in her early twenties and had opted to forgo college, attend beauty school and work in their mother’s hair salon.
That day she’d been excited for her accomplishment and edgy and nervous for the parents who looked at her as if she were a freak of nature. They simply did not understand why she’d wanted a PhD or why the salon hadn’t been good enough. She simply did not fit into her family mold.
Look deep inside yourself.
Smith’s words had her shifting her gaze to her mother’s face. Tall, blond and stunning, Candace Granger had often questioned Jo’s decision to take AP classes in high school. Each time she made the dean’s list, Candace had an extra drink at dinner. She was always trying to add highlights to Jo’s red hair. And her mother had been really unhappy when Jo was awarded the scholarship to UT.
She loved her mother, but when they tried to talk to each other they never quite connected.
‘You need to be more like Ellie,’
Candace used to say
. ‘You could win those beauty contests if you’d try a little harder. Your piano playing has got the talent licked, and you are quick on your feet when asked questions.’
‘I hate them, Mom. I don’t fit.’
Jo replaced the picture carefully back on the table. ‘Why wasn’t I good enough, Mom?’
Jo considered calling her friend, Lara Church, but the two had only known each other a year and Lara was in the final days of planning her wedding to Jim Beck. Jo considered calling her sister, Ellie, then rejected the idea. She didn’t need the drama.
Finally, she picked up the phone and dialed her mother’s number. The phone rang once, twice and by the fourth ring the answering machine picked up. ‘This is Candace. Can’t take your call right now, baby, but leave me your info and I’ll get back to you.’
Jo closed her eyes and for an instant, wondered what she should say to her mother.
Serial killer said to look deep inside myself. That’s right. A serial killer. But the thing is, when I look inside me all I see is your disappointment.
‘Mom, it’s Jo. This must be your Bible study night. Thought I’d check in. Call me when you get the chance.’
She hung up and padded into the kitchen. She rinsed off her bowl and plate and put both neatly in the dishwasher. The clock on the wall chimed ten times as she eyed her reflection in the polished, stainless-steel refrigerator. Red hair curled around her face and without makeup her freckles peppered her pale complexion.
‘How did he know I never feel like I fit? How did he know?’
Brody hung his jacket on the back of his door and tossed his hat in the chair. As he rolled up his sleeves and loosened his tie, he stared at the collection of dusty boxes containing Harvey Lee Smith’s case files.
After Smith had been convicted, he’d packed up the files and moved on to the next case. There’d been unanswered questions but there’d been other cases that needed his attention. As much as he’d wanted all the questions answered, he’d had to accept that cases rarely were completely wrapped up.
He chose the box labeled number one. When he’d boxed up the files after Smith’s trial, he’d had a gut feeling that one day he’d double back around. There’d been no reason to give him cause, but he’d sensed Smith couldn’t go to his grave silently.
And Smith had not disappointed.
Brody set the box on his desk and tossed the top aside. The first file contained every bit of biological information he’d amassed on Smith.
Smith had been born in Texas to a father who was a long-haul driver and a mother who waitressed part-time. His parents had originally hailed from west Texas but had settled in the Austin area when Smith, their only child, was a baby. By all accounts his childhood had been normal. He’d done well in school. He’d played baseball. His parents held steady jobs and appeared to have a happy marriage.
At fifteen, Smith’s father died in an automobile accident. The father’s sudden
That day she’d been excited for her accomplishment and edgy and nervous for the parents who looked at her as if she were a freak of nature. They simply did not understand why she’d wanted a PhD or why the salon hadn’t been good enough. She simply did not fit into her family mold.
Look deep inside yourself.
Smith’s words had her shifting her gaze to her mother’s face. Tall, blond and stunning, Candace Granger had often questioned Jo’s decision to take AP classes in high school. Each time she made the dean’s list, Candace had an extra drink at dinner. She was always trying to add highlights to Jo’s red hair. And her mother had been really unhappy when Jo was awarded the scholarship to UT.
She loved her mother, but when they tried to talk to each other they never quite connected.
‘You need to be more like Ellie,’
Candace used to say
. ‘You could win those beauty contests if you’d try a little harder. Your piano playing has got the talent licked, and you are quick on your feet when asked questions.’
‘I hate them, Mom. I don’t fit.’
Jo replaced the picture carefully back on the table. ‘Why wasn’t I good enough, Mom?’
Jo considered calling her friend, Lara Church, but the two had only known each other a year and Lara was in the final days of planning her wedding to Jim Beck. Jo considered calling her sister, Ellie, then rejected the idea. She didn’t need the drama.
Finally, she picked up the phone and dialed her mother’s number. The phone rang once, twice and by the fourth ring the answering machine picked up. ‘This is Candace. Can’t take your call right now, baby, but leave me your info and I’ll get back to you.’
Jo closed her eyes and for an instant, wondered what she should say to her mother.
Serial killer said to look deep inside myself. That’s right. A serial killer. But the thing is, when I look inside me all I see is your disappointment.
‘Mom, it’s Jo. This must be your Bible study night. Thought I’d check in. Call me when you get the chance.’
She hung up and padded into the kitchen. She rinsed off her bowl and plate and put both neatly in the dishwasher. The clock on the wall chimed ten times as she eyed her reflection in the polished, stainless-steel refrigerator. Red hair curled around her face and without makeup her freckles peppered her pale complexion.
‘How did he know I never feel like I fit? How did he know?’
Brody hung his jacket on the back of his door and tossed his hat in the chair. As he rolled up his sleeves and loosened his tie, he stared at the collection of dusty boxes containing Harvey Lee Smith’s case files.
After Smith had been convicted, he’d packed up the files and moved on to the next case. There’d been unanswered questions but there’d been other cases that needed his attention. As much as he’d wanted all the questions answered, he’d had to accept that cases rarely were completely wrapped up.
He chose the box labeled number one. When he’d boxed up the files after Smith’s trial, he’d had a gut feeling that one day he’d double back around. There’d been no reason to give him cause, but he’d sensed Smith couldn’t go to his grave silently.
And Smith had not disappointed.
Brody set the box on his desk and tossed the top aside. The first file contained every bit of biological information he’d amassed on Smith.
Smith had been born in Texas to a father who was a long-haul driver and a mother who waitressed part-time. His parents had originally hailed from west Texas but had settled in the Austin area when Smith, their only child, was a baby. By all accounts his childhood had been normal. He’d done well in school. He’d played baseball. His parents held steady jobs and appeared to have a happy marriage.
At fifteen, Smith’s father died in an automobile accident. The father’s sudden
Similar Books
