Beverly Barton 3 Book Bundle. BEVERLY BARTON

“Any luck?” he asked.

      She shook her head. “No, I got her voice mail.”

      “I got an answering machine,” the chief said. “I left a message.”

      They both glanced at Jim, who was talking quietly into his phone, but Bernie couldn’t make out exactly what he was saying. As he clipped his phone to his belt, he looked directly at her. She didn’t like the concerned expression on his face.

      “I spoke to a Ms. Everett at the college. She said that Ms. Hardy phoned about half an hour ago to tell them she’d had a flat tire and would be running late for her Thursday evening class. They’re expecting her at any time.”

      “Was she alone?” Chief Nichols asked.

      “I have no idea,” Jim said. “Ms. Everett didn’t know any details.”

      “Let’s go.” Bernie headed for the door, then paused and spoke to the chief. “To get to the college from here, she’d probably have taken County Road One-fifty-seven, right?”

      “Yeah, it’s the way I’d go. It takes you across Sunflower Creek and then you turn left onto Forty-four. You can get from here to the college in less than thirty minutes if you take that route.”

      Jim followed her outside and straight to her Jeep. Once inside and securely belted, they paused momentarily and looked at each other, a silent understanding passing between them, before Bernie revved the engine.

      “Call Ron and have him track down Brandon Kelley,” Bernie said.

      Jim nodded, then made the call while Bernie zipped through downtown Verona, which consisted of a couple of blocks that crisscrossed each other. Since they rolled up the streets in Verona around seven, there wasn’t any traffic. When she stopped at the railroad tracks that intersected with the main road, she looked both ways before preceding. In her peripheral vision she saw Jim punching in a number on his cell phone, then heard him call Ron’s name before filling the deputy in on what was going on.

      “We’re heading toward the college now. Give us a call as soon as you track down Dr. Kelley. If you find him.” Jim clipped the phone to his belt.

      “I don’t like this.” After crossing the railroad tracks, Bernie took a right onto County Road 157. “We’re pretty sure that Stephanie Preston had car trouble the night she was abducted and now Thomasina Hardy has a flat tire. If she’s alone …”

      Jim grunted.

      “If we have a serial killer on our hands—”

      “If?” Jim growled the word. “You keep saying if.”

      “I’m saying if because we’re not sure of anything. Yes, there are similarities between the gifts Stephanie received and the things Thomasina said this guy sent her, but maybe it’s just some terrible coincidence.”

      “You don’t believe that any more than I do.”

      Thoughts of what that psychopath had done to Stephanie Preston raced through Bernie’s mind. What if he already had Thomasina Hardy? What if they were too late to save her? Bernie’s stomach churned and salty bile burned her esophagus. For half a minute, she thought she might actually be sick.

      “Are you okay?” Jim asked.

      “Yeah, I’m okay. Why did you ask?”

      “You look kind of funny, like you might throw up.”

      “I said I’m okay.” She practically bit his head off. “Sorry. I’m taking my frustration out on you. It’s just the thought that we are probably dealing with a serial killer scares the crap out of me. And just between the two of us, I’m not sure I’m equipped to handle a situation like this.”

      “Take a couple of deep breaths,” he told her. “Then listen to what I’m going to tell you.”

      As she sped along County Road 157, Bernie hazarded a quick glance at Jim. He gave her a stern look. She took the deep breaths.

      “No law enforcement officer is ever ready for something like this,” Jim said. “Even if he—or she—has experience with this type of killer. There’s no shame in admitting that you’re worried, that you’re concerned, even that you’re scared.”

      Jim’s voice soothed her. Odd, she thought. A minute ago, she’d felt as if she were going to jump out of her own skin. Now, her heartbeat had slowed almost to normal and the queasiness she’d experienced subsided. All because of Jim’s calm, even voice and his no-nonsense words.

      “You don’t know how difficult it is for me. Not only am I the first female sheriff in Adams County, I’m also the youngest. And—ta-da, drum roll, please—I’m R.B. Granger’s daughter. There’s no way I can live up to my dad’s reputation.”

      That’s it, Bernie, admit all your insecurities to your chief deputy. That’s the way to earn his respect.

      “When you ran for sheriff, how much of that decision was because it’s what you wanted and how much was because it was what your dad wanted?”

      Jim had hit the nail on the head. He had voiced the question she had never dared ask herself. Did everyone see through her so easily or did most people not suspect the truth?

      “Truthfully, I don’t know.”

      “What about now? You’ve been the sheriff for several years. Do you like your job? Are you glad you’re the sheriff?”

      “Yes, I like my job. At least most of the time. And yes, I’m glad I’m the sheriff. Just not tonight. Not right now.” She kept the speed at fifty-five, even when the speed limit lowered to forty-five as they passed over Sunflower Creek. “I’m afraid my insecurities are showing. I certainly never thought I’d have to deal with a serial killer. Not here in Adams County.”

      When Jim didn’t respond, she instinctively cut her eyes to catch a quick glimpse of his face. He was looking straight ahead, not at her. All of a sudden, she felt vulnerable and even stupid. She had opened up to her chief deputy in a way that surprised her. Why was it that she’d gotten diarrhea of the mouth tonight and with, of all people, Jim Norton?

      The silence between them dragged on for several minutes, but those three or four minutes seemed more like hours to Bernie.

      “TMI?” she asked.

      “Huh?”

      “Too much information?”

      “No, that’s not it. I just got to thinking that maybe I was being too nosey, that your relationship with your father is really none of my business.”

      “Oh.”

      Sharing sensitive personal information would change their relationship from strictly professional to more intimate. Bernie cringed. Wrong word. Intimacy implied a strong emotional attachment, romance, even sex. The best she could expect to share with Jim was friendship.

      “Hey, look up ahead.” Jim motioned to the right-hand side of the road. “There’s a parked car over there. Maybe it’s Thomasina Hardy’s car.”

      Bernie pulled off the road directly behind the Grand Am. She and Jim cautiously exited her Jeep and took a look at the abandoned car.

      “Flat tire.” Jim pointed to the tire.

      “You look things over while I go back and call this in to make sure it’s Thomasina’s car.”

      Jim nodded in agreement.

      By the time she’d called in and had verified the tag number, Jim had finished his inspection and they met at the hood of her Jeep.

      “It’s Thomasina Hardy’s car,” Bernie said.

      “No sign of foul play. The car’s locked.”

      “I don’t like the feeling this gives me.”

      “Don’t jump to conclusions.”