Beverly Barton 3 Book Bundle

“We’ll be there in a minute,” R.B. said. “I’m sure you won’t run out of food. You brought enough to feed a small army.”

“Well, we are feeding a bunch of strapping young men and I’m sure they all have healthy appetites.” Brenda slipped out into the hall and pulled the door almost closed. “Bernie, Raymond is here. He was asking about you. You should go in and make a point of talking to him.”

Bernie groaned. “Mama, Raymond Long did not come here tonight to see me or talk to me. He’s here for the same reason all those other men are here—because of Robyn.”

“Nonsense. I’ve told Robyn quite specifically that Raymond is yours and she’s to keep her hands off him.”

“Mother, you didn’t!” Bernie wished a hole would open up in the floor and swallow her.

“Brenda, for goodness’ sake.” R.B. glanced sympathetically at Bernie.

“I have two unmarried daughters and no grandchildren,” Brenda said. “Robyn has too many men in her life and Bernie has none. I have to do something, don’t I?”

“You can stop playing matchmaker,” Bernie told her mother. “Stop interfering in our lives. Robyn likes being single and playing the field. She loves being the belle of the ball and keeping half a dozen guys dangling on a string. And I like my life just the way it is, too, so butt out!”

Bernie turned around and headed down the hall.

“Bernadette Granger, you come back here,” her mother called after her.

Bernie paused when she reached the stairs, glanced over her shoulder and said, “Tell Robyn I’ll stop by this weekend and see her new place.”

As she headed down the stairs, she heard her mother say, “R.B., go after her. Talk to her.”

When Bernie reached the bottom of the stairs, she heard her father’s footsteps behind her. She opened the door, walked outside and waited for him on the sidewalk. When he caught up with her, he grinned sheepishly.

“I guess I’m as guilty as your mama, aren’t I? I was trying to hook you up with Jim Norton.”

“It’s okay, Dad. And you can tell Mama later that I’m sorry I lost my temper with her.”

“It’s this Stephanie Preston murder case, isn’t it? It’s got you all tied in knots.”

“It’s bad,” Bernie said. “It’s not just having no real leads in the Preston case that has me so concerned, it’s the fact that I’m worried sick the murderer will kill again.”

R.B. glanced up and down the sidewalk, then said, “Let’s go into the bookstore and sit in the coffee shop and get ourselves something to drink.”

Bernie glanced upward toward the second story of the building. “You’ll be missed.”

“Your mother told me to come talk to you and that’s what I’m doing, aren’t I?”

“She meant talk sense to me about Raymond Long, not discuss business with me.”

“I won’t tell her if you won’t.” R.B. put his arm around Bernie and led her to the front entrance of the bookstore.

Once they were seated at a table in the back, they ordered two decaf coffees and a couple of cheese Danishes. The coffee shop was empty except for the cashier cum waiter, so they had plenty of privacy.

“Want to tell me what’s going on?” R.B. asked. “Why are you concerned there will be another murder?”

“Because Jim thinks we may have a serial rapist/murderer on our hands.”

“And he thinks this because…”

“Because we found out that there was another woman, Jacque Reeves, over in DeKalb County who was raped and murdered about three months ago.”

“And?”

“And her physical description was similar to Stephanie Preston’s. Long dark hair, slender, young, pretty. She came up missing and sixteen days later, her body was found out on a lonely country road. Her throat had been slit and her body posed, with one hand covering her … down there … and her other arm draped over her breasts.”

“What about sketches, photos, gifts, notes?”

Bernie shook her head. “If there were any, they weren’t found.”

“So maybe it’s just a coincidence that there are some similarities. Maybe it was two different guys who killed Stephanie and the Reeves woman.”

“And what if it’s the same guy? He could kill again and soon. How am I going to stop him if I have no idea who he is?”

“What does Jim think? And what about Charlie Patterson’s opinion?”

“Charlie is going to look into the case over in DeKalb, check all the records, interview Jacque Reeves’s parents and siblings and ex-husband,” Bernie said. “And Jim thinks we need to start treating our case as a potential serial killer case.”

“And you don’t?”

“I do not want to jump the gun and create panic in town. And you know word of this would leak out no matter what precautions I took. People are upset and worried enough as it is, but what if Jim’s right? My God, Dad—”

R.B. reached out across the table, grabbed Bernie’s hands and held them in his. “Now, you listen to me, Bernie Granger, you’re the sheriff and you have all the right stuff in you to handle this job. Follow your Granger instincts. They won’t let you down.”

“Dad, I—” Her cell phone rang. Her father released her hands. She yanked her phone from the belt clip and answered it. “Sheriff Granger.”

“Sheriff, this is Roy Lee Nichols. You remember me, don’t you?”

“You’re the police chief in Verona.”

“Yeah, that’s right. And I’ve got some information I think you might find interesting.”

“Do you? And just what would that be?”

“Well, it’s not that I know all that much about the Stephanie Preston case, since y’all have kept most of the info confidential, but word gets around within the law enforcement community and I’ve heard things.”

“Chief, I don’t mean to be rude, but could you get to the point?”

He chuckled. “Sorry, I tend to go on and on. My wife’s always fussing at me about it.” He cleared his throat. “We got us a stalking case over here in Verona. Seems somebody’s been sending notes and gifts and some ugly drawings to one of our nice young ladies.”

“Gifts and notes and—what kind of ugly drawings?”

“Sexual drawings,” the chief said. “Pretty rough stuff.”

A chill raced up Bernie’s spine. “The gifts—what kind of gifts?”

“She brought in an ankle bracelet, but said she threw away the other things.”