Don't Say a Word

by Beverly Barton

  DON’ T SAY A WORD

  Julia watched the killer move toward the camera. He was dressed in black, his face hidden by a black ski mask.

  Will ejected the DVD and looked at Julia. “He wants us to find him. He’s helping us. I think he’s frustrated that we haven’t yet.”

  “Or he wants us to know why he’s doing this. Maybe we’re not catching on to his clever little enigmatic clues the way he thinks we should. Maybe he wants us to follow the leads in a certain way, go through this exactly the way he set things up. Could be that he’s not exactly happy with us or the news media’s take on his murders.”

  “He’s got his own murderous agenda, Julia, and he’s carrying it out one step at a time. He knows who we are. He has already contacted you. That puts you in danger. You’ve got to be careful. This man is seriously deranged . . .”

  Books by Beverly Barton

  AFTER DARK EVERY

  MOVE SHE MAKES

  WHAT SHE DOESN’T KNOW

  THE FIFTH VICTIM

  THE LAST TO DIE

  AS GOOD AS DEAD

  KILLING HER SOFTLY

  CLOSE ENOUGH TO KILL

  MOST LIKELY TO DIE

  THE DYING GAME

  THE MURDER GAME

  COLD HEARTED

  SILENT KILLER

  DEAD BY MIDNIGHT

  DON’T CRY

  DEAD BY MORNING

  DEAD BY NIGHTFALL

  DON’T SAY A WORD

  Published by Kensington Publishing Corporation

  BEVERLY BARTON

  DON’T SAY A WORD

  ZEBRA BOOKS

  KENSINGTON PUBLISHING CORP.

  http://www.kensingtonbooks.com

  All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.

  Table of Contents

  DON’ T SAY A WORD

  Books by Beverly Barton

  Title Page

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Thrilling Suspense from Beverly Barton

  Copyright Page

  Prologue

  Despite the sultry summer heat baking all of Chattanooga, the deep limestone cave was pitch-black and extremely cold. The man with the high-beam flashlight slowly made his way down through the connecting tunnel, turning on the electric lanterns hung at intervals along the way. He wasn’t a killer yet, but he soon would be. He was tired of waiting, tired of the years of pain and heartbreak and the suppressed fury locked inside his head. He stopped and rubbed his temples with his fingertips, feeling the onset of another violent headache.

  The lanterns cast a strange white light that sent elongated shadows onto the craggy rock walls. It was damp so deep in the earth, and rife with the smell of mold and rot and sulfur. Once he reached his secret room, he pulled on a heavy military-green parka. He kept it hidden there for times such as this, for days when he wanted only to retreat from the real world and everybody in it. For times when he hurt so bad inside that he couldn’t stand it a minute longer, couldn’t stand to go about and pretend to have a normal life or be a decent human being. He wasn’t normal, not anymore. He might even be going insane. Maybe he was already. Maybe he always had been. He didn’t really feel insane, not all the time. The actions he was contemplating now were completely crazy. He knew that. Still, he craved them. Savored the gruesome details of his murderous fantasies. Thought of little else but finally, after all these years, exacting his righteous revenge.

  Moving across the big cavern, he sat down in an old brown rocking chair at the crude table he’d made out of planks and sawhorses. He gazed down at the objects he’d placed on the table, caressing each one. Everything was ready now. He’d purchased all the supplies he needed for his first kill. He’d been careful, had planned for years how he would carry out the darkest of his fantasies. He had driven all the way to Atlanta to buy the yellow ski rope. He’d selected a small sporting goods shop in Powder Springs, one without a surveillance camera, run by a teenage clerk that didn’t have a clue. The twelve-inch fillet knife was purchased in Knoxville at a seedy fishing and hunting discount store in a strip mall. Some of the other things he had made himself, to suit his specific needs. Yes, it was all coming together nicely—all the errands run, the knife sharpened to a razor edge, the coins polished and counted out in distinct piles.

  The large Murder Book was also on the table. He had spent years collecting and pasting photographs and newspaper articles on its pages. There were a dozen people who had to die; maybe more, depending on what his victims told him before they took their last breath. The book’s pages were separated with numbered tabs. He had placed each person in the book in the order they would die. He pulled the book onto his lap and opened the unadorned black cover. There, on page one, staring arrogantly at the camera, hiding all his wicked vileness behind a smiling facade, was victim One, the worst of the rotten, lying lot he was going to enjoy killing.

  A white Bible lay beside the Murder Book. He opened it to the page marked with a narrow, red satin ribbon. The book of Proverbs. He found the right page and placed his finger on the verse that gave him permission to do the deeds he contemplated. The familiar peacefulness flooded down over him like a soothing balm, and he grew strangely calm and determined. The time had come. He would start tonight. He would take someone’s life for the very first time. He had it planned down to every detail, every exigency, and every possible eventuality. He would kill and mutilate and wreak God’s vengeance on the guilty and wicked.

  But could he do it? Could he go against every principle he had believed in for his entire life? Could he get his revenge? Kill in cold blood? Murder with pleasure? Did he have the stomach for the gruesome, bloody acts he had dreamed about doing for so long?

  Oh yes, he thought, staring down at the smiling photograph of One in his Murder Book. Yes, he could. And he would. Soon.

  Chapter 1

  Will Brannock awoke to some very warm lips nibbling on his bare shoulder. He turned over, more than willing to spend another hour or two in bed with Pam Ford. She was scheduled to fly out again to New York and then on to Rome, and Will meant to enjoy her until her plane took to the air. A flight attendant, Pam rarely got assignments in Chattanooga—every two or three months—but when she did, they always spent time together. She was an old friend, a real beauty, who made it crystal clear up front that she wanted no strings attached, just a good time together when she came to town. All of which suited Will just fine. The last thing he wanted was a committed relationship. It was out of the question. But Pam didn’t care. She was always hot and eager and highly imaginative in bed. Will couldn’t argue with that.

  “Wish I could stay a few more days,” Pam whispered in her husky voice, her tongue licking at his earlobe. “It’s been so long this time. I’ve missed you.”

  “Me too.” That was only partially true. He liked her, she was as desirable as any woman he’d been with, and they always had fun together. But spending more than a day or two in a hotel room with her was too much of a good thing. The occasional tryst suited him just fine. And if it never happened again, that was fine, too.

  “We’ve still got some time,” she said, rubbing her soft naked body against his bare chest.
Pam turned him on, no doubt about it, with all that curly, dark red hair and those clear grass-green eyes. A dedicated runner like he was, Pam was built, toned and tanned and always ready. He’d met her through his sister, Colleen, who worked for the same airline, and they’d enjoyed these short romantic interludes ever since. No ties, no promises, no cohabitation, but a hell of a lot of fireworks between the sheets.

  Will rolled on top of her and tangled his fingers in her hair. She laughed, but she was more than ready and so was he. He brought his mouth down on the hollow of her collarbone and heard the familiar weak moan. Pinning her hands over her head, he felt the growing need inside himself. So when his cell phone dinged on the bedside table, he muttered a low curse and pulled away.

  “No, let it ring,” Pam said, her pouty voice full of erotic promises.

  “Can’t do that. Hang on. Don’t move.”

  Will let go of her and sat up on the edge of the bed. He grabbed his cell phone on the second ring. The screen identified the caller as J.D. Cass, one of Will’s fellow special agents at the Tennessee Bureau of Investigation. He hit the button.

  “Yeah, J.D. What’s up?”

  “Hey, you busy?”

  “You could say that.” Will glanced over his shoulder at the way Pam was moving her body around provocatively. She held out her arms for him.

  “Too busy to do me a huge favor?” J.D. was saying.

  J.D. wasn’t one to ask favors, huge or otherwise. The guy was always on the job, always working a case, completely dedicated to his career. Will liked and admired him, although they’d only been in the Chattanooga field office together for about a year and a half. Last year, J.D. had solved one of the biggest cases the city had ever seen. The Rocking Chair Murders had been horrific for everybody concerned. Four women had died at the hands of a serial killer before J.D. and Will managed to take him down in the basement of an old church. They barely got there in time to save the last victim. J.D. was still involved in wrapping up that trial.

  “I’m down at the criminal courts,” J.D. continued. “The damn trial’s gone into recess again. Now they’re discussing the admissibility of defense witnesses. Tam and I have both been waiting for hours to be called.”

  Tam Lovelady was the detective with the Chattanooga Police Department who had worked that serial killer case alongside J.D. Both were subpoenaed to testify and had been cooling their heels while the trial motions went on and on. “Bummer. Okay, J.D., sure. What’d you need?”

  Will felt Pam’s mouth on his back, her tongue tracing patterns, and he shut his eyes as she slowly kissed her way up to the side of his neck.

  “My kid sister’s coming in today out at the airport. I’m supposed to pick her up, but there’s no way I can get away. I know you took a few days off, and I hate to ask, but is there any chance you can break loose and go get her for me and drop her off out at my house? I’d owe you big, Will.”

  Why not? J.D. was in a jam. Will was taking Pam out to the airport in a couple of hours, anyway. “Sure. When’s she due in?”

  “Any minute now. Her name’s Julia. You’ve heard me mention her, right?”

  “Yeah, the Julia with the marksmanship medals. Okay, no problem. What’s her flight number?”

  “Flight eight twenty-four out of Miami. US Airways.”

  “Is she expecting me?”

  “I can’t get through. She must’ve turned off her cell on the plane. Or forgot to charge it. She has a tendency to do that.”

  “What’s she look like?”

  “Long, dark hair. Five foot seven. Pretty. Actually, she looks a lot like Zoe. You’ll like her. She’s a real sweetheart. She just signed up with the Chattanooga PD homicide division. Man, it’s going to be great to see her. Even better that she’s going to live here in town.”

  “Right. I’ll get out there as soon as I can.” Will watched Pam purse her lips in disappointment, get up, and move off toward the bathroom. She looked as good from behind as she did from the front.

  “I appreciate it, Will.”

  “No problem. Don’t worry about it.”

  “Tell her to turn on the damn phone and give me a call.”

  Will punched off and stood up, stretching as he walked toward the bathroom. Julia Cass could wait a little longer. He probably wouldn’t see Pam again for months, and he intended to give her a proper good-bye.

  Julia Cass was mightily ticked off but trying her best not to show it. God knew, she wasn’t the most patient sort in the world, and J.D. should’ve been here to pick her up nearly an hour ago. Not that she was surprised. How many times had he left her sitting at school or the library or the mall, when they both still lived at home? Back then, either his job kept him overtime, or one of the floozy types he liked to date in his younger days. She glanced at her white wristwatch again. Everybody from her flight had cleared out, and the next round of passengers was beginning to check in.

  Her cell phone battery was low, so she couldn’t call him, and the nearest pay phone was out of order, so she spent her time watching the travelers rushing around and willing herself to be patient. She loved her older brother dearly, she truly did. He had practically raised her since their mother had left the family when Julia was too young to remember. Her father died when she was fourteen, and after that, J.D. was father, mother, and brother to her. He had worked nights to support them, until he graduated from college and then the police academy. The only thing she hadn’t liked back then was his choice of women. They were all sexy and alluring and trashy. Certainly not the kind of women J.D. wanted her to hang around with. But he had always been there for her, and he was the major influence that brought her into a law enforcement career.

  “J.D., I am absolutely going to kill you if you don’t get here soon,” she muttered under her breath.

  Watching the people on the concourse, she searched yet again for her brother’s tall figure. She didn’t see hide nor hair of him, but she did notice a tall, good-looking guy walking past her with a striking redhead hanging all over him. J.D.’s type of gal before he met Audrey Sherrod, she thought. Bored, she watched the couple move away toward the gate across from Julia. He was a hot guy, all right, but she had a feeling he knew it, too, and all too well. The red-haired girl was dressed in a tight-fitting Delta flight attendant’s uniform and pulled a black, wheeled suitcase. The guy was wearing a black University of Alabama T-shirt, dark jeans, and black running shoes. He was obviously seeing his ladylove off to work, and was he ever.

  Julia watched the pair step behind a pillar and succumb to a blatant and totally inappropriate make-out session, which Julia could still see all too well in the window reflection. The lengthy embrace was mostly brought on by the woman, who, yes, was all over him. The kiss that followed wasn’t exactly G-rated, either. In other words, they liked each other mucho much and didn’t mind showing it.

  Not particularly into PDAs or voyeurism, Julia glanced away and watched the other passengers rushing hither and thither to catch flights. She’d give J.D. ten more minutes, and then she was catching a cab out of there. Her bloodhound, Jasper, was waiting somewhere down in baggage claim, and he didn’t like being caged up anymore than she did. She wasn’t a teenager anymore, and she didn’t have to wait on her big brother’s whims. He would be mad, but so what. So was she.

  Glancing back at Mr. Romeo in the black T-shirt, she watched him give Red one last, lingering kiss. It looked to Julia like he was now itching to end the perpetual and steamy I-really-really-mean-it farewell, and she would bet a dollar he was relieved when the flight attendant finally extricated herself from his clutches, rolled her suitcase to the desk, and with one last wave and blown kiss, disappeared down the tunnel en route to her plane. Her handsome Lothario sauntered away and leaned back against the pillar, looking around as if searching for somebody to take her place.

  My God, was he really on point for a new squeeze? she thought. Fascinated by him, largely because she had nothing better to do, Julia watched a blond flight attendant hu
rry past and then head straight for the same guy. Dapper Dan grinned and hugged her, then kissed her on both cheeks. Good grief. Two-timing jerk, she thought, glancing away in disgust.

  Ten minutes passed. Julia spent most of that time watching I’m-So-Hot-And-Know-It waving and smiling at one flight attendant after another. Oh yeah, this guy had found a good hunting ground for guileless female prey. All he needed was a quiver and two dozen Cupid arrows. Jeez, some guys were just so full of themselves. He looked good, that was for damn sure; she couldn’t deny that. He looked to be about six four or five, maybe even six foot six—really tall, probably even taller than J.D. His hair was dark blond and short, gelled a little on top, and he had one of those chiseled GQ model faces. High cheekbones, square jaw, lean muscular body like a pro athlete—a basketball player, maybe. If not, she bet he was a marathon runner or a long-distance swimmer, and she had a feeling he was a man who enjoyed himself more than anyone else possibly could. Unfortunately, he reminded her of J.D., back when he was young and stupid and slept around with anything that wore a skirt.

  As the next flight departing from her gate was announced over the intercom, Julia stood up. Okay, she’d waited long enough. Time to think for herself. Jasper, poor baby, was going to be mad as hell at her. She picked up her purse, glanced once more at the guy, and found him staring hard at her. He gave her THE FATAL GRIN, and let that be one written in all caps. She resisted fainting dead away, not that she was a woman who ever would. She watched him amble over her way, all easy charm and appreciative smile. Julia stared at him. Surely he wasn’t going to try his luck with her, too. She almost laughed. Fat chance of that, she thought.

  He stopped in front of her, that deadly grin back in place and meant to melt her into a deeper puddle than the Wicked Witch of the West. In fact, she bet he had to wear boots, he left so many puddles in his wake.

  “Hi there,” he said to her in a deep, Josh Turner kind of voice. “Are you sitting here waiting for somebody to pick you up?”