Close Enough to Kill (15 page)

“I agree.”

“He’s an organized, power/control-oriented killer.”

“That leads us to the question of what,” Jim said. “What was the cause of death in our two murders? Was there any deviant sexual behavior? Is there anything unusual about the murders?”

“He slit both women’s throats. He tortured and raped them repeatedly. And as for anything unusual—I’d say the courtship is unusual, the gifts and notes. But what really sets Stephanie’s and Thomasina’s cases apart from the norm are those frightening S&M sketches.”

Jim wrote hurriedly, jotting down all the information as he and Bernie continued discussing the case. When did the crime occur? Were the dates significant? And where did the crimes occur?

“All three victims were abducted, but it doesn’t seem any of them put up a fight, so that indicates they knew and trusted their abductor,” Jim said.

“Well, the how and why of the actual killings are simple. The how is that he slit their throats with a sharp knife, and if we can’t find Thomasina soon, that will be her fate.” Bernie sighed heavily. “As for the why—only God knows.”

“We’ve got enough information here for me to go ahead and send it to Derek Lawrence,” Jim said. “I’ll fax everything to him before we leave this evening.”

“How did you manage to get a former FBI profiler, who now works independently, to do a profile for us for free?” Bernie leaned back in the swivel chair, crossed her arms under her breasts—her full, nicely rounded breasts, Jim noticed—and pinned Jim with her questioning gaze.

“I have an influential, wealthy friend who has used Derek Lawrence on other cases and he just called the guy and asked him to do me a favor.”

“Hmm…Must be nice to have a friend like that. Mind telling me who he is?”

Jim shrugged. “Griffin Powell.”

“Your old teammate,
the
Griffin Powell?”

Jim groaned. “No, please don’t tell me that you had a major crush on Griff the way ninety percent of the girls and women in the South did when we were playing ball at UT.”

Bernie smirked. “As a matter of fact…” She laughed. “I did
not
have a crush on Griffin Powell. But I’m as curious as everyone else about where he went and what happened to him during those ten missing years of his life. All the newspapers and magazines, as well as every radio and TV station in the South, have all speculated about him, about why he disappeared and how he earned his fortune.” Bernie leaned toward Jim. “Do you know?”

Jim noted a distinctly sweet, flowery smell and realized Bernie must be wearing perfume. That was something else he’d never noticed about her. She didn’t seem the type to wear perfume.

“Nope. I’ve never asked him and he’s never volunteered the information,” Jim replied.

“Oh, I see.”

“What’s that perfume you’re wearing?” He suddenly realized he’d spoken his thoughts aloud. Damn!

“Ah…er…I’m not wearing perfume.” Bernie seemed startled and confused by his inappropriate question.

Jim forced himself to laugh, hoping humor would get him out of the situation his stupidity had gotten him into. What on earth had possessed him to notice gold flecks in Bernie’s eyes or to ask her about her sweet scent? “Hey, somebody in this room smells like flowers and it’s not me.”

“Flowers?” Bernie’s eyes widened; then she smiled. “Oh, I know what it is. It’s this new hand lotion that Mom bought for me.” She held her right hand under Jim’s nose. “Is this what you smell? It’s something called Vanilla Jasmine.”

He grasped her wrist and held her hand in place, took a whiff, and grinned at her. “Yep, that’s it. You know, that hand lotion is some mighty powerful stuff. You’d better not use too much of it the next time you’re around Raymond or he’s liable to sweep you off your feet.”

Bernie’s smile vanished. “I’ll have you know that I am not the least bit interested in Raymond Long. He’s a very nice man, and I’ve known him all my life, but there is nothing between us. Not in the past before he married and moved away from Adams Landing. Not now that he’s divorced and back home running his father’s hardware store. And not in the future. Not ever. Besides, he’s gaga over Robyn, just like all you men are.”

“Are you lumping me in with all men?”

Narrowing her gaze, she looked right at Jim. “Only when it comes to what type of woman interests you.”

“And you think you know what kind of woman interests me, do you?”

“You can’t help yourself. Robyn has that effect on all men, and you are a man.”

“Guilty as charged. I am a man. I appreciate a good-looking woman as well as the next guy. And Robyn is a looker. But I don’t like sharing my woman. I tend to be the possessive type. And your sister seems to enjoy playing the field.”

“Robyn will eventually settle down when the right man comes along.”

“Yeah, she probably will.” He thought about Mary Lee, who was now married to her Mr. Right, Allen Clark. “But I’m not that man. Not for Robyn.”

Bernie grinned. “Don’t tell her that. There’s nothing she likes better than a challenge. If she hasn’t already seduced you, then finding out you’re not interested…Shit. I can’t believe I’m sitting here warning you about my own sister. Whatever’s going on between the two of you is none of my business.” Bernie scooted the chair back and stood. “I’m going to get a cup of coffee. Want one?”

“I’ve got a better idea,” Jim said. “Why don’t we finish up here, then go over to your folks’ house and pick up Kevin. I’ll take you two out for dinner. My treat. You name the place.”

Bernie’s smile widened. “I have an even better idea. Why don’t you pick up Kevin and you two come over to my house for dinner? I’m not as good a cook as my mother, but I can grill some steaks and pop some potatoes in the microwave.”

“Well, come on, woman, let’s fax that profile to Derek Lawrence and close up shop for the evening.” When he stood, she moved away from him as if she thought he was going to touch her and didn’t want him to. He lowered his arm, realizing that he had intended to put his hand on the small of her back.

Okay, Sheriff Granger, I get the message. And you don’t have anything to worry about from me. I’m not going to hit on you. I want us to be friends. That’s all. Just good friends.

He had stripped off her clothes and then bathed her. She hadn’t fought him, and now she wondered if maybe she should have, but she’d been too terrified at the time. Too disoriented. Too confused. She had no idea where she was and saw no means of escape. He had told her that he loved her, that he knew she loved him and wanted to please him. Not knowing what he wanted to hear, she had neither agreed nor disagreed.

“I’m taking care of your personal hygiene for you this time,” he said as he brushed her hair. “But from now on, I’ll expect you to do it. Do you understand?”

She nodded her head weakly, every muscle in her body taut, every nerve rioting, as she sat quietly—obediently—in the wooden chair.

He reached down, clamped his hand around her jaw, his fingers and thumb biting into her cheeks, and glared directly into her eyes. “When I ask you a question, I expect a verbal answer. Do you understand?”

“Yes, I…understand.” Her voice trembled.

He smiled and went back to brushing her hair. “You have beautiful hair, Thomasina. Long and lustrous and so dark it’s almost black. Your hair was the first thing I noticed about you. And then as I studied you, I realized how truly lovely you are.”

Fear ate away at her like an insidious poison, building gradually, increasing with each passing moment of bondage. And despite the fact that he had unbound her feet in order to undress her and take her to the shower to bathe her, she was his prisoner in every sense of the word. Trapped not only in this tomblike room, but by her own terror.

When he bathed her, he had touched her intimately. He’d lingered over her breasts, scrubbing her nipples until they were almost raw. And when he’d washed between her legs, he had slipped his fingers inside her.

“Please,” she’d begged him. “Don’t. Don’t do this.”

“Oh, Thomasina. I promise I won’t tease you too much before I give you what you really want.” He had then concentrated on her clitoris, rubbing the washcloth over the sensitive nub until she thought she would scream.

“No…no…”

“What’s the matter, darling? Can’t you come without my being inside you?”

He had laughed and moved on to finish her bath.

Thomasina had no idea what time it was, but she felt fairly certain that it was Friday, the day after she’d been abducted. He had left her here overnight—wherever here was. Left her alone in the semidarkness of what she believed to be a subterranean room, a basement of some sort. There was a bed, a table, a chair, and what appeared to be an unfinished bathroom, with a shower, sink, and commode, surrounded by a four-foot-high concrete block wall. The wall separated the bath from the room, but provided no privacy whatsoever.

“There, all finished,” he said. “You’re ready now.” He held out his hand to her.

She stared at his hand, which seemed large and powerful and frightening.

He frowned. “Never hesitate, Thomasina. If you do, I will see it as a rejection and be forced to punish you.”

Her hand shot up and into his of its own accord, prompted by her innate survival instincts. She had to do whatever was necessary in order to survive.

He smiled. “Come with me.”

She stood and followed him as he led her to the small bed in the corner.
Please, God, help me. Help me!

“Lie down,” he told her.

She obeyed his command.

You could fight him. You could hit him and scream and scratch him. You could hurt him. But you can’t stop him. He’s larger and stronger. And you have no weapon.

And you can’t escape. There is no way out.

Do as he says. Obey him. Pacify him. And maybe…

“What did I tell you about hesitating?” He growled the words through clenched teeth.

She hurriedly lay down on the bed.

“You’re learning,” he told her. “But that’s twice you’ve hesitated.”

Lying there, her mind crying out silently, her heart pleading for mercy, Thomasina closed her eyes and waited for her punishment. She heard him grunting, moving about, and wondered what he was doing, why he hadn’t acted immediately. She had expected a slap or even a hard punch of some kind.

Then she felt the side of the bed give and sensed him hovering over her. He was going to rape her and there was nothing she could do to stop him.

“Open your eyes, darling.”

She opened her eyes instantly and stared up into the handsome face of a madman.

With a swift, subtle survey, she scanned his body. He was naked, but not aroused. His penis hung limply, the tip brushing her left thigh.

“I’m not quite ready,” he said. “But there’s no need for you to worry. I’ll be hard as a rock very soon.”

She swallowed the knot of fear in her throat.

His big hands roamed over her shoulders, her breasts, and her belly. Then he lowered his head and licked a trail from her navel to her throat. Her heartbeat accelerated. Sweat dotted her forehead.

His mouth played with her breasts, tormenting her nipples. And suddenly, without warning, he bit the side of her breast. She cried out in pain. He bit her again and again, covering her right breast before pausing at the nipple.

Weeping profusely, she tried to push his head away, but he captured her hands and held them over her head. With his powerful body holding her in place, she could barely breathe. His erect penis probed between her thighs. Then he bit down on her nipple and thrust into her simultaneously.

Thomasina screamed with agony as he viciously raped her.

“You really played basketball and softball and soccer?” Kevin stared at the framed photos on the walls and the shelves filled with trophies in Bernie’s small den. “You must have been really good to have won all those trophies.” Kevin turned and surveyed Bernie from the top of her head to the bottom of her feet. “I guess you were good because you’re so big and tall. Not many girls are your size.”

“Kevin, I don’t think—” Jim corrected his son.

“No, no, it’s all right,” Bernie said. “I am bigger and taller than most women.” She smiled warmly at Kevin. “Yes, my size was definitely an asset when I played sports in school. And it works to my advantage as the sheriff. I’m as tall as many of my deputies, so I can look them right in the eye when I issue orders.”

Kevin laughed. “You can’t look my dad in the eye. He’s taller than you.”

“So he is.” When she glanced at Jim, he squared his shoulders and stood tall and straight. She chuckled at his antics.

“My mom’s not very tall.” Kevin’s smile vanished. “I’m taller than she is. She told me just a couple of weeks ago that I wasn’t her little boy anymore, that I’m her—” Kevin’s voice cracked.

“Hey, you two had better go check those steaks,” Bernie said. “You like yours medium well, right? Just like your dad does. We don’t want them to get overdone.” She nodded her head toward the door. “While y’all are doing that, I’ll put the salad together and set the table in the kitchen.”

Jim laid his hand on Kevin’s shoulder. “Come on, son.”

“Wait up a minute,” Bernie called to them as they headed out of the den.

Father and son paused in the hallway and glanced over their shoulders, their mannerisms identical. Not for the first time, Jim thought how much Kevin was like he’d been at that age. Minus the happy home life, with parents devoted to each other and a pesky little sister. Jim had wanted all those good things for his son, but had failed to give them to him.

“I’m making homemade ice cream,” Bernie said. “Kevin, what’s your favorite flavor?”

With unshed tears glistening in his eyes, Kevin swallowed and then said, “I like just plain old vanilla.”

“So do I. And I use my mom’s recipe that calls for half a dozen eggs, so it’s super rich.”

“Yum.” A fragile smile lifted the corners of Kevin’s mouth.

Jim herded his son down the hall, through the kitchen and onto the open back porch. He lifted the lid on the barbeque grill, then picked up a two-pronged fork from the side shelf and quickly flipped the three T-bone steaks.

“Five more minutes, tops,” Jim said.

“What can I do to help?”

“Go inside and get a platter from Bernie to put these beauties on.”

“Okay.”

“Kevin?”

“Huh?”

“It’s okay to be worried about your mother. And if you need to talk about her surgery or—”

“I just want her to be all right. I don’t want her to die.”

“I understand. I want that, too.”

“Why did she have to get cancer? Why now, when she’s happy with Allen and—” Kevin clamped his teeth together tightly.

Jim ached inside, his gut tightening painfully. He couldn’t bear to see his son suffering this way. As a parent, he had learned that nothing hurt you the way seeing your child in pain did, especially when you knew there wasn’t a damn thing you could do about it.

“I don’t know why she got cancer or why it had to happen now. But you have to believe that she’ll be all right, that she’ll get well.”

“Do you believe it?”

Tell him what he needs to hear.
“Yeah, I believe your mother will be all right.”

Kevin sighed heavily. “Dad?”

“Hmm…?”

“I like Sheriff Granger. She’s a real nice person, just like her mom and dad are.”

“You’re right, Bernie is a nice person, just like her folks.”

“Do you like her, too?”

Jim hesitated for a moment before replying, not quite sure if there was more than the obvious to his son’s question. “Yes, of course I like her.”

“How much do you like her?” Kevin asked.

Jim narrowed his gaze and studied his son’s expression. “I like her a lot, as a friend.”

“Oh.” Kevin turned around, opened the back door and walked into the kitchen.

Jim stood there and stared through the half-glass door, watching as Kevin went over to Bernie and started talking to her. He couldn’t hear what they were saying, but within a couple of minutes, Kevin smiled and then laughed.

Thanks, Bernie. Thanks for knowing what to say and do to put a smile on my kid’s face.

Bernie reached up into a top cabinet for a platter. Jim’s gaze zeroed in on her butt when the material of her brown slacks tightened across each cheek. She had a nice rear end. High, rounded, and firm. A twinge of sexual awareness reminded Jim that he was ogling his boss.

Jerking his gaze away and focusing on the sizzling steaks, Jim sucked in a deep breath, then blew it out in a loud whoosh. What the hell was the matter with him, looking at Bernie’s rear end and actually getting aroused? Not only was she his boss, she was also definitely not interested in him as a man.
And you’re not interested in her. She’s not your type. Her sister, Robyn, is your type.

But that was another problem. He’d had one date with Robyn, and despite the fact she was a gorgeous woman, he had discovered that she was far too much like his ex-wife to suit him. One Mary Lee in a lifetime was more than enough for any man.

“Here’s the platter.” Kevin held out the large oval plate as he emerged from the kitchen. “Bernie set the ice cream maker in the sink and plugged it in. She said the ice cream would be frozen by the time we get through eating our steaks. Are they ready yet?”

“Yep, they’re ready.” Jim took the plate and set it on the shelf on the side of the grill, then using the large fork, he lifted each steak and placed them one by one on the platter.

“It is okay for me to call her Bernie, isn’t it?” Kevin asked. “She said friends should call each other by their first names, and she wants us to be friends.”

“Sure, it’s okay.”

Bernie opened the back door and called to them. “Everything’s set. Bring those steaks in here and let’s dig in.”

Within thirty minutes the three of them had finished off their salads, steaks, and baked potatoes. Then they ate huge bowls of vanilla ice cream, the best Jim had eaten since he’d been a kid. After supper, Jim went outside and cleaned the grill while Kevin helped Bernie clear away the table and load the dishwasher. When Jim finished up and headed back in, he paused for a couple of minutes at the closed door and watched his son with Bernie, the two of them talking and smiling and working side by side. An odd sensation hit Jim in the gut. A warm and familiar feeling, reminding him of his own childhood when he’d helped his mom in the kitchen.

Jim opened the door. “If you two are all squared away in here, Kevin and I had better head for home.”

“Ah, Dad, can’t we stay for a while longer?” Kevin gazed pleadingly at his father. “Bernie’s neighbor’s dog just had puppies, and she’s already called to see if we can go over and take a look at them tonight.”

“They’re Boston terriers,” Bernie said. “I’ve bought one of them from the Nolans. I thought maybe Kevin might like to take a look at my puppy and help me decide on a name for him.”

“Please, Dad.”

“Sure, why not.” Jim shrugged. He’d do just about anything to make Kevin happy, to keep his mind off of Mary Lee for a little while.

“Bernie said that Brenda and R.B. are going to babysit her puppy, so that means I’ll get to spend a lot of time with him, and Bernie said I could help her folks train him.”

Jim glanced at Bernie and they exchanged a brief moment of understanding without either of them saying a word. Kevin needed a distraction, something to keep him from worrying himself sick about his mother.

“The Nolans are expecting us, right?” Jim asked.

“Yes, they are.” Bernie placed her hand on Kevin’s shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Are you ready?”

Kevin glanced at Jim. “Are you going with us?”

“Yeah. Yeah, sure.”

“Chuck and Diane Nolan keep the mama and her babies in the laundry room.” Bernie led the way outside and across her backyard to the gate. “They said just come around to the backdoor and knock.”

Jim followed behind Bernie and Kevin as they entered her neighbor’s backyard. The sun had set nearly an hour ago, leaving behind a colorful twilight that was fading fast into darkness. Jim glanced down at his lighted digital watch. Eight-fifty-two.

“My puppy is the runt of the litter. His face is almost solid white,” Bernie said. “You’ll know him the minute you see him.”

“How old is he?” Kevin asked.

“Six weeks old.”

“That’s old enough for you to bring him home, isn’t it?”

“Yes, it is. And I’m getting him very soon. First, I’ll have to buy all the stuff he’ll need. Maybe your dad will let you go shopping with me tomorrow. The local Feed & Seed carries a whole line of supplies for dogs.”

Jim listened to Kevin and Bernie as they discussed the puppy, the supplies and how Bernie was counting on Kevin to help her folks with her new pet. Once again that strange notion of Bernie and Kevin reminding him of a mother and son came over Jim. It was then that Jim realized Bernadette Granger was a natural. Mothering was simply a part of her basic nature.

All Kevin talked about on the way home was Boomer, the name he had chosen for Bernie’s black and white puppy. Jim wondered why he’d never realized how much his son had always wanted a dog. Maybe because he’d been too damned busy fighting with Mary Lee. And he could admit now that all those arguments hadn’t been his ex-wife’s fault. There was more than enough blame to go around, even if he could never forgive her for cheating on him or for deliberately trying to drive a wedge between Kevin and him. For years after their divorce, he expected the worst from his ex-wife and somehow just couldn’t give her the benefit of the doubt.

As soon as they entered his duplex apartment, Jim sent Kevin off to the bathroom. “Go take a shower, brush your teeth and then hit the sack. You can sleep late tomorrow because I’m going to be working from home most of the day.” His plan was to speak to the lead detectives on the four, possibly five, murder cases in various southeastern states that were eerily similar to the two here in northeast Alabama. He could do that from home as easily as he could from his office.

Kevin paused before leaving the living room. “Don’t forget that Bernie’s picking me up at two tomorrow to go shopping for Boomer.”

“I won’t forget.” Jim grinned. “And if I did, you’d remind me.”

“Do you think I’ll get to talk to Mom tomorrow?”

“I don’t know. Maybe.”

“I have my own cell phone, you know. Allen got one for me. She can call me even if I’m not here at your place or not over at the Grangers’ house.”

A twinge of parental jealousy zapped Jim and he instantly felt like a heel for resenting Allen’s ability to provide special things for Kevin that he couldn’t afford. But the truth of the matter was that he wasn’t sure he approved of a twelve-year-old having his own cell phone. “If Mary Lee doesn’t call tomorrow, she’ll call you soon.”

“Yeah, if not tomorrow, then Sunday for sure.”

No matter how many times his ex-wife had bad-mouthed him to his son, he would not say anything against Mary Lee to Kevin, especially not now. But he knew his ex-wife for the selfish bitch she had always been, even in the early days of their relationship. Back then he’d been too in love and in lust to see her for what she was. God, what a fool he’d been. The worst thing about it all was that Kevin had to pay the price for his mistake. Jim realized he should cut Mary Lee some slack because of what she was going through, but if this near-death experience didn’t alter her basic nature, then she would simply continue to put her needs above everyone else’s, including Kevin’s.

“Go on, get ready for bed,” Jim said.

Kevin hesitated.

“Something wrong?” Jim asked.

“Could I invite Bernie to have supper with us tomorrow?”

Jim nodded. “Yeah, sure, ask her.”

“Can we take her to the King Kone for burgers and fries?”

“If that’s what you want.”

“Thanks, Dad.”

Jim stood in the middle of the living room in his duplex rental and savored the moment.
Thanks, Dad.
Two simple little words that meant the world to Jim. Did a lot of other divorced dads endure the same guilt and anger that plagued him? Did these other weekend fathers cherish every minute with their kids the way he did?

Enjoy this time with Kevin. It’ll come to an end soon enough, once Mary Lee recovers and sends for him.
The selfish side of Jim’s nature wished Mary Lee would decide she couldn’t deal with being a cancer survivor and handle a soon-to-be-teenage son. If only she would allow Kevin to stay here with him. Yeah, and that would happen about the same time he’d be able to go ice skating in hell.

The “what-if” game was a waste of time. “What if” and “if only” were Jim’s old friends. He’d spent too much time with them over the years. What if he’d been able to play pro ball? If only he hadn’t married Mary Lee. What if his partner on the Memphis PD hadn’t been murdered? If only Mary Lee hadn’t cheated on him.

Jim walked into his bedroom, flipped on the bedside lamp, undid his belt, and jerked out his shirttail. He went over to the chest of drawers, opened the top drawer and removed a bottle of Jack Daniel’s. After unscrewing the cap, he lifted the bottle to his lips and took a swig, blew out a hot breath and then wiped his mouth. His knees ached, but then they always ached. The pain had become a part of him. If Kevin wasn’t staying with him, he’d be tempted to down the whole bottle of whiskey tonight. Getting drunk would not only ease the continuous ache in his knees, but it would erase the memories of all his failures. As a football hero, as a partner, as a husband, as a father, as a man.

Jim took a second swig, then recapped the bottle and returned it to the top drawer. He sat on the edge of his bed and rubbed the back of his neck.

Don’t look back. Don’t think about past failures. Think about the opportunities you have now to be a good father and a top-notch chief deputy.