Beverly Barton 3 Book Bundle

by Beverly Barton

  “Yes. Yes, I would.”

  “I’ll leave you my address and phone number.”

  “I’ll see what I can do, Captain Norton.”

  “I’d appreciate it.”

  Abby’s funeral had been delayed long enough for her husband to fly home from the Middle East. It was a toss-up as to who was more bereaved—the husband or the boyfriend. Ricky Wayne’s mother clung to him, her strength apparently the only thing holding him together. Deputy John Downs and retired sheriff R.B. Granger flanked Ron Hensley through the entire funeral, including the brief graveside service. Just about everybody in Adams Landing showed up and possibly half the county. Being a beautician with lots of satisfied customers, Abby had been well known and well liked.

  With such a huge turnout, people would have noticed if he hadn’t put in an appearance at the funeral and now at the Miller home. He paid his condolences, spoke to everybody he knew, and made his way outside onto the front lawn, where people milled about in the humid September sunshine.

  Abby had been his greatest disappointment. She had fought him to the very end. No matter how many times he punished her, how badly he hurt her, she would never admit that she loved him. Choosing her had been a mistake. Except for her beautiful dark hair, she’d been nothing like Heather. Abby Miller had been a cheap tramp, a stubborn, stupid cunt.

  He had agonized over how he could have made such a mistake in choosing Abby. She was the first who had defied him day after day, never accepting the fact that he was her master. He knew he couldn’t act hastily in selecting the next woman, possibly the last woman here in northeast Alabama before he’d be forced to move on. His next choice would give him one more chance to find his perfect mate, someone as worthy of him as Heather had been.

  She was out there somewhere, just waiting for him. Someone young and lovely. A pretty brunette. A lady desired by many men. She might even be here today in this crowd of mourners.

  After leaving Leighton Prep, Jim drove straight to the airport to catch his evening flight. He’d spent most of the afternoon trying to get in to see the principal, a hoity-toity little man named Alistair Dueitt, who’d finally agreed to a brief meeting after Hal Shepard had intervened.

  No, he wouldn’t reveal the names of any previous Leighton Prep students, Dr. Dueitt had adamantly declared. It was against school policy. And no, he would not loan Jim a copy of the yearbook from Heather Stevens’s junior or senior years. If the Stevens family had not chosen to share Heather’s yearbook with Jim, then the school was certainly not at liberty to do so.

  Jim had struck out on all counts. Except one. He’d learned an interesting bit of information not even mentioned in the police files. Heather Stevens and Shannon Elmore had belonged to some snobby group of teenage brunettes who’d called themselves the Sable Girls. And Jim would bet his pension that Sara Hayes and Courtney Pettus had also been members of that exclusive little club. But he couldn’t travel from city to city, from state to state, interviewing people, investigating the lives of the killer’s victims. He was way out of his jurisdiction, with absolutely no legal authority. What he needed was a private investigator. As luck would have it, he just happened to know one.

  Settling in at the busy, bustling airport to wait on his flight, Jim put in a call to Griffin Powell. He hoped his old buddy would agree once again to work pro bono. Neither Jim nor Adams County could afford to pay the kind of fees the Powell Agency charged.

  “What’s up, Jim?” his former UT roommate asked.

  “I need another favor. Another freebie.”

  “Something to do with the Secret Admirer killer?”

  “Have you been reading Huntsville newspapers, or has word already spread all the way to Knoxville about what’s going on in northeast Alabama?”

  “Let’s just say that I’ve kept informed. So, what do you need?”

  “I need you to do this as a personal favor,” Jim said. “The sheriff’s department is not hiring you. I am. And you know the state of my financial affairs.”

  Griffin chuckled. “Like you said, this will be another freebie.”

  “Okay, thanks. First, I need a list of students who attended Leighton Prep in Greenville, South Carolina, at the same time a young woman named Heather Stevens went there. She graduated eleven years ago.”

  “Send me what information you have and I’ll get right on it.”

  “I also need a yearbook from that same time, from Heather’s junior and senior years.”

  “Okay.”

  “And one more thing.”

  “Just one more.”

  Jim grunted. “Yeah, I need to find out why a girl named Courtney Pettus left Leighton Prep after her junior year.”

  When Jim arrived home, he found Bernie waiting up for him and Kevin asleep on the sofa, Boomer resting at his feet. Wearing a pair of faded jeans and a seen-better-days T-shirt, Bernie met him at the door, her hair sleep-tousled, her face void of makeup, and looking better than a woman had a right to at this time of night. His plane had landed forty-five minutes ago, and he’d broken a few speed limits on his drive from Huntsville. Why? Because he’d known Bernie would be waiting for him.

  “You look beat,” she said.

  He dropped his black vinyl overnight bag on the floor, reached out and pulled Bernie into his arms. Her eyes widened in surprise.

  “Have you been drinking?” she asked.

  “I don’t drink and drive.” He buried his face in her shoulder and kissed her neck.

  She went rigid. “What’s gotten into you?”

  “Don’t get your panties in a wad, Sheriff.” He lifted his head and released her. Damn uptight… Why did she tense up every time he touched her? “You’re not going to have to fight me off.”

  “Jim, you’re acting peculiar.”

  “Dad?” Kevin roused from his nap, lifting his head from the sofa and waving at his father. Boomer wiggled around, lifted his head and stared at Jim.

  “Yeah, it’s me, son. I’m home.”

  “I tried to stay awake,” Kevin said.

  “You didn’t have to. Why don’t you go on to bed? I’ll see you in the morning.”

  Yawning, Kevin staggered to his feet, then plodded sleepily to his bedroom; Boomer trotted along behind him. As soon as Kevin was out of earshot, Bernie grabbed Jim’s arm.

  “What makes you think that if you made a move on me, I’d want to fight you off?”

  “Huh?” He was too tired, too frustrated and too horny to play word games.

  “Did you meet some sexy little number on the plane, somebody who got you all hot and bothered?” Bernie asked. “Is that why you—?”

  He grabbed her, yanked her to him and looked her right in the eyes. “If I’d met a woman on the plane who turned me on, I’d have booked a room, stayed overnight in Huntsville and fucked her brains out until morning.”

  Bernie stared at him, her eyes wide, her mouth agape.

  “But you know what the funny thing is, Sheriff Granger?”

  She shook her head.

  “The only thing I could think about after I boarded my flight home was you and Kevin and how much I was looking forward to seeing both of you, to coming home to you and my son.”

  Moisture glistened in Bernie’s golden brown eyes.

  “And if my son wasn’t back there asleep in his bedroom, I’d be all over you right now, because, lady, I’ve got the hard-on from hell, and you’re the one who gave it to me.”

  “I—I—”

  Jim kissed her—deep and hard and long. His tongue in her mouth and his hands on her ass. But less than a minute into the kiss, he ended it. Both of them gasped for air.

  “I’d better go home,” she said.

  “Yeah, you’d better.”

  She grabbed her shoulder bag off the coffee table and headed for the front door. Jim followed her. After opening the door, she turned and faced him.

  “You can give me a full report on your trip to Greenville in the morning,” she said.

  “I�
��ll do that.”

  “Boomer can spend the night with Kevin, and he can take Boomer with him over to my parents’ house in the morning.”

  “Okay.”

  “Good night, then.”

  “Good night.” When she stepped out onto the porch, he followed her. “Oh, by the way, tomorrow night I’m going to take you out on a date, if that’s all right with you.”

  “It’s all right with me.”

  “I’ll call your folks in the morning and see if Kevin can sleep over tomorrow night. Is that all right with you, too?”

  “Yes, it is.”

  Jim kissed her again—on both cheeks, then on her lips. When he lifted his head, he grinned. “See you in the morning, honey.”

  “Uh-huh.” She turned and floated down the steps, up the sidewalk and to her Jeep.

  Chapter 25

  Jim had checked with Bernie before making reservations at River’s End, since that was where he’d gone with Robyn on their date. But it was the only really fancy restaurant in the area, unless you drove to Huntsville. It had been a long time since he’d wanted to impress a woman. A long time? Who was he kidding? It had been forever. Not since back when he’d been young and madly in love with Mary Lee. Not that he was in love with Bernie. Not exactly. He wasn’t a guy who used the “L” word lightly. Actually, he’d seldom used the word, even when he’d been married. Maybe that was because Mary Lee had said it all the time, to everybody. Said it without any meaning, with no conviction behind it, no actions to support it.

  He didn’t think much about Mary Lee any longer, except in connection to their son. He didn’t hate her. Didn’t love her. Didn’t care. But for Kevin’s sake, he hoped she would regain her health and live to a ripe old age.

  After he’d made reservations for seven-thirty at River’s End, Jim got to thinking about picking Bernie up in his old truck. One of these days, he’d have to buy something a little newer, but future purchases hadn’t solved his problem for tonight. In the end, he’d just told Bernie about his predicament, something he wouldn’t have dared do with any other woman. Just one more reason why he liked her so much.

  “We’ll take my Jeep,” she’d said. “No problem.”

  No problem. No demands. No bitching and complaining. No unreasonable expectations. Bernie was a low-maintenance woman. How lucky could a man get?

  Yeah, just how lucky would he get tonight? Jim chuckled nervously as he pulled up in front of Bernie’s house, leaving the driveway clear for them to back out in her Jeep. He sure as hell hoped that he and Bernie were on the same page about this date; otherwise, he’d make a complete fool of himself later when he took her back to his place.

  Just take things slow and easy. Let her lead and you follow.

  When he got out of his truck, he bent down and glanced at himself in the dusty rearview mirror. Maybe he should have worn a tie instead of leaving the button-down shirt open at the neck. But if he’d worn his tie, he’d have had to have worn his suit because the two matched. Would Bernie be disappointed because he’d dressed in khaki pants and a hunter green shirt? He didn’t want to disappoint her, but at the same time, if they were going to be dating, she’d just have to take him as he was. Jim Norton was no GQ cover model. His sense of style was nil. He dressed for comfort, not fashion.

  But what if she’s wearing some slinky little dress and maybe bling-bling earrings and—nah, not his Bernie. She wasn’t the bling-bling type. But she had mentioned that Robyn was so excited that Bernie had a date, she’d offered to come over and do Bernie’s hair and makeup.

  The walk to Bernie’s front door seemed a mile long. That’s because you’re nervous. You’d think you were fourteen, not forty. Good God man, your life doesn’t depend on how this date turns out.

  Then again, maybe it does.

  He rang the doorbell.

  “Be right there,” Bernie called out to him.

  Two minutes later, while he shuffled his feet and took some deep breaths to calm his jitters, Bernie opened the door.

  “I’m ready.”

  At first all he saw was her wide, wonderful smile. Then he focused on her entire face. No heavy makeup. No cat-eyes black liner. No red lipstick. Instead, she looked like Bernie always looked, except her skin had a glow to it. The makeup was subtle and suited Bernie perfectly. Pinky peach and subdued.

  Jim took a step back so he could scan her from head to toe. “Wow!”

  Twirling in a look-at-me spin, she laughed. “Robyn brought over five new outfits for me to try on,” Bernie admitted. “And this was the only one that I felt halfway comfortable in. She took the others back to the store.”

  “You look good, honey.”

  Good enough to eat.

  The dress was simple. He figured it was silk. Light yellow silk. Short sleeves, round neckline that didn’t plunge to show off her cleavage and a hem that hit her at the knees. No bling-bling. Just simple little pearl studs in her ears, a gold watch on one wrist, and a single-strand pearl bracelet on the other.

  Jim offered her his arm. “Your carriage awaits.” He laughed. “And it is your carriage.”

  She turned and locked her front door, then handed him her key ring. “You drive, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  Smiling warmly, with a sly little twinkle in her eyes, she slipped her arm through his. “I haven’t looked forward so much to a date in a long time.”

  That was another thing he liked about Bernie. She was a straight shooter. No games. Just up-front and honest.

  “Yeah, me, too,” he said, then walked her out to her Jeep.

  Raymond had met Robyn at the fitness center and walked her home, something he did almost every day. He was so attentive, so adoring, like a faithful little puppy. At least that’s the way she’d thought of him at first, but not so much now. She’d told him when they had started dating that it would not be an exclusive relationship, and at the time she’d meant it. Funny thing was that since the night they’d made love for the first time, she hadn’t had sex with anyone else. Why should she? Raymond was a fabulous lover.

  So what if everybody in town was referring to them as the odd couple. So what if her own mother had questioned the wisdom of her dating Raymond. And why should she care that Helen Long was disappointed that her son was dating the wrong Granger sister?

  “Do you want to drive into Huntsville tonight?” Raymond asked as he took Robyn’s key from her and opened the door to her apartment.

  She shook her head. “I don’t think so. I’m not in the mood to make the club scene tonight. Why don’t we stay in and—” She cuddled up to his side, slid her arm around his waist and nuzzled his neck.

  Raymond blushed. She loved that she could make him blush. He was such a sweetie.

  When Robyn walked into her apartment, she stepped on something that made her foot slide. Tightening her hold around Raymond’s waist to steady herself, she halted immediately, then looked down at the floor and saw a small white envelope. How odd.

  “What is it?” he asked. “What’s wrong?”

  “I don’t know. Nothing, I guess.” She pointed to the envelope. “That’s not yours, is it?”

  “The envelope? No, it’s not mine.”

  Robyn pulled away from him, bent over and picked up the envelope. “Somebody must have slipped it under the door sometime today.”

  “Maybe it’s a message from one of your old boyfriends.” Raymond’s voice held a hint of jealousy. “Dr. Kelley or Paul Landon or Ron Hensley or—”

  She whirled around, envelope in hand, and held it out to him. “Here, you open it.”

  He stared at her hand for a few seconds, then took the envelope. “It has your name printed on the front. See.” He held it up, pinched between his thumb and forefinger.

  “Just open the damn thing, will you?”

  Raymond ripped it open, removed a single sheet of paper and scanned the page. “I don’t think it’s from any of your old boyfriends.”

  “Oh, what does it say?”

/>   He read, “I worship you from afar, my beautiful Robyn.”

  “That’s it?”

  “Yes, that’s it.”

  An uneasy feeling rippled along her nerve endings. “It’s an odd note, isn’t it?”

  “Not really all that odd when we both know that most of the men in Adams County are halfway in love with you.”

  He is jealous. But he has no reason to be. Maybe there are a lot of men in Adams County who have the hots for me, but I’m not interested in any of them. I don’t want any of them.

  She wrapped her arms around Raymond’s neck and gazed into his eyes. “Well, I’m not halfway in love with any other man. Only with you.”

  Every muscle in his body tensed. He pulled away from her. “Don’t do that. Don’t play games with me. Don’t say something you don’t mean.”

  “What if I do mean it?” Yeah, what if I do?

  “Do you?”

  She nodded. “Yeah, I think I do.” She laughed. “Wow, when did that happen?”

  “Robyn?”

  “Look, this is all new to me. I wasn’t expecting to go and fall for you. The sex is great and all, but … oh, jeez, Raymond, you know you’re not really my type, so it never entered my head that anything more would come of our relationship.”

  “Don’t get upset, sweetheart.” He clamped his hands around her upper arms. “We’ll take this one step at a time. I won’t try to rush you into anything. Right now, having you halfway in love with me is more than I’d ever dared hope for.”

  Dinner had been delicious. The wine perfect. The candlelit atmosphere romantic. So far, this was turning out to be the most wonderful evening of Bernie’s life. On the way to River’s End, they had made a pact not to discuss business.

  “Only personal stuff,” Jim had said.

  Dinner conversation had included sharing stories of their childhoods, exchanging horrid memories of each of their worst dates ever, and touching on the subject of what had gone wrong in their marriages. They had both been betrayed by cheating spouses whom they had later divorced. She and Jim felt the same way about marriage, about fidelity, about trust.