Read Online Close Enough to Kill by Beverly Barton - Free Book Online
Authors: Beverly Barton
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be done? “Yeah, it’s my recommendation, but you’re the sheriff. It’s your call.”
“Look, I’m more aware than most that law enforcement in many Alabama counties still suffers from a prevailing ‘turf’ mentality, and some sheriffs and police chiefs are reluctant to call in the ABI. I’m not one of those sheriffs.”
“I had a feeling you weren’t.” The corners of his mouth lifted, hinting at an approving smile.
“Adams County simply doesn’t have the resources we’d need to do justice to this type of crime investigation,” Bernie told him. “My only other murder case was simple. Cut and dried. The killer confessed. So I haven’t worked with the ABI, but my dad knows the ABI area commander in Huntsville, and I’ve heard him say that he’s never had a problem working with the Bureau.”
Jim glanced at the cell phone clipped to Bernie’s belt, then said, “The sooner the better.”
“Right.” She removed her phone and scanned through the programmed numbers, then walked away from Jim and farther away from the crowd before placing her call.
Hensley came over to Jim and nodded toward Bernie. “Is she calling in the ABI?”
“Yeah.”
“Morris Claunch just drove up,” Hensley said. “What should I tell him?”
Day one as Hensley’s supervisor and Jim noticed that the guy was already playing by the rules. That was a good sign. “Tell him the sheriff is calling in the ABI and she’ll want DFS involved.” Jim looked directly at his deputy. “How long’s it going to take to get an autopsy report from DFS?”
“Average time? A week to a month. And for DNA evidence, that could be up to six months or longer. Worst case scenario—up to a year.”
“I was afraid of that.”
“The DFS guys are overworked and underpaid, and there aren’t enough of them to go around,” Hensley said. “In the past, we’ve worked with a preliminary draft right up to the trial.”
“Unless the coroner can tell us otherwise, I’m going to work under the assumption that Stephanie Preston was repeatedly raped and tortured before being killed.”
A tall, gangly man with thinning brown hair and a decided slump to his shoulders plodded casually over to them; he spoke to Hensley and glanced at Jim. “You the new chief deputy?”
“Yeah, I’m Jim Norton.”
The man held out his hand. “I’m Morris Claunch, the coroner.”
Bernie replaced her cell phone on the belt clip as she approached them. “A response unit is on its way from Huntsville, along with an agent, a guy named Charlie Patterson.” She looked right at Claunch. “I called Dad and he said you and he had worked with Patterson several years back.”
“Hmm . . . yeah, we did. Patterson’s okay. As I recall, he’s a team player. He’ll work with you”—Claunch glanced at Jim—“with your chief investigator and his team.”
“Once you take a look at the body, I’d like to know what you think,” Jim said.
Claunch raised one eyebrow, then nodded before making his way toward the beautiful young woman lying naked on a dirt lane in the middle of a soybean field.
Thomasina Hardy loaded the dishwasher and cleaned up her mother’s kitchen, then washed her hands and applied scented lotion. Her brother had a Friday night date and her mother had just left to go to her older sister Amanda’s to babysit the children so Amanda and her husband could go bowling over in Adams Landing. So here she was all alone on a Friday night. She and Ron broke up six months ago, so she should be back in circulation by now, shouldn’t she? She’d had a total of five dates in the past few months and not once had she accepted a second date with any one of the guys. Yes, she was picky. She might give just about any guy a chance with one date, but if he didn’t measure up, she didn’t waste her time or his.
Paul Landon, the richest bachelor in Adams County, had thought buying her dinner meant he got to screw her on a first date. The guy was a jerk.
“Look, I’m more aware than most that law enforcement in many Alabama counties still suffers from a prevailing ‘turf’ mentality, and some sheriffs and police chiefs are reluctant to call in the ABI. I’m not one of those sheriffs.”
“I had a feeling you weren’t.” The corners of his mouth lifted, hinting at an approving smile.
“Adams County simply doesn’t have the resources we’d need to do justice to this type of crime investigation,” Bernie told him. “My only other murder case was simple. Cut and dried. The killer confessed. So I haven’t worked with the ABI, but my dad knows the ABI area commander in Huntsville, and I’ve heard him say that he’s never had a problem working with the Bureau.”
Jim glanced at the cell phone clipped to Bernie’s belt, then said, “The sooner the better.”
“Right.” She removed her phone and scanned through the programmed numbers, then walked away from Jim and farther away from the crowd before placing her call.
Hensley came over to Jim and nodded toward Bernie. “Is she calling in the ABI?”
“Yeah.”
“Morris Claunch just drove up,” Hensley said. “What should I tell him?”
Day one as Hensley’s supervisor and Jim noticed that the guy was already playing by the rules. That was a good sign. “Tell him the sheriff is calling in the ABI and she’ll want DFS involved.” Jim looked directly at his deputy. “How long’s it going to take to get an autopsy report from DFS?”
“Average time? A week to a month. And for DNA evidence, that could be up to six months or longer. Worst case scenario—up to a year.”
“I was afraid of that.”
“The DFS guys are overworked and underpaid, and there aren’t enough of them to go around,” Hensley said. “In the past, we’ve worked with a preliminary draft right up to the trial.”
“Unless the coroner can tell us otherwise, I’m going to work under the assumption that Stephanie Preston was repeatedly raped and tortured before being killed.”
A tall, gangly man with thinning brown hair and a decided slump to his shoulders plodded casually over to them; he spoke to Hensley and glanced at Jim. “You the new chief deputy?”
“Yeah, I’m Jim Norton.”
The man held out his hand. “I’m Morris Claunch, the coroner.”
Bernie replaced her cell phone on the belt clip as she approached them. “A response unit is on its way from Huntsville, along with an agent, a guy named Charlie Patterson.” She looked right at Claunch. “I called Dad and he said you and he had worked with Patterson several years back.”
“Hmm . . . yeah, we did. Patterson’s okay. As I recall, he’s a team player. He’ll work with you”—Claunch glanced at Jim—“with your chief investigator and his team.”
“Once you take a look at the body, I’d like to know what you think,” Jim said.
Claunch raised one eyebrow, then nodded before making his way toward the beautiful young woman lying naked on a dirt lane in the middle of a soybean field.
Thomasina Hardy loaded the dishwasher and cleaned up her mother’s kitchen, then washed her hands and applied scented lotion. Her brother had a Friday night date and her mother had just left to go to her older sister Amanda’s to babysit the children so Amanda and her husband could go bowling over in Adams Landing. So here she was all alone on a Friday night. She and Ron broke up six months ago, so she should be back in circulation by now, shouldn’t she? She’d had a total of five dates in the past few months and not once had she accepted a second date with any one of the guys. Yes, she was picky. She might give just about any guy a chance with one date, but if he didn’t measure up, she didn’t waste her time or his.
Paul Landon, the richest bachelor in Adams County, had thought buying her dinner meant he got to screw her on a first date. The guy was a jerk.
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