Every Move She Makes (32 page)

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Authors: Beverly Barton

Tags: #Suspense, #Contemporary romance, #Fiction

BOOK: Every Move She Makes
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Bernie heard her sister giggling just before she slammed the front door. The moment Bernie was alone, she sighed, leaned her head back and stretched her aching muscles. Just as she eyed the coffeepot, intending to pour herself a cup before she prepared a sandwich, the telephone rang. Her heart leaped into her throat. She had left several of her deputies, along with Adams Landing police officers and several volunteers from Jackson County, still scouring Craggy Point, the area where an eyewitness swore he saw a woman fitting Stephanie’s description arguing with a burly black man at the roadside park.

“Sheriff Granger.” Her hand clutched the phone with white-knuckled pressure; then she glanced down at the caller ID and groaned.

“Good, you’re home,” Brenda Granger said. “Have you eaten supper? Taken a bath? Do you need me to come over and fix you something to eat? Or I could bring some leftovers. Dad and I had pot roast for supper and—”

“I’m fine, Mom. I was just fixing to make a sandwich.”

“A sandwich? What kind?”

“Peanut butter and jelly.” Bernie said the first thing that popped into her head.

“You don’t eat right,” Brenda said. “That’s the reason you can’t ever get rid of those ten extra pounds around your hips.”

“Mom, I’m really tired. Could we discuss my eating habits and my weight problems another time?”

“Of course.” Brenda paused for half a minute. “I’d like for you and Robyn to come to dinner on Sunday.”

“All right. I’ll be there, if I can. And I’ll mention it to Robyn when—”

“Isn’t she there?”

Thinking fast on her feet and telling a white lie to avoid further explanations, Bernie said, “She’s in the shower. I’ll tell her when she gets out, and I’m sure she’ll be able to make it for Sunday dinner.”

“Good. I’ve invited the new preacher. He’s not married. And I’ve also invited Helen and her son Raymond. Raymond’s divorce is final, you know. Helen and I agree that it’s high time he started dating again.”

“Good night, Mom. See you Sunday.”

“Yes, dear, good night.”

Bernie hung up the phone. When she told Robyn that their mother expected them for Sunday dinner, and that she was providing each of them with a potential husband, Robyn would throw a hissy fit. But in the end, she, like Bernie, would go to dinner and endure yet another matchmaking scheme concocted by a desperate grandmother wannabe.

 

 

Jim Norton unlocked the front door of his rental duplex on Washington Street. While driving through town, he’d noticed that a great many of the streets in Adams Landing were named for presidents. Washington, Jefferson, Madison, Monroe. Before entering the house, he reached inside and felt for a light switch, which he quickly found. He had rented this place, sight unseen, fully furnished and move-in ready. He stepped inside, dropped his suitcase to the carpeted floor, then closed and locked the door behind himself.

Scanning the living room, he noted the place looked like most furnished rentals. Clean and neat. Furniture, drapes, and carpets slightly worn. Not a home, just a place for a guy to hang his hat. He hadn’t had a real home in a long time. Not since he and Mary Lee divorced. He could have bought a house or even rented a nicer place and furnished it himself, but what was the point? While working as a lieutenant on the Memphis police force, he hadn’t spent much time at home. Slept and bathed there. And occasionally ate there. If he’d been given joint custody of Kevin, he probably would have bought a house, but Mary Lee had been given full custody and he’d gotten squat. Just visitation rights—and those visits were under Mary Lee’s supervision.

He’d driven straight from Memphis this evening, across northern Mississippi and northern Alabama, taking Highway 72 all the way. Adams County was a small county nestled in the northeastern corner of Alabama, a stone’s throw from both the Tennessee and Georgia state lines, and the Tennessee River divided the county seat, Adams Landing, from its nearest neighbor, Pine Bluff.

Jim’s neck was stiff and his bad knees hurt like hell. He’d made only one pit stop on his journey from his past to his future. His bleak future. Not that his future on the Memphis force had looked all that bright—not since he’d fallen from grace and an air of suspicion had surrounded him ever since.

Jim left his suitcase there by the front door as he walked through the duplex, turning lights on and off as he went from the living room into the small efficiency kitchen. Then he backtracked and went into first one bedroom and then another. The bath was small, but clean, with a shower/tub combination. He’d rented a two-bedroom place despite the added expense because he wanted Kevin to have his own room when he came to visit.

Leaving the bathroom light on, Jim went over to the bed and sat down. He should at least brush his teeth before turning in, but he thought maybe, just this once, he’d forgo his usual routine. After removing his shoes and socks and stripping down to his briefs, Jim flipped back the covers and crawled into bed.

He lay there for several minutes, thinking he’d go right to sleep. But the longer he lay there, the more he realized that until he took something for the pain in his knees, he’d never go to sleep. He had two choices. Both were in his suitcase: either whiskey or the painkillers the doctor had given him. He chose the prescription medicine. After bringing his suitcase into the bedroom and digging through his shave kit for the plastic bottle, he took one pill and went back to bed. He gazed up at the shadows flickering across the white popcorn ceiling. He had left the bathroom light on and closed the door almost shut. He hated the darkness, especially when he was in a strange place.

He wished the pill would take effect soon. Not just to relieve the pain, but to knock him out. Otherwise, he’d think too much. Thinking about Mary Lee and Kevin and why he was here in this one-horse town was a useless exercise in torment.

He’d met and fallen madly in love with Mary Lee at the University of Tennessee; then they’d married right after he graduated. There had been some good years. They’d been happy. For a while. Kevin’s birth had been the greatest day of Jim’s life. He’d never known you could love someone the way he loved his son. Back then, Jim had thought he had the world by the tail. Despite knee injuries destroying his dream of playing pro football, he had found a new and satisfying career as a Memphis police officer. He’d made detective fairly young and life had been good. Until his cockiness and stupid arrogance had cost his partner his life. After that, everything fell apart, including his marriage. When he’d found Mary Lee in bed with another man, he had wanted to kill them both. And he almost had. Almost.

He had walked out of his house that day and filed for a divorce two weeks later. Forgiveness wasn’t a word in his vocabulary, because as far as he was concerned, some sins were unforgivable.

For the past seven years, Mary Lee had made his life as miserable as possible, at first trying to turn Kevin against him, then later jerking him around about his visitation rights. So it hadn’t actually come as a great surprise to him when, after remarrying six months ago, she’d told him that she was moving with her new husband to Huntsville. Kevin’s stepdad had recently been transferred to the Rocket City.

“You can drive to Huntsville a couple of times a year to see Kevin,” Mary Lee had said. “And he can come stay with you a week every summer.”

“No way in hell!”

He had known that going back to court wouldn’t do any good. Despite being a whore, Mary Lee wasn’t a bad mother. And Jim had proved by his actions years ago that he wasn’t such a good father. So he’d realized he had only one choice if he wanted to see his son on a regular basis. He had to move closer to Huntsville. It had taken him six months to find a job—the right job. One that paid him enough to live on and stay current with his child support payments. Being a chief deputy in Podunk was a demotion from being a lieutenant on the Memphis police force, and his yearly salary dropped by over twenty thousand. But he figured he’d do okay since the cost of living here was slightly less than in the big city.

The only thing that mattered to Jim was that he’d now be living less than an hour away from his son.

 

 

Stephanie wondered when he would return. Without a calendar or a clock, she had no way of knowing what day it was or what time. It could be twelve noon or twelve midnight. There were no windows in this room and the only light was a bare bulb hanging from the ceiling, too high for her to reach without a ladder. Those first few days after he had abducted her, she had tried everything to escape, but soon realized that there was no way out except the way she’d come in, the single door at the top of the stairs through which he had dragged her. A week ago? Two weeks ago? To her, it seemed a lifetime ago.

He didn’t keep her shackled any longer. She was free to roam about in the twelve-by-twelve room, which she felt certain was a partial basement, under either a house or a building of some kind. In the corner, surrounded by a four-foot cinder block stall, was a shower, commode, and sink, as if someone had once planned to turn this area into a spare bedroom and bath. The block walls had been painted yellow, which over time had faded to a dirty cream.

The smell of mildew and mustiness permeated the entire room and everything in it, which wasn’t much. A metal bed, a chair, and a desk. He made her sit at the desk to eat when he brought her food, which he did almost every day. At first she had refused to eat; but then he had punished her, telling her that he would not allow her to starve herself to death.

The first time he raped her, she’d fought him, but she soon learned that the harder she fought, the more severe the punishment. He never tortured her to the point where she passed out. At least not yet. Just enough to derive pleasure from her screams. Sometimes he would rape her with a bottle or a wooden phallus before climbing on top of her. And he liked to bite her. She had his teeth prints all over her body, as well as dozens of small burns from where he’d pressed lighted cigarettes on her skin. Most of the burns were on her buttocks and breasts.

He had raped her so many times, tortured her so often, that there was nothing else in her mind, no room to remember her life before this madman had kidnapped her. It wasn’t that she had given up easily or that she hadn’t hoped and prayed to escape. She had climbed those stairs leading to the outside world numerous times, beaten on the door and cried for help. But there was no help for her. No hope of being rescued. There was nothing ahead for her except more of the same.

She wanted to die. Longed to die. It was the only way she would ever be free of him. But there was nothing in this room she could use to aid herself in committing suicide, so all she could do was hope that he would tire of her soon and kill her.

The lock on the door clicked. Stephanie’s body tensed and her mind screamed silently as she stood there, frozen to the spot, knowing the monster would open the door and come down the steps.

Listening, her eyes focused on the bottom of the wooden staircase, she heard his footsteps. Slow and steady. Not rushing. Taking his time.

“Good evening, Stephanie,” he said, a self-satisfied smile on his face.

“Is it evening?”

“Yes, it’s nearly eleven o’clock.”

He gazed at her, studying her from the top of her disheveled hair to the tips of her bare toes. Without being told, she knew what he expected, what he demanded of her. She was allowed to wear nothing except a black silk robe, and only when he wasn’t there. With numb, trembling fingers, she undid the tie belt and peeled the robe from her shoulders. It fell to her feet, puddling on the floor like a soft, black cloud.

“My lovely Stephanie.”

He came to her, took her by the hand and led her to the bed. Without being told, she lay down, parted her thighs and held her arms open to him.

“Always so willing to please,” he said. “I love that about you.”

“I love you.” She told him what she knew he wanted to hear. “I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anyone. Please, darling, make love to me.”

He quickly shed his clothing, as always very eager. What would he do to her first? He had to inflict some type of pain before he could become aroused enough to rape her.

But apparently not this time. When he stood over her, his eyes wild and his breathing hard, she saw that his penis was already erect.

“Turn over,” he told her.

Knowing what he intended and that it was useless to protest, she turned over onto her stomach. She waited for the first blow, but there was none. Instead, his hand caressed her buttocks. Tenderly. And then she felt him as he crawled on top of her. She held her breath. He rammed into her. She whimpered in pain. He rode her with a fury, coming within minutes. Still embedded inside her, he kissed her shoulder, then grasped her hair and jerked her head up off the pillow.

He’d never done this before so she didn’t know what to expect next. Suddenly, she felt something pressing against her neck, just below her chin.

“Do you want me to set you free, my darling?” he asked.

And then she realized that he held a knife to her throat.

No, please don’t kill me
, a part of her begged silently. That tiny part of her consciousness that longed to live, longed to believe that there was still hope. But the terrified, tormented part of her who couldn’t bear to suffer any longer said aloud, “Yes, please. Please set me free.”

And with one quick, deep slice of the sharp blade, he ended their relationship.

 
 

Please turn the page for an exciting sneak peek at
Beverly Barton’s romantic suspense thriller
KILLING HER SOFTLY
available wherever books are sold.

Prologue
 

Lulu Vanderley was rich, blond and beautiful. Women envied her. Men wanted her. She had it all. Everything. Except…There was one thing she wanted that could never truly be hers. Quinn Cortez. And knowing she couldn’t have him made her want him all the more.

They’d been lovers for several months, ever since they’d met through mutual acquaintances in Vail months ago. In the beginning, a hot affair had been enough for both of them. He’d made it clear from their very first date that he was a no-strings-attached kind of guy. And she’d been well aware of his love ’em and leave ’em reputation. But that was before she fell in love with the gorgeous hunk, before she’d decided that she wanted to become Mrs. Quinn Cortez. And as a general rule, Lulu got what Lulu wanted.

She stared at her reflection in the mirror and smiled devilishly. No man had ever been able to resist her. And that was one reason she and Quinn were perfect for each other. They were two peas in a pod—a couple of gorgeous, irresistible philanderers.

Tonight she would spring the trap, the age-old trap that had caught many a poor fool. Quinn wasn’t invulnerable. He was as susceptible as any man to feminine wiles and little white lies. She’d weep and swear she didn’t know how it could have happened. She’d told him the first time they had sex that she’d been on the pill for years, and since he’d also used a condom every time, convincing him she was pregnant might not be easy. But all he had to do was talk to her doctor. Lulu was definitely six weeks along.

Running her hands over her tall, slender body, from waist to narrow hips, she studied her image. Her beauty had always gotten her whatever her family’s wealth couldn’t buy. But neither could give her what she wanted most.

Quinn might be a womanizer, but he wasn’t a heartless cad. If he believed she was carrying his child, then there was a good chance he’d do the honorable thing and marry her.

And if he doesn’t, what will you do?

She’d get an abortion, of course. No way in hell did she want to get tied down with a squalling baby unless the little brat served some purpose.

The mantel clock struck the hour, reminding her that Quinn would be arriving soon. Her stomach tightened. Lulu laughed. It wasn’t like her to be nervous.

Everything was ready. A bottle of champagne was chilling. A second bottle. She’d already drunk three glasses from the first bottle in an effort to steel her nerves and lull herself into a tranquil haze. Not good for the baby, she supposed, but what the hell. The silk bed linens were turned down, soft music was playing and she was wearing her most alluring sheer black teddy.

Quinn had just won another high profile case, this time involving country singer Terry McBryar. The Nashville jury had come back with a not guilty verdict in the case against McBryar, who had been accused of murdering his manager. Of course, this victory was only one in a long line for Quinn Cortez, who was one of the most highly acclaimed trial lawyers in the United States.

The fact that Quinn had a reputation for being ruthless excited Lulu. She’d always been fascinated by bad boys.

When she had telephoned him earlier today to congratulate him on his big win, she’d heard reluctance in his voice the minute she invited him to drive over to Memphis this evening so they could celebrate together. But in the end, she had persuaded him. Telling him that she’d be waiting in her bedroom, wearing only a teddy, and eager to suck his dick had given him all the incentive he needed.

“I can get there by eight,” he’d told her. “Is your extra house key in the usual place?”

“Right where it always is,” she’d said. “Just let yourself in. I’ll be waiting.”

Thinking about the night ahead, Lulu shivered with excitement. She’d had dozens of lovers, but none compared to Quinn. The guy was a real stud, in every sense of the word. She’d give him a blow job, and then they’d drink champagne and cuddle by the fireplace here in her bedroom. After he was relaxed and mellow, she’d spring her big surprise.

Guess what, Quinn; you’re going to be a daddy
.

Laughing, pleased with her almost foolproof plan to trap her man, Lulu twirled around the room.

She heard a noise. Someone had just opened the front door. Her heartbeat accelerated. Quinn was here. He’d arrived early. He must have broken every speed limit between Nashville and Memphis. That had to mean he was eager to see her.

Hurriedly she turned off all the lights and lit the candles she had arranged on top of the sleek, modern cherry dresser. Only the candlelight and the glow from the flickering blaze in the fireplace illuminated the room. The right ambience was so important.

“Quinn? Darling, I’m back here waiting for you.”

His footsteps tapped quietly over the hardwood floors in the foyer and down the hall.

“You got here early, didn’t you?” She licked her lips.

Why wasn’t he answering her?

She scratched her long fingernails over her nipples, hardening them instantly. “Come on back here, big boy. I’ve got just what you need.”

She stood by the fireplace, primed and ready, eager for what lay ahead. When she saw him standing in the doorway, her heart caught in her throat. She did love this man, loved him to distraction. He stood there in the shadows, a tall, dark silhouette. Broad shouldered, lean hipped. Six-one. And every inch a man.

She held open her arms. “Come to Mama. Let me take good care of you.”

He took several steps toward her. His blue-black hair glistened in the firelight. God, he was handsome. Ruggedly handsome in that exotic way only men of mixed heritages were. Quinn was a delicious mixture of Mexican and Irish.

As he neared her, she thought how incredibly young and sexy he looked tonight. Apparently even men looked better by candlelight. At forty, he possessed a body any twenty-year-old would envy. And she knew from personal experience that he had the stamina of a man half his age.

“Hello, Lulu,” he said and she thought there was an odd tone to his voice. He didn’t sound quite like himself.

She took a tentative step toward him, closing the gap between them. When she looked up into his piercing black eyes, she gasped. “Quinn?”

“Were you expecting someone else?” he asked. “Another lover?”

“No, I wasn’t expecting anyone else.” She felt a sudden sense of unease. What was wrong with him? He was acting so strangely.

Maybe the problem wasn’t with him. After all, she had drunk three glasses of champagne. Perhaps she was picking up on strange vibes where there were none.

He reached out and grasped her shoulders. She quivered.

“What’s wrong? You’re shivering,” he said.

She stared directly at him, studying his tense features, as his big hands bit painfully into her shoulders.
Oh, God, how could this be?
She didn’t understand what was going on.

“You’re acting as if you’re afraid of me.”

“I—I am.” She tried to pull away, but he held her in his strong grip. “Let go of me.” When she struggled against him, he pushed her backward, his dark eyes boring into her with unadulterated hatred. “I don’t understand…what…how…”

She felt addled, her thoughts fuzzy, her mind playing tricks on her.

As he shoved her backward, she somehow managed to escape his tenacious grasp. She had to get away from him before he hurt her, and her gut instincts warned her that he was definitely dangerous. She turned and ran, intending to lock herself in the bathroom and use the telephone in there to call for help. But before she reached the bathroom door, he caught her by them wrist, whirled her around and flipped her over and onto the bed.

The satin sheets felt cold and clammy against her bare arms and legs. The menacing shadow hovered over her. Shock waves jangled her nerves. Why hadn’t she realized sooner that something wasn’t quite right?

Because you drank too much champagne
.

He came down over her, bracing his knees on either side of her hips, trapping her beneath him. She opened her mouth in a silent scream, her voice paralyzed by fear.

Don’t panic. Maybe he just wants to play rough. Maybe he isn’t going to hurt you
.

“You’re a fool, Lulu,” he said in that strange, unfamiliar tone of voice. “And I don’t suffer fools gladly.”

“What—what are you talking about? Please—”

“Do you know what I do to foolish women?”

He reached over and picked up one of the king-size pillows from the head of the bed. She tried to shove him off her, but without success. He was too big, too strong. He lifted his knee and pressed it against her belly, effectively holding her in place and enabling him to use both hands to maneuver the pillow.

“I kill foolish women,” he told her. “I kill them softly…tenderly…and put them out of their misery.”

“No!” She managed to scream once before he covered her face with the huge pillow. Oh, God, he really was going to kill her. Smother her.

Help me, please, dear God, help me
.

She wriggled and squirmed, thrashing her head about, seeking air, but he kept the pillow securely in place. With what little strength she had left, she grasped his wrists, but the effort proved useless. He pressed the pillow down and held it tightly. Within seconds her hands loosened. Her arms dropped languidly to either side of her still body. Her chest ached. Swirling gray circles appeared in the blackness behind her closed eyelids.

Lulu had one final coherent thought.

I can’t breathe. I can’t breathe!

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