by Rita Herron
Her hand trembled as she tore the edge of the brown wrapping. Her imagination went wild. Movie clippings flashed in her head. Sometimes killers sent body parts. Fingers, toes…
The paper fell away. A small jewelry-size box came into view. She sucked in a sharp breath as she opened it.
Her heart squeezed at the sight of the object. Emotions clogged her throat. It was half of a Best Friends necklace. She felt the jagged edges of her own. This was the other half.
Darlene’s.
* * *
GRADY STOOD STONE STILL, trying to recover from the shock of seeing Laney Longhorse here with his father. “What’s going on?”
His father gestured for him to sit down, but he couldn’t. Not here in his father’s bedroom. “Answer me, Dad.”
“I…made some mistakes in the past, Son. But I kept this bone, hoping someday I’d be able to use it to find Darlene’s murderer.”
“If you wanted that, you should have given it to me.”
“I was trying to protect you.”
“I’m a cop, Dad. It’s my job to study evidence, connect the clues to solve crimes.” Grady rocked back on his boot heels, impatient. “For God’s sake, that piece of bone could be vital to this serial killer case. We think they’re all connected.”
“I’m aware of that,” Walt said.
“And you know all about that research clinic, that Teresa conceived Darlene through a sperm donor.”
“Yes, but at first Teresa didn’t realize it wasn’t my sperm. And when she found out, well, that’s why they killed her.”
“Who, Dad?”
His father hissed. “I don’t know names. She called me as she was leaving the clinic that day. She was upset, mumbling something about sperm donors and some kind of experiment and the Baker woman. She’d discovered that Darlene wasn’t mine, but they warned her to keep silent.” He hesitated, his breathing wheezing out. “Then she had an accident. Just like that Baker woman, she ended up dead.”
“Why didn’t you report your suspicions, Dad?”
His father squeezed his eyes shut, then opened them. Anguish blackened his pupils. “Because I had no proof. And I was mayor. I didn’t want word to spread that Darlene wasn’t my child.”
Grady shook his head in disgust.
“And then we lost Darlene and I had no proof,” he said, reaching for a match and a cigar. “I was worried if I said something, whoever killed Darlene would come after you.”
“You didn’t come forward to protect me?”
“That’s right.”
Grady leaned against the doorjamb. “If you wanted to protect me, you wouldn’t have blamed me for Darlene’s death.”
“I was so screwed up by then,” his father admitted, lighting the cigar. “Tate was beatin’ at my door with questions, and I felt guilty. Teresa would never have gone back to work if she hadn’t found out I was sleeping around. And she wouldn’t have wanted a baby so bad. She thought…” he hesitated, suddenly clamming up.
“She thought having a child would hold him forever and make him love her,” Laney said. “And your father didn’t hurt your sister or Teresa. At least not physically. He tried to do right by both of his children.”
“And how would you know all this?” Bitterness edged Grady’s voice.
“Because I was with him the night of Teresa’s accident.”
Grady gaped at them both. He’d always suspected his father of having affairs, but with Laney? Joseph’s mother? Jesus, if Joseph knew, no wonder he hated Grady and his dad.
Grady was shaking inside. He couldn’t believe all the secrets. “How long has it been going on?”
His father rubbed a hand over his chest. “A long time. I’m ashamed to say I never had the courage to go public.”
Grady gritted his teeth. “And you were together the night Teresa died? What about when Darlene was killed?”
Laney nodded.
“There’s more, Son.” His father stood slowly, as if summoning his courage. “Laney was the first woman I ever loved. But we didn’t think it was right to be together back then. My career, our family name…”
His father’s words began to register.
“So I let him go,” Laney said. “I wanted your father to be happy. I thought I was doing the right thing for him. For both of you.”
Grady staggered backward. “What are you saying?”
His father slid an arm around Laney’s thin shoulders. “Grady, Laney is your mother.”
* * *
MAVIS DOBBINS HAD TO protect her son. No matter what it cost her. Even if she had to kill that dang, stupid reporter.
She tossed her apron over the kitchen chair and headed toward Dwayne’s room to check on him. She hadn’t worked all these years to have some no-account, scrawny-ass man nosing into her and Dwayne’s past, throwing their dirty laundry on the lawn for everyone and his neighbor to tromp on. It was all she could do to support herself working at the Rest Easy Nursing Home, what with Dwayne hopping from one piddly job to another. And she owed old man Tate and that doctor a bundle already. Now that Morris feller had reported that filth about her boy. Next thing she knowed, he’d be digging into old police reports and bribing Doc Farmer to talk.
That bastard would sell his own young ’un for a dollar.
And if Morris ever got ahold of Dwayne’s medical records…
“Dwayne!” She beat on his door, almost taking it off the hinges in the process. But the boy had locked it. What in the world did he do in there all by hisself? “Open this door before I get me a crowbar and tear it plumb down.”
Silence.
“Dwayne Dobbins, do you hear me? I said open this danged door.” She banged on it with her fists, the wood vibrating beneath her splotched hands. “Hellfire and damnation, I’m gonna take a stick to you if you don’t answer me.”
More silence.
Like a pressure cooker ready to explode, she ran to the garage, grabbed a sledgehammer and hurried back. She’d teach him to lock the door. He couldn’t lock it if he didn’t have one.
She raised the sledgehammer and slammed it into the thin wood, watching it splinter. Again and again she swung it, until the doorknob fell off, rolled across the floor. Then, on a full-blown tear now, she pushed inside the room.
It was empty.
A pack of matches lay on his nightstand, a newspaper spread on the denim coverlet. The picture showed the fire up at Black Mountain Mental Hospital.
Her heart jumped to her throat. What in God’s name had her son been up to now?
* * *
VIOLET TWISTED her Best Friends necklace between her fingers, remembering the day Darlene had given it to her. She’d been so happy she’d felt like crying.
Tears dribbled from her eyes now. Tears for Darlene, the best friend she’d lost.
The killer had sent the necklace to her. He’d kept it all these years. And he knew where Violet was. The necklace was meant as a message.
He was coming for her soon.
Was that the reason she would be last? Because Darlene had been first? Start this killing spree with Darlene and end with her?
A tingle traveled up her back. Violet froze, sinking onto the couch as another vision rose from the darkness.
He was on the hunt again. She could feel it. He was prowling, looking for his next victim.
She had long blond hair. Hair that looked like a silken web flowing down her slender back. Hair the color of sunshine.
He liked sunshine. So much better than the darkness. It had been so dark when he’d been locked up. And cold. And lonely.
She wouldn’t like it, either.
He sighed, his body humming with adrenaline as he imagined her eyes widening in fright as she faced death. He could almost feel her body, stiff and unbending as he laid her on the altar. He could see her blood. Dripping. Dripping. Filling the tube.
All for the father.
She turned, angling her head as if she sensed him in the crowd. No. Only Violet Baker could do that.
He couldn’t wait to take her.
Those big, baby-blue eyes would cry out, plead with him to stop. But he’d remind her that it was too late.
She was the final sacrifice. The last little angel.
And if she was as perfect as he expected her to be, his father would bow to him as the favored. Just as it should have been all along.
“Can you see me, now, Violet? Can you look into my eyes and see yourself as I take your blood?”
Violet dropped her head into her hands and moaned, terror ripping through her. Yes, she could see him. But where was he?
* * *
“NO.” Denial, shock, betrayal spread through Grady. Laney Longhorse was not his mother. She couldn’t be. She’d been in town, nearby, all these years. His mother had left town….
His mind retraced the years. Years he’d felt abandoned. Years he’d tried to please Teresa and his father, and been unable to do so. Years when he’d blamed himself for Darlene’s death.
Years he hadn’t known he had a half brother and mother living a mile away.
He had to work to find his voice. “How could you lie to me all this time?”
Laney reached for him, but he jerked back. “I did it for you, Grady. I wanted you to have a good life, the kind of life your father could give you. You’ve seen how hard it’s been for Joseph. It would have been that way for you.”
“At least Joseph knew his mother loved him,” Grady growled. “I thought mine had abandoned me.”
“But I never did. Not in my heart.”
Grady’s stomach churned. All the birthdays he’d wanted his mother to show up for. The Christmases. The times he’d tried to imagine what she must look like. “I suppose everyone in town knows the truth, but me,” Grady said bitterly.
“No.” His father reached for him, but Grady backed away. “I told everyone your mother was someone I’d met in Nashville.”
“And I didn’t move into town until later,” Laney said.
“What about Joseph?” Grady asked. “Is he your son, Dad?”
Walt blanched, but Laney answered instead. “No. I met his father a couple of years later. He was a stranger who came through town.”
Grady had to get away. He couldn’t deal with this now. Avoiding Laney’s pleading, tear-filled eyes, he turned to his father. “Give me the bone whistle.”
“What?” Walt shook his head. “But why? What are you going to do with it?” Panic laced his voice. “If you give it to the FBI now, they’ll think I’m guilty.”
Grady glared at him. He didn’t know what he’d do. But his father might get rid of it. Grady couldn’t let that happen.
“It might help me track down Darlene’s real killer, Dad, and the person who killed Teresa and Violet’s father. And for God’s sake, what about all these other women? Don’t you care about anyone but yourself?”
“We both care about you, Grady,” Laney said in a calm voice. “Your father kept quiet to protect you.”
“He kept quiet to protect his political reputation.”
His father dropped his head forward, cigar ashes falling to the floor. “My political career was over when I became a suspect in Darlene’s murder.”
“Parents are always suspects when there’s a missing child,” Grady stated.
“And now the FBI is looking at Joseph,” Laney said.
Laney pressed a hand to her face and shook her head. “Joseph is innocent. I swear it, Grady. He is not a killer.”
Grady stared at them both in disbelief, took the bone whistle from his father and placed it in his shirt pocket. Then he turned and stormed out the door without another word.
He had to get away. Think about what they’d done to him. Find out the truth.
His cell phone rang before he reached his car. Shit. He checked the number. Violet. Emotions hung thick in his voice as he answered, “It’s Grady.”
“Grady, I just had another vision. The killer is hunting for his next victim.”
His hand went to the bone whistle in his pocket. “Did you see anything specific, something that might help us know where he is?”
“No.” Her voice broke. “But when I got home, there was a package waiting for me. It was the other half of my Best Friends necklace. Darlene’s half. I think the killer sent it to me.”
* * *
VIOLET PACED THE FLOOR, trying to connect with the woman. But either she had temporarily escaped the killer’s clutches, or he had caught her and she was unconscious. Maybe if Violet tried harder, she could read the killer’s thoughts. Maybe he’d reveal the victim’s name.
She slumped onto the sofa, leaned back and closed her eyes, willing the worst to happen. Willing herself to see inside his head. But there was nothing but darkness. A cold, pervasive emptiness that clawed at her, sucking at her energy. Like a tunnel filled with quicksand, it dragged her deeper and deeper. She couldn’t escape. She couldn’t move.
Then she was looking into his eyes again.
They smiled at her. Blue. Just like her own.
Suddenly they disappeared behind a wall of black. He was playing with her. But the scent of death surrounded her. Strong, Acrid.
A knock sounded, and she nearly jumped out of her skin. Grady.
She ran to the door and flung it open. Grady’s shoulders were slumped, his hair rumpled, his jaw clenched. His eyes blazed with emotions. Something was wrong. He looked more haggard than she’d ever seen him.
“I called and warned Agent Norton about your vision,” Grady mumbled. “Did you see anything else?”
Violet shook her head. “No. Nothing specific.” She showed him the package that had arrived. His expression turned darker as he bagged it and the wrapping to test for evidence.
“This confirms there’s one killer. The feds are working on that list of medical personnel and the sperm donors and offspring.” His shoulders slumped even more.
“Grady, I’m so sorry. Did something else happen?”
A sardonic chuckle rumbled from him. “Other than the fact that a serial killer is about to strike again, and I don’t have a damn clue who it is?”
She nodded, then he crushed her against him. Her heart was beating frantically.
“I just found out my dad had an affair years ago,” Grady said.
She pulled back and looked into his eyes, saw the pain and anguish. “I don’t understand.”
“He claimed my mother abandoned me.”
She nodded, her heart breaking for him. She, of all people, understood that sick feeling. They had both felt abandoned. No wonder they had been drawn together.
“But he lied to me. All these years, he lied.” His voice thickened with raw pain. “My mother’s been living in Crow’s Landing all along. Just a mile from me.”
“What?”
He nodded, released her, then turned and paced across the room. His movements were jerky, his breathing erratic. His need palpable.
When he faced her again, a storm brewed in his eyes. “My mother is Laney Longhorse.”
Violet stared at him in shock. “Oh, Grady! Why…why didn’t they tell you?”
“They said they wanted to protect me.” His voice was laced with bitterness. “But he was protecting his damn reputation. He was a fucking politician. And he’d screwed a native woman. He didn’t want to lose voters.”
Violet’s heart ached for him. “I—I’m sure Laney wanted to tell you, Grady. She—”
“She gave me up, Violet. She left me with him, a man who didn’t want me around.” He began to pace again, his boots clicking on the floor. “Do you know how many times I lay in my bed and wondered what my mother looked like? Wondered where she was? Why she couldn’t have loved me?” His voice rose, tormented. “I always wondered why he hadn’t kept any pictures of her. Why he never tried to find her.”
Violet felt his pain, sharp and raw. It was just how she’d felt, all those times she’d ached for her own father.
She had to go to him. Do something. Say something.
“Grady, I’m sure Laney wanted you. She probably thought she was giving you a better life—”
“How could it be better when I thought she didn’t love me? When my father blamed me for Darlene’s death? When I…” He gripped the edge of a chair, dropped his head forward, his big shoulders shaking with repressed emotions.
Violet couldn’t stand it anymore. She walked toward him. Lifted a hand. Stroked his back. He felt hot. Tense. Then he turned. Tried to contain his emotions, but pain darkened his eyes.
She reached up and cupped his jaw in her hand. “I understand, Grady. But Darlene’s death wasn’t your fault. Your father had no right to blame you. I…I know, I’ve struggled with that guilt all my life.”
“They lied to me, Violet….”
“I know. I’m so sorry.” Tears pushed at her throat. But she wouldn’t cry. She had to comfort Grady. He needed her right now.
She offered him a watery smile. His hand grasped hers and cradled it. His palms were clammy, his face tortured. “I should go.”
She wet her lips, unspoken emotions rippling between them. The fear she’d felt earlier rushed back. Her own need pulsed in her words. “No, Grady, please don’t leave.”
He shook his head. “You don’t deserve this, Violet. You were right to stay away from this town. You should leave now, go somewhere so you’ll be safe.”
“Leaving won’t make it go away, Grady,” she said in a weary voice. “Believe me, I carried the pain and loss with me wherever I was.”
He turned again. Then he raised his head and looked into her eyes. Emotions lay there between them. Hunger. Desire.
She reached for him, and he crushed her in his arms. Then his big powerful body shuddered against her. She forgot her own anguish and fear. She wanted to make his hurt go away, though she had no idea how. But she had to hold him.
Her pulse pounding in her throat, she cupped his face and pressed her lips to his. His mouth met hers. The sound of raw need he emitted set her body on fire.
She’d never been held by a man like this. Had never trusted anyone to get close. Had never wanted to tear away all her walls and let herself be this vulnerable.