Beverly Barton 3 Book Bundle

A phone rang twice, then the fax machine clicked in and began processing the message.

“You get the coffee,” Bernie said. “And I’ll get the fax.”

Jim nodded. “Bernie?”

With her back to him as she walked toward the fax machine positioned on a small stand between John’s and Ron’s desks, she paused. “Hmm …?”

“About Robyn and me …”

Bernie’s shoulders tensed as she continued walking toward the fax machine. “You and Robyn are none of my business.”

“That’s just it—there is no Robyn and me. There really never was.”

Bernie stood over the fax machine as the report from Derek Lawrence printed out.

When she didn’t respond to his declaration, Jim wondered if he should elaborate or just let it drop. He watched the coffeemaker as the liquid dripped into the glass pot. Come on, will you, fill up as quick as you can.

The fax machine clicked off just about the time the coffeepot filled almost to the rim. Jim glanced over at Bernie and saw her collecting the faxed pages. He turned over two clean cups, lifted the pot and poured the coffee.

He and Bernie met at the partially open door to his office. He stood back and waited for her to enter.

“Take my chair,” he told her.

When she sat in his chair and laid the thin stack of papers on the desk, he placed both cups of coffee on his desk, side by side, then dragged up another chair. He sat down beside Bernie and picked up his cup.

She eased her cup to her lips, took a couple of sips, and then set down the cup before focusing on the profile. After she scanned the first page, she handed it to Jim.

“Mr. Lawrence has pegged our serial killer as an organized, violent offender,” Bernie said. “No surprise there. Highly intelligent, socially and sexually competent.”

Jim read the first page. “Controlled moods. Maintains a stereotypical masculine image, is charming. Possibly an only child who suffered some type of abuse as a child or teenager.”

Bernie read aloud. “This type usually moves the body from the murder scene and disposes of the body to advertise the crime.” Bernie continued reading, then handed Jim the second page. “He’s got our guy down pat. It all fits.” She gave Jim the third and final page of the report.

Jim read over the listing of other characteristics. Plans the offense. Personalizes the victim. Controls the crime scene. Requires the victim to be submissive. Uses restraints. Acts aggressively. Moves body. Removes weapon. Leaves little evidence.

“Our guy is definitely power/control oriented,” Jim said. “Lawrence believes he tells his victims what to say during the assaults in order to recreate previously fantasized scenarios with idealized partners.”

“Lawrence also theorizes that our killer keeps records—writings, drawings, photographs.” Bernie closed her eyes and shivered. “Thomasina Hardy has been missing for thirteen days and we’re no closer to finding her than we were the night she disappeared.”

“Our boy’s smart. He’s out there laughing at us. He thinks he’s invincible.”

“What good is this profile if we don’t have even one suspect?” Bernie wrapped her hands around her coffee cup.

“It can help us rule out quite a lot of men,” Jim said. “Lawrence thinks our guy is young, under thirty-five, highly intelligent, possibly with some college or even a degree, and that he’s a mobile killer, that he moves around.”

“So what do we do—interview every man in Adams County under thirty-five who is intelligent, educated, and charming?”

“I think we need to find out more about the victims in the other states, starting with Heather Stevens and Shannon Elmore.”

“You’ve already talked to the lead detective on those cases, what more can you do?”

“I can talk to him again, ask him more questions. My guess is he knows more than he realizes. Things that might shed some light on who our killer is.”

“So call him.”

“I did first thing this morning. I’m just waiting for him to return my call.”

Bernie lifted the cup to her lips and drank. “You make good coffee.”

Jim grinned. “You make a good friend. One that I don’t want to lose.”

When she didn’t look at him or respond, he clamped his hand down on her shoulder. She tensed. “Bernie?”

She lifted her head and looked at him. “You haven’t lost me. We’re still friends.”

“Good friends?” he asked.

“I think we’re headed in that direction.”

“I’m not going to be dating your sister, so if you’re worried about me chasing after Robyn, don’t be. I know you were concerned about my using her and—”

Bernie laughed and shook her head.

“What’s so funny?” he asked as he lifted his hand from her shoulder.

“You are. I was never concerned about your using Robyn. Don’t you think I know that my sister is the user and not the usee in each of her relationships. I was worried that she’d break your heart.”

“Were you now?”

“I was. I worry about my friends.”

“That’s good to know.”

“Dad tells me that Kevin is still upset with you. What are you going to do about mending fences with your son?”

Jim raked his hand through his hair and reared back in his chair. “Damned if I know. I love that boy more than anything on earth, and yet all I seem to do is hurt and disappoint him. I can’t believe he walked in on Robyn and me. What were the odds of that happening? And I don’t know where he got the idea that there was something going on between you and me.”

“The three of us have spent a great deal of time together lately and we’ve had a lot of fun. Kevin and I have a marvelous rapport. I believe he liked the idea that if his dad was going to have a girlfriend, she’d be somebody he genuinely liked and someone who felt the same way about him.”

“It makes sense. You’re the kind of woman most kids would like to have for a mother.”

“Well, thank you, Captain Norton.”

Jim chuckled. “So, should we return to the way things were—you and Kevin and me? Or would the three of us spending more time together feed this fantasy he has of you and me as a couple?”

“That’s a difficult question. I don’t know. Maybe we should both talk to him again. Together.”

“Tonight?”