Read Online Close Enough to Kill by Beverly Barton - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Beverly Barton
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between fantasizing about Brandon and wondering whether she should be flattered or concerned about this little game he was playing with her.
Jim wolfed down a bologna sandwich and swigged on a Dr. Pepper as he tried to decide whether he should shave before heading over to the Adams Landing Hotel to pick up Agent Patterson for a late-evening session with the sheriff. The ABI agent had shown up less than an hour after Bernie had placed her phone call. He came with the crime scene guys, although he’d driven his own vehicle since he’d be staying in town for several days. If they didn’t break the case within a few days, Patterson would probably drive back and forth from Huntsville after that, since it was only a forty-five-minute drive. Jim’s guess was that this case wouldn’t be solved easily, maybe not for weeks or months. Maybe never. He had his own theories, but before mouthing off his opinion, he’d decided to wait until this evening and hear what Patterson had to say and get Bernie’s input after she spoke to her father. He wondered how many on-the-job years it would take before she felt confident enough not to run things by her dad. It couldn’t be easy for her trying to live up to the old man, living and working in his shadow.
Stephanie Preston’s body was on its way to Huntsville. Her family had been notified. Jim suspected that Bernie’s call to Sheriff Ed Mays probably had been the most difficult call she’d ever made. Both the ABI and the DFS were now involved due to the type of crime that had been committed, with the two agencies working with the county sheriff’s department. Bernie had called a press conference and had faced not only local reporters, but Huntsville newspaper reporters and television crews. She had kept her comments brief and refused to take questions, which was standard procedure this early in the game. Although the statement to the press had been succinct—Stephanie Preston’s body had been discovered, the cause of death to be determined by an autopsy, and yes, the death was being handled as a murder—rumors no doubt already abounded. Any of the locals who’d been at the scene could spread the word that Stephanie’s throat had been slashed and that she was naked.
After finishing off the Dr. Pepper, Jim wiped his mouth, walked over to the garbage can in the kitchen and dumped the empty cola bottle and the paper towel he’d used as a napkin. He glanced at his watch and saw that he had just enough time to shave, if he hurried. He was supposed to pick up Patterson at six-thirty; then the two of them would go to his office at the county jail, where Bernie, Ron Hensley and John Downs would meet them.
Jim made it halfway to the bathroom before his cell phone rang. Answering the call as he opened the bathroom door, he said, “Yeah?”
“Jim Norton?” He didn’t recognize the man’s voice.
“Yeah, this is Norton.”
“Mr. Norton . . . Jim . . . this is Allen Clark.” He paused, apparently waiting for a reaction from Jim. “You know, Mary Lee’s husband.”
“Yeah, I know who you are. What do you want? Is it something about Kevin? I’m supposed to get him next weekend. Mary Lee hasn’t changed her mind, has she?”
“No, no, nothing like that.”
“Then what?” Jim flipped on the light and looked at himself in the medicine cabinet mirror.
“I was wondering . . . that is, we were wondering if you could take Kevin earlier than we’d planned, say next Thursday?”
“Yeah, sure, but I don’t understand what’s going on. Why would Mary Lee give me a couple of extra days with Kevin?” Since their divorce nearly seven years ago, his ex-wife had done everything she could to undermine his relationship with his son and never, ever allowed them extra time together.
“Actually, we need you to keep Kevin for several weeks, possibly until school starts in August.”
“What’s the catch?”
“Look, Mr. Norton . . . Jim . . . I don’t know any other way to
Jim wolfed down a bologna sandwich and swigged on a Dr. Pepper as he tried to decide whether he should shave before heading over to the Adams Landing Hotel to pick up Agent Patterson for a late-evening session with the sheriff. The ABI agent had shown up less than an hour after Bernie had placed her phone call. He came with the crime scene guys, although he’d driven his own vehicle since he’d be staying in town for several days. If they didn’t break the case within a few days, Patterson would probably drive back and forth from Huntsville after that, since it was only a forty-five-minute drive. Jim’s guess was that this case wouldn’t be solved easily, maybe not for weeks or months. Maybe never. He had his own theories, but before mouthing off his opinion, he’d decided to wait until this evening and hear what Patterson had to say and get Bernie’s input after she spoke to her father. He wondered how many on-the-job years it would take before she felt confident enough not to run things by her dad. It couldn’t be easy for her trying to live up to the old man, living and working in his shadow.
Stephanie Preston’s body was on its way to Huntsville. Her family had been notified. Jim suspected that Bernie’s call to Sheriff Ed Mays probably had been the most difficult call she’d ever made. Both the ABI and the DFS were now involved due to the type of crime that had been committed, with the two agencies working with the county sheriff’s department. Bernie had called a press conference and had faced not only local reporters, but Huntsville newspaper reporters and television crews. She had kept her comments brief and refused to take questions, which was standard procedure this early in the game. Although the statement to the press had been succinct—Stephanie Preston’s body had been discovered, the cause of death to be determined by an autopsy, and yes, the death was being handled as a murder—rumors no doubt already abounded. Any of the locals who’d been at the scene could spread the word that Stephanie’s throat had been slashed and that she was naked.
After finishing off the Dr. Pepper, Jim wiped his mouth, walked over to the garbage can in the kitchen and dumped the empty cola bottle and the paper towel he’d used as a napkin. He glanced at his watch and saw that he had just enough time to shave, if he hurried. He was supposed to pick up Patterson at six-thirty; then the two of them would go to his office at the county jail, where Bernie, Ron Hensley and John Downs would meet them.
Jim made it halfway to the bathroom before his cell phone rang. Answering the call as he opened the bathroom door, he said, “Yeah?”
“Jim Norton?” He didn’t recognize the man’s voice.
“Yeah, this is Norton.”
“Mr. Norton . . . Jim . . . this is Allen Clark.” He paused, apparently waiting for a reaction from Jim. “You know, Mary Lee’s husband.”
“Yeah, I know who you are. What do you want? Is it something about Kevin? I’m supposed to get him next weekend. Mary Lee hasn’t changed her mind, has she?”
“No, no, nothing like that.”
“Then what?” Jim flipped on the light and looked at himself in the medicine cabinet mirror.
“I was wondering . . . that is, we were wondering if you could take Kevin earlier than we’d planned, say next Thursday?”
“Yeah, sure, but I don’t understand what’s going on. Why would Mary Lee give me a couple of extra days with Kevin?” Since their divorce nearly seven years ago, his ex-wife had done everything she could to undermine his relationship with his son and never, ever allowed them extra time together.
“Actually, we need you to keep Kevin for several weeks, possibly until school starts in August.”
“What’s the catch?”
“Look, Mr. Norton . . . Jim . . . I don’t know any other way to
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