernie zipped through downtown Verona, which consisted of a couple of blocks that crisscrossed each other. Since they rolled up the streets in Verona around seven, there wasn’t any traffic. When she stopped at the railroad tracks that intersected with the main road, she looked both ways before preceding. In her peripheral vision she saw Jim punching in a number on his cell phone, then heard him call Ron’s name before filling the deputy in on what was going on.

“We’re heading toward the college now. Give us a call as soon as you track down Dr. Kelley. If you find him.” Jim clipped the phone to his belt.

“I don’t like this.” After crossing the railroad tracks, Bernie took a right onto County Road 157. “We’re pretty sure that Stephanie Preston had car trouble the night she was abducted and now Thomasina Hardy has a flat tire. If she’s alone…”

Jim grunted.

“If we have a serial killer on our hands—”

“If?” Jim growled the word. “You keep saying if.”

“I’m saying if because we’re not sure of anything. Yes, there are similarities between the gifts Stephanie received and the things Thomasina said this guy sent her, but maybe it’s just some terrible coincidence.”

“You don’t believe that any more than I do.”

Thoughts of what that psychopath had done to Stephanie Preston raced through Bernie’s mind. What if he already had Thomasina Hardy? What if they were too late to save her? Bernie’s stomach churned and salty bile burned her esophagus. For half a minute, she thought she might actually be sick.

“Are you okay?” Jim asked.

“Yeah, I’m okay. Why did you ask?”

“You look kind of funny, like you might throw up.”

“I said I’m okay.” She practically bit his head off. “Sorry. I’m taking my frustration out on you. It’s just the thought that we are probably dealing with a serial killer scares the crap out of me. And just between the two of us, I’m not sure I’m equipped to handle a situation like this.”

“Take a couple of deep breaths,” he told her. “Then listen to what I’m going to tell you.”

As she sped along County Road 157, Bernie hazarded a quick glance at Jim. He gave her a stern look. She took the deep breaths.

“No law enforcement officer is ever ready for something like this,” Jim said. “Even if he—or she—has experience with this type of killer. There’s no shame in admitting that you’re worried, that you’re concerned, even that you’re scared.”

Jim’s voice soothed her.
Odd,
she thought. A minute ago, she’d felt as if she were going to jump out of her own skin. Now, her heartbeat had slowed almost to normal and the queasiness she’d experienced subsided. All because of Jim’s calm, even voice and his no-nonsense words.

“You don’t know how difficult it is for me. Not only am I the first female sheriff in Adams County, I’m also the youngest. And—ta-da, drum roll, please—I’m R.B. Granger’s daughter. There’s no way I can live up to my dad’s reputation.”

That’s it, Bernie, admit all your insecurities to your chief deputy. That’s the way to earn his respect.

“When you ran for sheriff, how much of that decision was because it’s what you wanted and how much was because it was what your dad wanted?”

Jim had hit the nail on the head. He had voiced the question she had never dared ask herself. Did everyone see through her so easily or did most people not suspect the truth?

“Truthfully, I don’t know.”

“What about now? You’ve been the sheriff for several years. Do you like your job? Are you glad you’re the sheriff?”

“Yes, I like my job. At least most of the time. And yes, I’m glad I’m the sheriff. Just not tonight. Not right now.” She kept the speed at fifty-five, even when the speed limit lowered to forty-five as they passed over Sunflower Creek. “I’m afraid my insecurities are showing. I certainly never thought I’d have to deal with a serial killer. Not here in Adams County.”

When Jim didn’t respond, she instinctively cut her eyes to catch a quick glimpse of his face. He was looking straight ahead, not at her. All of a sudden, she felt vulnerable and even stupid. She had opened up to her chief deputy in a way that surprised her. Why was it that she’d gotten diarrhea of the mouth tonight and with, of all people, Jim Norton?

The silence between them dragged on for several minutes, but those three or four minutes seemed more like hours to Bernie.

“TMI?” she asked.

“Huh?”

“Too much information?”

“No, that’s not it. I just got to thinking that maybe I was being too nosey, that your relationship with your father is really none of my business.”

“Oh.”

Sharing sensitive personal information would change their relationship from strictly professional to more intimate. Bernie cringed. Wrong word. Intimacy implied a strong emotional attachment, romance, even sex. The best she could expect to share with Jim was friendship.

“Hey, look up ahead.” Jim motioned to the right-hand side of the road. “There’s a parked car over there. Maybe it’s Thomasina Hardy’s car.”

Bernie pulled off the road directly behind the Grand Am. She and Jim cautiously exited her Jeep and took a look at the abandoned car.

“Flat tire.” Jim pointed to the tire.

“You look things over while I go back and call this in to make sure it’s Thomasina’s car.”

Jim nodded in agreement.

By the time she’d called in and had verified the tag number, Jim had finished his inspection and they met at the hood of her Jeep.

“It’s Thomasina Hardy’s car,” Bernie said.

“No sign of foul play. The car’s locked.”

“I don’t like the feeling this gives me.”

“Don’t jump to conclusions.”

“I’ve got a couple of deputies coming out to secure the scene,” Bernie said. “In the meantime, we’ll contact the college to see if Thomasina ever showed up.”

Once back in the Jeep, waiting for the deputies to arrive, Bernie placed a second call to the school.

“No, Sheriff Granger, Ms. Hardy isn’t here, but her mother and brother-in-law are. They’re terribly worried,” Ms. Everett said. “They found her car on County Road One-fifty-seven, but Thomasina was nowhere to be seen.”

“May I speak to the brother-in-law?”

“Sure, he’s right here.”

“Yeah, this is Mike Anderson. Have you found Thomasina?”

“No, sorry,” Bernie said. “We’re here where she left her car parked on One-fifty-seven. I’ve called in deputies to secure the scene.”

“You think something bad has happened to her, don’t you?”

“I don’t know.”
Don’t get emotionally involved. Act in a professional manner.
“Once the scene is secure, my chief deputy and I would like to talk to Thomasina’s family, especially her sister.”

“Which sister? She has two.”

“The one who went with her to speak to Chief Nichols this evening.”

“That would be my wife,” Mike said. “Amanda.” He lowered his voice to little more than a whisper. “Look, Inez, Thomasina’s mom, doesn’t know anything about the stalker. Thomasina had just told Amanda this afternoon, and Amanda told me this evening. Is there any way we can keep this from Inez? She’s worried enough as it is.”

“Mr. Anderson, I’d like for you and Mrs. Hardy to go home to your house, tell your wife what’s happened and wait for us. I’m afraid we can’t keep the facts a secret from your mother-in-law. Thomasina was being stalked and now she’s missing. One and one usually adds up to two.”

“I understand. We…” He gulped. “We’ll go home and wait for you. And please, Sheriff, find Thomasina.”

“We will do our best.”

When she hung up, she turned to Jim. “If we formed a search party, we’d have no idea where to look. It seems apparent that somebody came along and gave Thomasina a ride. She could be in Tennessee by now or right under our noses close by.”

“Professor Kelley had better have a damn good alibi,” Jim said.

“You don’t like Dr. Kelley any more than I do, do you?”

“Nope, I detest his type. But just because he’s a cocky, womanizing jerk doesn’t mean he’s a kidnapper or rapist or killer.”

A foreboding chill rippled along her nerve endings. Bernie shivered. “God, I hope Thomasina shows up safe and sound, with some logical explanation of what happened to her.”

“Yeah, that would be nice, but we both know the odds are against a happy ending.”

“You think whoever killed Stephanie and Jacque has abducted Thomasina, don’t you?”

He nodded. “First thing in the morning, I’ll fill out a VICAP form with the info about Stephanie’s and Jacque’s murders. We need to find out if there are more cases similar to Stephanie’s and Jacque’s. If there are, they could be related.”

The department had a special computer program that generated a request form with all pertinent information about a crime that linked to the FBI’s Violent Crime Apprehension Program. During her father’s last term in office, he’d been determined to bring the Adams County Sheriff’s Department into the twenty-first century.

“But I thought we agreed that this guy is local, that Stephanie knew him and trusted him. And that’s probably what happened tonight with Thomasina. She got in a car with a man she knew and trusted. If that’s the case, how is using the FBI’s VICAP going to help us figure out anything about our killer?”

“Yeah, we did agree that both Stephanie and Thomasina knew the guy who abducted them, but using the VICAP might help us figure out if this guy has lived in the area all his life and whether Jacque was his first victim. Or if he’s killed before, somewhere else, and moved here in the past year or so.”

“The county is going to be in an uproar,” Bernie said. “Unless Thomasina miraculously reappears, I’ll have no choice but to hold a press conference tomorrow. And I’m torn between cautioning women to contact us if they receive notes and presents and sketches from a secret admirer and knowing I can’t reveal too much info without jeopardizing our cases.”

Jim reached over, clamped his hand down on Bernie’s shoulder and looked right at her. “If this guy stays true to his MO and repeats the sequence of events he did with Jacque and Stephanie, we’ll have two weeks tops to find Thomasina before he kills her.”

Bernie closed her eyes and said a quick, silent prayer, pleading with the Almighty to help them. And to help Thomasina Hardy, wherever she was tonight.

Thomasina came to in a semidark room, her head pounding, her mind fuzzy.

What had happened to her? Why was she here?

Where was “here”?

She lifted her head from the pillow and at that moment realized she was lying on a bed of some kind. She tried to sit up and couldn’t.

Why couldn’t she?

She tried to lift her arms, but found that her wrists were bound together over her head. She opened her mouth to scream, but couldn’t. It was then that she knew someone had bound and gagged her, that she was totally helpless and…she turned her head to one side and looked around the small, shadowy room, lit only by the glow of what she thought was a nightlight.

She was alone. All alone.

Think, Thomasina, think!

She had been on her way to teach her Thursday evening class at the college when she’d had a flat tire. She had called her mother, who’d said she’d send Mike to fix the tire. But before Mike showed up—

Oh, God! No!

He had come along and offered to take her to the college and then go back and help Mike fix the flat. She’d had no reason to distrust him and every reason to believe she was safe with him.

He’d given her a Coke and she’d drank nearly all of it while they drove along County Road 157. All the while, she’d thought he was taking her to Adams County Junior College. They’d talked and laughed and she’d felt so completely secure and at ease with him.

But what had happened next?

She vaguely remembered feeling sleepy.

Had he put something in the cola? But how could he have? She’d seen him pop the tab on the can, hadn’t she?

She hadn’t really been paying close attention. He could have easily slipped something into the drink. He’d probably drugged her. But why?

Was he the man who’d been sending her the notes, the gifts, the sketches? Was he her secret admirer?

A surge of sheer, unadulterated fear consumed Thomasina as she lay there on the bed, in the semidarkness of a damp, silent room. Alone.

Where was he? When would he come back? What was he going to do to her?

Dead on her feet, frustrated and worried sick, Bernie pulled her Jeep into her driveway at three-thirty on Friday morning. Jim sat quietly at her side, so quietly that she wondered if he’d fallen asleep on their ride back from Verona. Jim had agreed that it was best to let Kevin stay with her parents until he could pick him up this evening; he’d also readily accepted Bernie’s offer to fix breakfast for them at her house. Charlie Patterson would drive over from Huntsville and be in Jim’s office by seven, which gave Jim and her a little over three hours to rest for a while, grab a bite to eat and freshen up.

Bernie reached out, intending to gently shake Jim, but before her hand made contact with his shoulder, he grunted and turned to face her.

Her hand paused midair. “I thought you were asleep.”

“Just had my eyes closed.”

“It’s been a long night.”

He nodded.

Bernie opened the driver’s door and got out of the Jeep. She waited on the sidewalk for Jim to join her. Even this early in the morning, there wasn’t a hint of a breeze and the temperature probably hadn’t dropped below the high eighties. Alabama’s sweltering July humidity made it feel hotter than it actually was, something the weather forecasters referred to as heat indexes. When it was ninety, it often felt like a hundred.

Once inside her house, the cool air-conditioned atmosphere surrounding them the minute they entered, Bernie sighed deeply, then removed her belt and hung it on the hall tree just inside the entrance. Jim hung his belt beside hers and followed her into the living room.

“Sofa or recliner?” she asked.

“Either.”

“You take the recliner,” she told him. “My feet hit the sofa arm when I lie down, so there’s no way you can get comfortable on it.”

He sat down in the recliner, released the footrest latch on the side of the chair and propped up his big feet. “Damn, this feels good.”

Bernie kicked off her brown loafers, stacked one decorative throw pillow on top of another and laid her weary bones down on the sofa, stretching out all the way and resting her heels on the sofa arm.

“I can’t begin to imagine what Thomasina Hardy’s family is going through right now.” Bernie glanced over at Jim, who had his eyes closed. His arms rested on either side of the chair’s cushioned back, his hands cupping his head.

“Mmm…They’re wondering if they’ll ever see her alive again.”

“What do you think?”

“I think it’s too soon to make any predictions.” Jim yawned.

“Want me to shut up so you can take a nap?”

He opened his eyes, lifted his head and looked at her. “I doubt either of us can sleep. We’re too tired. Plus, we know we have to be at the office in a little over three hours.”

“I wish we had some idea where Thomasina is, where he took her. If we just had a clue of some kind, something—anything—that could help us.”

“If Ron can’t track down Professor Kelley, we might have ourselves a real suspect.” Jim yawned again. “The guy could be with Thomasina right now, hiding her away.”

“If only it could be as simple as finding him and making him talk. But we both know that just because Brandon Kelley wasn’t at home when Ron checked on him and apparently hasn’t come home yet, it doesn’t mean he abducted Thomasina or that he’s the man who’s been stalking her.”

“True. But according to her family, there hasn’t been any special guy in her life since she broke up with Ron. They have no idea who her secret admirer might be if it’s not Kelley.”

“I’m concerned about Ron,” Bernie said. “I know her sister said that he’s the one who broke off things with Thomasina, but he must still have some feelings for her. I mean, wouldn’t you think that even if he doesn’t love her now—”

“I’m sure that knowing a former girlfriend’s life might be in jeopardy makes this case a bit more personal for him. But just because they dated and, as her sister implied, had a sexual relationship, doesn’t mean they were in love.”

“No, of course not.”

“Too bad Thomasina disposed of everything except that final batch of sketches and the ankle bracelet.” Groaning contentedly, Jim burrowed his head into the cushioned softness of the recliner. “Of course, I doubt the guy was stupid enough to leave fingerprints. And like with the stuff we found at Stephanie’s, the ankle bracelet, the artist paper, and the envelopes are all probably items that could be purchased just about anywhere by anybody.”

“Why on earth didn’t she go to the police as soon as she started receiving those notes and presents?” Bernie flipped over onto her side and curled her legs at the knees. “What would make her think that any of it was romantic, that the notes and gifts and sketches were from some guy playing secret lover?”

“You’d have to ask her,” Jim said. “I’m the last man on earth you should ask about why women think the way they do. I never could figure out my ex-wife’s thought processes.”

“You shouldn’t assume that all women think alike.” Bernie felt an odd twinge of something in her gut. Jealousy?
Get a grip, girl.
She had absolutely no right to feel anything even remotely related to jealousy where Jim Norton was concerned, certainly not because he was talking to her about his ex-wife.

“Yeah, you’re right. Mary Lee was—is one of a kind.”

She wanted to ask if he meant one of a kind in a good way or a bad way, but it was really none of her business. If he wanted to elaborate, he would. If not…

“You’ve never been married, have you, Bernie?” Jim asked.

“What makes you think that?”

“Well, your last name is still Granger and—”

“I married my high school sweetheart before we left for college and I divorced him seven years later.” She had been nuts about Ryan, had twisted herself like a pretzel, every which way, to please him. And in the end he’d thanked her for being a good wife by not contesting the divorce. “I haven’t seen Ryan in years. I heard from one of his cousins over in Pine Bluff that he remarried about five years ago, has a couple of kids and is living in Nashville.” Remembering her two miscarriages still hurt, still made her feel inadequate. “I took my maiden name back after the divorce.”

“Mary Lee and I got married right after I graduated from UT. Seems like a lifetime ago. Hell, even the divorce seems like a lifetime ago. Kevin was only six when his mother and I split and now he’s fixing to turn thirteen.”

“At least you have a kid.” Bernie hadn’t meant to say that out loud. It had just slipped out, gone straight from her thoughts to her tongue.

“Did you want kids?”

She knew he was looking at her, but she couldn’t face him, not when she had tears in her eyes. Had she wanted children? God, yes, she’d wanted them. At least three, maybe four. But apparently it just hadn’t been in the cards for her to be a mother.

Glancing down at the floor, she swallowed, then said, “Yes, I wanted kids. It just didn’t happen.”

“Guess we’d better get a little rest,” Jim told her, as if sensing her discomfort in answering his question. “I’ll help you with breakfast before we head over to the office. Seven o’clock will roll around before we know it.”

She took his comments as a cue that he wanted peace and quiet, a little downtime to rest and regroup before they returned to work and dealt with the horrible fact that another Adams County woman had been abducted.

Bernie closed her eyes, took a deep breath and tried to relax. But her brain wouldn’t shut off, wouldn’t allow her any peace. Various thoughts flickered through her mind, everything from who might have abducted Thomasina Hardy to what her life could have been like if Ryan had never cheated on her and if one of her babies had lived.

Stop thinking, damn it.

She hummed silently, a repetitive tune that was soon overpowered by her thoughts. Then she tried counting. That, too, didn’t work. It never did, but she kept trying it anyway. Finally, she gave up the effort to switch off her mind and allowed the thoughts to take over, which they always did anyway.

Wonder about what Jim’s marriage had been like. Wonder whether he still cared about his ex-wife. Mary Lee was probably gorgeous, the way Robyn was. Guys like Jim always went for the obviously sexy types. Hey, who was she kidding—all men went for the sexy types. So why had a jock like Ryan married someone like her, someone who’d been an athlete in high school?

He married you because you worshipped the ground he walked on.
He liked having his own little groveling slave. She had given in to Ryan’s wishes in a way she’d never given in to anyone else, not even her dad. In her teens and early twenties, she’d had some major self-esteem issues, and it wasn’t until after her divorce that she’d come into her own. Well, as much as it was possible for a people-pleaser to choose her own path in life.

Had Jim’s ex-wife adored him, tried to please him, loved him beyond all reason? Had he broken Mary Lee’s heart? Or had it been the other way around? Something instinctive within her sensed that Jim had been the one who’d gotten his heart broken and that maybe he still carried a torch for this ex-wife. Mary Lee, who’d remarried. Mary Lee, who was now facing a battle with breast cancer.

Stop thinking about Jim Norton. He’s not interested in you.

Concentrate on something else, someone else. What can you do to find Thomasina Hardy before she becomes another murder victim? She was doing all that could be done, wasn’t she? Her chief deputy was a top-notch detective who’d proven himself on the Memphis PD. And Charlie Patterson was an experienced ABI agent. It wasn’t as if she was in this all alone, so why was it that she felt an overwhelming need to call her father and ask for his help?

Your lack of self-confidence is showing, Bernadette.

Her mind continued jumping from one thought to another, asking her questions she couldn’t answer, posing problems she couldn’t solve, demanding that she listen instead of sleep. But finally, exhaustion claimed her and she dozed off for a few minutes.

When she woke fifteen minutes later, her house was quiet and still. All she heard was the tick of the mantel clock and the hum of Jim’s hard, steady breathing. She sat up, put her feet on the floor and stretched. A sudden chill hit her, making her wonder if Jim might be too cool sitting there in his short-sleeved shirt. She removed the cream knit afghan from the back of the sofa, got up and walked over to him. For a couple of seconds, she stood by the recliner and watched him as he slept. She liked the way he looked, the way he talked, the way he moved. He appealed to her on so many different levels, including the physical. He was a big, tall man with an athlete’s body. And he was good looking in a rough, rugged sort of way.

Bernie unwrapped the afghan and laid it over Jim, spreading it out from his chest to his ankles. He grumbled and turned onto his side.

That’s when several almost irresistible urges hit her—the urge to touch him, to caress his face, to lean down and kiss his slightly parted lips. She moved back toward the sofa, putting distance between them.

Damn it! Why is it that you bring out all my female instincts, Jimmy Norton? All those nurturing, loving, sexual instincts that I work so hard to control?

Charlie Patterson was waiting for them when they arrived at the jail promptly at seven
A
.
M
. And he wasn’t alone. Ron Hensley had also come in early, and from the looks of him, he hadn’t gotten any more rest than they had. Bloodshot eyes, a heavy five o’clock shadow and a wrinkled shirt said it all. The guy had probably been up most, if not all, of the night.

R.B. Granger sat behind Jim’s desk, drinking coffee and talking to Ron and Charlie. Jim glanced at Bernie as they stood side by side, just a few feet over the threshold. When she saw her father, she stopped dead in her tracks. Jim noted her reaction change from what he thought was gladness in seeing her dad, knowing he was here to help, to a sense of disappointment, as if she understood that her father didn’t trust her to handle this case without him.

“Good morning.” Charlie saluted them with his cup.

“Are we late?” Bernie asked, her tone tense.

“We just got here,” R.B. said. “I met up with Charlie outside a few minutes ago. Ron was already here and had put on a fresh pot of coffee.”

Jim walked over to R.B. and asked, “How’s Kevin this morning?”

“He was still asleep when I left,” R.B. replied. “Brenda’s planning on making him blueberry pancakes this morning.”

“I really appreciate you and your wife looking after him for me.”

“It’s our pleasure. He’s a great kid. Smart and friendly. Has really good manners, too.”

Jim grinned like the proud papa he was, even though it was a bittersweet pride. Kevin was his son, flesh of his flesh and all, but Mary Lee had been the one who’d raised him.

“How long have you been here?” Bernie asked Ron.

“About fifteen minutes,” he replied. “I came straight here from”—he glanced at R.B. and grimaced—“from where I found Brandon Kelley.”

“You finally found him?” Bernie focused on her deputy.

Ron nodded.

“Where? Was Thomasina—”

Ron shook his head. “The guy has an alibi. He was with a young lady from yesterday evening until I tracked him down around four-thirty this morning.”

“And this young lady will swear that he was with her all evening and night?” Jim asked.

“Yep.” Ron looked down at his feet, as if deliberately avoiding eye contact with anyone in the room.

Jim noticed Bernie and R.B. exchange odd glances.

“Was he with Robyn?” R.B. asked.

“Yep.” Ron walked over to the coffeemaker and refilled his half-full cup.

“Damn that girl.” R.B. growled the words. “She’s turning my hair white. And what she’s doing to her mother’s nerves…”

“Okay, so that rules out Brandon.” Bernie gave her father a stern glare, then followed Ron to the coffeemaker, picked up a clean cup and filled it with hot coffee.

Jim wondered why, if he was actually interested in Robyn Granger, the knowledge that she’d spent the night with Brandon Kelley didn’t bother him in the least. He’d had exactly one date with Robyn—dinner at the River’s End restaurant—and if she’d offered him sex on that first date, he wouldn’t have turned her down. But she hadn’t offered, although he’d gotten the feeling from the way she’d been all over him that she’d have made the offer on their second date. And until just this minute, he’d believed there would be a second date.