Beverly Barton 3 Book Bundle

by Beverly Barton

  “He should have a preliminary report from them by morning, but you’re an experienced investigator. You looked over the scene before Patterson’s team arrived. You must have a gut feeling about this case.”

  “My gut feelings aren’t a hundred percent accurate. I’ve been known to be wrong.”

  “Haven’t we all?”

  They stood there and stared at each other for at least a minute. Jim wondered what this in-control, got-it-all-together woman had been wrong about in the past?

  “Look, there’s something you should know,” he said, the comment coming from out of nowhere. He hadn’t meant to unburden himself on his boss, at least not yet. But before Kevin arrived on Thursday, he’d have to tell her about the changes in his personal life that might conflict with his duties as her chief deputy.

  “Something about this case?”

  He shook his head. “No, about me. About something going on in my personal life right now. I hadn’t meant to bring it up tonight, but you need to know.”

  “Is it something that will interfere with your doing your job?”

  “I don’t think so.” He huffed out a disgruntled breath. “No, it shouldn’t. Not if I can figure out how to handle being a full-time single father and do justice to my job at the same time.”

  Bernie lifted an inquisitive eyebrow. “Your son is coming to live with you?”

  “Temporarily. My ex-wife… Kevin’s mother has been diagnosed with breast cancer. Her surgery is scheduled for next week. I know the timing is lousy, what with me just starting this job and our facing this major murder case, but—”

  “How old is Kevin?”

  “Twelve.”

  “He won’t need a babysitter, just someone to keep an eye on him when you’re not at home.”

  “Yeah, and with this case coming up the way it did, I can’t predict what my hours are going to be during the next month or so while Kevin’s living with me.”

  “I see why you’re concerned, but I think I have a solution for you.”

  “You have a solution? What kind of solution?”

  “My parents are retired. They both want grandchildren and unfortunately neither I nor my sister, Robyn, has given them any … yet. Why not let Kevin spend time with my folks when you’re at work? My mother will spoil him rotten. And Dad will take him fishing and play ball with him and—”

  “Whoa, hon—slow down.” He’d stopped himself just short of calling his boss honey. “You haven’t even checked with your parents. You can’t make that kind of offer without asking them about it first. I can’t imagine they’d want the responsibility of looking after my kid. They don’t even know me.”

  “I’ll tell you what, come to Sunday dinner. Meet my folks. I’ll tell Mom about your dilemma and I’ll bet you twenty bucks she’ll volunteer for the job of playing surrogate grandmother to Kevin.”

  Jim felt overwhelmed by this generous offer. Stunned might be a better word. He was unaccustomed to people going out of their way for somebody who was little more than a stranger to them. “I don’t know what to say.”

  “Say you’ll come for Sunday dinner. My dad’s dying to meet you anyway.”

  “He’s dying to meet Jimmy Norton and I haven’t been that guy in a long time.”

  Bernie stared at him, her gaze pensive and penetrating, as if she were trying to delve deep inside him, to figure out what made him tick. “I believe that the child we were, even the teenager and young adult we were, always remains a part of us. Something of who Jimmy Norton was is still a part of you, whether you like it or not.”

  “You’re awfully philosophical for so late at night, or do you always play amateur psychiatrist?”

  “Guilty as charged,” she told him. “I minored in psychology at Alabama.”

  “If I agree to come to Sunday dinner and join your dad in regaling my glorious past, will you promise not to try to figure out what makes me tick?” Jim turned off the lights in his office, opened the door and held it for her.

  Taking her cue from him, she walked out into the hallway. “Why does it bother you that I want to get to know you better? I’ve known most of my deputies for years. I went to high school with some of them; some have married friends of mine. You’re an unknown, Jim Norton, a bit of a puzzle. And puzzles intrigue me. Besides, I like to really get to know my friends.”

  “Are we going to be friends?” He kept pace with her as they walked down the hall.

  “I’d like to think so.”

  They exited the jail together, and then paused outside on the sidewalk.

  “Don’t you want to be friends?” she asked. “Or do you have trouble being just friends with a woman?”

  Jim chuckled. “The truth is I’ve never been just friends with a woman.”

  “There’s always a first time for everything.”

  “So there is.”

  She headed toward her Jeep, leaving him standing in the middle of the sidewalk. After unlocking the driver’s door, she glanced back at him and smiled. “See you at seven in the morning. You make the coffee. I’ll bring sausage biscuits.”

  “Make mine ham and cheese.”

  “How many, one or two?”

  “Two.”

  She slid behind the wheel, closed the door and started the engine. Jim stood and watched her until all he could see was the Jeep’s red taillights off in the distance. He decided right then and there that he’d definitely like to be friends with Bernie Granger

  He stroked the pearls, loving the feel of their cool, slick surface. These were not real pearls, of course. He couldn’t afford real ones like the necklace she had worn. But his lovers didn’t seem to mind that the necklace he sent was faux pearls. After all, it’s the thought that counts, right? Smiling, his mind filled with memories of her, he closed his eyes and the images grew brighter and sharper. He could see her clearly, almost as clearly as the night he had made love to her. She had been so surprised to see him.

  He had foolishly thought she would welcome him with open arms, but she hadn’t. And in the long run, it really hadn’t mattered. He had gotten what he wanted—actually, more than he’d ever dreamed possible. Satisfaction. Revenge. Empowerment.

  Afterward, he had believed her death had evened the score, that killing her had appeased the rage and anger inside him. But he’d been wrong. It had only fueled his need for revenge. That’s why he had sought out the other three, prolonging his time a little more with each of them, making them suffer as he had suffered. And when all four of them had been punished, he had thought that would be the end of it. Once again, he’d been wrong.

  Just because someone hurts you, disappoints you, breaks your heart, doesn’t mean you should stop looking for love, stop searching for the one woman to fulfill your fantasies.

  He hummed quietly to himself as he opened his eyes, laid the pearls down inside the white gift box and closed the lid. He would deliver these tomorrow, along with the note.

  After pulling out the desk chair, he sat, picked up the black ink pen and stared down at the white note paper. Hmm … what to say … what words would seduce Thomasina? She was a romantic at heart, so she wouldn’t respond well to anything crude and earthy. Not yet.

  Please accept this small token of my affection. Pearls for a lovely lady.

  There, that should do it. All he wanted to do was whet her appetite for more.

  He put the note inside the envelope and wrote her name across the front, then laid the message aside. The note and the pearls were always the next step in his courtship, then the sketch came later. But he was so eager to move things along, not to take weeks to court her, that he felt he should go ahead and send the sketch along with the note and pearls.

  He opened the middle desk drawer and brought out his sketch pad and pencil, then closed his eyes for just a moment—long enough to picture her in his mind. His eagerness transferred to his drawing as he quickly sketched Thomasina’s face, her flowing dark hair, her sweet smile, her long, slender neck, the curve of her naked
shoulder.

  There, that’s enough. Stop.

  He laid the charcoal pencil aside and took a deep breath. Thinking of her naked, of her lush breasts, the nipples peaked, her flat belly, her nicely rounded hips, and that thatch of dark hair between her thighs aroused him unbearably. But he couldn’t draw her that way. Not yet. It wasn’t time.

  Accept the pain. Make it your friend. Remember that waiting for her makes the moment you first come together all the sweeter.

  Tomorrow, he’d find a way to deliver his note and little gifts. It shouldn’t be a problem. She drove into Adams Landing every Saturday morning and went to Robyn Granger’s gym.

  Ron went around to the back door and pecked on the glass. When he’d called Abby to cancel their weekend plans, she’d been disappointed, but she’d understood. After all, he was a deputy, and the Stephanie Preston murder case was the biggest thing to happen in Adams County in a good ten years or longer.

  He waited for Abby to come to the door; then when she didn’t, he pecked again and called her name softly. He had parked down the street and come down the alley, taking every precaution not to be seen. But hell, it was eleventhirty— who’d be up at this hour staring out their windows?

  “Abby, honey …”

  He heard footsteps inside the dark kitchen, then the distinctive click of the deadbolt being unlocked. The minute she opened the door, he rushed inside, kicked the door shut behind himself, and grabbed her.

  “Slow down,” she told him, then giggled when he grabbed her ass with both hands and yanked her up against his hard-as- a-rock penis.

  “I can’t slow down, baby. I want you too much.”

  He kissed her neck as he rubbed her mound against his arousal.

  “You can at least wait till we get to the bedroom,” she said. “I’ve had a long, rough day and I don’t want to wind up with my butt on the floor or slammed up against the wall.”

  “Ah, baby, you like it any way you can get it.”

  When he lifted her up off the floor, she wrapped her legs around his hips and tossed back her head when he opened his mouth and covered one breast through the thin material of her shorty pajama top.

  Clinging to him, whimpering and talking dirty, Abby encouraged him to hurry as he carried her out of the kitchen, up the hall and into her bedroom. After tossing her onto the bed, he stripped off his clothes, and by the time he came down over her, she was naked and ready. Without saying a word, she reached out, encircled his dick and slid a condom over it. No matter how turned on Abby got, she never forgot to make sure she was protected. He liked that about her, that she took care of herself instead of expecting him to do it.

  He thrust into her with one powerful lunge and nearly came right off the bat. She was hot and wet and tight. When she bucked up, he clutched her buttocks and held her for half a second before retreating and plunging again.

  “I’m not going to be able to hold it much longer, baby,” he told her.

  She slid her hand between her legs and stroked herself. “I’ll just help things along.”

  He paused, allowing her to go at it, all the while whispering in her ear, talking the talk, exciting her. In only a matter of minutes, she came in a frenzy, crying, shivering. He jack- hammered into her for a couple of seconds, then came, the top of his head exploding as he jetted into the condom.

  Once he was spent, he rolled off her and onto the bed beside her. She cuddled up against him and said, “Get some rest. Next time I’m not going to let you off the hook so easily.”

  Ron reached over and stroked her belly, then delved his hand between her thighs. She was damp and sticky. When he fingered her clitoris, she whimpered.

  “Set the alarm, will you, babe? I need to leave here before sunrise. We don’t want to run the risk of somebody seeing me sneak out your back door.”

  “I’ll set it for four,” she told him. “That’ll give us time for a good morning fuck.”

  Chuckling, Ron closed his eyes and hugged up to Abby, spoon-fashion.

  Chapter 6

  Ever since her younger daughter had returned to Adams Landing and opened her own business—Robyn’s Fitness Center—Brenda Granger had made a point of taking an active part in several classes Robyn offered. Brenda’s favorite was the Saturday morning session where a group of women went from doing stretches together to alternating on all the various equipment—everything from the treadmills to the stationary bicycles. After the first hour, they took a water break, then after the second hour, many of them stayed on and had lunch together. Robyn provided fresh salads with low-fat dressing and yogurt for dessert.

  Since Brenda had kept herself in shape all her life and had been blessed with a great metabolism, she hadn’t needed to worry about her weight until she went through menopause; then ten extra pounds had crept up around her hips and abdomen before she knew it. It had taken her two months of diet and exercise to get back down to what her husband laughingly referred to as her fighting weight.

  As she stood back and watched Robyn, in her much-too-skimpy exercise costume, Brenda sighed, then took a hefty sip of bottled spring water. Her younger daughter resembled her a great deal, with a slender figure, full breasts and curly, jet-black hair. Thankfully, Robyn had also inherited her great metabolism, as well as her love for physical exercise to keep her fabulous body toned. She had gotten her height from her six-four father, just as her sister, Bernie, had. Robyn was five-eight, and Bernie was just a tad over five-nine.

  Poor Bernie had not inherited her mother’s slender build or her great metabolism. Ever since childhood, Brenda’s elder daughter had been large boned and tended to gain weight easily, as R.B. did. Bernie was as much her father’s daughter as Robyn was her mother’s, in looks and temperament.

  But both girls were equally disappointing to a mother who longed to see her daughters happily married and producing some grandchildren for her. After all, neither she nor R.B. was getting any younger. A woman of fifty-eight should already have several grandchildren.

  At least Robyn was dating regularly, although Brenda didn’t always approve of the choices she made. Bernie, on the other hand, dated infrequently and seemed to let every good prospect slip through her fingers.

  Brenda felt it her motherly duty to do what she could to help both girls find the proper mate. That’s why she had invited two very suitable young men to Sunday dinner tomorrow. Raymond Long was a fine man and not bad looking, despite being a bit of a nerd. He owned the local hardware store and could provide handsomely for a wife. Luckily, he had divorced that hussy wife of his before they’d had children. And it didn’t hurt that Raymond’s mother, Helen, had been one of Brenda’s best friends for ages. The other Sunday guests would include the new minister, Matthew Donaldson. Matthew was young, handsome, charismatic, and best of all, he was single.

  “Are you staying for lunch, Brenda?” Abby Miller asked.

  “I wouldn’t miss it.” Brenda smiled warmly at Abby, although she didn’t especially like the woman. Abby wore too much makeup, dyed her hair that phony blue-black and wore clothes that screamed trailer trash. And there was a rumor going around town that Abby was secretly seeing another man while her poor husband was off in the Middle East serving his country.

  The others staying for lunch began making a circle in the middle of the exercise room floor. Brenda glanced around to ascertain just who was still here so she could decide who she wanted to sit by. One by one, she ruled out the women she did not want to talk to for the half-hour lunch session. Definitely not Abby Miller. She crossed Renee Michaels off her list immediately. That woman didn’t have a brain in her silly head. Besides, it was a known fact Renee was a slut. Deputy Holly Burcham was another no-no, but only because she was sitting beside Renee, as was Amber Claunch, whom Brenda liked.

  “Hmm …” Brenda spotted Bernie’s secretary, Lisa Wiley, and started in her direction, but stopped the minute she saw Cathy Downs sit beside Lisa. Cathy was a sweet person, but she would bore you to tears with her incessant c
hatter. The woman never stopped talking—about her children, her husband Lieutenant John Downs and her latest diet. The plump chatterbox tried every new diet craze that came along and did her best to convince everyone else that this one was the miracle cure for overweight women.

  As her gaze traveled the completely formed circle, she suddenly saw her perfect spot, right between Amy Simms and Thomasina Hardy. Brenda hurried across the room, then paused and looked from Amy to Thomasina.

  “Would y’all mind making room for me?” Before either could reply, Brenda squeezed in between them, forcing them to separate enough to make room for her.

  Amy smiled pleasantly at Brenda. “Yes, please, join us.”

  “We were just talking about what happened to that poor girl, Stephanie Preston, from over in Scottsboro,” Thomasina said.

  “It’s the world we live in.” Brenda shook her head sadly. “When I was a girl, you never heard of anything like that happening around here. Northeast Alabama was one of the safest places on earth to live. Why, my folks never locked the doors and we slept with the windows open and never worried about somebody breaking into the house.”

  “All the article in this morning’s Daily Reporter said was that she’d been murdered.” Amy looked right at Brenda. “You don’t know anything else, do you? Something you could share with us?”

  Brenda smiled, hoping her expression conveyed to these ladies that she did, indeed, know something very important about the murder case. Although she knew no more than they did, being the sheriff’s mother, as she had once been the sheriff’s wife, afforded her the privilege of pretending to be in possession of top-secret information.

  “I’m afraid there’s nothing I’m at liberty to share with y’all,” Brenda said. “There are many things that can’t be shared with the public or it might jeopardize the case. I learned years ago, as R.B.’s wife, to keep my mouth shut.”

  “Oh, Brenda, come on,” Amy cajoled. “Isn’t there some little something? You know we’d never tell a soul.”