Beverly Barton 3 Book Bundle

by Beverly Barton

  “You’re here to ask me out?” Jim grinned.

  Bernie wanted to knock that stupid grin off his face.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t call first, but it’s been wild over at the fitness center.” Robyn insinuated herself between Bernie and Jim, then laced her arm through his. “I’m running a two-for-one special this week and—”

  “Bernie and I were just heading over to the King Kone for burgers,” Jim said. “You could join us.”

  “Yuck, the King Kone. They serve nothing but junk food.” Robyn ran an appreciative eye over her own body and sighed dramatically. “I couldn’t keep this figure if I ate burgers and fries, now could I?”

  Jim glanced over at Bernie and shrugged. “What about Methel’s?”

  “Absolutely not,” Robyn said. “River’s End has great seafood and wonderful salads.”

  “And it costs an arm and a leg,” Bernie said.

  “So, if price is a problem”—she batted her eyelashes at Jim—“we’ll go Dutch treat.”

  “Is this place fancy?” Jim asked. “I’m not dressed for fancy and neither is Bernie.”

  “It’s not that fancy,” Robyn replied.

  “Look, why don’t you two go on out to River’s End and have a great seafood dinner. I think I’ll just head on home and scramble myself some eggs.”

  “Eggs are bad for you,” Robyn said.

  Bernie forced a smile, then gave Jim a quick glance. “See you in the morning, Jim.”

  Before he had a chance to say anything, Bernie rushed out the front door and walked hurriedly down the street. Her Jeep was parked at the courthouse, so she had no choice but to walk along the sidewalk, meeting and greeting people as they were leaving the antique shop and the library.

  Just keep that phony smile in place, she told herself, and keep walking. You are not going to cry because you have nothing to cry about. Okay, so your feelings are hurt just a little because you know Jim would much rather have dinner with Robyn than with you. And you’re a teensy bit upset with your sister because it never entered her pretty little head that Jim might have asked you to dinner and that his invitation had thrilled you beyond all reason.

  Bernie made it to the area of the courthouse parking lot reserved for her and her deputies and was forced to face and speak to several deputies who were leaving for the day. By the time she got in her Jeep, started the engine and pulled out onto Washington Street, tears clouded her vision. Lifting one hand, she swiped the tears away and called herself all kinds of a fool.

  Stop acting like a girl. You are not a sissy. You’re better than that.

  Chapter 10

  Thomasina had been staring at the large manila envelope for endless minutes, wanting to open it and yet afraid to see what surprise “gift” might be waiting inside for her. One of her students in the last afternoon class had found the envelope, with her name printed on it in bold black letters, lying on the floor at the back of the classroom, as if someone had accidentally dropped it there. She had thanked the student, laid the envelope on her desk and waited until the room was clear before she burst into tears. What had started out less than a week ago as an exciting romantic adventure had now turned into an unnerving nightmare. After allowing herself a good cry, she’d gathered up her things, including the unopened envelope, and driven home. Often when she had to teach a night class, as she did tonight, she didn’t bother going home; instead, she either stayed at the school and caught up on work or she drove into Adams Landing to shop and have an early dinner. But today, she had wanted—no, she had needed—to come home where she felt safe.

  She’d found a note on the refrigerator from her mother, telling her that she’d gone to Huntsville with her best friend, Rose Johnson, for a shopping spree at Parkway City Mall, and they wouldn’t be home until late. In a way, she was glad her mother wasn’t here to question her about her odd mood again, which she’d been doing all week. But a part of her wished her mother was here so she could tell her what had been going on for the past week and ask her advice.

  Thomasina had placed the envelope in the middle of the kitchen table, poured herself a glass of iced tea, sat down and studied the damn thing as if she could figure out what was inside without opening it.

  Monday’s gift would have been sweet, even endearing, if she hadn’t thought that Brandon was playing her for a fool, stringing her along while he kept seeing other women. But the gift that she’d received on Wednesday, an envelope containing sketches and a small box, had been stuffed in her P.O. box at the college. She’d questioned the secretary, asking if she had any idea who’d put the envelope in her box.

  “No, I’m sorry,” Kerrianne Gipson had said. “It’s been one of those days. I’ve been in and out of the office all day long. I’m afraid just about anybody could have left it. Why? Is there a problem?”

  “No, no problem. I was just curious. I’m sure there’s a note or something inside.”

  But the note hadn’t been signed.

  She’d waited only until she’d reached her car before ripping open the envelope and dumping the small box out into her hand. Inside the box she’d found a small bottle of perfume. White Shoulders. She didn’t know that particular scent was still being manufactured. It was such an old-fashioned fragrance. Her mother had used it for a couple of years nearly twenty years ago.

  She’d read the note before looking at the sketches.

  I dream of you this way. Of our being together. Of your loving everything I do to you.

  She’d found three sketches inside the envelope, each one more graphic and sickening than the one before, and all three depicting her naked and aroused in various S&M scenes. Her being whipped—the hand holding the whip large and menacing. Her on all fours, a dog collar around her neck attached to a leash. And her lying chained to a metal bed, a large dildo in her mouth and the tip of another one sticking out between her clenched thighs.

  She had ripped the sketches and the note into pieces, then had shoved them and the perfume bottle back into the envelope and gotten out of her car. Without even thinking about what she was doing, she’d marched straight across the parking lot to the large, green Dumpster, opened the heavy lid and thrown the envelope on top of the other trash.

  When she’d gotten home yesterday evening, she’d gone straight to her room; then she’d taken the pearl necklace, the lipstick, the nail polish, all the photos, notes, and sketches from the top of her closet where she’d stored them, stuck the nonpaper items in her slacks pocket and shoved the notes, photos, and sketches under her arm and carried them with her through the kitchen. She had taken a handful of matches from the box her mother kept in the drawer beside the sink, then had gone outside. She’d placed all the paper items inside the large brick outdoor barbeque grill and struck one match after another, placing each lit flame to various edges of the papers. After that, she had tossed the other things into the outdoor garbage container.

  Brandon Kelley was no dream lover. No old-fashioned gentleman. He was a sicko. A pervert. And she wanted nothing to do with him. Robyn Granger could have him, if she wanted him. If Robyn was “into” Brandon’s kind of sex.

  This morning, Thomasina had written Brandon a succinct letter warning him that if he ever sent her another package of any kind, she would call the police. She had thought that would be the end of it. She’d been wrong. So very wrong.

  She kept staring at the manila envelope lying in the middle of the table. Wishing it would go away. Wishing she had the guts to open it. Knowing that if it contained what she thought it did, she’d have no choice but to contact the local authorities.

  Enough was enough.

  Allen Clark drove a late-model Mercedes, dressed in suits and ties and when he had moved Mary Lee and Kevin to Huntsville, he’d moved them into a three-hundred and fifty-thousand dollar house in the southeast area. The guy was in his late forties, had been divorced for eight years when he met Mary Lee and had no children of his own. As much as Jim wanted to hate the guy, he couldn’t. From what
he could tell, Allen really loved Mary Lee and seemed to genuinely care about Kevin. And for the first time in a long time, Mary Lee acted as if she was truly happy. Of course, her taking Kevin away from Memphis had screwed up Jim’s life and he resented the hell out of her attitude that Allen would make Kevin a better father. Okay, so Allen had more money. Big deal. And with Kevin living under his roof, Allen spent more time with him. But Goddamn it, Allen was not Kevin’s father. He was. And he loved his son, would do anything for him—anything short of giving him up for another man to raise.

  Jim hadn’t seen Kevin in nearly two months, although he called him a couple of times a week. When they talked, Kevin raved about his new room, his new computer, his fabulous dirt bike, and his great new stepdad. Unless another guy had gone through the same experience, he wouldn’t be able to understand how Jim felt, how worthless and insignificant. When the only really good thing in your life is your child and suddenly you’re no longer the primary man in his world, it’s like having your heart ripped from your chest without the benefit of any painkillers.

  Despite his heavy workload at the office, Jim had taken off early to accommodate Allen’s schedule. Allen had explained that he wanted to drop Kevin off at four and be home by five-thirty to have dinner with Mary Lee.

  “She needs me,” Allen had said. “She’s scared out of her mind and if I’m not with her, she panics.”

  Yeah, that sounded like Mary Lee. For as long as Jim had known her, she’d been self-centered, her needs coming before anyone else’s. In Mary Lee’s world, everything revolved around her. So why, when she was facing major surgery for cancer, would anything be different? He didn’t envy Allen in the least for having to play nursemaid to a woman who could never be satisfied. It wasn’t that Jim didn’t wish Mary Lee the best—he did. He prayed she’d come through the surgery with flying colors, have a complete recovery and live to be ninety.

  It had taken him a long time to stop hating her. And even longer to stop loving her.

  Jim stood on the small front porch of his duplex and watched as Allen pulled his Mercedes into the driveway. By the time Allen opened his door, Jim was at the end of the sidewalk meeting him. They shook hands cordially; then Jim glanced across the hood of the car and saw Kevin’s dark head. His twelve-year-old son was already five-eight. Jim figured by the time he was eighteen he’d be as tall as Jim, at six-three.

  Allen popped the car’s trunk and Kevin joined him to retrieve a couple of suitcases and a laptop computer. For a minute there, Jim halfway expected Kevin to pull his dirt bike from the trunk.

  “Is that everything?” Jim asked. “Need any help?”

  Allen handed Jim one of the suitcases. “He should have enough to do him for several weeks,” Allen said. “If not, buy whatever he needs and send me the bill.”

  Jim growled under his breath and said in a low, rough voice, “I think I can manage to buy my son whatever he needs.”

  Allen’s craggy face turned pink. “Sorry. I didn’t mean anything. It’s just … Well, okay then.” He turned to Kevin who’d walked over and now stood between his father and stepfather. Allen smiled at Kevin. “I’ll call you tomorrow as soon as your mom comes out of surgery, and she’ll call you herself as soon as she can.”

  Kevin nodded.

  “She’s going to be all right.” Allen’s smile wavered. “And you’ll be home with us before school starts.”

  “Yeah, sure.” Kevin shrugged.

  “If you need anything …” Allen left his sentence unfinished.

  “I’ll be fine,” Kevin replied. “You take care of Mom and don’t worry about me.”

  Jim and Kevin, each with a suitcase in hand, stood on the small front porch of Jim’s duplex and watched Allen Clark back out of the driveway and head off down the street.

  “Come on in and I’ll show you your bedroom.” Jim opened the door and waited for Kevin to enter first. He wanted to reach out and hug his son, to tell him how glad he was that they were going to be living together, at least temporarily, for the first time since Kevin was six. But a boy of twelve-going-on-twenty probably didn’t want his dad hugging him.

  Kevin hoisted his suitcase and laptop onto the bed and looked around at the room. Jim dropped the other suitcase on the floor beside the closet and tried to assess the room through his son’s eyes.

  “It’s probably nowhere near as nice as your room in Huntsville,” Jim said.

  “It’s okay, Dad. Really.”

  “Hey, at least here you’ve got a room of your own. Back in Memphis, you had to bunk in with me in that tiny apartment I had.”

  “Yeah, this is better.”

  “Look, Kevin, I know this isn’t going to be easy for you, staying with me for several weeks when we haven’t spent more than a few days together since you were little. And I know you’re worried about your mom. I’m concerned about her, too. But if anybody on earth can lick cancer, Mary Lee can. She’s a real scrapper. Always has been. It was one of the things I always love—liked about her.”

  “It’s just not fair, you know.”

  Kevin looked as if the weight of the world was sitting heavily on his slender shoulders and Jim would give anything if he could lift that burden and carry it for him.

  “I know,” Jim said.

  “She’s really happy with Allen. And she’s different, you know. She stays at home more and she laughs a lot and—” Kevin choked up.

  “Your mother’s going to come through the surgery just fine.”

  “But it’s cancer. Cancer! She could come through the surgery okay and still die.”

  “That’s not going to happen.”

  “How can you be so sure? Besides, I know you hate Mom. Why do you care if she lives or dies?”

  Jim reached out and grabbed Kevin by the shoulders and looked him square in the eyes. “I don’t hate your mother.” No point in admitting to his son that he had hated her for years. “And I care because she’s your mother, because she was once my wife …”

  Tears pooled in Kevin’s blue eyes. Norton eyes. Eyes like Jim’s. Eyes like Jim’s father’s.

  Jim squeezed Kevin’s shoulders affectionately, doing his best to comfort his son. “You can call and talk to her every day. She’ll want to hear from you and know you’re doing okay.”

  Kevin swallowed hard. “I can unpack and put everything away by myself.”

  “Yeah, sure.” Jim understood that his son needed to be alone for a little while, that he needed to cry without his father watching him. “You unpack and get settled in while I make a few phone calls, then later we’ll go out for supper. How does that sound?”

  “Fine.”

  Jim nodded, gave Kevin a keep-your-chin-up look and made a quick exit. After closing the door behind him, he stood there in the small, square hallway between the two bedrooms and said a prayer, something he hadn’t done in a long time. He prayed for Mary Lee. And he prayed that he wouldn’t screw up this chance to be a real father to his son.

  Knowing she couldn’t keep her terrible secret to herself any longer, Thomasina had called her sister and asked her to come over as quickly as possible. And when Amanda arrived, she had told her everything, starting with that first “love note” and ending by showing her the unopened manila envelope lying in the middle of the kitchen table.

  “You shouldn’t have gotten rid of the other stuff,” Amanda told her. “You should have saved it for the police. They’ll need all the evidence they can get if they’re going to arrest Brandon Kelley.”

  “I—I wasn’t thinking,” Thomasina admitted. “I just wanted all of it gone, out of the house, out of my sight forever.”

  “Want me to open it?” Amanda indicated the manila envelope.

  “No, I’ll do it. I just wanted you here with me before I did it.”

  “Go ahead.” Amanda stood behind Thomasina’s chair and clamped her hands down reassuringly on her shoulders. “I’m right here.”

  Her hands shook so badly that she paused for a couple of minutes
after she picked up the envelope. “I’m a nervous wreck. This is what he’s done to me, and I let him do it. I’ve been so stupid.” Fueled with anger and indignation, she ripped open the envelope, turned it upside down and watched as two small envelopes and three pieces of art paper drifted out and floated down onto the table. She noticed that one of the small envelopes was flat and the other was puffy, as if it contained bubble wrap.

  “He always sends a message.” Thomasina reached for the flat envelope first.

  “Maybe you should open the other one first and look at the sketches, then read the note.”

  Thomasina shook her head, ripped open the flat envelope and removed the note.

  She read it to herself first.

  I know that you love me and want to please me. Soon, very soon, we’ll be together and you’ll be able to show me just how much you care.

  She handed the note to her sister. “Should we be wearing gloves or something? If there are any fingerprints—”

  “Just read the damn note, will you?” Tears swam in Thomasina’s eyes.

  Amanda took the note, being careful to hold it by the edges, then read it. “Open the other envelope.”

  Thomasina opened the puffy envelope and removed a small square of bubble wrap. She tore apart the padding to reveal a gold ankle bracelet. She dropped it on the table as if the touch of it burned her fingers.

  “Now the sketches,” Amanda told her.

  Thomasina turned them over and looked at them one at a time, then handed them to her sister. Just looking at the sketches made her sick to her stomach.

  “Oh, Thomasina, these are awful,” Amanda said. “If Brandon Kelley drew these, he’s crazy. And if he wants to do these things to you, he’s dangerous.” She waved the third sketch in the air. “This picture shows you with your throat slit and blood dripping down on your breasts.” Amanda tossed the sketch aside, then rushed across the kitchen, picked up the telephone and said, “I’m calling Chief Nichols right now. If he can’t arrest Brandon Kelley on any other charges, he can arrest him for harassing you.”