Don't Cry (35 page)

Within an hour after Porter Bryant's arrest, the small, dilapidated church hidden in the woods five miles from the Chaney farm became the center of an in-depth investigation, the entire area swarming with law enforcement officers and crime scene personnel. Porter had been taken into custody and was on his way to jail. Somer Ellis had been whisked away and taken by ambulance to the hospital, where her husband was waiting for her.

In order to keep the secret room and its contents preserved so as not to compromise any evidence, the people allowed inside were kept to a minimum. And each person wore protective coveralls to avoid cross-contamination. J.D., Will, and Tam waited upstairs inside the church while the highly trained CSI crew went over the secret room with a fine-tooth comb. Garth had been pacing restlessly, going outside periodically and then returning to continue pacing.

When ME Pete Tipton arrived, he took possession of the shawl-wrapped toddler skeleton. After placing the child's remains in a body bag and turning it over to his assistant, Pete waited with the rest of them. Nobody said much, just an occasional comment about what a complete shock it had been to discover that Porter Bryant was the Rocking Chair Killer. They each knew Porter and all agreed that the man had appeared to be perfectly normal.

Garth said the least, mostly just nodding, adding an occasional yes or no to the limited conversation. He seemed distracted, as if his thoughts were on something else entirely.

J.D. couldn't imagine how Garth felt knowing the little skeleton cocooned in the body bag belonged to his missing nephew, Blake Sherrod. When the child had been brought up from the basement, J.D. had expected Garth to at the very least look at the skeleton, but he hadn't. Maybe even the thought of it had been too painful.

An hour and a half later, Jada Irby, a member of the CSI team, came upstairs and walked straight to J.D. “I thought you'd want a preliminary report,” she told him.

“Thanks. We appreciate that,” J.D. said.

“We found five wooden boxes,” Jada told him. “There are fragments of what appear to be blue cloth of some kind in each of the boxes.”

“Baby blankets?” J.D. asked.

“Possibly the remnants of shawls or blankets.”

“Are the boxes empty?” Tam asked.

“Yes.” Jada looked at Tam. “We can't know for sure at this point, but we suspect that the boxes were used as coffins.”

J.D. recounted in his head. Including Cody Bennett, there were six toddlers in all: Cody, Keith Lawson, Chase Wilcox, Devin Kelly, Blake Sherrod, and Shane Douglas. It was possible that Regina had not placed her son here in the church with the other toddlers and that was the reason there were only five boxes. “Did you say there were only five?”

“Yes, only five.”

“And you didn't find any other skeletons? Just the one Somer Ellis had been holding?”

“Yes, just the one.”

“Something doesn't add up,” J.D. said. “If Regina Bennett killed her son and five of the six toddlers she kidnapped, there should be six boxes.”

“Unless she buried Cody or hid his body somewhere else.” Tam stared at J.D. “If that's the case, then there would be only five coffin-type boxes down there, which there are.”

“Five boxes, but only four bodies,” J.D. reminded her.

“Oh, that's right. So, where is the fifth toddler?” Tam asked.

“Excellent question.”

“One that we'll be asking Porter Bryant.”

“Do you think he'll tell us anything? He seemed really out of it when y'all brought him up from the basement,” Tam said. “He looked at me as if he had no idea who I was. And he kept mumbling something about keeping a promise to his mother.”

“Once he's been examined by a physician and a psychiatrist, we'll have a better idea if he'll be capable of cooperating with us.” J.D. couldn't shake the feeling that the fact there was one less toddler skeleton than there should have been was somehow significant. How or why, he wasn't sure. But he had learned long ago never to ignore his gut instincts.

 

J.D. had been up all night. He not only looked like hell, but he felt like hell. Phil Hayes, accompanied by Chief Mullins, Commander Nicholson, and the county sheriff, would be holding a 6:00 A.M. news conference to announce the capture of the Rocking Chair Killer and the rescue of his fourth victim, Somer Ellis.

When J.D. had asked Tam to let him be the one to tell Audrey about Porter Bryant, she had given him a hard, scrutinizing glare. “I'm her best friend. I should tell her and be there with her when the announcement is made.”

“Maybe that's the reason I should be the one to talk to her…because you're too close to—”

“Bull. Don't give me that crap. What's really going on with you? With you and Audrey?”

He had started to lie, to deny that anything was going on between him and Audrey. “I can't explain it. Let's just say that I know I should be the one there with her, that I should be the one to tell her that the killer was Porter Bryant.”

Tam had studied his face for a full minute, and then said, “All right. You have until the press conference. I'll be on Audrey's doorstep at five minutes till six.”

J.D. called Audrey when he was en route, apparently waking her. He told her only that he would be there shortly and that he had important information about the Rocking Chair Killer.

He arrived at her town house at ten till five, and just as he stepped onto her front porch, she opened the door.

“My God, you look awful,” she said. “Have you been up all night?”

“Yeah, I have.”

After moving aside to give him room to enter, she closed the door behind him and said, “Go on into the living room and sit down. I put on a pot of coffee right after you called.”

“Let's just go straight to the kitchen. I could use that coffee as soon as possible.”

He looked at her and saw the tension in her body and the uncertainty in her eyes. Then he scanned her quickly from head to toe. Her hair hung loosely about her shoulders, her delicate face was devoid of makeup, and the belt on her silk robe hadn't been tied, leaving it open to reveal the sheer silk pajamas beneath. He wanted to reach out and grab her, hold her close, and protect her. The last thing he wanted was to tell her that the man she had been dating for months was a mentally unbalanced serial killer.

He eased his open palm beneath her elbow and guided her into the kitchen. Working together, they poured coffee into two mugs, and Audrey doctored hers while he took his black. They pulled out chairs and sat at the kitchen table. J.D. took a sip of the fresh, hot coffee, then set his mug on the table and scooted his chair until he was beside Audrey, close enough to touch her.

“Whatever it is, it's bad, isn't it?” She looked into his eyes.

He reached out and grasped her, his hands locking around her upper arms, his fingers tightening halfway between her shoulders and her elbows.

“Oh, God, J.D., you're scaring me.”

“Don't be afraid, honey. You're safe with me.” He hated knowing how much what he had to tell her would hurt her. “We caught the Rocking Chair Killer last night. We got there in time to save Somer Ellis.”

“Oh, J.D., thank God…thank God.”

“There's more, Audrey, other things you have to know.”

A fine sheen of moisture glistened in her gold-and green-flecked brown eyes. “You found Blake's body…his skeleton, didn't you?”

“We found a toddler skeleton, yes. And DNA test results will prove his identity.”

She pulled one arm free, lifted her hand, and caressed his cheek. “I'm so thankful that y'all were able to stop him before he killed another woman. How did it happen? How were you able to—?”

“It's a long, complicated story.” He covered her hand with his, drew it away from his face, and then grasped both of her hands in his. “And later, when there's more time, I'll explain everything, tell you whatever you want to know, but for now, I'll give you the condensed version.”

Her hands trembled. He squeezed them tenderly.

“You're scaring me again,” she told him.

He lifted her hands to his mouth and rubbed each set of knuckles slowly across his mouth, the gesture one of care and comfort.

“We've been working on a couple of leads, one concerning the car an eyewitness saw at the antique store where the last body was found,” J.D. said. “And the other lead took us on a search for a boy named Corey Bennett, Regina Bennett's son and Cody Bennett's twin, who had been adopted twenty-three years ago.” When Audrey's mouth fell open on a surprised gasp, he didn't pause, but kept talking, wanting to get it all out as quickly as possible. “Once we learned his identity, we put him under surveillance, and last night, he led us straight to where he was keeping Somer Ellis, where he had kept and killed three other women.”

Audrey's eyes widened, her gaze fixed to his, her breath caught in her throat.

“Honey…Audrey…damn! Corey Bennett was adopted by Morris and Lynn Bryant when he was nine years old.”

Audrey stared at him, her eyes expressing her thoughts. Puzzlement. Doubt. Disbelief. Reluctant acceptance. “Porter Bryant is the Rocking Chair Killer.”

A week later the test results came back from the DNA taken from the only toddler skeleton found in the church basement. At first, no one could believe that the toddler was Shane Douglas and not Blake Sherrod. No one except J.D. Wayne Sherrod had demanded that the test be run again, but had finally been convinced of the accuracy of the original findings. A dozen different theories popped up as to why the Rocking Chair Killer had skipped Blake, the fourth missing toddler, and had placed the fifth toddler in the fourth victim's arms. And equally as many scenarios were batted about as to why there had been only five coffin-type boxes found and why there had been no sign of another toddler skeleton. But these and other questions concerning the old Baby Blue cases were swept aside, at least temporarily, while everyone involved with Porter Bryant's capture celebrated the confinement of a serial killer.

With Porter tucked neatly away in jail, awaiting trial—if he wasn't declared legally insane before then and placed in a mental institution the way his biological mother had been—the CPD began tying up loose ends on the case. But for J.D., there were still too many loose ends on the Baby Blue cases for him to walk away without finding the answers.

When the DNA results identified the skeleton as Shane Douglas, he hadn't been quite as surprised as everyone else. His gut had warned him that something was off about the whole thing, that there had to be an explanation for why Porter had skipped Blake Sherrod and why there were only five coffin-type boxes in the church basement. The truth had been right there in front of him all the time, and on a subconscious level he had known what it was even before he finally accepted the most logical explanation. There were only five boxes because there had been only five toddlers, including Cody Bennett. And Porter hadn't skipped over the fourth toddler because Shane Douglas
was
the fourth toddler.

Regina Bennett had not kidnapped Blake Sherrod!

For the past few days since coming to terms with the obvious truth, J.D. had kept his opinion to himself. He needed time to dig deeper, to sift through the old files, to go over every scrap of information and evidence from the Blake Sherrod file.

But for today, nearly two weeks after Porter Bryant's arrest, J.D. had put his search into the past on hold so that he could attend Shane Douglas's funeral, which was being covered by local, state, and national press. He had told himself that the only reason he was going to the funeral was to represent the TBI. But if he was totally honest with himself, he had to admit that the main reason was Audrey. He needed to be there for her. The past ten days had been difficult for her, and although he had seen her only a few times when he had gone by to check on Zoe, they hadn't really talked again since he had told her Porter was the Rocking Chair Killer.

He would never forget her reaction. To say she'd been startled would be an understatement. She had looked as if someone had hit her between the eyes with a two-by-four. And then, to his surprise, she had taken control of her emotions and quickly put up a cold, disciplined façade. No tears. No hysterics.

She should have fallen apart, should have ranted and raved and denied the possibility that a man she had dated for months could be a killer. In the past, he had occasionally seen the soft, emotional side of Audrey's personality and could only imagine the amount of strength it had taken for her not to fall to pieces.

Zoe had told him that she'd heard Audrey sobbing late at night, when she'd been alone in her bedroom. But J.D. suspected that those tears were not for Porter or even for herself. She'd been crying for her baby brother, still missing, his disappearance remaining an unsolved mystery.

Neither Hart Roberts nor Jeremy Arden had attended the church service for Shane Douglas, and neither came to the cemetery for the burial afterward. J.D. had halfway expected to see them both there. Tam had been there at Audrey's side during the funeral and even Garth showed up to pay his respects at the cemetery.

When J.D. walked up alongside Audrey at the gravesite, she didn't even glance at him, but she reached down between them and took his hand. Tam noticed; she shot a quick, hard glare his way. He understood Tam's concern and her silent warning. Audrey was her best friend and was extremely vulnerable right now.

Shane Douglas's mother, Grace, was flanked by Wayne Sherrod and her son, Lance. Weeping continuously and moving as if in a trance, Grace Douglas leaned heavily on Wayne, as she had done throughout the church service earlier.

The young minister spoke a few words at the cemetery, and when all was said and done, he issued an invitation to the small crowd of mourners.

“Grace would like for y'all to drop by her house this afternoon. Ladies from the church have prepared a meal for the family and friends.”

As J.D. escorted Audrey and Tam to Tam's car, Audrey said, “I think I should go to Mrs. Douglas's home. Daddy will be there and—”

“I'm not sure that's such a good idea,” Tam said. “Besides, I really need to get back to work and—”

“If you want to go, I'll take you,” J.D. heard himself offer, the comment made from gut reaction and not through a logical thought process.

“Audrey, are you sure?” Tam asked, concern in her dark eyes.

“I'm sure.” Audrey hugged Tam before turning to him and grasping his arm. “Thank you, J.D. I appreciate your offer.”

During the drive from the cemetery to Grace Douglas's home, Audrey didn't say a word. Respecting her need for silence, J.D. remained quiet. A few cars and SUVs lined the side of the street in front of the Douglas house.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” J.D. asked her as he opened the passenger door and helped her from his Camaro. “Tam didn't think it was such a good idea.”

“Daddy may need me,” she said. “We thought we would be burying Blake, but instead…” She blew out a soft, sad breath. “Today has to be doubly difficult for my father.”

An assortment of relatives and close friends who had come straight there from the church, skipping the burial, ate and talked and carried on various conversations. Audrey and J.D. introduced themselves to Grace's sister and brother-in-law as well as her son, Lance.

Someone had arranged a collection of photos depicting Shane Douglas from birth to thirty months old and displayed them on the dining room sideboard.

He had been a precious, rosy-cheeked blond cherub.

“He looks a little like Blake,” Audrey whispered. “Only he was chubbier and his hair wasn't curly. Blake had curly hair.”

J.D. draped his arm around her shoulders. “Let me take you home, honey. This isn't good for you.”

“Soon,” she told him. “I need to find Daddy first and make sure he's okay and see if he needs…anything.”

J.D. knew she had been about to say “see if he needs me.”

After declining an offer of food, Audrey and J.D. meandered through the crowd assembled inside Grace's home. When they reached the entrance to the hallway leading to the bedrooms, they saw Wayne Sherrod. He closed the door to the room at the end of the hall. A woman they had met earlier, Grace's cousin, came up to Wayne and said something to him.

“She's resting,” Wayne told her. “She took more of the medication her doctor prescribed, so maybe she'll sleep for a while.”

The woman nodded, patted Wayne's arm, and then returned to the living room.

When Wayne spotted Audrey, he stopped, the expression on his face devoid of emotion. Audrey pulled away from J.D. and approached her father.

“Daddy?” She gazed up at him with love and hope in her eyes, so obviously offering him comfort and sympathy.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, his voice cold and hard.

“I wanted to be here for you,” she told him honestly. “I've been so worried about you. I've tried to call you several times. I thought maybe you'd stop by the house or at least call me.” She reached out and placed her hand on his arm. “Is there anything I can do for you or for Mrs. Douglas?”

Wayne Sherrod withdrew from Audrey, detaching his arm from her comforting touch. “There's not a damn thing you or anyone else can do.” He walked past her and went into the kitchen without a backward glance.

Audrey looked as if her father had slapped her.

It took a great deal of self-control for J.D. not to follow Wayne Sherrod and knock the old fool on his ass. But that was the last thing Audrey needed. Instead, he slipped his arm around her waist and said, “Come on, honey. I'm taking you home.”

 

For most of her life, Audrey had prided herself on not needing anyone. And yet in the deepest recesses of her heart, she had secretly longed for something always just beyond her reach, had experienced that inexplicable yearning to love and be loved…to need and be needed in return. She had learned at an early age, after her mother died, not to depend on anyone except herself. And as the years went by, she came to accept that her role in life was to be that of a caretaker, both professionally and personally.

As she sat in J.D.'s car on the drive from Grace Douglas's home to downtown Chattanooga, Audrey told herself that she could deal with the pain inside her. It wasn't as if today was the first time her father had rejected her, but oddly enough, his insensitive dismissal of her, his absolute refusal to accept her comfort, had hurt Audrey more than at any other time in her adult life. Yes, as a child, she had wept bitter tears over his emotional abandonment of her, but as the years passed and she matured, she had learned to accept what she couldn't change. But now as then, she had difficulty understanding why her own father didn't love her.

When J.D. pulled the Camaro to a stop in front of her town house, Audrey turned to him. “Thank you for bringing me home.” She opened the door.

J.D. reached over and clutched her shoulder. “You shouldn't be alone. Let me park the car and I'll come inside with you and stay for a while.”

She glanced back at him. “You don't have to do that. I'll be all right.”

“With Zoe off on that school field trip for the next couple of days, you won't have a perky, pesky teenager to take your mind off everything that's happened. So why not let her aggravating, argumentative dad take her place, at least for this afternoon?”

“Don't you need to go back to work?”

Why am I trying to send him away when I so desperately want him to stay?

“I need an afternoon off,” he told her. “Besides, it's past four now, so most of the afternoon is shot.”

Audrey offered him a hesitant smile. “If you're sure…?”

“I'm sure. Invite me to stay for dinner, and I might be persuaded to prepare my specialty.”

“Dare I ask what that is?”

“I make a superb BLT.”

“In that case, please stay.”

After J.D. parked the car, he escorted her up the steps and onto her porch. He took the keys from her unsteady hand and unlocked the front door. She removed her lightweight coat and hung it in the foyer closet. He followed her into the living room, took off his suit jacket, folded it, and laid it across the first chair he passed; then he loosened his tie and undid the collar button.

“Would you like something to drink?” she asked. “I have wine or—”

“Nothing right now,” he said. “Let's save the wine to go with our sandwiches later.”

“A glass of wine and a BLT. Hmm…interesting combination. I think I prefer a Coke with my sandwich and then maybe wine with dessert.”

“Then I'll look forward to dessert.”

J.D. grinned at her and the bottom dropped out of her stomach.

“Why don't we sit down and talk,” J.D. said. “Or if you just want to sit quietly for a while, we can do that.”

“Sitting quietly sounds good.”

After she eased down on the sofa, she removed her heels, set them aside, burrowed into the cushions, and laid her head against the back of the sofa. J.D. sat beside her, removed his tie, folded it, and placed it on the coffee table. She felt a peculiar sense of comfort just having him there with her. Perhaps it was nothing more than being grateful not to be alone.

You don't really believe that, do you?

As they sat together in silence for several minutes, Audrey began to feel the tension in J.D.'s body, feel it as surely as if she was touching him. The relaxation she had envisioned them sharing had suddenly disappeared; instead the exact opposite was true. How could she possibly relax when some alien part of her longed for J.D. to hold her?

“I hope Zoe's having fun,” Audrey said.

“Yeah, me, too.”

“You two have come a long way in a short period of time.”

“Mostly thanks to you.”

Audrey smiled. “You've done your part, too.”

“I've tried.”

“That's a lot, you know. Trying.”

“What happened?” When she looked at him as if she didn't comprehend his question, he added, “Between you and your father? The way he treated you today was unforgivable.”

Audrey hugged her arms around her body and stared straight ahead, determined not to give in to her emotions as she so often did. “I'm not sure I know. He was never affectionate, not with me or with Hart, either. And even though he acted as if he thought the sun rose and set on Blake, I don't remember him hugging or kissing Blake, either.”

“Some people just aren't able to express the way they feel, not in words, and not by being affectionate.”

“I understand that now, even though it's difficult for a child to accept.” Audrey closed her eyes. “I suppose he was a good father, in his own way. He never spanked me or Hart. He provided for us. He spent far more time at home with his family after Blake was born. And he was good to Enid, and I'm sure that wasn't always easy. Although her problems were never actually diagnosed, looking back, it's obvious that she had terrible emotional problems.”