Beverly Barton 3 Book Bundle

Jim stretched his arms over his head and twisted from side to side, then picked up his vinyl carryall from where he’d laid it on the counter when he’d entered the kitchen earlier. After sitting down, he unzipped the case, pulled out a notepad and several file folders and spread them on top of the table.

Bernie placed their refilled coffee cups on the table and took her seat catercorner from Jim. “Did you get in touch with Derek Lawrence last night?”

Jim shook his head. “I talked to his wife. Lawrence got called in on an urgent case in Louisiana, but he told her to let me know he’d have the profile for us no later than Monday. It seems he wants the info we’ve compiled on the victims from the other states so he can compare the two and see if he thinks we’re dealing with the same guy.”

“What do you think?”

“I think it’s possible, maybe even probable, but I’m withholding making a final judgment until you and I go over everything. I want your opinion.”

Bernie nodded. “Were you able to get in touch with the lead detective from the murder case in South Carolina yesterday after we last talked?”

“Yep, I finally tracked down former Captain Hal Shepard last night. After he retired a couple of years ago, he moved to Louisville. And to make it even more difficult to find him, he’d gone off on a fishing trip with his son and grandson.”

“So, what did he have to say?”

“Pretty much what I expected.” Jim grimaced. “The victim, Shannon Elmore, was like all the other victims—young, pretty, dark haired, and popular. And when I explained about the other murders and described the killer’s MO, he agreed that there were similarities, but several inconsistencies.”

“Such as?”

“Shannon Elmore was abducted, raped and brutalized before her killer slit her throat,” Jim said. “But she was missing only three days before her body was discovered, naked and posed. And there’s no record of her receiving any gifts, except a few S and M sketches done in ink.”

“Do you think she was the first victim and that’s why there were no gifts, no real seduction before he grabbed her?”

“That’s exactly what I thought until Shepard mentioned another case he’d worked on approximately a year before the Elmore case.”

Bernie lifted her eyebrows. “Another similar case?”

“Sort of, but not exactly.”

“Meaning?”

“A year before Shannon Elmore was murdered in Greenville, South Carolina, another young woman in that city was killed in the same way—her throat was slit. Heather Stevens had been raped and brutalized and her body left on a lonely stretch of road. But Heather had been missing for less than twelve hours. And she hadn’t been completely naked.” Jim paused for effect. “She was wearing a string of pearls.”

Bernie blew out a whistling breath. “How many of the victims received a gift of pearls?”

“We know for sure that Stephanie and Thomasina did and both Georgia victims did, but none of the lead detectives in the other cases mentioned anything about pearls as one of the gifts.”

“Did both Shannon Elmore and Heather Stevens fit the description of all the other victims?”

Jim nodded. “Young, pretty, brunette, and popular. All eight women. Eight if we count Heather, and nine if we lump Thomasina Hardy in with the others.”

“You believe, despite the lack of consistent similarities, that Heather Stevens was killed by the same man, don’t you?”

“Yes, I do. And my gut tells me that Heather was probably the first, not Shannon.”

“Then are we to assume this killer simply chooses a certain type of woman at random? Our three Alabama victims, counting Thomasina, lived within easy driving distance of one another, but they didn’t know each other and the only connection they had to one another was that two of them had attended Adams County Junior College and one was a teacher there.” Bernie looked directly at Jim. “What about the other victims? Were they connected in any way?”

“I don’t know about anybody else, other than Heather and Shannon. Hal Shepard told me that the two women had gone to private school together, that they’d been close friends.”

“Is that fact significant? Could it mean that they knew the killer, that he chose his first two victims for a specific reason, other than the obvious?”

The backdoor flew open. Kevin came running inside and chased Boomer through the kitchen. As he skidded to a halt by the refrigerator, he asked, “May I have a cola?”

“Help yourself,” Bernie replied.

Kevin glanced at the notepad and papers scattered about on the table. “You two have already started working, huh?” Boomer jumped up on Kevin, pawing his leg. “We’ll get out of here pronto and you won’t hear a peep out of us until lunchtime.”

“Thank you for taking care of Boomer for me this morning,” Bernie said.

“You’re welcome.” Kevin grinned broadly, then retrieved a canned cola from the refrigerator, picked up Boomer and jaunted out of the kitchen.

Jim turned his attention back to business. “Let’s assume that the same man killed all eight women, beginning with Heather nearly seven years ago.”

“Okay, we’ll work with that premise. We have a man who, for reasons unknown, targets young, pretty, popular brunettes. As far as we know there are only eight victims, not counting Thomasina, and I refuse to give up hope on her. But he apparently isn’t killing within a certain time frame. He has murdered two women in our area within the past six months and in a little over a week after Stephanie’s body was discovered, he abducted Thomasina.”

Jim rummaged through the papers on the table, picking up one, scanning it, and then repeating the process again and again. “Son of a bitch.”

“What did you find?”

“Probably nothing,” Jim said. “Heather Stevens was killed seven years ago, and then the next three murders occurred the following year, all within a six-month time span.” He lifted a couple of sheets of paper and fanned them back and forth. “The two Georgia murders didn’t occur until three years later.” He glanced at one report, and then another. “The first Georgia murder took place in September in Gains-ville and the second occurred in December in Rome. That was two and a half years ago.”

“There really is no time frame. He’s killed sporadically. One murder, then three, then two, then one, and now two, three if you count Thomasina.”

“There is one thing we’re overlooking,” Jim said. “We assumed that Jacque Reeves and Stephanie Hardy knew their killer and trusted him enough to get into his car. But if our guy is the same man who committed the other murders, that means he is not an Alabama native or if he is, he’s moved around or traveled quite a bit. He has either recently moved to this area or moved back to this area.”

“You don’t actually think we can come up with a list of suspects from those facts, do you? This guy could live any where in northeast Alabama.”

“He could, but what if he lives in Adams County?”

“What if he doesn’t?”

“Come on, Bernie, we’re putting together a hypothesis. We’re playing a game of what if. What if this guy lives in Adams County? What if he’s either new to the area or has moved back here in the past year? You know just about everybody in the county, don’t you?”

“Oh shit. You want me to name names?”

“Yeah, I do.”

“I can’t just accuse somebody—”

“You’re not accusing anybody,” he told her. “But we have to start somewhere in compiling a list of possible suspects, and I’d say this is as good a place as any.”

Bernie nodded, hating the idea of pointing fingers unjustly at anyone. Absentmindedly, she tapped her fingernails on the table as she thought. “Well, the first person who comes to mind is Reverend Donaldson. He’s our most recent newcomer.”

“A minister who’s a serial killer. Hmm … unlikely, but not impossible.”

Bernie chuckled. “Matthew is a pussycat.”

“And you know this how?” Jim asked. “From personal experience? I thought your mom had picked out Matthew for Robyn. You haven’t been homing in on your sister’s territory, have you?”