Beverly Barton 3 Book Bundle. BEVERLY BARTON

you were asleep.”

      “Just had my eyes closed.”

      “It’s been a long night.”

      He nodded.

      Bernie opened the driver’s door and got out of the Jeep. She waited on the sidewalk for Jim to join her. Even this early in the morning, there wasn’t a hint of a breeze and the temperature probably hadn’t dropped below the high eighties. Alabama’s sweltering July humidity made it feel hotter than it actually was, something the weather forecasters referred to as heat indexes. When it was ninety, it often felt like a hundred.

      Once inside her house, the cool air-conditioned atmosphere surrounding them the minute they entered, Bernie sighed deeply, then removed her belt and hung it on the hall tree just inside the entrance. Jim hung his belt beside hers and followed her into the living room.

      “Sofa or recliner?” she asked.

      “Either.”

      “You take the recliner,” she told him. “My feet hit the sofa arm when I lie down, so there’s no way you can get comfortable on it.”

      He sat down in the recliner, released the footrest latch on the side of the chair and propped up his big feet. “Damn, this feels good.”

      Bernie kicked off her brown loafers, stacked one decorative throw pillow on top of another and laid her weary bones down on the sofa, stretching out all the way and resting her heels on the sofa arm.

      “I can’t begin to imagine what Thomasina Hardy’s family is going through right now.” Bernie glanced over at Jim, who had his eyes closed. His arms rested on either side of the chair’s cushioned back, his hands cupping his head.

      “Mmm … They’re wondering if they’ll ever see her alive again.”

      “What do you think?”

      “I think it’s too soon to make any predictions.” Jim yawned.

      “Want me to shut up so you can take a nap?”

      He opened his eyes, lifted his head and looked at her. “I doubt either of us can sleep. We’re too tired. Plus, we know we have to be at the office in a little over three hours.”

      “I wish we had some idea where Thomasina is, where he took her. If we just had a clue of some kind, something—anything—that could help us.”

      “If Ron can’t track down Professor Kelley, we might have ourselves a real suspect.” Jim yawned again. “The guy could be with Thomasina right now, hiding her away.”

      “If only it could be as simple as finding him and making him talk. But we both know that just because Brandon Kelley wasn’t at home when Ron checked on him and apparently hasn’t come home yet, it doesn’t mean he abducted Thomasina or that he’s the man who’s been stalking her.”

      “True. But according to her family, there hasn’t been any special guy in her life since she broke up with Ron. They have no idea who her secret admirer might be if it’s not Kelley.”

      “I’m concerned about Ron,” Bernie said. “I know her sister said that he’s the one who broke off things with Thomasina, but he must still have some feelings for her. I mean, wouldn’t you think that even if he doesn’t love her now—”

      “I’m sure that knowing a former girlfriend’s life might be in jeopardy makes this case a bit more personal for him. But just because they dated and, as her sister implied, had a sexual relationship, doesn’t mean they were in love.”

      “No, of course not.”

      “Too bad Thomasina disposed of everything except that final batch of sketches and the ankle bracelet.” Groaning contentedly, Jim burrowed his head into the cushioned softness of the recliner. “Of course, I doubt the guy was stupid enough to leave fingerprints. And like with the stuff we found at Stephanie’s, the ankle bracelet, the artist paper, and the envelopes are all probably items that could be purchased just about anywhere by anybody.”

      “Why on earth didn’t she go to the police as soon as she started receiving those notes and presents?” Bernie flipped over onto her side and curled her legs at the knees. “What would make her think that any of it was romantic, that the notes and gifts and sketches were from some guy playing secret lover?”

      “You’d have to ask her,” Jim said. “I’m the last man on earth you should ask about why women think the way they do. I never could figure out my ex-wife’s thought processes.”

      “You shouldn’t assume that all women think alike.” Bernie felt an odd twinge of something in her gut. Jealousy? Get a grip, girl. She had absolutely no right to feel anything even remotely related to jealousy where Jim Norton was concerned, certainly not because he was talking to her about his ex-wife.

      “Yeah, you’re right. Mary Lee was—is one of a kind.”

      She wanted to ask if he meant one of a kind in a good way or a bad way, but it was really none of her business. If he wanted to elaborate, he would. If not…

      “You’ve never been married, have you, Bernie?” Jim asked.

      “What makes you think that?”

      “Well, your last name is still Granger and—”

      “I married my high school sweetheart before we left for college and I divorced him seven years later.” She had been nuts about Ryan, had twisted herself like a pretzel, every which way, to please him. And in the end he’d thanked her for being a good wife by not contesting the divorce. “I haven’t seen Ryan in years. I heard from one of his cousins over in Pine Bluff that he remarried about five years ago, has a couple of kids and is living in Nashville.” Remembering her two miscarriages still hurt, still made her feel inadequate. “I took my maiden name back after the divorce.”

      “Mary Lee and I got married right after I graduated from UT. Seems like a lifetime ago. Hell, even the divorce seems like a lifetime ago. Kevin was only six when his mother and I split and now he’s fixing to turn thirteen.”

      “At least you have a kid.” Bernie hadn’t meant to say that out loud. It had just slipped out, gone straight from her thoughts to her tongue.

      “Did you want kids?”

      She knew he was looking at her, but she couldn’t face him, not when she had tears in her eyes. Had she wanted children? God, yes, she’d wanted them. At least three, maybe four. But apparently it just hadn’t been in the cards for her to be a mother.

      Glancing down at the floor, she swallowed, then said, “Yes, I wanted kids. It just didn’t happen.”

      “Guess we’d better get a little rest,” Jim told her, as if sensing her discomfort in answering his question. “I’ll help you with breakfast before we head over to the office. Seven o’clock will roll around before we know it.”

      She took his comments as a cue that he wanted peace and quiet, a little downtime to rest and regroup before they returned to work and dealt with the horrible fact that another Adams County woman had been abducted.

      Bernie closed her eyes, took a deep breath and tried to relax. But her brain wouldn’t shut off, wouldn’t allow her any peace. Various thoughts flickered through her mind, everything from who might have abducted Thomasina Hardy to what her life could have been like if Ryan had never cheated on her and if one of her babies had lived.

      Stop thinking, damn it.

      She hummed silently, a repetitive tune that was soon overpowered by her thoughts. Then she tried counting. That, too, didn’t work. It never did, but she kept trying it anyway. Finally, she gave up the effort to switch off her mind and allowed the thoughts to take over, which they always did anyway.

      Wonder about what Jim’s marriage had been like. Wonder whether he still cared about his ex-wife. Mary Lee was probably gorgeous, the way Robyn was. Guys like Jim always went for the obviously sexy types. Hey,