“I’m not entirely convinced of an Oedipus complex with this one,” Carol offered thoughtfully. “Something’s off about it.”
“I tend to agree. Same with the occult.” Mitch turned to speak directly to Carol. “I’d bet my pension this is just one guy and has nothing to do with the occult.”
“What makes you say that?” Maurice demanded, clearly hoping for anything he could tell the governor.
Mitch turned back to the CA. “If this were occult, we would have hard evidence of more than one actor. The times and places the killings took place, just one killer slipping in and out is barely possible. More than one actor would have been seen. Also, occult killings are all about human sacrifice. The killers would have severed fingers or toes for use in cannibalistic ceremonies. They likely would have dismembered the bodies and written incantations using the blood of the victims. The crime scenes are way too clean. The bodies are fully intact.”
Maurice nodded. “Got it. Good. Any of that in the profile?”
Mitch shook his head.
“Anything else?” Maurice asked.
Carol said, “I have a contact in Washington who isn’t with the Bureau who I think might be able to give us an in-depth profile, one that doesn’t contain the standard boilerplate or last minute nonsense.”
Maurice checked the time, then nodded. “Then get it, Carol.”
“I’ll have to send her all the files,” Carol said.
Maurice raised an eyebrow. “Send her whatever you have to send her. Whatever it takes.”
After a quick knock, Rhonda poked her head inside and her eyes sought out Carol. Finding her sitting between Mitch and Jack, her eyebrows knotted in apparent confusion. She said, “Carol, there’s a new development in the Kennedy case. You need to hear this.”
Carol closed her files, picked up her coffee, and said, “I’ll be right there.”
Maurice waved them all off like shooing flies off a picnic lunch. “All of you, get back to work. The boss is calling any second.” Just then, his intercom buzzed and he wiped his forehead with a handkerchief. He picked up the phone and greeted the governor while waving them all out of the office.
“I want this room stripped and completely redone. I drew up some plans for the walls and floors. It needs to meet with all of my acoustical specs,” Bobby said, stepping into what used to be the den.
The contractor, Ed Westbury, Jr., followed with a notebook, silently cringing at the memories in the room. He wasn’t a sentimental kind of guy, and he was pleased as punch that his parents seemed to be happy about the situation, but tearing down the walls that had to be repainted when he and his brothers decided to create a mural with magic markers sent a little twinge through his stomach.
“Got it, Mr. Kent. Anything else?” he asked with a smile.
“I bet you think that’s enough for now. You can get started right away?”
“Yes, sir. Dad let me know you were in a hurry to get settled in, so as soon as I finish writing up the list of supplies we need, I’ll send Joe on over to the lumber yard while me and the rest of the boys get started on the demolition.”
Bobby narrowed his eyes at him. “You run a multimillion dollar construction company, right?”
Ed, Jr., grinned. “Yep.”
“So why are you joining the boys in the demolition?”
“Well, dad was also pretty specific about that. I’m supposed to be on hand to make sure it’s done and done right, and since he still sits on the board of directors, I really don’t have a whole lot of choice.”
Bobby stuck his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels. “I don’t want to come between you and your father, but won’t your company suffer from your absence?”
Ed, Jr., said, “My company would suffer more from my father’s wrath than me being away for a few days to mind a job, Mr. Kent. He may come across as a sweet and somewhat addled old man, but there’s a reason his company grew to one of the largest in the state.”
“Did you grow up in this house?” Bobby asked.
Ed Jr. grinned. “Dad built this house when I was eight. It was the second one he built for us. I lived here for more than ten years.”
Bobby looked around, perhaps trying to see small children gathered around a television or a dining room table or a Christmas tree. Then he turned back and asked, “How do you feel about gutting it?”
His contractor grinned a bittersweet grin. “To be honest, Mr. Kent, I have mixed feelings. But at the end of the day, she’s your house now and the old girl could use a few updates.”
Bobby smiled, then nodded. “Then I’m in good hands. Allow me to get out of your way.”
“We’ll be done before the end of the week. We have crews and subcontractors that we’ll pull off some of the bigger jobs to help knock this one out.”
Bobby walked through the doorway and into the entrance hall, opening the door to let some fresh air inside. “If you can see what you can do about getting the bedroom upstairs done first, I’d be grateful.”
Ed, Jr., appeared next to him in the doorway and gave a sharp whistle to a man standing by a truck. “Already know about that one, Mr. Kent,” he said, handing Joe the list of supplies. “The bonnie blue carpet and paint should be here any minute.”
CHAPTER 17
Personal Journal Entry
May 1
He hides his intentions so well. He’s like a chameleon. But I know him. The need is gnawing through his chest, consuming him like a fire. She has no idea he’s right beside her, toying with her like a cat with a baby bird. He was right there in the same room when she met with Maurice and the Governor called. He’s right in front of her face and she can’t see him for what he is. Maybe she just finds him a nuisance. She doesn’t see his power and his rage. She ignores his power. That only makes it worse. It incenses him.
I thought he could wait. I can’t fight him anymore. I thought the last girl had appeased him, but she hadn’t. It’s all he can think about. Killing her is all he can think about.
And she’s all I can think about. I’m trying to protect her, but I’m losing the battle. It’s like he knows my moves and thoughts ahead of time and he’s just wearing me down.
RHONDA Regalman walked out of a courtroom at the same time Carol came out of hers. They met in the center of the shared waiting area, entrances to courtrooms on both sides all around them. Rhonda raised an eyebrow as Carol yawned so hard she thought her jaw might pop.
“Rough night?”
“This Richmond Red thing’s going to be the death of me.”
Rhonda shuddered. “I don’t think I’d want to be that literal.”
“You’re probably right.”
It was after three and she was practically stumbling by the time they arrived back at the office. As they went through the glass doors and into the reception area, Carol nodded to the receptionist before going through the next set of doors. As they walked down the corridor, Carol said, “I think I’m going to try to cut out of here early, Rhonda. I’m not feeling well.”
Rhonda narrowed her dark brown eyes at Carol. “You look exhausted. Did you sleep at all last night?”
Carol rubbed the back of her neck. “Not even a little.”
“That makes for a long day.” She gestured at Carol’s office. “I think I left my file on your desk after lunch.”
Carol opened the office door. When she turned on the light and looked at her desk, she stopped short. The largest bouquet of flowers she’d ever seen sat right in the center. Every color in the spectrum had to be represented, and she knew it would take a horticulture expert to name all the blooms. She enjoyed the smell of the sweet fragrance while she searched for the card. Finding it nestled in the center, she felt the first genuine smile of the day when she read, “Happy Mother’s Day Month. Love, Bobby and Lisa.”
“Oh, how very sweet,” she said, moving the vase from her desk to her credenza.
“Who are they from?” Rhonda asked.
“My daughter.�
� She felt a renewed sense of energy, and sat in her chair. “For an early Mother’s Day.”
“Rather elaborate for an 8-year-old, isn’t it? Seems like she’d get more joy out of picking some flowers.”
Carol quickly estimated the approximate cost of the bouquet and realized that it amounted to an extravagant gift. She grinned and said, “I don’t even care right now. These flowers made my day.”
Rhonda picked up her file. “Get some rest tonight.”
“Congratulations on the guilty verdict today.”
“Well, he was guilty.” Rhonda paused at the doorway. “Hope you manage to get out of here.”
With a laugh, Carol answered the ringing phone. “Yeah, here’s hoping.” As she pressed the button to engage the call, she said, “Carol Mabry.”
CINDY Brooks sat at the table in the corner of the coffee shop and felt her eyes blur a bit behind her reading glasses. She’d been in the same spot for about four hours, and thought maybe it was time to pack up and go home.
As a freelance writer, she enjoyed getting out of the apartment and people watching while she fulfilled various commitments, but today just dragged on and on. The words weren’t coming, and evening approached. Cindy decided she’d grab some coconut soup from her favorite Thai place and move to the pool side of her apartment complex. Maybe inspiration would strike then.
“Hello,” a warm voice said. She paused in the middle of packing up her laptop and looked up into the bluest eyes she’d ever seen. Her writer’s mind immediately started compiling all the different descriptions of blue she could come up with: cerulean, sapphire, cobalt.
“Mind if I sit here? The rest of the good seats seem to be taken.”
She felt nervous, flustered, excited. As she felt sweat bead on her upper lip and her cheeks flush, she gestured to the chair across from her. The pool could wait. “Of course. Please. I was about to leave anyway.”
“Oh, please don’t leave,” he said. “You’re the best looking view in this place.”
Unsure of what to do, feeling clumsy and silly, she held out her hand. “I’m Cindy.”
The hand that gripped hers felt warm, strong. “Rob,” the man said. He had dark lashes that framed his blue eyes, a black goatee, and black hair. He was perfectly dressed in a dark gray suit and royal blue shirt that made his eyes glow. She felt herself getting lost in their depths.
“It’s a pleasure, Rob,” she whispered.
“SO the trick is not to use any salt. No water on your meat, make sure it’s completely defrosted, and absolutely no salt. You can use butter or some olive oil, and you can use some pepper and other seasonings. No problem. But water and salt will just ruin an otherwise good steak. So, what are the two most important things?” Bobby Kent turned the steak on the grill and added some more seasoning to it.
“Start with a defrosted steak, and don’t use water or salt,” Lisa answered.
Bobby grinned. “That’s my girl.”
Lisa sat in the swing on the back porch playing with a pair of dolls. The beautiful voice of Melody Mason Montgomery on the radio filled the air. “Where’d you learn that?”
He frowned a little bit. “From my dad.”
Lisa looked up, her dolls momentarily forgotten. “Grandpa Kent?”
Bobby nodded and felt his shoulders tense and his jaw clench. “Yeah. Your grandpa. He knows his way around a grill. Always has. I’ll give him that.”
Bobby felt the tension in his shoulders relax a bit when Lisa went back to her dolls. He closed the lid on the grill and took a deep breath. He picked up his glass of ice cold tea and took a long swallow, thinking the picturesque scene lacked only one ingredient. Then he smiled when he heard a vehicle pulling into the driveway next door.
He lifted the lid on the grill long enough to toss on three ears of fresh corn smothered in butter and wrapped in foil, then closed the lid and waited. He knew she would walk over to get Lisa, and the two of them would convince her to eat dinner at his house. They’d both already conspired about it. The only downside was that he would have to watch them leave at the end of the evening, but that would eventually change. He felt confident of that.
After last night, and then the afternoon he spent with Lisa, he no longer thought the feelings that had begun to bloom for Carol were a backwash of his feelings for Lisa. He loved Lisa as if he had been there since the very day she was born and nothing would change that. His feelings for Carol, though, were another matter.
He found Carol, well, intriguing. That was the only word his artist’s mind composed that adequately described her. She intrigued him, with her ability to shoulder so much responsibility and make it look easy, and for the love she so obviously had for her heavenly Father, her friends, and their daughter.
There was a reason he’d knocked on the door of her dorm room the night before he left college, a reason why he’d chosen to celebrate such a momentous night in his life with her. There had already been something in the makings there that a simple telephone call had interrupted, and Bobby intended to continue on with that regardless of the near decade interruption they’d endured.
Logically, he wanted to take it slowly with Carol. Her life was packed as full as it could get, and he wanted nothing to throw her off balance, especially if he could prevent it. Intellectually, he knew there was nothing but time in front of them now.
Emotionally, he wanted to make up for lost time. Spiritually, he knew with a certainty that went much deeper than knowledge or something as fallible as the human heart that he and Carol belonged together as husband and wife; that God wanted them to be the married parents He intended all along. Bobby determined that for now he would keep praying, biding his time, loving his daughter, and honoring Carol until she reached the same inevitable conclusion.
In the meantime, he flipped the corn and watched her cut across the lawn. She’d obviously taken the time to change clothes before heading over, because she now wore a pair of Capri pants and a T-shirt for which Bobby felt silently grateful. Convincing her to stay would be that much easier since she didn’t have to change out of her work clothes. He watched his daughter run to meet her mother, then started to whistle a tune he had been working on lately.
She reached him, her arm around Lisa’s shoulders. First, he noticed how tired she looked, then the wary look in her eyes. He gave an inward sigh, prepared to use whatever charm necessary to put her at ease.
“Hello, Bobby. Thank you for the beautiful flowers,” Carol conveyed.
“That was entirely your daughter’s idea. She wanted to make sure I understood that Mother’s Day was one of my duties as a dad,” he explained, walking over to the umbrella-covered table and pouring her a glass of iced tea. “But you’re welcome, Carol. Hope they cheered you up.”
“They did,” Carol confessed.
He handed her the glass and waited until Lisa was back on the porch. “How was your day?”
Carol shrugged. “It was a productive day.”
“Productive is good,” he replied with a grin. He could see the fatigue under her eyes.
She walked over to the grill and sniffed. “I am really hoping that this extra food is for us. I am not anywhere near being in the mood to cook. I had planned on taking Lisa out for pizza or something.”
“Well, I aim to please, Darlin’,” Bobby said. He frowned when Carol’s cell phone rang from her pocket, and wished he didn’t know that she had to answer it.
“Carol Mabry,” she answered. He watched her face light up and, when he heard her acknowledge the person on the other end, felt an unfamiliar tug of jealousy. “Henry! How are you?”
She drew in a sharp breath after a few moments, and reached behind her for one of the chairs set around the table. Bobby tried to hear what was being said on the other end, but couldn’t, and decided to just wait for the call to end. “Thank you for calling. How much longer will you be on duty?” There was another short pause, then Carol whispered good-bye and put her phone away.
“Something wr
ong?” Bobby asked.
Carol rubbed her forehead, obviously trying to find her voice. “Bobby, your father had a major heart attack today and has been rushed to the hospital. He’s hanging on but it’s really bad. They don’t think he’ll make it through the night.”
He expected to feel nothing, so he was unprepared for the wave of panic that overtook him. Carol stood and touched his arm. “We can go right now, if you want.”
Bobby nodded. Most of him didn’t want to care, but the small part that did started taking over. He would regret it for the rest of his life if he didn’t go say good-bye. “Let me get this food off the grill. We can eat on the way.”
CHAPTER 18
CAROL took hold of Lisa’s hand just outside of the emergency room doors and knelt down to eye level with her. “Henry said he’d try to sneak you in, babe, but you need to remember that grandpa might look a little scary to you. He’ll probably have all sorts of tubes and wires in him that are helping him feel better.”
Lisa nodded, her eyes wide. “Is grandpa going to get better?”
“We have to wait and see. It might be that God is ready for him to go to heaven, but maybe He plans to keep him here for a little while longer.”
Lisa pressed her lips together and took Carol’s hand, and then the two followed Bobby into the emergency room. At the front desk, a young man answered the phone, took charts from doctors, and signed patients in all at the same time.
As soon as the man freed a fraction of his attention, she asked to see Dr. Henry Suarez. Carol noticed that she received his entire attention after that request. Henry had recently been promoted to the director of emergency services. She waited for Henry to receive the page.
A Carol for Kent Page 14
