Close Enough to Kill (5 page)

After finishing off the Dr. Pepper, Jim wiped his mouth, walked over to the garbage can in the kitchen and dumped the empty cola bottle and the paper towel he’d used as a napkin. He glanced at his watch and saw that he had just enough time to shave, if he hurried. He was supposed to pick up Patterson at six-thirty; then the two of them would go to his office at the county jail, where Bernie, Ron Hensley and John Downs would meet them.

Jim made it halfway to the bathroom before his cell phone rang. Answering the call as he opened the bathroom door, he said, “Yeah?”

“Jim Norton?” He didn’t recognize the man’s voice.

“Yeah, this is Norton.”

“Mr. Norton…Jim…this is Allen Clark.” He paused, apparently waiting for a reaction from Jim. “You know, Mary Lee’s husband.”

“Yeah, I know who you are. What do you want? Is it something about Kevin? I’m supposed to get him next weekend. Mary Lee hasn’t changed her mind, has she?”

“No, no, nothing like that.”

“Then what?” Jim flipped on the light and looked at himself in the medicine cabinet mirror.

“I was wondering…that is,
we
were wondering if you could take Kevin earlier than we’d planned, say next Thursday?”

“Yeah, sure, but I don’t understand what’s going on. Why would Mary Lee give me a couple of extra days with Kevin?” Since their divorce nearly seven years ago, his ex-wife had done everything she could to undermine his relationship with his son and never, ever allowed them extra time together.

“Actually, we need you to keep Kevin for several weeks, possibly until school starts in August.”

“What’s the catch?”

“Look, Mr. Norton…Jim…I don’t know any other way to explain than to just come right out and tell you. Mary Lee has been diagnosed with breast cancer. She’s having a mastectomy next Friday, here in Huntsville. Her treatment will probably include radiation and chemo. She needs complete rest.”

Mary Lee had breast cancer? The news hit him hard. But not because he still had any deep feelings for his ex. Nope, that wasn’t it. As much as he sometimes hated Mary Lee and had on more than one occasion damned her to hell, she was his son’s mother. Kevin loved her. Needed her.

“What’s the prognosis?” Jim asked, a tight knot in his throat. Okay, so maybe he did still care about Mary Lee. Maybe he always would. But he wasn’t in love with her. She’d killed that years ago.

“The doctor is optimistic. Of course, we won’t know for sure until they run tests on the lymph nodes after surgery. But we’re hoping and praying for the best.”

“Yeah, of course you are. How’s Mary Lee?” His ex-wife had always considered herself a sexy woman and had used her body as both a weapon and a reward for the men in her life.

“She’s okay. Scared. Upset. Worrying about Kevin.”

“Was my taking Kevin for the next few weeks her idea or yours?” Jim asked.

Allen Clark cleared his throat. “Mine, actually. She’s concerned that with you starting a new job, Kevin might be alone too much.”

“I’ll see to it that he’s not.”

“Then you’re okay with my bringing him to Adams Landing next Thursday?”

“Yeah. Sure. But what about Kevin? Have y’all told him—”

“Not yet, but we will. This weekend. And…uh…I’ll call you Monday and set up a time and…Thanks, Mr.—”

“Jim.”

“Thanks, Jim.”

For several seconds after their conversation ended, Jim stood in the small bathroom, his gaze fixed on the mirror in front of him. He no longer saw his reflection, no longer thought about shaving. His emotions were torn between genuine concern about his ex-wife’s health and absolute joy over the fact that he was being given the gift of spending so much time with his son.

Jim snorted. Wasn’t life always this way? He had a chance for his son to live with him for several weeks, maybe more than a month, and this opportunity came at the worst possible time for him. Just as he was starting a new job that had become exceedingly complicated on his very first day. How was he going to balance giving Kevin the quality time he needed and deserved and giving his all to the investigation into Stephanie Preston’s brutal murder?

Jim had listened, commented when asked a point-blank question and otherwise let the others carry the conversation. He was the new man on the job and despite the fact that he was in charge of this case for the sheriff’s department, it was officially now an ABI case. He had sized up Agent Patterson within twenty minutes of meeting him—laid-back and easy to get along with, intelligent without being the least bit cocky. Bernie had informed Jim that Patterson held a B.S. degree in Criminal Justice, as did she, which didn’t surprise him in the least. He figured Bernie probably also had, as he had, gone through the ten-week program at the FBI National Academy in Quantico. Besides taking forensic classes, he’d learned something about management techniques during the course.

The four of them—Patterson, Hensley, Bernie and Jim—sat around in Jim’s office, everybody on their third cup of coffee and rehashed the situation.

“I think we can eliminate Kyle Preston,” Patterson said. “The guy’s a basket case. He’s been under a doctor’s care for over a week now, sedated a great deal of that time, and if I ever saw a grieving widower—”

“I agree,” Ron Hensley said. “But without the husband as a suspect, who does that leave us with?”

“It leaves us with nobody,” Patterson replied. “At least for tonight. But somebody knows something, even if they think they don’t. It’s our job to dig deep until we come up with a workable scenario. Some nut job kidnapped Stephanie Preston, raped and tortured her for two weeks, and then killed her. Was he some guy just passing through Adams County or has he lived here all his life? Did he have something personal against Stephanie? Or maybe against her husband or another family member? Or did she just happen to be in the wrong place at the wrong time?”

“And how was he able to kidnap her from the college campus without anyone noticing?” Bernie grimaced. “Where had he kept her for the past thirteen days? If he’s done this once, will he do it again?”

“Yes,” Jim said.

All eyes turned to him.

“Are you saying that, yes, he’ll do it again?” Bernie asked.

Jim nodded. “Is this the first case of its kind in the area that you know of?”

“What are you implying?” Hensley asked.

“You’re not thinking we’ve got the makings of a serial killer on our hands, are you, Captain?” Patterson asked.

“Oh, God.” Bernie cringed. “Whatever y’all do, don’t repeat that outside these four walls. If the phrase serial killer gets bandied about, we’ll have all-out panic on our hands.”

Even though Jim’s gut instincts told him that there was a possibility that the man who killed Stephanie would do it again and she might not have been his first victim, he wasn’t about to go out on a limb on his first day on the job. Not when he’d been wrong in the past and been slapped down for it. Not if the opinion of a seasoned ABI agent differed from his. He could always do some snooping around on his own, if he felt strongly enough about it once they had a few more facts.

“Aren’t you jumping to conclusions?” Hensley glowered at Jim. “Shouldn’t we wait on the official autopsy report and other forensic findings before we automatically assume anything about this case?”

“Nobody’s jumping to conclusions,” Patterson said. “And we’re not assuming anything. But every opinion counts. We can’t rule out anything at this point.” He turned to Jim. “It won’t hurt to check with neighboring counties to see if there’s been any similar murders. But if our killer is nomadic, it’ll make solving this case more difficult.”

Jim nodded. “I hate to bother her husband and her parents, but I think we should talk to them again and also take a look at her home.” Jim glanced at Bernie. “Maybe Sheriff Mays can help us with that.”

“You still think the husband might have done it?” Hensley asked.

“No, not really,” Jim said. “But it’s possible there’s something he or her parents haven’t told us.”

“Why would they have kept anything from us?” Hensley’s harsh gaze narrowed until his eyes were mere slits. “They were desperate to find Stephanie. They’d have done anything to—”

“I didn’t say they deliberately kept anything from us,” Jim said. “But the husband and the parents were under unbearable emotional stress and could have easily forgotten something or dismissed something they thought insignificant. Didn’t y’all mention that the husband’s been sedated for a good part of the past seven or eight days?”

“I see what you’re getting at,” Bernie said. “And you’re right. I’ll contact Ed first thing in the morning and arrange for us to talk to Stephanie’s husband and her parents and get Kyle Preston’s permission to search the house.”

“He’ll think he’s under suspicion,” Hensley said. “Even if he’s innocent, he’s liable to clam up and hire a lawyer.”

“Not if we handle things right.” Agent Patterson glanced at Jim. “We have no reason to suspect the husband and he needs to know that up front. But if he refuses to allow us to search his house, well…”

Bernie glanced at her watch. Twenty till eleven. “It’s getting late. Why don’t we call it a night, get some sleep and start fresh first thing in the morning?”

“Sounds good to me.” Patterson rose from his chair.

Hensley got up and stretched. “Agent Patterson, do you need a ride to the hotel or do you have your car with you?”

“I think I’ll walk back to the hotel. It’s not that far and it’s a nice night. Besides, I do my best thinking when I take leisurely walks.”

Hensley nodded, shook Patterson’s hand and said good night to Bernie and then to Jim before heading for the door.

Patterson shook hands with Jim and Bernie. “Is seven in the morning too early for you two?”

“Seven’s fine,” Jim and Bernie replied in unison, then looked at each other and grinned.

A silly little phrase popped into Jim’s mind.
Two fools here and two more coming.
How many times had he heard his father use that expression whenever two people said the same thing at exactly the same time?

As soon as Patterson left, Bernie picked up the empty Styrofoam coffee cups scattered about the room and threw them into the garbage. Jim turned off the coffeemaker, picked up the glass pot and took it into the adjoining bathroom. He emptied the remainder of the coffee into the sink, rinsed out the pot and brought it back into his office.

“You didn’t have much to say about this case,” Bernie said.

“There’s not much to say at this point. We don’t have the official autopsy or—”

“What’s the official autopsy from DFS going to tell us that we don’t already know? Morris examined the body at the scene and told us she’d apparently been raped and tortured, and the cause of death was obvious—somebody slit her throat.”

“There’s more to it than the autopsy. Patterson hasn’t heard back from his crime scene unit yet.”

“He should have a preliminary report from them by morning, but you’re an experienced investigator. You looked over the scene before Patterson’s team arrived. You must have a gut feeling about this case.”

“My gut feelings aren’t a hundred percent accurate. I’ve been known to be wrong.”

“Haven’t we all?”

They stood there and stared at each other for at least a minute. Jim wondered what this in-control, got-it-all-together woman had been wrong about in the past?

“Look, there’s something you should know,” he said, the comment coming from out of nowhere. He hadn’t meant to unburden himself on his boss, at least not yet. But before Kevin arrived on Thursday, he’d have to tell her about the changes in his personal life that might conflict with his duties as her chief deputy.

“Something about this case?”

He shook his head. “No, about me. About something going on in my personal life right now. I hadn’t meant to bring it up tonight, but you need to know.”

“Is it something that will interfere with your doing your job?”

“I don’t think so.” He huffed out a disgruntled breath. “No, it shouldn’t. Not if I can figure out how to handle being a full-time single father and do justice to my job at the same time.”

Bernie lifted an inquisitive eyebrow. “Your son is coming to live with you?”

“Temporarily. My ex-wife…Kevin’s mother has been diagnosed with breast cancer. Her surgery is scheduled for next week. I know the timing is lousy, what with me just starting this job and our facing this major murder case, but—”

“How old is Kevin?”

“Twelve.”

“He won’t need a babysitter, just someone to keep an eye on him when you’re not at home.”

“Yeah, and with this case coming up the way it did, I can’t predict what my hours are going to be during the next month or so while Kevin’s living with me.”

“I see why you’re concerned, but I think I have a solution for you.”

“You have a solution? What kind of solution?”

“My parents are retired. They both want grandchildren and unfortunately neither I nor my sister, Robyn, has given them any…yet. Why not let Kevin spend time with my folks when you’re at work? My mother will spoil him rotten. And Dad will take him fishing and play ball with him and—”

“Whoa, hon—slow down.” He’d stopped himself just short of calling his boss
honey.
“You haven’t even checked with your parents. You can’t make that kind of offer without asking them about it first. I can’t imagine they’d want the responsibility of looking after my kid. They don’t even know me.”

“I’ll tell you what, come to Sunday dinner. Meet my folks. I’ll tell Mom about your dilemma and I’ll bet you twenty bucks she’ll volunteer for the job of playing surrogate grandmother to Kevin.”

Jim felt overwhelmed by this generous offer.
Stunned
might be a better word. He was unaccustomed to people going out of their way for somebody who was little more than a stranger to them. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Say you’ll come for Sunday dinner. My dad’s dying to meet you anyway.”

“He’s dying to meet Jimmy Norton and I haven’t been that guy in a long time.”

Bernie stared at him, her gaze pensive and penetrating, as if she were trying to delve deep inside him, to figure out what made him tick. “I believe that the child we were, even the teenager and young adult we were, always remains a part of us. Something of who Jimmy Norton was is still a part of you, whether you like it or not.”

“You’re awfully philosophical for so late at night, or do you always play amateur psychiatrist?”

“Guilty as charged,” she told him. “I minored in psychology at Alabama.”

“If I agree to come to Sunday dinner and join your dad in regaling my glorious past, will you promise not to try to figure out what makes me tick?” Jim turned off the lights in his office, opened the door and held it for her.

Taking her cue from him, she walked out into the hallway. “Why does it bother you that I want to get to know you better? I’ve known most of my deputies for years. I went to high school with some of them; some have married friends of mine. You’re an unknown, Jim Norton, a bit of a puzzle. And puzzles intrigue me. Besides, I like to really get to know my friends.”

“Are we going to be friends?” He kept pace with her as they walked down the hall.

“I’d like to think so.”

They exited the jail together, and then paused outside on the sidewalk.

“Don’t you want to be friends?” she asked. “Or do you have trouble being just friends with a woman?”

Jim chuckled. “The truth is I’ve never been just friends with a woman.”

“There’s always a first time for everything.”

“So there is.”

She headed toward her Jeep, leaving him standing in the middle of the sidewalk. After unlocking the driver’s door, she glanced back at him and smiled. “See you at seven in the morning. You make the coffee. I’ll bring sausage biscuits.”

“Make mine ham and cheese.”

“How many, one or two?”

“Two.”

She slid behind the wheel, closed the door and started the engine. Jim stood and watched her until all he could see was the Jeep’s red taillights off in the distance. He decided right then and there that he’d definitely like to be friends with Bernie Granger.

He stroked the pearls, loving the feel of their cool, slick surface. These were not real pearls, of course. He couldn’t afford real ones like the necklace she had worn. But his lovers didn’t seem to mind that the necklace he sent was faux pearls. After all, it’s the thought that counts, right? Smiling, his mind filled with memories of her, he closed his eyes and the images grew brighter and sharper. He could see her clearly, almost as clearly as the night he had made love to her. She had been so surprised to see him.

He had foolishly thought she would welcome him with open arms, but she hadn’t. And in the long run, it really hadn’t mattered. He had gotten what he wanted—actually, more than he’d ever dreamed possible. Satisfaction. Revenge. Empowerment.

Afterward, he had believed her death had evened the score, that killing her had appeased the rage and anger inside him. But he’d been wrong. It had only fueled his need for revenge. That’s why he had sought out the other three, prolonging his time a little more with each of them, making them suffer as he had suffered. And when all four of them had been punished, he had thought that would be the end of it. Once again, he’d been wrong.

Just because someone hurts you, disappoints you, breaks your heart, doesn’t mean you should stop looking for love, stop searching for the one woman to fulfill your fantasies.

He hummed quietly to himself as he opened his eyes, laid the pearls down inside the white gift box and closed the lid. He would deliver these tomorrow, along with the note.

After pulling out the desk chair, he sat, picked up the black ink pen and stared down at the white note paper. Hmm…what to say…what words would seduce Thomasina? She was a romantic at heart, so she wouldn’t respond well to anything crude and earthy. Not yet.

There, that should do it. All he wanted to do was whet her appetite for more.

He put the note inside the envelope and wrote her name across the front, then laid the message aside. The note and the pearls were always the next step in his courtship, then the sketch came later. But he was so eager to move things along, not to take weeks to court her, that he felt he should go ahead and send the sketch along with the note and pearls.