A Carol for Kent

by Hallee Bridgeman

  After he left, she sat at her desk, looking out the window as the room slowly darkened with the gathering storm. As a wind tunnel of leaves swished passed her window, she picked up her phone and called Mitch. When he answered she said, “There’s no reason for you two to sit outside in this. Come inside, please.”

  “I got called to a crime scene,” he said.

  Carol frowned. “Wait. If you’re there, then who’s outside of my house?”

  “Jack.”

  Carol clenched her teeth so hard she was surprised she didn’t hear her jaw crack. “I’m not comfortable with that.”

  “Come on, Carol. Jack knows his job. You’ve got nothing to worry about.”

  “I’m hanging up now, Mitch. Get back over here as soon as you can.” She hung up, then tried to call Bobby’s new cell phone, hoping to catch him before his plane took off, but she got a recording from the carrier saying that there was trouble with the signal.

  As she put the receiver down, she heard the distant rumble of thunder, and couldn’t shake the eerie feeling in her gut.

  Shaking off her mood, she walked through the house and turned on the lights. It was early still, but the dark clouds rolling in were giving the city a dusk-like appearance. She made her way into the kitchen to start a pot of coffee, pressing against her temples to ward off the headache that threatened.

  She rubbed her arms to battle the chill that descended upon her house, and tried Bobby’s cell again, getting the same recording. She didn’t know how to get in touch with his pilot, or even where to call at the airport, knowing the security that he and his private plane would be under, so she didn’t even try.

  Thunder rumbled overhead, causing her to jump again. After the irritation passed, she laughed at herself. She was being ridiculous. Okay, Carol, she thought to herself, snap out of it.

  She dug through the drawers and cabinets in her kitchen until she found some candles. Then she pulled out spare saucers and put the candles on them in case the power went out. She worked mechanically, wanting nothing more than to keep her hands busy. When she finished, she stepped back and looked at what she’d just done and laughed at herself, realizing she’d prepared about ten candles.

  Shaking her head, she found a pack of matches and put them in her pocket, then poured herself a cup of coffee and decided to sit out on the front porch, Jack or no Jack. This was her house, nothing was going to happen tonight, and she was going to sit on her porch and watch the storm roll in.

  CHAPTER 30

  Personal Journal Entry

  May 11

  What gave it away? How did she find out?

  In a way, it’s a good thing. I told him. Now HE knows that Carol knows. She’ll be next. She has to be.

  In another way, it’s disastrous. This is the end. There can be no others. No more fakes. No more counterfeits.

  Just her. Just Carol Mabry. Her in all her original glory.

  She’ll feed his need to kill and he should quiet down for a long time. He can settle into day to day life here in Richmond as a normal person and not as Richmond Red.

  I even know how he’ll do it. He’ll just go to her house and bide his time. No one will suspect him. No one ever suspects him. He’s invisible. He’s like a puff of smoke. He’s like a ghost. They search and search and he is right in front of them but they can’t even see him.

  I’ll be left to mourn again, and mourn I will because I love her. Like before, I’ll hope against hope she’s the last one.

  SHE lasted half an hour. She couldn’t see Jack Gordon – didn’t even know if he was still out there – but she felt very conspicuous sitting out there. She felt as if she could almost feel him watching her. She gritted her teeth and forced herself to sit for fifteen minutes, then, because she felt impatient with herself for this nervousness, she forced herself to sit for fifteen more.

  Finally, she allowed herself to go back inside. She wandered through her house, wondering what to do. She normally worked or played with Lisa. But Lisa wasn’t there, and she couldn’t think. She couldn’t concentrate on work. She thought about chopping vegetables for a light supper, but didn’t feel hungry.

  Instead, she went upstairs and changed out of her work clothes and into jeans, a button down shirt, and a pair of hiking boots. She would go out to the ranch and take this opportunity to talk to Harriet without Lisa’s presence. They had some talking to do, some forgiving to do, and some healing to do.

  On her way to the front door, she grabbed her purse and keys. When she opened the door, the wind that had picked up since she’d left the porch nearly blew her backward and back inside. It was almost fully dark now, an hour earlier than usual, and the streetlights had yet to come on. She reached behind her and automatically flicked on the porch light, then walked down the driveway to her Jeep.

  The more she thought about talking with Harriet, the more she felt a sense of urgency. Her fingers fumbled a few times before she finally inserted the key into the ignition. The interior of the car flashed with blinding light from the lightning that continued to battle above, transforming everything she could see to sharp shades of black or silver. At last the key found home and she gave it a hard turn.

  Nothing. She tried again, but there wasn’t even the sound of the motor trying to start. No clicks. No moaning complaints. No weak or dimmed lights on the dash. Nothing. She pulled the lever to pop the hood, then got out and walked around to the front, lifted the hood, and used the miniature flashlight on her key chain to look at the engine, not really knowing what she was looking for.

  She didn’t know anything about the inner workings of a car, but it didn’t take an expert to know that there were cables that were supposed to be attached to the battery. Hers were gone. They weren’t knocked loose and dangling down somewhere. They were cut off and lengths of the cable were simply missing.

  She felt the hairs on the back of her neck rise before she heard the voice.

  “Got a problem, Carol?” Jack asked at her ear.

  She jumped and started to turn until she realized how close he stood behind and just beside her. “Yes, Jack, as a matter of fact I do. Did you see anyone messing with my Jeep?” she asked, refusing to let him see her nerves.

  The first drop of rain hit the side of her temple. “It’s starting to rain,” he said, ignoring her question. “Go back inside, and we’ll see about your car after the storm lets up.”

  Carol turned then, hoping he’d move out of her way, but he stood close enough that she could feel his breath on her face. She tried to step around him, but he shifted, leaving her trapped between him and the front grill.

  She lifted her chin, refusing to let this man intimidate her. The rain started to fall harder now, and the wind whipped her hair out of the pins holding it in place, blowing strands around her head. “Move, Jack, so I can get out of the rain,” she said.

  She lifted a hand to get some hair out of her eye, but he moved faster, snatching the bothersome strand. She jerked her head away, but he still held the strand of hair. She only succeeded in causing a sharp pain to streak through her temple from the force of the hair being pulled at its roots.

  “How about this? How about I go inside with you?” He grinned in a way that she felt sure was meant to come off as charming but ended up looking smarmy. “Get you out of those wet clothes. Then we could both stay warm and dry.”

  Her first instinct was to respond with anger, but she had a feeling that would have the wrong effect on him. Instead, she decided to deflate his ego and started laughing. “Are you serious?”

  Some of the laughter left his eyes and they started to harden. Carol suddenly realized that just maybe she should have gone with anger. “Don’t try to deny you want me as much as I want you, Carol. I’ve seen it in your eyes.”

  “Get over yourself, Jack. The only thing I’ve ever wanted from you was for you to go away.” She tried to brush past him.

  She wasn’t expecting it. After all, he was a cop. He was one of the good guys. If she
had thought it were possible, she would have been prepared for the blow, been able to block it. Instead, she found herself being knocked backward from the force of the back of his hand connecting with her cheek.

  She lay there, staring at the black sky above her, feeling the raindrops hitting her face, and wondering what had just happened. Suddenly, Jack’s face appeared above her. The rage in his eyes made him nearly unrecognizable.

  “Some women like it rough, Carol. I really didn’t think you were that type, but if you want to play it that way, I’m game.” His grin slipped back into place, but it looked distorted.

  Her senses returned the second his hand grabbed her arm, and she started fighting as the skies opened up and let loose their downpour. The rain helped rather than hindered, making her harder to grab onto and hold as her skin became wet. She finally broke completely free of him, knocking him down with a kick to the shin, then ran to the house. She still had her keys in her hand, and by feel found her house key just as she reached the door. She inserted it into the lock just as he reached her, grabbing her waist from behind.

  It was part of his job training to learn how to restrain people who otherwise would rather not be restrained, and no matter how hard she fought him or kicked him or struggled, he was bigger and knew what he was doing. Within seconds he had her pinned against the wall of her house, her face pressing into the brick, her hands held behind her at a painful angle with only his right hand holding her wrists in a vice grip, while he unlocked the door with his left hand.

  She closed her eyes and gathered her strength, not willing to let the circumstances overwhelm her, not willing to pay attention to or concentrate on the fact that this man was Mitch’s partner. Right now, he was just some insane guy who was going to hurt her if she didn’t do something about it.

  She heard the door swing open and almost had herself under control. Her breathing was starting to even out, and she couldn’t actually taste the coppery bitter panic any more. Screaming would do no good with the force of the rain pouring outside, so she tried to remember everything her father had taught her about hand-to-hand combat, Army style. One lesson that suddenly stood out was that no matter how big a guy was, if you broke his foot, or even just a toe on his foot, he’d go down.

  She concentrated on that, and let her body relax, giving Jack the idea that she was now complying. She said a quiet prayer, then gave a husky laugh. “You scratch my pretty face on this brick, Jack-O, and you’ll learn what it really means to play the game rough,” she said in a sexy voice that hinted at promises.

  Jack froze, and though he didn’t let go of her hands, he did loosen his grip enough for her to step back away from the wall. She turned her head and looked at him, licking her lips, hoping the porch light wasn’t strong enough for him to see that loathing, not desire, filled her eyes.

  He gave her that cocky, boy-next-door grin. “I knew it,” he said. “You just like to play games, don’t you?”

  If her arms hadn’t been twisted at such an angle, she would have given a coy shrug of her shoulders. Instead, she smiled back, sure that her face would crack with the pressure, and let her eyes roam down his body, checking to see what he was wearing on his feet. Leather loafers. No match for the hiking boots she wore. She forced her eyes back up his body slowly, as if inspecting the merchandise, then made her way back up to his eyes. “Who doesn’t?”

  He let go of one of her hands and let her turn around, pulling her closer to him. “We are going to have us some fun tonight, baby,” he said with unsavory glee, and started to lower his head to kiss her.

  She stepped back from him, grabbed the wrist of the hand still holding hers, lifted his arm above her head, pivoted on one heel until her back was to him, and with all the force she could muster, she brought the heel of her other foot down on his toes. He screamed in pain and collapsed on the ground. Without waiting to see how long it would be before he got back up, Carol ran.

  She flew down her steps and into her yard, undecided about where to go, when she remembered that Houston Bradford was home. She turned and started to slip on the wet grass, and just as she got her footing back, he tackled her from behind with the force of a lineman.

  He screamed profanities in her ear, and while she fought, he rolled her over onto her back and straddled her, the rain continuing to beat down on them. He grabbed her hands and forced them down to the wet ground near her head, trapping her legs with his. She was completely immobile now, and couldn’t see his face from the glare of the porch light behind him.

  He clamped her hands above her head with his left hand. His intentional restraint brought his face close to hers. Rain ran off his nose and dripped into her eyes. “Think you’re pretty smart, don’t you? Pretty clever in your boots. I bet you broke my toe.”

  Carol tasted the coppery panic again. She didn’t swallow. Instead, she spit right in his eyes.

  He didn’t loosen his grip. He sat up straighter and carefully struck her right on the cheek with the back of his right hand. When she didn’t make a sound he hit her again, making Carol gasp.

  He wiped her saliva from his face and demanded, “Exactly how do you think this is going to play out, Carol? It’s just you and me here. In what universe do I not get my way tonight?”

  Carol stared at the outline of his face as he towered above her, backlit by the porch light. In that very heartbeat, all the pieces finally clicked into place.

  The first murder took place just three short weeks after Jack Gordon moved to Richmond from DC. Mitch had said there had been a “he-said-she- said” dispute that hadn’t gone Jack’s way. Carol suddenly realized there must be a lot more to the story than that. Even so, Jack’s friends in high places in Richmond managed to secure him a position as a Homicide Detective.

  But he was already decompensating. Probably the incident in DC had provoked him. Jack was overly Alpha, not the type of man to ever accept responsibility for whatever he did to that unnamed woman in DC. The stress of the job loss, the stress of the move, and the stress of the loss of his social or family support system… it all added up.

  Then the stress of her flat rejection obviously exceeded his ability to curb his murderous desires. He had become obsessed with her. He had inserted himself into the investigation. And now he would act out his sick fantasy at the cost of her life.

  She had to be sure. “How does it play out, Jack? Does it play out with me spread eagle on my living room floor surrounded by red candles with a violin string around my neck?”

  Even without seeing his face, she could tell that he smiled, savoring the idea. “Well, now. Is that what you want, honey?”

  Suddenly, a dark figure blocked the light from the porch. Carol opened her mouth to scream as she watched the figure raise both arms high, holding onto something big, and bring it down hard. She felt Jack’s whole two hundred and twenty pound frame jerk in reaction to something crashing into the back of his skull. He fell forward, propelled by the force of the blow, and his forehead crashed into hers, sending her into darkness.

  CHAPTER 31

  THEY’D driven halfway to the airport when Bobby made-up his mind. He turned the truck around and tried to use his phone, but got a recorded message about no available signal.

  “Where are we going, daddy?” Lisa asked.

  He reached over and ran a hand down her hair. “This storm is too rough for me to want to take off in the airplane, sugar. I’m taking you to spend the night at your grandma’s, and we’ll leave first thing in the morning.”

  Lisa looked a little disappointed, then she got excited. “I haven’t got to spend the night at grandma’s in a long, long time. We’ve been so busy since you got here,” she said. “Then she was acting so weird because she’s sad about grandpa.”

  “She’s feeling better now. You know what? You staying there with her, just the two of you girls, that will really cheer grandma up.” He hoped he was right and he prayed she was home.

  The airport lay on the east side of Richmond while th
e ranch was on the west side. He had to go back through downtown. Coupled with the fact that it was nearly five o’clock on a Friday and the fierce storm had started to hit full force, the traffic suddenly slowed to a crawl.

  Under normal circumstances, Bobby Kent considered himself a pretty easygoing guy. By design, he was slow to anger. He kept a strong grip on his temper and was rarely seen out of control. With the stress and strain he’d been under for the past month, on top of the fact that he couldn’t get the fear in Carol’s eyes out of his mind, he finally reached the point that he’d had enough.

  The only thing that kept him from bellowing at the cars around him was the fact that his daughter sat in the seat next to him. He got off the interstate at the first exit he came to and started to work his way through the back streets. He was a native Virginian, born and raised in Richmond, and had family who had lived there before the interstate highways were built. Some of his uncles refused to use them. He remembered every back street, every shortcut that he’d ever used with his cousins while they were out joy riding through the city as teenagers. When he hit a traffic snarl, he merely turned at the next road and tried an alternate route.

  By the time they made it to the ranch, the wind was starting to pick up and the sky had nearly completely darkened. He parked his truck next to his mother’s and helped Lisa out of the cab. They found her sitting on her back porch, nursing a cup of coffee, when the two of them walked up.

  “Hello mom,” Bobby said.