Beverly Barton 3 Book Bundle

by Beverly Barton

  Play hard to get, my beautiful Robyn. Pretend you don’t want me. Lie to yourself all you want, but in the end, you will admit the truth to me. You’ll tell me how much you love me, how desperately you want me, how willing you are to please me.

  He opened the front door to his home and walked out of the hot September sunshine and into his cool, air-conditioned living room. As he crossed over into the kitchen, he removed his coat and then his tie, laid them on the bar stool and undid the top button of his white shirt.

  Today’s sermon had been splendid, the topic well chosen: lusts of the flesh. Every man in the audience must have felt as if he were being singled out personally for chastisement.

  We know all about lust, don’t we, Robyn?

  We know what it’s like to be tempted beyond all reason.

  You want me the way so many men have wanted you. You lie awake at night and think of me and dream of all the wicked things I’ll do to you once we’re completely alone.

  He removed a jug of tea from his refrigerator, poured himself a glass and took it with him over to his desk. After placing the tea on a sandstone coaster, he opened his sketch pad, then set out a pen and jar of black ink.

  He could see her in his mind’s eye. Naked. Aroused. Panting.

  He began sketching feverishly, creating the image of Robyn burning inside his head. Breasts bared. Nipples peaked. Long black hair flowing down her back. Her eyes closed, her tongue licking her upper lip.

  When he finished the sketch, he set it aside, then opened the bottom drawer of the desk and removed a tube of pink lipstick and a bottle of pink nail polish.

  “Tomorrow,” he whispered. “Tomorrow.”

  While Bernie walked out to the parking lot with her father, her sister, Raymond, and Deputy Fuller, who would be on guard duty today, Jim sat down behind Bernie’s desk and accessed her e-mail. He zeroed in on one message—the e-mail from Griffin Powell—opened it, and began scanning the list of students, fifty-three in all. Their names were in alphabetical order. He scanned the names quickly, searching for one that might sound familiar.

  Shannon Elmore.

  No surprise there. He already knew that Shannon had graduated with Heather and had belonged to her elite club for snobby little brunettes.

  The Sable Girls Club.

  Jim stopped on another name.

  Sara Hayes.

  So the killer’s third victim had, as he’d suspected, attended Leighton Prep, had graduated with Heather, and had probably belonged to her exclusive club. Jim would have the yearbook tomorrow and could check Sara Hayes’s picture. He’d lay odds that Sara was a pretty, popular brunette. And he’d bet his last dime that whoever killed her—whoever killed all ten women—was somehow connected to Leighton Prep.

  Chapter 28

  “You damn bitch! How dare you sic your sister and that Neanderthal deputy of hers on me.” Brandon Kelley’s outrage came through loud and clear over the phone line. “My lawyer is going to sue the Adams County Sheriff’s Department for harassment, and we just might sue you, too, for making false accusations!”

  “Brandon, I didn’t tell Bernie that I suspected you were the Secret Admirer killer,” Robyn said. “I swear I didn’t. But she and Jim have to question all my former boyfriends … just in case.”

  “I’m neither a boy nor your friend, you brainless little cunt. We were on and off fucking partners and that’s all.”

  Robyn choked up, not so much because Brandon was being such a heartless bastard, but because his cruelty proved to her what a poor judge of character she’d been in the past. Before Raymond. “Brandon, please don’t be this way. Don’t you have any idea what I’m going through? Why would you—”

  Robyn’s bodyguard for the evening shift snatched the phone out of her hand. “Dr. Kelley, this is Deputy Scotty Joe Walters. I don’t know what you said to Miss Granger, but I strongly suggest that you do not call her again. As a matter of fact, do not contact her in any way, most certainly not in person.”

  Robyn wasn’t sure what Brandon said in reply, but she smiled when Scotty Joe told him, “In my official capacity as a deputy, I can’t respond to that, but unofficially, just as a man, I can say this—you do not want a confrontation with me, Dr. Kelley, because I’d have no problem whipping your sorry ass.” Scotty Joe hit the OFF button on her phone and handed it to her. “I don’t think he’ll bother you again.”

  Robyn released her held breath. “Thank you.”

  “My pleasure.”

  Scotty Joe had been one of the many deputies who had volunteered to act as her bodyguard. Since the county couldn’t afford the extra money for overtime, every deputy had taken on the job without pay. Scotty Joe worked the day shift all the time as the only full-time deputy in Adams County’s crime prevention division, so he was working the evening shift guard duty for Robyn Granger. He was with her from five until nine, then various other deputies took over for the night shifts. Ron Hensley, who was on a leave of absence from the department, had asked to guard her during the day, from eight until five. At first, Bernie had been reluctant to agree, but when Ron had practically begged her for the chance to do for Robyn what he’d been unable to do for Abby, Bernie had consented. For the past three afternoons—Monday, Tuesday, and today—Scotty Joe had shown up at the fitness center promptly at five to take over from Ron. Since she usually closed the center at eight on Wednesday nights, they’d been just about to leave when her cell phone had rung.

  “I’m an idiot for ever having gotten involved with a jerk like Brandon,” Robyn said. “The other guys I’ve dated since coming back to Adams Landing have all been so kind and supportive since they learned that I’m … well, that I could be …” She couldn’t bring herself to put her fears into words. “Paul and Ron have simply been dears. Even Matthew Donaldson has been supportive, but then I suppose that’s his job, him being a minister and all. But I’d never survive without Raymond’s love and support. He’s my rock, you know. I absolutely love him to pieces.”

  Scotty Joe’s cheeks flushed. “I sure never saw that one coming. I mean, Raymond’s a fine fellow and all, but since you’re really something mighty special, Miss Robyn … Well, I guess if you like Raymond that much, then there’s more to him than meets the eye.” He winked at her.

  “That’s so sweet of you to say.” She patted Scotty Joe’s arm. “Raymond is very special to me. And you know what—I’m probably going to marry him, once this nightmare with that crazy Secret Admirer killer is over.”

  “That’s the way to think. Keep your chin up and keep on believing that things will be over soon and you’ll get all the happiness you deserve.”

  Robyn leaned over and kissed Scotty Joe’s cheek. “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate you and the other deputies volunteering to play nursemaid to me around the clock. And y’all have been very understanding about the way Daddy and Raymond keep dropping by here at the fitness center half a dozen times a day, yesterday and today.”

  “Your father loves you and he’s concerned. There’s not a one of us who doesn’t understand that. And we don’t blame Raymond for checking on you just about as often as your dad does. It’s plain to see that the guy’s crazy about you.”

  “Scotty Joe, could I ask you a question?”

  “Sure thing. What is it?”

  “Do you think y’all will catch him—the Secret Admirer killer—before he …” A sob caught in Robyn’s throat.

  Scotty Joe put his arm around her. “Everybody’s doing everything possible to find him. Heck, I heard Agent Patterson was thinking about contacting the FBI about taking over this case. And Captain Norton’s got that famous investigator, Griffin Powell, on speed dial so he can bring in private bodyguards for you if necessary. With all that in the works, what kind of chance has that Secret Admirer fellow got? I’d say he’s outgunned, wouldn’t you?”

  “Yeah, I’d say so. And thank you for reassuring me. You can’t imagine what it’s like to live in fear all the time.”

  Scot
ty Joe gave her shoulder a squeeze. “We’d better head out now and get you home; otherwise, your daddy’s going to be coming this way, hunting us.”

  “You’re right. I’ll shut everything down and then lock up. I’ll be ready to go in a couple of minutes.”

  “I’m ready when you are.”

  Scotty Joe ran his hand over his hip holster, then nervously knotted his hands into loose fists. It couldn’t be easy for him or any of the other deputies guarding her to forget the fact that Brett Dennison was still in the hospital in a coma. These men knew they were putting their lives on the line to protect her.

  A few minutes later, when Scotty Joe opened the back door and walked outside, she followed him. She noticed the tension in his muscular body, the way he glanced right and left, back and forth. He kept watch while she locked up. That’s when she saw it. Oh, God, not another present!

  Apparently she had gasped without realizing it, because Scotty Joe jerked around and asked, “What’s wrong?”

  “Look.” She pointed to the small cardboard box tied to the doorknob. “It’s from him.”

  “Yes, ma’am, it probably is.”

  She reached for it, then yanked her hand back, afraid to touch it.

  “It’s all right,” he said. “Just leave it right there. I’ll call Captain Norton and tell him that gift number three has shown up.”

  “It is number three, isn’t it? Just one more and—” Robyn burst into tears.

  Scotty Joe wrapped her in his arms. “Don’t cry. Everything is going to be all right. You just calm down and I’ll get in touch with the captain.”

  Robyn pulled back, nodded her head and swiped the tears from her face. “I’m okay. Call Jim and tell him to get here as quickly as he can.”

  The loud thunder woke him. He shot straight up and stared at the lighted digital clock on his beside table. Two-forty-one. The middle of the night. He might as well get up. He couldn’t sleep through a thunderstorm. It would be pointless to try to rest.

  He could hear the plummeting rain as it hit the roof and beat against the windows. God, how he hated that sound. Sitting in the middle of his bed, he lifted his unsteady hands and covered his ears.

  I won’t remember. I won’t remember.

  Fight the memories. Don’t let them win. Force them from your mind.

  Easier said than done.

  The memories claimed him, drew him back into the past. Against his will.

  The weather forecasters had predicted rain, so he’d brought his umbrella to school that day. He didn’t like Leighton Prep any more than he’d liked his old public school, but his uncle and aunt were paying a lot of money to send him here, so he pretended he was happy with their choice. They were elderly and set in their ways, and the last thing they’d expected was having their teenaged great-nephew foisted on them when his parents died in a car crash.

  Those first few months at the new school, nobody had seemed to like him. Then he’d gotten to know a few of the guys on the debate team, who, like he, also took art classes. He couldn’t exactly call them his friends, but at least with them around, he didn’t feel so alone, birds of a feather and all. But the popular kids didn’t like him; some of the jocks even called him a four-eyed freak and an egghead. And the girls laughed at him because he was so skinny and clumsy.

  Then one day a couple of weeks ago, everything had changed for him, and all because Heather Stevens had smiled at him and said hello. He’d nearly died on the spot. Heather was the most beautiful girl in the whole wide world and the most popular girl at Leighton Prep. He’d heard that she’d broken up with the senior class president, Blake Powers, and every guy at school was dying to date her.

  Heather belonged to an elite group of juniors—all gorgeous brunettes—who called themselves the Sable Girls. There were only four of them—Heather, Shannon Elmore, Sara Hayes, and Courtney Pettus. He’d heard that they’d formed the group recently, and rumor was that each girl would have to undergo an initiation devised by Heather. The Sable Girls were the envy of all the other girls and the wet dream for every boy. Until Heather started speaking to him, being so nice and friendly, he’d thought she was a bitchy little snob. Of course, that hadn’t stopped him from adoring her like all the other guys did.

  She had smiled and said hello to him every day last week; then on Monday of this week, she’d stopped and talked to him in the hallway.

  “So, do you have a girlfriend?” she’d asked.

  “No, er … No, I don’t.”

  “That’s good to know.”

  She’d giggled and walked away, glancing over her shoulder and blowing him a kiss. He’d gotten a hard-on right then and there.

  On Tuesday, she’d asked him if he wanted to carry her books to the one class they shared, American history. He’d been dumbfounded, but not so much so that he hadn’t grabbed her books, dropping them in the process. She had walked along beside him as they’d gone down the hall, all the while waving and speaking to other students. God, he’d felt ten feet tall that day.

  On Wednesday, she had sat by him in the cafeteria and had made him so nervous he couldn’t eat a bite. Mostly he’d just sat there and watched her.

  He was in love. Madly, passionately, head over heels in love with Heather. He’d do anything—even die—for her.

  On Thursday, she’d met him after school.

  “Would you like to be my boyfriend?”

  “Are you kidding? Am I breathing?”

  She’d giggled, then moved in close and kissed him right on the lips. When he’d reached for her, she’d stepped back and held up a restraining hand. “Not now. Not here.”

  He’d stared at her, his heart beating like crazy and his dick standing at attention.

  She had reached down and fondled him, then eased her hand up to rest in the center of his chest. “Tomorrow, after school, I want to show you exactly how I feel about you. Will you meet me downstairs, in the basement, in the room where they store all those old files?”

  “You know I will.”

  “Good. We’ll have complete privacy down there. The room’s easy to find. Just go down the east wing stairs, take a right, and it’s the second room on the right.”

  “I—I can hardly wait.”

  “Oh, aren’t you just the sweetest thing?”

  “You’re the sweet one,” he’d told her.

  “Wait until tomorrow. You’ll find out just how sweet I am.” She’d licked her lips, then winked at him before walking away to join her giggling girlfriends.

  This morning in American history class, she’d slipped him a note.

  Meet me at three-thirty. Go into the old file room in the basement and wait for me. I am so excited. It’s all I can think about. You are all I can think about.

  Your Sable Girl, Heather

  He’d stored his books in his locker, sprayed spearmint freshener in his mouth and double-checked his pocket for the condom he intended to use. There was no way in this world he’d ever do anything to harm Heather. He wanted to protect the girl he loved.

  When he got downstairs, he practically ran to the storage room. His hands trembled as he opened the door. Take a deep breath and calm down. You don’t want to get so excited that you come before you even get inside her.

  There were small, high windows across the top of one wall that let in daylight, but barely enough to illuminate the room, so he searched for the switch, found it and turned on the overhead lights. He realized two things simultaneously. It had begun to rain outside; he could hear the distant rumble of thunder and see the raindrops beating against the closed windows. Also, there was a blanket spread out on the floor, with a bottle of what looked liked wine and two glasses in the center.

  He’d never tasted liquor, but if Heather wanted them to share a glass of wine, he’d do it. He’d do anything she wanted him to do. He’d never had sex before either, unless you counted a guy jerking off in the shower as sex. He simply couldn’t believe he was lucky enough for his first time to be with Heather.r />
  As the minutes ticked by, his stomach churned and his head throbbed. God, he’d never been so nervous. He checked his watch incessantly, every minute, until he heard footsteps out in the hall.

  He held his breath. Then the door opened. There Heather stood, a goddess who was going to give her virginity to him.

  “You aren’t ready,” she said. “I thought you’d be ready when I got here.”

  “I don’t understand. What do you—”

  “We can’t fool around with our clothes on, silly. I thought you’d be stripped down to the buff when I got here so we wouldn’t have to waste time. I took off my bra and panties in the girl’s restroom upstairs.” She turned and lifted her skirt just enough to give him a glimpse of her bare butt.

  He swallowed hard.

  “Why don’t I watch you undress?” she said. “Then you can watch me.”

  “Okay.”

  He’d never been so scared—or so aroused—in his entire life. What if when she saw him naked, she thought he was skinny and ugly and…

  “Is everything all right?” she asked. “Do you need a little help?”

  “Uh … I—I’m not sure.”

  She came over to him and unbuttoned his shirt. White. Oxford cloth. Long sleeved. Part of the school’s regulation uniform. “Take it off.”

  He did.

  Then she unbuckled his belt, undid his navy blue slacks and lowered the zipper. “Get out of those.”

  He did.

  “Now, take off your briefs and show me what you’ve got.”