possible suspects, and I’d say this is as good a place as any.”
Bernie nodded, hating the idea of pointing fingers unjustly at anyone. Absentmindedly, she tapped her fingernails on the table as she thought. “Well, the first person who comes to mind is Reverend Donaldson. He’s our most recent newcomer.”
“A minister who’s a serial killer. Hmm … unlikely, but not impossible.”
Bernie chuckled. “Matthew is a pussycat.”
“And you know this how?” Jim asked. “From personal experience? I thought your mom had picked out Matthew for Robyn. You haven’t been homing in on your sister’s territory, have you?”
Bernie laughed nervously, the sound odd to her own ears. “Don’t be silly.” If I were going after one of Robyn’s men, it wouldn’t be Matthew Donaldson. It would be you, Jim Norton. It would damn well be you. “Robyn isn’t interested in Matthew. She told me that she was bored to tears on their one and only date. And as far as how I know, Matthew really is a pussycat. That’s Mom’s opinion and Dad’s, and the few times I’ve been around him I sensed that he’s a kind, gentle man.”
“Serial killers wear masks,” Jim told her. “They have been known to masquerade as charming, gentle men when, in reality, they’re monsters.”
“You don’t honestly think that Reverend Donaldson could be—”
“Where was his last church? Where did he come from?”
“I don’t know. I could ask—No, wait a minute. I think I remember Mom saying something about how Matthew’s first preaching assignment straight out of the seminary was in Carrollton, Georgia. Mom’s got some cousins who live there and they attended the church where Matthew was the assistant minister.”
“Georgia, huh?”
“Oh my goodness. He’s not the only person I know who has lived in Georgia. Raymond Long and his ex-wife lived in Atlanta for several years, and Paul Landon lived in Savannah for a while, and Scotty Joe Walters came to us from the Canton police department, and if I’m not mistaken, I believe Robyn said something about Brandon Kelley visiting his parents just outside Chattanooga in Rossville, Georgia.”
“Okay, you’ve made your point.” Jim held up his hands in an I-surrender gesture. “There are probably dozens of men in Adams County who have connections to the state of Georgia, but that doesn’t make any one of them our serial killer.”
“Our DA Jerry Dale’s sister lives in Georgia and his family visits over there several times a year. And Ron Hensley inherited a time-share in a condo on St. Simons on the Georgia coast from his uncle and—”
Jim reached over and placed his open palm over Bernie’s mouth. “Hush up, woman. Don’t you know it’s not polite to make fun of your chief deputy?”
The moment Jim’s hand touched her lips, Bernie’s breath caught in her throat. She clamped her teeth together tightly to trap her tongue so that it wouldn’t act on impulse and lick Jim’s hand. Her heartbeat drummed an excited rat-a-tat-tat.
They stared at each other for one endless moment.
Mumbling beneath his hand in an effort to diffuse the tense moment, Bernie pulled away from him. He eased his arm down to his side and diverted his gaze.
“What did you say?” he asked.
“I said doing something like that is a good way to get your hand bitten,” Bernie told him jokingly.
Jim grinned.
His cell phone rang.
He removed it from the belt clip and flipped it open. “Captain Norton here.”
Bernie watched and listened as Jim nodded a couple of times, and then said, “Yeah, yeah. We’ll head on over there right away.”
“What is it?”
“That was Sheriff Mays,” Jim said. “A couple of hikers found a woman’s body out in the woods over in Jackson County, just across the county line. He’s on his way out there now. He thought we’d want to know.”
“Is it Thomasina Hardy?”
“He doesn’t know for sure, but he said it could be.”
“Damn! It’s been only nine days.”
“It might not be her.”
“And if it is?”
“Then our killer is speeding things up, changing his MO a little and has probably already chosen his next victim.”
Filled to overflowing with well-wishers, the Adams Landing Country Club sparkled with candlelight and champagne. The tinkling of glasses blended with conversations and laughter, with light jazz music creating a subtle undertone for all the other sounds. Men in suits, some like R.B. Granger in tuxedos, escorted wives, sweethearts, and dates. Ladies of all ages were decked out in silk and satin and sequins. And none was more beautiful than Brenda Granger in her white satin, floor-length gown that caressed her slender curves. Not even her younger daughter, Robyn, who wore a skintight, hot pink little number that scooped to her waist in the back and sported a slit that ended mid-thigh, outshined her. And all the children in attendance looked as if they had stepped out of the pages of a kiddie fashion magazine.
As Bernie and Jim entered the fray, half an hour late, she caught a glimpse of her parents in a far corner of the grand ballroom, Robyn and her date chitchatting with them. Her sister lifted a hand and waved, a predatory smile on her face. Bernie wondered how long it would take Robyn to zero in on Jim. It didn’t matter that Paul Landon was her official date for this evening. It wouldn’t be the first time her sister had arrived at a party with one man and left with another.
“I feel downright underdressed.” Jim glanced around the main ballroom at all the elegantly attired guests. “I’ve had this old blue suit for years.” He twisted the knot in his blue-and-white-striped tie. “And this is the only tie I own.”
“You look fine,” Bernie assured him. You’re the best looking man here.
“I’m sorry you’re late for your parents’ fortieth wedding anniversary. Will your mom be upset?”
“If she is, she won’t let me know. She was a sheriff’s wife for nearly thirty years. She understands that sometimes work comes first and that it often interferes with family events.”
Bernie glanced around, searching again for her parents, who seemed to have disappeared; but she figured the two were on the dance floor, which was set up in the smaller of the two ballrooms. She could remember when she’d been a little girl, she and Robyn sitting at the top of the stairs and watching their parents in each other’s arms downstairs in the living room, the two of them dancing to old tunes from the sixties. As she grew older, she realized how much in love her parents were and knew that one day she wanted that kind of love. She wanted a man to look at her the way her dad looked at her mom.
“Mom and Dad must be on the dance floor. I don’t see them anywhere.”
“They hired a live band to play tonight?”
“They sure did. It’s a jazz band from Huntsville.”
“This is some shindig,” Jim said. “I hate that your folks had to keep an eye on Kevin on their big day.”
“I’m sure he wasn’t any trouble. After all, Kevin’s nearly thirteen, not three. It’s not as if he can’t look after himself.”
“Hmm …” Jim nodded. “I wonder what he found to wear tonight. I think he brought one pair of dress slacks and a sport coat with him when he came from Mary Lee’s.”
“If