Read Online Dead by Morning by Beverly Barton - Free Book Online Page A

other than that, it had nothing to do with her.
    If only Nic could see things as she did.
    Barbara Jean maneuvered her wheelchair out onto the patio where Nic sat in a chaise lounge, her computer resting in her lap.
    “I’ve put on the kettle for tea,” Barbara Jean said. “Would you care for a cup?”
    “No, thanks.” Nic glanced over her shoulder and smiled. “I’ve been going over the information on Jerome Browning again and some things don’t add up.”
    “Such as?” Barbara Jean asked as she wheeled herself out into the morning sunshine.
    “The original Carver didn’t mail the pieces of flesh he removed from his victims to anyone. Those triangular pieces were never found.” Nic paused for a moment, closed the lid on her laptop and faced Barbara Jean.
    “So, the copycat killer is not following every detail of the Carver’s MO, is he?” Barbara Jean said.
    “No, which makes me ask why he isn’t. And if he’s differing in one aspect, then he’s possibly going to differ in other areas.”
    “I haven’t actually studied copycat cases in general, but it stands to reason that there might be differences between the original and the copy.”
    “In most cases, the copycat closely mimics the original, but often deviates in small details,” Nic said as she closed her laptop and set it on the glass and metal side table to her right. “Our killer sending Maleah the triangles of flesh from the first four victims, coupled with the fact that he’s copying the killer who murdered Maleah’s college sweetheart, tells me that he wants her involved.”
    “Does that mean that neither you nor Griff is his ultimate target?”
    “I don’t know. My gut tells me that it’s one of us, but what if this new Carver has been killing Powell Agency people in order to set things up to lure Maleah into some sort of vicious game he’s playing?”
    “Have you talked to Griff about your theory?” Barbara Jean asked.
    “I’m afraid Griff is concentrating so much on a possible connection between the Powell Agency murders and the rumor in Europe about Malcolm York being alive that he isn’t giving consideration to any other possibility.”
    “Sanders says there is no way York can still be alive.” She lowered her voice. “When they left the island, York was dead. They were certain of it.” Barbara Jean preferred not to think about the fact that Sanders was more than capable of cold-blooded murder, as were Griff and Yvette. She understood why they had killed York and knew in her heart that under the same circumstances, she would have done what they did. They had destroyed the monster who had tortured them with such great pleasure.
    “Griff says the same thing.” Nic stood to her full five-ten height, her feet bare, her long, tan legs clad in white walking shorts. An oversized orange and white UT T-shirt hung loosely to her hips. “He’s convinced that someone in Europe is using York’s name, but he has no idea who or why.”
    “I know very little about the years Sanders spent on Amara, only that he blames York for the death of his wife and child, and that York forced him to do some terrible things.”
    “I’ve grown to hate Malcolm York with every fiber of my being.” Nic walked to the edge of the patio and gazed out over Douglas Lake. “Even after all these years, he still haunts Griff.”
    “As he does Sanders and Yvette.”
    At the mention of Yvette’s name, Nic glanced over her shoulder at Barbara Jean. “They both love her, you know. My Griffin and your Sanders.”
    “Yes, I know. And she loves them. But . . .” Barbara Jean paused, hoping to find the right words. “Griff worships the ground you walk on. You are the love of his life. Never doubt that for a moment.”
    Nic offered Barbara Jean a forced smile, then looked back out over the lake. “I don’t doubt his love for me. But as long as he doesn’t trust me with the complete truth about his past, that past will stand between us.”

    Maleah was