by Rita Herron
“Do not let him intimidate you,” Laney whispered. “He is a troubled man. He has lived with much guilt himself.”
The reverend read a Bible passage, then spoke in a soothing voice. His words of comfort fell over Violet, echoing through the near empty room, a testament of how sad and devoid of friends and family her father’s life had been. How could one eulogize someone who had no one, a man some still believed guilty of murder?
Finally, the pianist played “Amazing Grace.” Then six strangers, whom Violet assumed were church deacons, entered and carried her father’s casket out the back door to the small graveyard beyond the church. When she’d spoken with her grandmother earlier, Violet had assured her she would bury her father beside her mother.
Both had taken their secrets with them.
Outside, the afternoon heat felt scorching, a cloying humidity hanging in the air. Storm clouds loomed above, the sun hidden behind them. Thunder rumbled, and a streak of lightning zigzagged across the treetops just as it had the day Darlene died.
Joseph and Laney flanked Violet as the preacher offered a prayer. When he finished, she turned and saw that Grady had arrived. His gaze met hers. Regret, questions, heat flared.
Then his eyes cut toward Joseph and his jaw clenched. Joseph responded accordingly. The two men were like lions moving in a circle to fight over prey.
Beula Simms tottered toward Violet and patted her hand. “I’m sorry about your father, dear. Will you be staying in Crow’s Landing now?”
Violet swallowed. “I…I’m not sure. For a little while, until my grandmother gets better.”
“I’ll have to go visit her sometime.”
Surprise caught in her throat. “I’m sure she’d like that.”
Grady’s father barreled toward her. Grady reached out to stop him, but Walt Munroe jerked away. “Miss Baker, if you know what’s good for you, you’ll leave town today. I told you once, nobody wants you here.”
“I’m not leaving until my grandmother is better.”
“Dad?” Grady gripped his father’s arm.
“She’s nothing but trouble,” the older man said. “Stay away from her, Grady, or you’ll end up in the ground like her old man.”
A sudden noise came from the trees behind her. Violet pivoted and noticed Bernie Morris rushing toward her. Behind him, a photographer wielded a big camera. A local news anchor trotted beside him.
Violet shrank back toward Laney. “Miss Baker, we’d like to do a live interview,” Bernie shouted.
The news anchor, a thirtyish woman with bottle-blond hair, curved ruby-red lips in a wide smile at her. “Is it true that your father confessed to murder?”
Grady stepped in front of the camera. “Miss Baker has no comment.”
A clap of thunder nearly drowned out his reply. The first drops of rain splattered the parched earth.
“Who are you?” the female reporter asked.
“Sheriff Monroe.”
“Monroe? Were you related to the little girl who was murdered twenty years ago?”
A muscle twitched in Grady’s jaw. “That’s correct. We have an ongoing investigation into her murder, as well as Mr. Baker’s death, therefore neither I nor Miss Baker are at liberty to discuss the matter.”
“But Mr. Baker killed himself,” the woman said.
“There’s new evidence that says otherwise,” Bernie said. “How do you feel knowing your father was murdered, Miss Baker? Don’t you want to do something? Avenge his death somehow?”
The clouds opened up and rain began to pour. Violet pushed against the man to reach her car. “I’m not sure what I can do, Mr. Morris. The police are handling things.”
“But you’re psychic.” Morris gestured toward the camera. “Miss Baker has visions. She did twenty years ago when she connected to Darlene Monroe, and I believe she knows things about this serial killer, too.”
Violet gasped. The newswoman shoved a microphone in her face, and Grady lunged forward. “Turn off that damn camera.” He grabbed the mike. “And keep this off the air.”
“It’s too late for that,” the woman said, huddling beneath her umbrella. “We just went live.”
Grady’s father suddenly disappeared into the woods. The rain was pouring in sheets now, running down Violet’s face. The mound of fresh earth covering her father’s grave was turning into a muddy mess.
An image flashed—of Darlene lying in the rain, red mud swirling around her.
Violet shoved away, nearly knocking the reporter over as she crossed the remaining distance to her car. Joseph Longhorse followed, but she didn’t wait.
Now everyone would know about her visions, that she’d connected to the killer. The police and FBI would be banging on her door. The town would be gossiping even more that she was crazy.
And the killer…it would give him all the more reason to come after her.
Would Grady be in danger, too? His father’s warning echoed in her head. Maybe he was. If so, she needed to stay away from him….
* * *
GRADY GRABBED MORRIS’S shirt, twisting the neck so tight the reporter’s legs buckled. “Stay away from Violet,” he ordered. “Or I’ll put you in jail for harassment.” Furious, he released him so roughly Morris hit the ground. Then Grady stalked off.
The reporters dashed toward their cars. Joseph Longhorse had cornered Violet at her Civic. Although they hadn’t found enough evidence to arrest Longhorse, Grady refused to leave the man alone with Violet. He headed straight toward them.
Longhorse pivoted, glared at him, then walked back to his mother.
Grady caught the door to Violet’s car as she climbed in. “Are you all right?” he asked her.
She nodded. But she was soaked and trembling. Mud had splattered the hem of her linen dress, although she seemed oblivious to the fact.
He ached to hold her. “I’m sorry I was late, but I arranged a tracer on your phone, then added dead bolts to the house and repaired that window. I’ll follow you home now.”
“No.” She shook her head and started the engine. “I need some time alone.”
He hesitated, swiping at the rain running off his face. “Are you sure?”
Before she could answer, his cell phone rang. He checked the number. Shit. Special Agent Norton. “It’s that FBI agent,” he said. “I have to take it.”
Violet shifted the car into gear. “I’ll talk to you later.” Looking frantic and pale, she spun away from the graveyard.
Grady answered the call. “Sheriff Monroe here.”
“Monroe, what the hell is this about some damn psychic being connected to our killer? Are you withholding information?”
Grady muttered an oath. He couldn’t believe Norton had already seen the footage. “Listen, I can explain.”
“Good. I want to talk to the woman, too.”
“But—”
“Special Agent Adams and I will meet you at your office in half an hour.”
Norton hung up without waiting for a reply. Grady cursed again. As much as Violet wanted to be alone, he couldn’t ignore the federal agent’s request.
He had to get her and make that meeting. Once they explained Violet’s visions and details of the past, it would just be a matter of time before Norton questioned Grady’s father….
* * *
VIOLET HAD JUST CHANGED out of her drenched clothes when Grady appeared at her door. He looked fierce and sexy, all male hardness and strength. His black hair hung in wet swathes around his bronzed forehead; his eyes were smoky and full of anger and something else—hunger. A charged moment passed between them. It was as if she felt his need, as if he wanted to throw her down on the floor and take her. She wanted that, too. Wanted him to erase the grief and fear she’d been living with for days. Wanted him to make her come alive and burn with feelings. To sate this desire that simmered between them.
But if her visions threatened Grady’s safety, she couldn’t allow him any closer. And his own father hated her, had implied that she was enda
ngering his son.
Grady’s gaze raked over her, bold and assessing. He didn’t reach for her, though. Instead, he stood erect, his eyes alight with turmoil.
“Grady?”
“Violet, Special Agent Norton saw that damn interview with Morris. Norton and his partner insist on seeing us immediately.”
The first tendrils of panic rose within her stomach. “No, Grady, I can’t.” She wrapped her arms around herself. “What will I tell them?”
“The truth,” he said matter-of-factly. “Bring your sketch pad, too. There might be something there that could help them.” He gestured toward his car. It was still thundering and raining outside.
She didn’t want to go out in the storm again. She especially didn’t want to face the FBI today.
“They’re meeting me at my office in a few minutes.”
Resigned, she gathered the sketch pad, dragged on a raincoat, then followed Grady to his car. The ride over was silent, the air fraught with dread.
After the introductions, she was seated at a long table in a small back room at the sheriff’s office. She felt as if she was facing an inquisition.
Special Agent Norton was tall and intimidating. His air of authority commanded attention. His partner, Agent Adams, was a feminine version, although Violet detected a slight moment of compassion when she shook the woman’s hand.
Norton folded his arms and propped himself, half sitting, half standing, at the edge of the table. “Miss Baker, is it true that you have psychic visions?”
“Lately I have had some odd experiences, yes.”
“You said lately?”
“In the past few weeks. The only other time…” She hesitated and picked at a loose thread on her shirt.
“Go on,” Norton said.
“When I was eight years old, I shared a special connection to another girl.” She explained about Darlene and her death. “Until recently I hadn’t experienced a connection with anyone else.”
“And why do you think that changed?”
“I have no idea,” Violet said. “At first, I thought it was because it was the anniversary of Darlene’s death. But I wasn’t connecting to her. I was seeing visions of a woman crying out for help.”
The agent traded a skeptical look with his partner.
“Can you describe these visions?” Special Agent Adams asked.
Violet nodded, closing her eyes to collect herself. Grisly images bombarded her. “They started while I was in Savannah. I heard this woman crying out for help. Then I saw a man’s hands strangle her. And later…later a young woman turned up missing.”
“Amber Collins?” Agent Norton said.
“Yes, she’d been in my store the day before.”
“And you’ve seen visions since?” Agent Norton asked.
Violet nodded. “Of the two other women who died.”
Again Agent Norton and his partner traded looks. “Describe exactly what you see,” he said.
Violet hesitated and glanced at Grady. He nodded for her to continue. She spread the sketch pad on the table, then pointed to the drawings. Both agents’ expressions changed. Sharpened with interest. “He ties them up, then draws their blood into a syringe,” she said. “Sometimes he calls himself the blood taker, sometimes the chosen one. He keeps it—the blood is his souvenir.”
Norton cleared his throat while Agent Adams jotted down some notes.
“Anything else?” Agent Norton asked in a harsh voice.
Violet was trembling inside. “He always leaves the woman with a note that says, ‘For our father.’ Then he says, Pin peyeh obe, my sweetness, you must die.”
Agent Adams’s eyebrows rose a fraction of an inch. Norton’s mouth flattened into an angry, thin line as he turned to Grady. “Have you disclosed details of the serial killer case to this woman?”
“Absolutely not,” Grady said. “I would never do that.”
“Miss Baker?” Norton snapped.
“No, you asked what I saw, and I’m telling you.” Violet shook with fury. She had expected skepticism, but not for him to suspect she was a fraud, or to blame Grady.
“Then how does she know these details?” Norton asked.
Violet stood, reeling with anger. “I told you, I saw them.” She reached for her raincoat. She’d had enough. “I didn’t ask to see these things, Agent Norton. I don’t want to see them, either. They just come to me.”
“Is there anything else you can tell us?” Agent Adams asked. “Do you see the killer’s face? Has he mentioned who his next victim will be, or how he’s choosing them?”
Violet searched her expression and found a genuine openness. “There is one more thing. He carves a whistle out of bone,” she said. “He makes the women watch him carve it, then he blows through it when they die.”
Agent Adams jerked her head toward Norton, then back to Violet. “Miss Baker, if you believed you were seeing details pertaining to these murders, why didn’t you come forward?”
Violet chewed her lip. “First of all, I didn’t think anyone would believe me. And I didn’t see any details that would help. But then… I finally told Sheriff Monroe.”
She turned to Grady. “You knew this?”
He gave a short nod.
“Then why did you keep this information from us?” she asked.
Grady cleared his throat, keeping his eyes turned away from Violet. “Because I wasn’t sure I believed it.”
A pang of hurt squeezed Violet’s vocal cords. She had to leave. Get out of this room.
She’d thought Grady of all people would back her up.
“Wait, Miss Baker,” Agent Norton called.
“There’s nothing else I can tell you.” She rushed toward the door, exhausted and filled with a myriad of emotions.
Grady stalked after her. “Violet, wait.”
“We’re not finished with you, Sheriff,” Agent Norton snapped.
Grady shot him a threatening look. “Just a minute.”
“Go on, Grady,” Violet said. “I’ll get your deputy to drive me home.”
She flung the door open and left, her heart in her throat as she realized she had fallen for Grady, a man she’d trusted with her darkest secret.
A man who hadn’t believed her.
* * *
“CLOSE THE DOOR, Sheriff.”
Grady squared his shoulders, bracing himself for an inquisition.
“All right, spit it out. We want everything. The story on your sister’s murder, this man Baker’s, and anything else you’ve been holding back.”
“I’m not sure they’re all connected,” Grady said, meeting Agent Norton’s gaze.
“But you suspect they are?”
He shrugged. “It’s possible.”
“Violet Baker knew things that no one could have known,” Agent Adams interjected. “Are you sure you didn’t let something slip? Maybe she got a look at your files.”
“No, this is the first time Violet has even been to the jail since she returned to Crow’s Landing.” Grady hesitated. “And I didn’t report it because I didn’t know what to think at first. Even now I wonder if she’s on the level.”
“The details on all the cases?” Norton snapped.
Grady nodded, then laid out everything he’d uncovered so far.
“No suspects in Baker’s death?”
“No one concrete.” He explained about Darlene’s case, relayed his suspicions about Dwayne Dobbins and Ross Wheeler, and explained their background. But he managed to omit that his father and Baker had argued the night before Jed Baker’s death.
“It was interesting that Violet Baker knew about the bone whistle,” Agent Adams said.
“That’s one reason I think the crimes are connected. I just recently discovered that my sister was found holding a sliver of bone.”
Both the agents looked as perplexed as he had been. “The M.O.s are certainly different,” Agent Adams commented. “And a serial killer usually doesn’t wait twenty years between crimes.”
&nb
sp; “Unless he’s been in jail or a mental institution,” Grady said.
Agent Adams nodded.
“We’ve already been checking priors along with the mental institutions and recent paroles,” Agent Norton said.
“The blood angle is interesting,” Agent Adams murmured. “So far, we hadn’t determined what the killer was taking for his trophy. I wonder what it is about the blood.”
“You mean you believe Violet?” Grady asked.
A faraway look settled in Agent Adams’s eyes. “Let’s say I’ve seen a lot of strange things, Sheriff. I have an open mind and will look at any possibility that might help us crack this case.”
Agent Norton still seemed unconvinced. “Let’s get the forensics reports and compare the victims’ blood,” he said. “See why he might be interested in taking blood samples.”
“It may just be a part of his sickness,” Agent Adams said. “But it may indicate our guy’s in a medical field.”
Grady chewed the inside of his cheek, thinking of Farmer. But he couldn’t see the older man killing women….
What the hell were they missing?
* * *
SOMEONE WAS FOLLOWING HER.
Violet sensed him on her tail as she drove toward the mental hospital where her mother had been. She made a series of turns as she circled the mountain, and checked in her rearview mirror constantly, but she couldn’t pinpoint any specific car.
Maybe she was just being paranoid. Spooked by all that had happened. More than ever, she wanted to get to the bottom of her father’s murder and Darlene’s. She had a feeling solving them might lead them to the serial killer.
What had that reporter said? That the murders had to do with her mother and father and Darlene’s parents.
After she’d gotten home, Violet went to question Dr. Farmer about her mother, but he wasn’t around. His wife had seemed nervous, too, as if she didn’t want to talk to Violet.
No telling what the poor woman had heard about her….
Wetting her dry lips with her tongue, Violet turned onto Black Mountain Road, bypassing the small church where Kerry Cantrell’s body had been found. Whether Grady or that special agent believed her or not, she had to help find this killer. She just had no idea how he was connected to her past.