Close Enough to Kill (24 page)

She rushed to the front door and found it locked and the safety latch in place.

Her heartbeat accelerated.

Don’t panic. You are not alone. Brett Dennison is here somewhere. But where? And why doesn’t he answer when I call him?

He could be on the back porch. Does Brett smoke? No, I don’t think he does. Maybe he’s already made coffee and he walked out back and…Just go see. Reassure yourself that he’s here, that everything is all right.

When she reached the closed kitchen door, she paused. What was wrong with her? Why couldn’t she just open the door and go into her own kitchen?

Because you’re allowing your imagination to conjure up bogeymen where there are none. Deputy Dennison is the only person beyond that door.

But what if…

Abby turned around and walked across the living room to where the portable phone lay on the coffee table. She picked it up and dialed Ron’s cell number.

He answered on the third ring.

“Ron?”

“Abby? Honey, what’s wrong?”

“You didn’t leave me here all alone, did you?”

“What are you talking about?”

“I can’t find Brett. The TV’s on, but he’s not in the living room and he’s not on the front porch.”

“Have you checked the kitchen?”

“No, I—I can’t. I’m too afraid to open the door.”

“Look, honey, just stay calm. I’m heading back to your place right now. Do you hear me? I’m walking out the door. Brett’s there, probably in the kitchen, fixing some coffee. Everything is all right. I promise.”

“Mmm…”

“Abby?”

“What?”

“I’ll call Brett on his cell phone and tell him to go into the living room and let you know everything is fine.”

“Yes, please do that. Please.”

“I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

“Ten minutes,” she repeated.

With her hand trembling, she tossed the cordless phone onto the sofa, then turned and stared at the closed kitchen door. After taking a deep breath, she walked straight to the door. When she heard Brett’s cell phone ringing, she breathed a sigh of relief. Ron was right. Brett was in her kitchen. Everything
was
all right.

She grasped the doorknob, turned it and opened the kitchen door. Before crossing the threshold, she scanned the room, searching for Brett. The room appeared to be empty. But the backdoor stood wide open. She sighed heavily. He was on the back porch. No wonder he hadn’t heard her.

She crossed the room, heading for the back door. But just as she rounded the kitchen table, something blocked her path. It took her brain a couple of seconds to process the information, to realize that what she saw was a body lying on the floor, a small pool of blood around the man’s head. The man? Brett Dennison lay facedown on the floor, blood oozing from a wound to the back of his head.

Abby opened her mouth to scream, but before she could utter a sound, someone appeared in the open doorway and entered the kitchen from the back porch.

Trembling, tears clouding her vision, she whimpered, but couldn’t move.

“It’s all right,” he said. “There’s nothing to worry about. I’m here now.”

She recognized the voice. After wiping the tears from her eyes, she focused on the man coming toward her. He sidestepped Brett Dennison’s body.

“Oh, thank God it’s you!” she cried. “Something’s happened to Brett. Someone hit him on the head. We have to call for help.”

“We don’t have time to help Brett,” he said. “We have to leave now.”

“What?”

“Nothing and no one else matters, Abby, except the two of us.”

Fear exploded inside Abby as realization dawned.
Dear God in heaven, it couldn’t be. It just couldn’t be.

“I’ve come to take you away,” he told her. “So we can be alone, just the two of us.”

Jim handed Bernie a cup of strong, bitter coffee he’d gotten out of the machine in the snack bar downstairs at Adams County General, the county’s only hospital. They’d been going nonstop since early this morning, overseeing a massive manhunt for Abby Miller and the person who had almost killed Deputy Dennison. After searching all day and now several hours into the night, using two sets of bloodhounds and the ABI’s helicopter unit, they’d found nothing. Nada. Not one damn thing that could lead them to Abby or the madman who had abducted her.

Whoever he was, their Secret Admirer killer, he was a sly devil. Smart. Maybe a little too smart and overly confident. He’d left Brett Dennison for dead. Only thing was, the young deputy hadn’t died. His head had been a little harder than his attacker had bargained for. After hours of surgery to relieve the pressure on his brain, Brett was resting in the ICU unit, in critical condition, but hanging on to life.

Bernie took the coffee cup from Jim and set it down on the table at the end of the sofa, then dropped her hands between her spread thighs as she glared down at the floor. Jim was worried about her. The only way he’d gotten her to take a break from the ongoing search was to persuade her that R.B., who was now a reserve inspector for the Adams County Sheriff’s Department, could handle things for a couple of hours. He’d had to practically drag her away, despite the fact that she was dead on her feet. But instead of allowing him to take her home for a bite of supper and a short nap, she’d insisted on coming to the hospital to check on Brett.

“I’m concerned about Ron.” Bernie nervously tapped the tips of her fingers together. “I’ve never seen him lose control the way he did this morning. I’d have pulled him off this case if I thought I could have done it without putting him behind bars.”

“He’ll be okay,” Jim said. “Your father will keep him in line.”

Bernie rubbed her palms up and down her thighs. “I keep hearing Ron saying, ‘I told her she was safe. I told her to trust me.’ He’s blaming himself. Right now, he honestly thinks that if he’d been with Abby, he could have prevented the kidnapping.”

“He might have.” Jim sipped on the strong coffee.

Bernie snapped around and glared at Jim. “What are you saying?”

“Nothing against Brett. It’s just that our guy picked a time when none of the seasoned deputies were guarding Abby. Not Ron or John or…Brett’s a novice with only a few months of experience. And our guy chose early morning for the abduction, when there would be very few people up and stirring, and thus few, if any, witnesses to worry about. But there would be enough activity on the roads that no one would pay attention to any specific vehicle.”

“You agree with Charlie Patterson, don’t you—that Brett knew the guy, that our Secret Admirer killer is a local, a man everybody knows and probably trusts?”

“There was no sign of forced entry at Abby Miller’s house. The backdoor was wide open, so that tells me Dennison actually opened the door for this guy.”

Bernie took a deep breath. “Go ahead and say it—tell me what you’re thinking.”

“Look, honey, let’s get out of here. You’re not going to be able to see Brett tonight, and the doctors don’t know when or if he’ll regain consciousness.”

“I should talk to his parents again.”

“No, you shouldn’t. Reverend Donaldson is with them. Let him do his job.”

“Then I should be doing mine. Let’s drive back out and join one of the search teams.”

“Not until you’ve eaten something and rested for a couple of hours.”

“If I were a man, you wouldn’t—”

“Stop trying to prove you’re invincible,” Jim told her. “Damn it, Bernie, we human beings—men and women—can’t keep going indefinitely without food and rest. You and I have both been out in the field for a good fifteen hours.” He grasped her by the shoulders. “I’m hungry and tired. We need to eat and grab a few hours of sleep.”

“Ron is still—”

“Ron’s running on guilt and rage. I give him till morning before he burns out and we have to scrape him up off the pavement.” Jim eased his hands down Bernie’s shoulders, then released his hold on her. He held out his hand. “Come on, let’s go.”

Bernie sighed loudly. “Okay, you win. We can pick up a bite at the King Kone and—”

“Nope, your mother called me on my cell phone while I was downstairs in the snack bar getting coffee. She has supper waiting for us,” Jim told her. “We’re going over there to eat and rest. And I can check on Kevin while we’re there.”

“Oh, damn. I’d forgotten that we were supposed to have supper with my folks tonight. Mom invited Robyn and Raymond, too. Gee, I hate that I missed that. Robyn and Raymond all lovey-dovey and Mom hearing wedding bells ringing in her head.”

Jim stood, reached down and grabbed Bernie’s hands, then pulled her to her feet. Standing face to face with her, Jim chuckled. “You just can’t bear seeing Robyn and Raymond together, can you, since you had your heart set on snagging him yourself?”

“If I wasn’t so damn tired, I’d slap you.” Bernie managed a weak grin as she fell into step with Jim as they exited the ICU waiting room. “Maybe you’re the one who can’t bear seeing those two together.”

“Hey, not me. I could care less who Raymond dates.”

Bernie emitted a strained chuckle.

Jim paused, reached out and brushed a stray tendril of hair from Bernie’s face. His fingertips lingered to caress her cheek. “Raymond was all wrong for you anyway.”

“Was he?”

“Hmm…You don’t need to be worshipped the way Robyn does. You don’t want a doormat you can walk all over.”

“I don’t?”

“Nope, you want an equal. A man who admires you and respects you. Somebody who’ll tell you when you’re wrong, but stand by your side regardless.”

“You don’t happen to know somebody like that, do you?”

“I might.”

“Well, what if I want more?” Bernie asked as they entered the elevator. “What if I want raw passion and wild sex?”

Jim cleared his throat. “Raw passion and wild sex, huh?”

“Uh-huh.”

“I’ll see who I can come up with who fits that bill. You don’t mind waiting for the right guy and the right time, do you? I don’t think you’re quite up to passion and sex tonight, raw and wild or otherwise.”

Bernie leaned her head back against the interior elevator wall and closed her eyes. “You’re probably right about that. Right now I’d settle for a shower and a thirty-minute nap.”

Jim hit the
LOBBY
button. The elevator doors closed.

“That I can give you tonight,” he told her.

“Thank you.”

With her eyes still closed, she sighed heavily and crossed her arms over her waist, wrapping herself in a weary hug.

The oddest impulse hit Jim. He wanted to pull Bernie into his arms and hold her. He wanted her to rest her head on his shoulder and let him take care of her.

Instead of acting on that impulse, which he felt certain Bernie wouldn’t appreciate, he shuffled his feet a couple of times, looked down at the floor, and stuffed his hands into the pockets of his slacks.

He couldn’t go to her. Not yet. It was too dangerous. The local sheriff’s department, the ABI, the highway patrol, and police officers from Adams Landing, Pine Bluff, and Verona were still scouring the countryside, searching for Abby Miller and the man who had whisked her away. Reserve officers and local citizens had volunteered to relieve some of the lawmen, allowing them time to eat and rest. It had been easy enough for him to join the search party; actually, it was expected of him.

He’d had a few uneasy moments when the team led by R.B. Granger reported in late this afternoon from the general vicinity of where Abby was waiting for him. Of course, not even the former sheriff was smart enough to figure out his perfect hiding place.

By the time he’d be able to risk going to her—probably tomorrow night—she would not only be hungry, but she’d probably be filthy. He’d have to change the bed linens, and then bathe her before they made love for the first time. Of course, this morning, when he had deposited her in their little love nest and while she’d still been unconscious from the chloroform, he had touched her and kissed her and…

Just thinking about jerking off, his semen spewing out all over her naked belly, aroused him. He had to stop thinking about her, about all the delicious things they would do together, or one of the guys was bound to ask him what he was doing walking around with a hard-on.

Bernie took a quick shower in her mom’s bathroom, then slipped into clean jeans and a tank top her mother had laid out for her. Brenda Granger thought of everything. Having a key to both Bernie’s house and Jim’s duplex had allowed her to send Robyn and Raymond to both places to pick up a change of clothes for each of them. Her mother was nothing if not organized and efficient.

When Bernie entered the kitchen, she found Jim at the round table, wolfing down a plate of summer vegetables and cornbread. Robyn and Raymond sat at the table with him, each of them nursing a glass of sweet iced tea. Brenda, who sat at the bar, and Robyn were chattering back and forth about everything and anything except Abby Miller’s disappearance. Raymond remained as quite as a mouse, his dark eyes focused on Robyn.

Poor guy. He’s got it bad. And he’s actually happy that Robyn is leading him around by the nose. Maybe Jim’s right—Raymond just might be the perfect man for my sister.

The moment Brenda saw Bernie, she slid off the bar stool and hurried over to the stove. “I’ve kept your plate warm. Sit down, dear,” she ordered, then glanced at Robyn. “Get your sister a glass of tea.”

Robyn obeyed her mother instantly. By the time Bernie sat down across from Jim, her mother had removed her meal from the oven and set the warm plate in front of her. Then Robyn placed a tall glass of iced tea on the table.

Standing behind Bernie, Robyn gripped her sister’s tense shoulders. “You need a massage.” She kneaded Bernie’s neck and shoulders, eliciting a groan from Bernie.

“You’re killing me, but don’t stop,” Bernie said.

“Dad called about ten minutes ago,” Robyn said while she continued the massage. “He’ll be home by ten. A couple of search teams are going to continue throughout the night, but most of them are calling it quits until daylight.” Robyn ended the massage, then gave Bernie’s shoulders a hard squeeze.

“Jim’s been telling us that Brett Dennison is still unconscious,” Brenda said. “That poor boy. His parents are such good people. Brett’s engaged, you know, to Melissa Anderson. They’re planning a Christmas wedding at the church.” Tears flooded Brenda’s eyes.

“Mom…” Robyn turned and hugged her mother.

“I know. I know.” Brenda wiped her eyes with the edge of her lace apron. “I was the sheriff’s wife for thirty years and now I’m the sheriff’s mother. You’d think that after all these years, I wouldn’t allow things like this to upset me so, but I swear, we’ve never had to face anything like this…nothing so horrible. When I think about what might be happening to Abby right this minute—”

“Mother!”

“Oh, Lord, I’m sorry, but this whole Secret Admirer killer stuff has me so nervous. It’s got every dark-haired woman in the whole county scared to death.”

“We should let Bernie and Jim eat in peace, Mom.” Robyn grabbed Brenda’s arm and tactfully led her out of the kitchen.

Raymond scooted back his chair and stood. “I’ll go see if Robyn needs me.”

Alone in the kitchen, Bernie and Jim glanced at each other, but neither of them said anything. What was there to say at this point? They sat there and ate in silence. Despite how much she usually loved her mother’s cooking, especially fresh summer vegetables prepared as only Brenda Granger could prepare them, Bernie had to force down every bite. Like her mother, she couldn’t stop her mind from wandering into dangerous territory—into the land of imagine the worst. Where was Abby Miller right this minute? And what was happening to her?

Bernie moaned softly as images of Abby’s nude body appeared in her mind. Dried blood created a half moon across her neck and droplets of bright red blood dripped from her nipples.

“Don’t,” Jim said roughly. “Stop it, right now. Do you hear me?”

“He’s going to rape her and torture her and then kill her,” Bernie said. “And there’s not a damn thing we can do to stop him.”

Jim shoved back his chair, got up and went over to Bernie. He dropped down on his haunches in front of her, dragged her chair from the table and pulled her into his arms. She went without protest, resting her head on his shoulder and doing her damnedest not to cry. Jim eased her to her feet as she stood up, all the while keeping her wrapped in his embrace.

He rested his chin against her temple. “You need some rest.” Without any warning, he scooped her up into his arms and carried her out of the kitchen.

After the initial shock wore off, Bernie draped her arm around Jim’s neck. She thought about telling him to put her down, that she didn’t need him to take care of her, that she was perfectly capable of walking to her old bedroom upstairs. But she was too tired, too weak and much too comfortable in Jim’s arms to voice a word of protest.

When Jim passed by the living room as he headed for the staircase, Brenda, Robyn, and Raymond all stared at them with keen interest.

“What’s wrong with Bernie?” Brenda cried.

“She’s tired,” Jim replied. “So I’m taking her upstairs and putting her to bed.”

“Oh.” Brenda smiled.

Bernie closed her eyes and blocked out everything and everyone as Jim carried her up the stairs. This moment was to be savored, to be enjoyed.

“Which room?” he asked.

“Second one on the right. It’s a guest bedroom now.”

Jim shoved the door open, carried Bernie over to the bed and deposited her gently on the far side; then he removed her shoes and socks and set them on the floor. She closed her eyes and sighed. A couple of minutes later, she felt the other side of the bed give a little. Her eyes shot open. Jim lay there beside her.

“Go to sleep, honey,” he told her. “I’ll wake you in a few hours.”

“Are you staying here with me?”

“Yeah, if you don’t mind.”

“I don’t mind.”

He closed his eyes. They lay there, breathing steadily, not touching, not talking. Then after a few minutes, Jim turned on his side and draped his big arm across Bernie’s waist.