“Oh, sweetie, you’ve fallen for the guy, haven’t you?” Brenda gazed sympathetically at Bernie. “You should have told me. You should have told Robyn.”
“My personal relationships aren’t any of your business. Besides, you’re wrong. I’m not—”
“Bernadette Granger, do not lie to me. I’ve watched you with Jim all evening. The way you look at him…Oh, my sweet girl, it’s obvious that you adore him.”
“Jim and I are friends. That’s all.”
“But you want more.”
“Mom!”
“We have to tell Robyn how you feel. She’s set her sights on Jim and she’s determined to…well, you know. But if she had any idea that you were in love with him, she’d back off in a heartbeat.”
“Don’t you dare say anything to Robyn!”
“But if she doesn’t know how you feel, she won’t realize that if she and Jim become”—Brenda struggled for the correct word—“close, it will break your heart.”
“You’re being melodramatic, Mother.”
“Your father and I have become very fond of Kevin and we both like Jim very much. We approve of him as potential son-in-law material.” Brenda patted Bernie’s cheek. “You and he looked so good together on the dance floor. You were practically glowing, and I couldn’t help noticing how close he held you.”
“Jim and I are just friends.”
Brenda opened her mouth to respond, but before she uttered a word, another voice interrupted them.
“Hey, Bernie,” Kevin called to her from across the foyer. “Have you seen my dad?”
“No, not recently,” Bernie told him as he came toward her and her mother.
“I overheard him ask R.B. if there was a men’s room upstairs,” Brenda said.
“Oh, okay, thanks, Miss Brenda. Can you tell me exactly where the bathroom is?” Kevin asked.
“I’m sure he’ll be back down any minute,” Brenda said. “It isn’t urgent that you find him, is it?”
“Not exactly urgent. It’s just that J.D. Simms asked me to sleep over tonight. Since he’s been coming over to your house nearly every afternoon and horsing around in the pool with me, we’ve become buddies. Mr. and Mrs. Simms are leaving any minute now and I need to ask Dad if it’s okay for me to go with them.”
“Come on, Kevin. I’ll show you where the upstairs men’s room is,” Bernie said.
“Bernie?” Brenda called when Bernie led Kevin toward the staircase.
Bernie glanced over her shoulder. “Yes, Mom?”
“We’ll talk later.”
Bernie nodded. No, we will not talk later.
She and Kevin climbed the spiral staircase; then he followed her down the long hallway toward the men’s restroom.
“This is some place,” Kevin said. “It’s like a mansion out of a movie or something.”
“This used to be a private residence, back a hundred years ago. It’s been the Adams Landing Country Club all my life. My parents held their wedding reception here forty years ago and the celebration for their twenty-fifth anniversary.”
“When you get married, you should have your reception here,” Kevin said. “It would be carrying on a family tradition, like your being the sheriff after your dad and granddad were.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” Bernie paused outside the closed door to the restroom. “Here we are.”
“Would you wait around just in case I need somebody to help me talk Dad into letting me spend the night with J.D.?”
“Sure, I’ll wait.”
“You’re the best, Bernie. The best.”
Kevin opened the bathroom door, then stopped dead in his tracks.
“What’s wrong?” Bernie asked as she came up behind a frozen-to-the-spot Kevin.
When he didn’t respond, she followed his gaze, looking directly into the men’s restroom.
“Oh, God.” Bernie groaned.
Jim had Robyn backed up against the wall. She had her arms around him, her hands cupping his butt. And they were kissing, hot and heavy.
“Dad, what are you doing!”
Jim and Robyn broke apart instantly.
“You’re not supposed to be kissing her,” Kevin said. “What’s Bernie going to think, catching you kissing another woman?”
Jim’s startled gaze jumped from Kevin to Bernie. “Kevin, son, I can—”
“Why did you have to go and ruin things?” Kevin screamed at his father. “You ruined things with Mom, and now you’ve ruined things with Bernie.”
Kevin turned and ran down the hall.
Jim rushed to the door. “Kevin. Wait. Please, wait.”
Bernie felt numb, as if a sudden violent winter storm had frozen her solid. She glared at her sister, who grinned sheepishly.
“Damn.” Jim rubbed his forehead, then glared at Bernie. “Why the hell did you bring him up here?”
Bernie bristled. “Don’t you dare take this out on me, Jim Norton. Kevin wanted to find you to ask you if he could spend the night with J.D. Simms. My mother said she thought you’d come up here. I had no idea you hadn’t come alone.”
“I’ve got to find him and talk to him, to explain.” Jim grasped Bernie’s shoulders. “I’m sorry. This isn’t your fault. It’s mine.”
“I think I should go with you,” Bernie said. “He’s awfully upset with you.”
“Yeah, I’d appreciate that. I think he’s gotten the notion in his head that you and I are more than friends.”
“I’ll make him understand that he’s wrong.” You certainly proved to me how wrong I was to hope that tonight might be the beginning of something special between the two of us.
“Want me to go along, too?” Robyn asked.
“No!” Jim and Bernie responded in unison.
Chapter 17
The past three days had been a guilt-ridden exercise in hindsight torment for Jim. If he had it to do over again…But what was done, was done. He couldn’t change the fact that his son and his boss had caught him making out with his boss’s sister. Well, making out might be too strong a phrase. He’d tried to turn down Robyn’s advances, but she hadn’t taken no for an answer. When she’d rubbed herself all over him and practically thrust her tongue down his throat, he had reacted like any normal man would have. He’d kissed her back, even though he knew the woman was trouble and not somebody he wanted to get mixed up with. But to be totally honest, he wasn’t sure how far things would have gone if he and Robyn hadn’t been interrupted.
Kevin hadn’t spoken more than half a dozen words to him since Saturday night and here it was Tuesday afternoon. It didn’t help that Mary Lee hadn’t called Kevin since her surgery, and when he’d telephoned her, Allen had interceded and said she was resting and couldn’t be disturbed. If it hadn’t been for Bernie and her parents, Jim wasn’t sure what he would have done. When he and Bernie had caught up with Kevin Saturday night at the country club, they’d taken him outside and tried to explain things to him.
“Your dad and I are just friends,” Bernie had said. “He didn’t do anything to betray me or you. You know, it’s not against the law for a man to kiss a pretty woman.”
But no matter how much he and Bernie had tried to explain the situation, Kevin didn’t respond, except to finally ask if he could spend the night with J.D. Reluctantly, Jim had agreed. When he’d picked Kevin up at the Simms’s house Sunday afternoon, his son had made it perfectly clear that he was still pissed at him.
“I talked to Miss Brenda and asked if I could stay overnight with them for a few nights and she said it would be okay.” Kevin had refused to make eye contact with Jim.
He had wanted to tell Kevin no, that they should work things out at home, but he reconsidered, figuring a few days apart might help Kevin come to terms with his anger and disappointment. Once again, Jim felt like a total failure as a father.
And as if his problems with his son weren’t bad enough, things between him and Bernie were strained, to say the least. She’d been decidedly cool around him at work a
nd seemed to be deliberately avoiding him. He’d seen her once since they had parted company Saturday night. He wasn’t sure if she was pissed at him on Kevin’s behalf or if she just didn’t like the idea of him fooling around with her sister. The bottom line was that he was in the dog house with the two people he most did not want to disappoint—his son, who meant everything to him, and his boss and newfound friend, whose opinion truly mattered to him.
Robyn had called him a couple of times on Sunday, both times on the pretense that she was concerned about him. Maybe she was. He didn’t know, didn’t care. He was attracted to Robyn the way he’d be attracted to any good-looking woman, but he didn’t have any real feelings for her and he seriously doubted that she had any for him.
Jim had woken up with a headache this morning. He’d drank a little too much Jack Daniel’s last night, so the headache was his own damn fault. As he sat behind his desk, rubbing his temples and berating himself for overindulging, his phone rang.
He grabbed the receiver off the base. “Captain Norton here.”
“Captain Norton, this is Derek Lawrence. I have the profile of your killer ready. Do you prefer that I fax it or e-mail it?”
“Whichever you’d rather do. And thanks. I appreciate this.”
“Thank your friend Griffin Powell.”
“Yeah, I’ll do that.”
“Captain Norton?”
“Yes?”
“I believe the man who has killed the two women in your area and kidnapped a third is more than likely the same man who committed the similar murders in the other southeastern states over the past six years,” Derek said. “There’s a good chance that Heather Stevens was his first victim, and either all the other women have reminded him of her or she and the others all remind him of someone from his past.”
“I figured as much.”
“There’s one other thing…” Derek paused. “It’s apparent that he’s killing more frequently now, and that’s not likely to change. He will continue killing until he’s caught, and he’s probably not going to put much, if any, time between the murder of one woman and the abduction of another.”
“Not what I wanted to hear, but what I expected.”
“I’ll fax my report to you.” He called out the fax number Jim had given him to confirm it was correct, then said good-bye.
Jim hit the OFF button on the phone, then dialed the sheriff’s office. Lisa Wiley answered on the third ring. “This is Jim Norton. I need to speak to the sheriff on official business.”
He’d added the bit about official business because he wasn’t sure Bernie would take his call otherwise. Not that he’d called her since Saturday night, but all things considered, he didn’t know how she would react.
“Jim, what’s up?” Bernie asked.
Well, at least she’d called him Jim and not Captain Norton. “Derek Lawrence is faxing our killer’s profile to me and I thought you might want to come over so we can take a look at it together.”
“I’ll be over in about five minutes. Put on a fresh pot of coffee.”
“I’ll go do that now. See you in five minutes.” When she hung up, he smiled. She’d sounded like her old self, not angry or upset. But don’t assume you two can go back to where you were before the Robyn incident. You’ll have to rebuild her trust in you, just as you’ll have to rebuild it with Kevin.
Both Ron and John were working other assignments today and were out and about, so when Jim walked into the outer office, he expected to find it empty. Instead, he found Robyn Granger standing there in skintight jeans, a tank top, and sandals. She offered him a let’s-be-friends smile.
“What are you doing here?” he asked on his way to the coffeemaker.
“I came by to apologize. Again.”
“That’s not necessary.” He lifted the nearly empty coffeepot and took it into the adjacent bathroom.
“I talked to Kevin this morning over at Mom and Dad’s,” Robyn said. “I told him that what happened between us Saturday night was all my fault.”
Jim dumped the black liquid into the sink and rinsed out the pot and then the sink. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“Oh, yes, I did. I had orders from Mom to do what I could to make things right between you and Kevin.”
“Did you do any good?” Jim refilled the pot with fresh, cool water and came back into the outer office.
“I think so. Well, maybe. A little.”
“Thanks.” Jim put a new filter in the coffeemaker and measured the ground coffee, then poured the water into the reservoir.
“Mind if I ask you a question?”
“Depends.” Jim turned to face Robyn.
“Did you leave your ex-wife or did she leave you?”
“I left her.”
“And you filed for divorce?”
“Yeah, why do you ask?”
“My bet is that you wouldn’t have left her and filed for divorce without a really good reason. Right?”
Jim narrowed his gaze. “What’s this all about?”
“It’s about the fact that your son blames you for the divorce. He thinks it’s all your fault. If that’s not true, why haven’t you told him?”
“Because I will not bad-mouth his mother. She is his mother and he loves her.”
Smiling, Robyn shook her head. “Jim Norton, you’re a good man. Much too good for the likes of me.” She walked over and kissed his cheek.
Naturally, Bernie chose that moment to arrive—earlier than the five minutes she’d told him. When she saw Robyn kissing Jim, she halted in the open doorway.
“Excuse me. I didn’t mean to—”
“It’s not what you think.” Robyn turned to face her sister, a pleasant smile on her face. “Not this time.” She glanced at Jim and sighed. “If you ever change your mind about the two of us, give me a call.”
Jim didn’t respond; he was too busy studying Bernie’s face, trying to discern her reaction. Other than the fact she wasn’t smiling, he couldn’t tell if she was upset, disappointed, concerned or what.
“See you later, big sister,” Robyn said as she headed for the door.
“Yeah, later.” Bernie spoke to her sister, but kept her gaze on Jim.
As soon as Robyn left, Bernie closed the door and walked into the outer office.
“Have you received the fax from Derek Lawrence?” she asked.
“Not yet, but it should be coming through soon.” Jim nodded to the coffeemaker. “It’s perking. Why don’t you go on into my office and I’ll bring us both a cup as soon as it’s ready.”
A phone rang twice, then the fax machine clicked in and began processing the message.
“You get the coffee,” Bernie said. “And I’ll get the fax.”
Jim nodded. “Bernie?”
With her back to him as she walked toward the fax machine positioned on a small stand between John’s and Ron’s desks, she paused. “Hmm…?”
“About Robyn and me…”
Bernie’s shoulders tensed as she continued walking toward the fax machine. “You and Robyn are none of my business.”
“That’s just it—there is no Robyn and me. There really never was.”
Bernie stood over the fax machine as the report from Derek Lawrence printed out.
When she didn’t respond to his declaration, Jim wondered if he should elaborate or just let it drop. He watched the coffeemaker as the liquid dripped into the glass pot. Come on, will you, fill up as quick as you can.
The fax machine clicked off just about the time the coffeepot filled almost to the rim. Jim glanced over at Bernie and saw her collecting the faxed pages. He turned over two clean cups, lifted the pot and poured the coffee.
He and Bernie met at the partially open door to his office. He stood back and waited for her to enter.
“Take my chair,” he told her.
When she sat in his chair and laid the thin stack of papers on the desk, he placed both cups of coffee on his desk, side by side, then dragged up another chair. He sat dow
n beside Bernie and picked up his cup.
She eased her cup to her lips, took a couple of sips, and then set down the cup before focusing on the profile. After she scanned the first page, she handed it to Jim.
“Mr. Lawrence has pegged our serial killer as an organized, violent offender,” Bernie said. “No surprise there. Highly intelligent, socially and sexually competent.”
Jim read the first page. “Controlled moods. Maintains a stereotypical masculine image, is charming. Possibly an only child who suffered some type of abuse as a child or teenager.”
Bernie read aloud. “This type usually moves the body from the murder scene and disposes of the body to advertise the crime.” Bernie continued reading, then handed Jim the second page. “He’s got our guy down pat. It all fits.” She gave Jim the third and final page of the report.
Jim read over the listing of other characteristics. Plans the offense. Personalizes the victim. Controls the crime scene. Requires the victim to be submissive. Uses restraints. Acts aggressively. Moves body. Removes weapon. Leaves little evidence.
“Our guy is definitely power/control oriented,” Jim said. “Lawrence believes he tells his victims what to say during the assaults in order to recreate previously fantasized scenarios with idealized partners.”
“Lawrence also theorizes that our killer keeps records—writings, drawings, photographs.” Bernie closed her eyes and shivered. “Thomasina Hardy has been missing for thirteen days and we’re no closer to finding her than we were the night she disappeared.”
“Our boy’s smart. He’s out there laughing at us. He thinks he’s invincible.”
“What good is this profile if we don’t have even one suspect?” Bernie wrapped her hands around her coffee cup.
“It can help us rule out quite a lot of men,” Jim said. “Lawrence thinks our guy is young, under thirty-five, highly intelligent, possibly with some college or even a degree, and that he’s a mobile killer, that he moves around.”
“So what do we do—interview every man in Adams County under thirty-five who is intelligent, educated, and charming?”
“I think we need to find out more about the victims in the other states, starting with Heather Stevens and Shannon Elmore.”
Close Enough to Kill Page 23