Beverly Barton 3 Book Bundle. BEVERLY BARTON
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grabbed Bernie’s hands and held them in his. “Now, you listen to me, Bernie Granger, you’re the sheriff and you have all the right stuff in you to handle this job. Follow your Granger instincts. They won’t let you down.”
“Dad, I—” Her cell phone rang. Her father released her hands. She yanked her phone from the belt clip and answered it. “Sheriff Granger.”
“Sheriff, this is Roy Lee Nichols. You remember me, don’t you?”
“You’re the police chief in Verona.”
“Yeah, that’s right. And I’ve got some information I think you might find interesting.”
“Do you? And just what would that be?”
“Well, it’s not that I know all that much about the Stephanie Preston case, since y’all have kept most of the info confidential, but word gets around within the law enforcement community and I’ve heard things.”
“Chief, I don’t mean to be rude, but could you get to the point?”
He chuckled. “Sorry, I tend to go on and on. My wife’s always fussing at me about it.” He cleared his throat. “We got us a stalking case over here in Verona. Seems somebody’s been sending notes and gifts and some ugly drawings to one of our nice young ladies.”
“Gifts and notes and—what kind of ugly drawings?”
“Sexual drawings,” the chief said. “Pretty rough stuff.”
A chill raced up Bernie’s spine. “The gifts—what kind of gifts?”
“She brought in an ankle bracelet, but said she threw away the other things.”
“Did she say what they were?”
“Yeah, just a minute. I wrote it all down.”
R.B. looked inquisitively at Bernie. “I think we may have gotten our first real break on the Preston murder case,” she told her father.
“Sheriff?” Roy Lee Nichols said. “Those other gifts were a pearl necklace, a bottle of perfume, a tube of lipstick, and a bottle of fingernail polish.”
“Do you have the young lady there with you now?” Bernie asked.
“No, ma’am. She and her sister came in and told us what was going on and she’s coming back in tomorrow to file a formal complaint against a guy she works with over at the community college.”
“What’s the woman’s name and who is the man she works with who she believes sent her those items?”
“Her name is Thomasina Hardy. She’s a teacher over at the college. And the guy’s name is Dr. Brandon Kelley. He’s not a real doctor, just a fellow with one of those PhDs.”
God knows she had tried her best to forget about Brandon Kelley, the notes, the gifts, and the sketches. But on the way to her Thursday night class, Thomasina had been able to think of little else. It didn’t help that it was getting dark early this evening, because of the gray storm clouds, or that more than half the trip from downtown Verona to the college was on lonely stretches of country roads. Music on the radio helped a little. It kept her from feeling totally alone and isolated. But nothing could erase from her mind the images of the sketches he had sent her today, especially not the one of her throat slit, with blood dripping from the wound onto her naked breasts. What kind of sick mind could produce such heinous artwork?
If Brandon Kelley was her so-called secret admirer, then the man needed to be in a mental institution, not teaching art at the community college.
But what if it isn’t Brandon? What if I’ve spent a week indulging in a fantasy that wasn’t even remotely possible? What if the police can’t find this guy? What if he continues stalking me?
With a country-rock tune blasting away on the radio, the words and music nothing more than background noise, Thomasina gasped when she saw the heat lightning flash through the gray evening sky off in the distance. A shudder rippled up her spine. She was as nervous as a cat. Thank goodness she had listened to Amanda and gone to the local police. If she hadn’t allowed the foolishly romantic side of her nature to build castles in the air when she’d received the first note, she wouldn’t be in this position now. But there was no point looking back, regretting what she had or had not done. She had already canceled her first class in the morning so that she could go back to the Verona police station and file a formal complaint. Chief Nichols had advised her to keep someone with her whenever possible until the authorities had a chance to investigate. If Brandon was her stalker, then perhaps just receiving a visit from a policeman would end his pursuit of her.
And if it’s not Brandon?
A loud boom of thunder rocked the car. Thomasina cried out and grasped the steering wheel with white-knuckled tension. Her nerves were frayed, the least little thing unsettling her.
What was she so nervous about anyway? She was inside her car, with the doors locked, driving a familiar route on a safe road. She had a cell phone in her purse, as well as a can of pepper spray.
She glanced at the lighted digital clock on the control panel. Twelve minutes till seven. She was running late, but being less than fifteen minutes from the college, she should make it there in plenty of time to give her students their test.
Suddenly, without warning, her car pulled to the right. Simultaneously she heard the rumbling and felt the bumpiness that warned her of a tire going flat. No! This couldn’t be happening. Of all times, why this evening?
Heaven help me!
Knowing she had no other choice but to stop, she slowed down and searched the area for a place where she could safely pull off the road. Naturally, she’d had a flat tire in the middle of nowhere, not a house in sight. The houses out here in the country were spaced far apart, often separated by ten to twenty acres and even the new subdivisions had been constructed off the main road. All she could see to the right and left, ahead of her and behind her, were patches of woods and acres of cleared farmland.
There’s a spot, she told herself when she saw a patch of level ground that had probably once been an old dirt road, but was now partially covered by grass and weeds. Acting quickly, she veered to the right, taking her car off the road and pulling to a standstill. Leaving the motor running and the lights on, she put the gear into park. As she lifted her hands from the steering wheel, she took a deep breath. Stay calm. You’re not in any danger. You can call for help.
She picked up her handbag from the passenger seat, opened it and retrieved her cell phone; then she hit the instant dial for her home phone. When her mother answered on the third ring, Thomasina released a relieved breath and reached out to turn down the volume on the radio. Just now she remembered that her mother had gone to Huntsville and shouldn’t be at home.
“Mom? Oh, thank God. Why aren’t you still in Huntsville?”
“Rose got to feeling poorly, so we came home early. She thinks she’s coming down with that summer cold thing that’s going around.”
“I’m sorry about Rose, but I’m so glad you’re home.”
“Thomasina, are you all right? You sound odd.”
“I’m okay. But I’ve had a flat tire and I need Tommy to come fix it for me.”
“Oh dear. Your brother’s not home. I think he went out with some of his buddies after work. And you know how that is. He might not be home for another hour or two. But I’ll call over to Amanda’s and get Mike to come find you. Exactly where are you?”
“I’m about fifteen minutes from the college,” she told her mother. “About a mile past Sunflower Creek.”
“I’ll get Mike out there to you just as soon as