Beverly Barton 3 Book Bundle. BEVERLY BARTON
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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.
Now he knew that he had no intention of asking Robyn out, and if she asked him out, he’d turn her down. And it had nothing to do with the fact that she’d spent the night with Dr. Kelley. But it did have everything to do with the fact that the more he learned about Robyn, the more she reminded him of Mary Lee. The truth had just hit him like a sledgehammer right between the eyes. If he got involved with Robyn, she would be a substitute for his ex-wife. And that wouldn’t be fair to Robyn or to him.
With her coffee mug in hand, Bernie turned around and faced the others. “We knew Dr. Kelley being our assailant was a long shot. So now we’re back to no suspects and no clues.” She looked at Charlie. “Jim’s going to run a check using VICAP this morning. That’s a start anyway. I don’t suppose you have anything from your people yet, do you? Any evidence left in or around Thomasina’s car?”
“It’s too soon for results,” Charlie replied. “But if this guy was never in her car …”
“I know, I know,” Bernie said.
“And that stretch of One-fifty-seven is pretty isolated, not much traffic, so I doubt anybody saw anything,” Ron added. “But we’re going to ask around, just in case. We might get lucky and find someone who saw something.”
“Are we convinced that this has all the same earmarks as the Stephanie Preston abduction?” R.B. asked. He looked directly at Jim. “Have we got ourselves a serial killer?”
“Possibly,” Jim replied. “Probably.”
R.B. cursed under his breath. “How long will he keep her before