In a Heartbeat. Rita Herron

Booker’s face materialized in her mind. Handsome, sharp, chiseled features framed a visage that revealed no emotion. He had an almost stoic smile. And cold, whiskey-colored eyes that remained detached most of the time.

      He had dragged her from that dark grave with his bare hands. Had been kind to her during the trial. A Rock of Gibraltar.

      Yet he’d kept his distance since.

      Because he had seen the woman William White had turned her into. Had known what a fool she was for not realizing the truth sooner.

      Humiliation flushed her face as she remembered waking in the ambulance, naked and dirty, then looking into Brad’s anxious eyes and seeing the horror of what had happened to her mirrored back.

      Brad Booker had seen her shame. He would always look at her with pity.

      As William White’s final victim.

      Still, sometimes in the heat of the night, when loneliness held her in its icy clutches and her past haunted her, she wished that things could have been different.

      She hated William White. He’d stolen something from her that day, something she’d never get back….

      AS BRAD DROVE TOWARD Ellijay, the city traffic gave way to winding country roads, lush green farmland, sparsely populated areas dotted with clapboard houses and trailer parks, then rolling hills and mountains. Apple orchards filled the countryside, advertisements for the apple houses painted across barns and on homemade signs. The buzzing traffic sounds faded to a purr, the pace slowing as he put more and more distance between himself and the city.

      But the two-hour trek passed in a tense blur, the beauty of the countryside diminishing as the heat wave sucked the life from the flowers and trees, turning green grass and leaves a dull brown.

      A deadly kind of brown that reminded Brad of the Grave Digger and the grisly details of his crimes. No wonder Lisa liked living in the mountains. After enduring the grueling months of the trial and media publicity, she must find the serenity of the countryside, the fresh clean air and small-town atmosphere therapeutic.

      Before he’d left the office today, he’d reviewed the transcripts of Lisa’s trial, searching for clues that might lead to where the Grave Digger could be holding Mindy. But at the time of the trial, Lisa could only describe the place as dark, cold, a small prison built in a fortress. Maybe a basement, an old warehouse, an abandoned building in the country.

      It could have been anywhere. White had beaten Lisa unconscious before he’d stuffed her into that box, put it in the back of his SUV and driven her to an isolated patch of woods between Cumming and Dawsonville. Then he’d dug her grave. He was calculating. Sadistic. Showed no remorse.

      He’d known just the right amount of time it would take for the victims to die, exactly how long they could breathe underground before they expired, and had timed his phone calls so the police had arrived too late each time.

      Except for Lisa.

      Had the man miscalculated? Or had he found a sudden moment of conscience, changed his mind and decided to let Lisa live? Or had Lisa been stronger than he’d realized, able to hold on to life longer?

      White hadn’t broken once during the interrogation. He’d been cool. Unemotional. Exhibited sociopathic behavior.

      Even during his prison confinement, White had never revealed his secret hiding place, the reason he’d started his crime spree, or admitted to a second party helping him. According to the prison psychologist, White had been abused as a child. Then he’d suffered a head injury when he was a teenager that had caused him to experience a psychotic break in his twenties.

      The sun nearly blinded Brad as he wove through the small town of Ellijay. Midmorning, Lisa would be at work at the Love ’N Play Day Care. He passed several small storefronts, an antiques shop, a small, old-fashioned diner, an ice cream parlor and bookstore, along with the town library, courthouse and police station. A beauty shop, an arts and crafts store that sold handmade items on consignment, and a bridal boutique occupied one corner. About a block from the center of town, an old white house had been converted into a day care. A white picket fence decorated with colorful wooden cartoon characters, including a life-size Mickey and Minnie Mouse, encircled the center. Ancient oaks and pines flanked the property, offering privacy and shading the outdoor playground, although the earth looked parched, the ferns and flowers drooping with heat. Squeals and laughter floated through the air as dozens of children built imaginary castles and roads in the sandbox, played on the jungle gym and monkey bars and pushed each other on the swings.

      He frowned. These kids were innocent.

      Was that the reason Lisa had chosen to work with children? To return to that time and place before she’d known the ugliness that existed?

      Had he ever been that young and innocent himself?

      No.

      Pushing aside his own bitter memories, he scanned the area for Lisa. When he didn’t see her outside, he strode up to the front door of the day care and went inside. A plump receptionist with dark curly hair and a gap between her front teeth sat at a desk, the director’s office to the right.

      “Welcome to Love ’N Play. I’m Deidre, what can I do for you, sir?”

      “I’m here to see Lisa Long.”

      “Do you have a child in her classroom, Mr….?”

      “Brad Booker.” He didn’t want to alarm her or reveal he was FBI. “No…um, but I’m considering moving to Ellijay and enrolling my child.”

      She pasted on a friendly smile, revealing dimples. “Well, she’s in class right now. But the kids are going to be dismissed in a few minutes, if you could wait.”

      “Yes, that would be fine.”

      “You can watch the class through the window if you want.” Deidre gestured to the hallway, toward a glass partition on the upper half of one wall. “Lisa’s an excellent teacher and day camp worker, one of our most loving helpers. The kids just adore her.”

      He was certain they did. The sight of the small children stirred unease in his gut as he peered through the glass. He’d never attended preschool, had never been around kids much, either, and he felt out of place.

      Music chimed through the room, and the boys and girls danced in a circle, waving bright, colorful scarves, twirling and giggling, some bumping into one another and tumbling to the floor with laughter. Lisa stood in their midst, waving a purple scarf around her head, swaying and laughing with them. She stooped and picked up a tiny girl, then twirled her around until the child giggled. Suddenly a chorus of other voices begging for the same treatment broke out. Lisa laughed and, one by one, gave each of the kids an adoring grin and followed suit, her skirt swirling around her.

      Brad’s chest tightened. She looked so damn happy, carefree even. So different from the traumatic woman during the months of the trial that he wanted to freeze-frame the image and leave her undisturbed by this latest horror.

      Knowing she couldn’t see him, though, he took an extra few minutes to study her. Her heart-shaped face had always seemed so delicate and pale, yet now a slight tan gave her a healthy glow, and her hair seemed shinier, blonder, with natural highlights. Her too-thin body seemed rounder and more sexy, her arms more muscular, as if she might have been exercising or working out in the yard.

      Today, she wore a simple white cotton blouse with gathers up the middle, accentuating her curves, along with a denim skirt that swirled around her ankles. Dainty sandals on her feet revealed long narrow toes with red-painted toenails.

      His body stirred with desire….

      He’d known that beneath the battered woman there was a beauty. But he hadn’t imagined how sexy and tempting she’d be when that traumatized look faded, and she actually smiled.

      The few times he’d visited since the trial, he’d noted the wariness reflected in her big blue eyes. Had known that seeing him was a reminder of the worst time of her life.