Beverly Barton 3 Book Bundle

by Beverly Barton

  “I like him okay, too. It’s just that he’s not the right guy for Bernie.” Jim pulled out into traffic.

  “Who is the right guy for Bernie?”

  “How should I know?”

  “But you said—”

  “You shouldn’t be playing matchmaker,” Jim told his son. “Bernie is perfectly capable of finding herself a boyfriend if she wants one.”

  “That’s not what Miss Brenda says.”

  Jim groaned.

  “I heard Miss Brenda telling R.B. that Bernie didn’t know how to get a guy,” Kevin said.

  “What were you doing eavesdropping?”

  “I wasn’t. I just happened to overhear them.”

  “Maybe Bernie doesn’t want a boyfriend, ever think of that?”

  “I bet if you’d ask her out on a date, she’d go.”

  “Kevin, I thought we’d settled this issue. Bernie and I are friends. Just friends.”

  “Yeah, yeah, I know.”

  Jim reached across the seat and playfully punched Kevin’s arm. “Come on, smile. We’re going fishing. And your buddy Scotty Joe’s going with us.”

  Kevin offered Jim a tentative smile. “Yeah, we’ll have fun.” Then he thought for a couple of minutes and added, “But we’d have even more fun if Bernie was coming along, too.”

  He had been waiting for the right moment. This was the first time he’d ever had to wait longer than he’d originally planned, but Abby had made things more difficult for them by allowing others to become involved in something that should have remained a private matter between the two of them. Although he forgave her, knowing she’d simply made a mistake because she wasn’t aware of his identity, he would still have to punish her. She would learn that displeasing him resulted in penalties, often severe, but never unjust. Perhaps Abby would not disappoint him again. Perhaps she would please him from the very first moment they were together.

  More than anything on earth, he wanted this time to be the right time, this woman the right woman. He wanted Abby to be more like her. No one could be exactly like her, but he kept searching, kept looking for a duplicate, someone almost as perfect.

  Don’t think about her. She’s gone forever. Resting in peace. Her soul free of earthly torment. You thought when she died that you, too, could find peace, that you would be released from reliving that shameful day again and again.

  But her death had not set him free. It had trapped him.

  The car pulled into Abby’s driveway, alongside the beige Toyota Avalon. Ron Hensley got out and walked to the front door. The door opened and Deputy Downs came outside and talked to Ron a few minutes, then when Ron went inside, John Downs headed for his car.

  Changing of the guard.

  Abby had police protection twenty-four/seven.

  He smiled.

  Abby was just the type to want to make him work a little harder to woo and win her. She wanted to see if he would simply give up and go away. She was testing him, forcing him to prove how much he wanted her.

  Don’t worry, darling. I want you. I want you enough to do whatever I have to do to make you mine.

  Abby woke at five-thirty, her head pounding and her heart racing. She sat straight up in bed, gasping for air. She glanced at the other side of the bed. Empty.

  “Ron?”

  He poked his head out of the bathroom. “I’m here, honey. Just taking a piss before I head for home.”

  Abby nodded her head in a jerky acknowledgment. “Brett Dennison is relieving you this morning, right?”

  “Yep, he should be here any minute.” Ron disappeared into the bathroom for a couple of seconds, then reemerged and came over to the bed. He sat down on the edge and pulled Abby into his arms. “Why don’t you try to get a couple more hours of sleep? It’s Monday and the shop is closed today.”

  “When I sleep, I dream,” Abby said. “I dream about him.”

  Ron hugged her, then cupped her chin in the curve between his thumb and forefinger. “You’re safe, honey. We’re not going to let him get anywhere near you. Trust me.”

  She tried to smile, but wasn’t able to do more than lift the corners of her mouth a fraction. “Oh, God, Ron, I’m scared shitless.”

  He caressed her face tenderly. “Yeah, I know you are.”

  “You’ve got to catch this guy.” She swallowed a knot of fear. “Soon.”

  The doorbell rang. Abby jumped as if she’d been shot.

  Ron grasped her shoulders and ran his hands down over her arms. “Take it easy. That’s just Brett.” He forced her to lie back down; then he kissed her forehead. “Try to go back to sleep. I’ll see you tonight.”

  She nodded.

  After he left her bedroom, she got up and hurriedly made the bed, then rushed into the bathroom and closed and locked the door. She stripped off her gown, turned on the shower and jumped in while the water was still semicold. Shivering, she stood there, lifted her face and let the spray wash away her tears.

  She wasn’t sure how long she stayed in the shower—more than five minutes, maybe ten. After she dried off, she ran a comb through her hair, and then searched her closet for something to wear. Shorts and a T-shirt would do since she was staying home all day or at least all morning. Maybe she’d get Brett to take her to the grocery store since Monday was her usual day to hit the Pig and run by Wal-Mart.

  Abby’s stomach growled, reminding her that she hadn’t eaten more than a few bites of supper last night. But the thought of food didn’t appeal to her at all. But a cola would hit the spot right about now. She opened the bedroom door and walked down the hall. The least she could do was offer to fix breakfast for Brett. She’d put on a pot of coffee and make him some scrambled eggs and toast. She might be able to keep down some dry toast.

  Before entering the living room, she heard the TV and recognized the voices. Brett was watching an early morning show out of Huntsville.

  “Hey, I’m up,” she called as she walked into the living room. “Would you like some eggs and toast? I thought I’d—”

  She stopped dead still. Brett was not in the living room.

  He must be in the kitchen or the half bath.

  “Brett?”

  No response.

  “Brett, where are you?”

  Silence.

  She knocked on the closed door to the powder room. “Deputy Dennison?”

  Nothing.

  She wiggled the handle, then opened the door. The half bath was empty.

  Deputy Dennison had to be here somewhere. Ron would never have left her here alone.

  Maybe Brett stepped outside on the front porch.

  She rushed to the front door and found it locked and the safety latch in place.

  Her heartbeat accelerated.

  Don’t panic. You are not alone. Brett Dennison is here somewhere. But where? And why doesn’t he answer when I call him?

  He could be on the back porch. Does Brett smoke? No, I don’t think he does. Maybe he’s already made coffee and he walked out back and … Just go see. Reassure yourself that he’s here, that everything is all right.

  When she reached the closed kitchen door, she paused. What was wrong with her? Why couldn’t she just open the door and go into her own kitchen?

  Because you’re allowing your imagination to conjure up bogeymen where there are none. Deputy Dennison is the only person beyond that door.

  But what if …

  Abby turned around and walked across the living room to where the portable phone lay on the coffee table. She picked it up and dialed Ron’s cell number.

  He answered on the third ring.

  “Ron?”

  “Abby? Honey, what’s wrong?”

  “You didn’t leave me here all alone, did you?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I can’t find Brett. The TV’s on, but he’s not in the living room and he’s not on the front porch.”

  “Have you checked the kitchen?”

  “No, I—I can’t. I’m too afraid to o
pen the door.”

  “Look, honey, just stay calm. I’m heading back to your place right now. Do you hear me? I’m walking out the door. Brett’s there, probably in the kitchen, fixing some coffee. Everything is all right. I promise.”

  “Mmm …”

  “Abby?”

  “What?”

  “I’ll call Brett on his cell phone and tell him to go into the living room and let you know everything is fine.”

  “Yes, please do that. Please.”

  “I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

  “Ten minutes,” she repeated.

  With her hand trembling, she tossed the cordless phone onto the sofa, then turned and stared at the closed kitchen door. After taking a deep breath, she walked straight to the door. When she heard Brett’s cell phone ringing, she breathed a sigh of relief. Ron was right. Brett was in her kitchen. Everything was all right.

  She grasped the doorknob, turned it and opened the kitchen door. Before crossing the threshold, she scanned the room, searching for Brett. The room appeared to be empty. But the backdoor stood wide open. She sighed heavily. He was on the back porch. No wonder he hadn’t heard her.

  She crossed the room, heading for the back door. But just as she rounded the kitchen table, something blocked her path. It took her brain a couple of seconds to process the information, to realize that what she saw was a body lying on the floor, a small pool of blood around the man’s head. The man? Brett Dennison lay facedown on the floor, blood oozing from a wound to the back of his head.

  Abby opened her mouth to scream, but before she could utter a sound, someone appeared in the open doorway and entered the kitchen from the back porch.

  Trembling, tears clouding her vision, she whimpered, but couldn’t move.

  “It’s all right,” he said. “There’s nothing to worry about. I’m here now.”

  She recognized the voice. After wiping the tears from her eyes, she focused on the man coming toward her. He sidestepped Brett Dennison’s body.

  “Oh, thank God it’s you!” she cried. “Something’s happened to Brett. Someone hit him on the head. We have to call for help.”

  “We don’t have time to help Brett,” he said. “We have to leave now.”

  “What?”

  “Nothing and no one else matters, Abby, except the two of us.”

  Fear exploded inside Abby as realization dawned. Dear God in heaven, it couldn’t be. It just couldn’t be.

  “I’ve come to take you away,” he told her. “So we can be alone, just the two of us.”

  Chapter 23

  Jim handed Bernie a cup of strong, bitter coffee he’d gotten out of the machine in the snack bar downstairs at Adams County General, the county’s only hospital. They’d been going nonstop since early this morning, overseeing a massive manhunt for Abby Miller and the person who had almost killed Deputy Dennison. After searching all day and now several hours into the night, using two sets of bloodhounds and the ABI’s helicopter unit, they’d found nothing. Nada. Not one damn thing that could lead them to Abby or the madman who had abducted her.

  Whoever he was, their Secret Admirer killer, he was a sly devil. Smart. Maybe a little too smart and overly confident. He’d left Brett Dennison for dead. Only thing was, the young deputy hadn’t died. His head had been a little harder than his attacker had bargained for. After hours of surgery to relieve the pressure on his brain, Brett was resting in the ICU unit, in critical condition, but hanging on to life.

  Bernie took the coffee cup from Jim and set it down on the table at the end of the sofa, then dropped her hands between her spread thighs as she glared down at the floor. Jim was worried about her. The only way he’d gotten her to take a break from the ongoing search was to persuade her that R.B., who was now a reserve inspector for the Adams County Sheriff’s Department, could handle things for a couple of hours. He’d had to practically drag her away, despite the fact that she was dead on her feet. But instead of allowing him to take her home for a bite of supper and a short nap, she’d insisted on coming to the hospital to check on Brett.

  “I’m concerned about Ron.” Bernie nervously tapped the tips of her fingers together. “I’ve never seen him lose control the way he did this morning. I’d have pulled him off this case if I thought I could have done it without putting him behind bars.”

  “He’ll be okay,” Jim said. “Your father will keep him in line.”

  Bernie rubbed her palms up and down her thighs. “I keep hearing Ron saying, ‘I told her she was safe. I told her to trust me.’ He’s blaming himself. Right now, he honestly thinks that if he’d been with Abby, he could have prevented the kidnapping.”

  “He might have.” Jim sipped on the strong coffee.

  Bernie snapped around and glared at Jim. “What are you saying?”

  “Nothing against Brett. It’s just that our guy picked a time when none of the seasoned deputies were guarding Abby. Not Ron or John or … Brett’s a novice with only a few months of experience. And our guy chose early morning for the abduction, when there would be very few people up and stirring, and thus few, if any, witnesses to worry about. But there would be enough activity on the roads that no one would pay attention to any specific vehicle.”

  “You agree with Charlie Patterson, don’t you—that Brett knew the guy, that our Secret Admirer killer is a local, a man everybody knows and probably trusts?”

  “There was no sign of forced entry at Abby Miller’s house. The backdoor was wide open, so that tells me Dennison actually opened the door for this guy.”

  Bernie took a deep breath. “Go ahead and say it—tell me what you’re thinking.”

  “Look, honey, let’s get out of here. You’re not going to be able to see Brett tonight, and the doctors don’t know when or if he’ll regain consciousness.”

  “I should talk to his parents again.”

  “No, you shouldn’t. Reverend Donaldson is with them. Let him do his job.”

  “Then I should be doing mine. Let’s drive back out and join one of the search teams.”

  “Not until you’ve eaten something and rested for a couple of hours.”

  “If I were a man, you wouldn’t—”

  “Stop trying to prove you’re invincible,” Jim told her. “Damn it, Bernie, we human beings—men and women—can’t keep going indefinitely without food and rest. You and I have both been out in the field for a good fifteen hours.” He grasped her by the shoulders. “I’m hungry and tired. We need to eat and grab a few hours of sleep.”

  “Ron is still—”

  “Ron’s running on guilt and rage. I give him till morning before he burns out and we have to scrape him up off the pavement.” Jim eased his hands down Bernie’s shoulders, then released his hold on her. He held out his hand. “Come on, let’s go.”

  Bernie sighed loudly. “Okay, you win. We can pick up a bite at the King Kone and—”

  “Nope, your mother called me on my cell phone while I was downstairs in the snack bar getting coffee. She has supper waiting for us,” Jim told her. “We’re going over there to eat and rest. And I can check on Kevin while we’re there.”

  “Oh, damn. I’d forgotten that we were supposed to have supper with my folks tonight. Mom invited Robyn and Raymond, too. Gee, I hate that I missed that. Robyn and Raymond all lovey-dovey and Mom hearing wedding bells ringing in her head.”

  Jim stood, reached down and grabbed Bernie’s hands, then pulled her to her feet. Standing face to face with her, Jim chuckled. “You just can’t bear seeing Robyn and Raymond together, can you, since you had your heart set on snagging him yourself?”

  “If I wasn’t so damn tired, I’d slap you.” Bernie managed a weak grin as she fell into step with Jim as they exited the ICU waiting room. “Maybe you’re the one who can’t bear seeing those two together.”

  “Hey, not me. I could care less who Raymond dates.”

  Bernie emitted a strained chuckle.

  Jim paused, reached out and brushed a stray tendril of hair f
rom Bernie’s face. His fingertips lingered to caress her cheek. “Raymond was all wrong for you anyway.”

  “Was he?”

  “Hmm … You don’t need to be worshipped the way Robyn does. You don’t want a doormat you can walk all over.”

  “I don’t?”

  “Nope, you want an equal. A man who admires you and respects you. Somebody who’ll tell you when you’re wrong, but stand by your side regardless.”

  “You don’t happen to know somebody like that, do you?”

  “I might.”

  “Well, what if I want more?” Bernie asked as they entered the elevator. “What if I want raw passion and wild sex?”

  Jim cleared his throat. “Raw passion and wild sex, huh?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “I’ll see who I can come up with who fits that bill. You don’t mind waiting for the right guy and the right time, do you? I don’t think you’re quite up to passion and sex tonight, raw and wild or otherwise.”

  Bernie leaned her head back against the interior elevator wall and closed her eyes. “You’re probably right about that. Right now I’d settle for a shower and a thirty-minute nap.”

  Jim hit the lobby button. The elevator doors closed.

  “That I can give you tonight,” he told her.

  “Thank you.”

  With her eyes still closed, she sighed heavily and crossed her arms over her waist, wrapping herself in a weary hug.

  The oddest impulse hit Jim. He wanted to pull Bernie into his arms and hold her. He wanted her to rest her head on his shoulder and let him take care of her.

  Instead of acting on that impulse, which he felt certain Bernie wouldn’t appreciate, he shuffled his feet a couple of times, looked down at the floor, and stuffed his hands into the pockets of his slacks.

  He couldn’t go to her. Not yet. It was too dangerous. The local sheriff’s department, the ABI, the highway patrol, and police officers from Adams Landing, Pine Bluff, and Verona were still scouring the countryside, searching for Abby Miller and the man who had whisked her away. Reserve officers and local citizens had volunteered to relieve some of the lawmen, allowing them time to eat and rest. It had been easy enough for him to join the search party; actually, it was expected of him.