The Mother. BEVERLY BARTONЧитать онлайн книгу.
Chapter 39
Garth unlocked the front door and walked into the living…
Chapter 40
Tam came and took Audrey home from the hospital that…
Dear Reader
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Other Books by Beverly Barton
Prologue
Thirty years ago
The Humpty-Dumpty night-light cast a soft, honey-white glow over the nursery, from the 5' x 7' Mother Goose rug on the wooden floor to the fluffy clouds painted on the ceiling. A large Raggedy Andy doll, with a mop of red hair and a perpetual smile, sat atop a brightly decorated toy box in the corner. Billowy blue and white gingham curtains covered the double windows that overlooked the backyard, and a matching gingham quilt, neatly folded, lay at the foot of the baby bed in the center of the small room.
Humming quietly, Regina Bennett sat in the white spindle rocking chair, her precious little Cody asleep in her arms. Even in sleep, he still clutched his favorite toy, a little yellow teddy bear. Earlier that evening, he had been terribly fussy, crying incessantly, the sound of his pitiful gulping sobs breaking her heart. But after she had given him his medication, he had gradually quieted and gone to sleep.
But for how long? An hour? Two hours? The medication’s effects seemed to wear off more quickly with each passing day. Eventually, the medication wouldn’t ease his pain.
She brushed aside his damp blond curls, leaned down, and kissed his warm forehead. Before the chemotherapy treatments, his hair had been thick and shiny, but the new growth was thin and dull. “You won’t suffer anymore, my precious darling. Mommy promises.”
Rocking back and forth, she cuddled Cody protectively against her breast. Still humming “Hush Little Baby,” an old Southern lullaby, Regina slid her hand down to the side of the rocker and grasped the small pillow she had placed there earlier that evening.
“Mommy loves her little boy. Mommy’s going to do what’s best for you.”
Regina lifted the pillow off the floor.
Rocking.
Humming.
Smiling sadly.
Tears misting her eyes.
Singing softly.
“Hush, little baby, don’t you cry.”
Regina laid the handmade pillow over her son’s nose and mouth. Tears seeped from the corners of her eyes and cascaded down either side of her face. She pressed her hand in the center of the pillow and held it in place until she was certain Cody was at peace. She lifted the pillow, tossed it aside, and looked at her tiny two-year-old son.
No more pain. No more suffering.
Chapter 1
J.D. Cass listened to his breakfast date’s end of the telephone conversation and knew it was bad news. In his profession, bad news was the norm, as it was in Holly’s, so he wasn’t surprised. When a guy was dating an assistant district attorney, even in an on-again/off-again relationship, he became accustomed to their dates being interrupted by business. Of course, it worked both ways. How many times had one of Holly’s meticulously planned romantic evenings ended abruptly when he’d gotten an urgent call?
They hadn’t managed to get together for the past three weeks, and J.D. was way past horny. So, yeah, his invitation for them to share an early breakfast today was his selfish way of wooing her back into his bed, and the sooner the better. Since he and Holly were both early risers, a 6:30 A.M. breakfast date had seemed the perfect chance to see each other and the least likely time that their professional lives would intrude. So much for great ideas.
“My God!” Holly Johnston’s big blue eyes widened and her full lips parted in a silent gasp. “Who found her? Hmm … When? Is the press already there?”
Curious about the identity of the person who had been found and eager to hear the details, J.D. frowned when his own cell phone rang. He checked caller ID and grunted.
He hit the On button. “Cass here. What’s up?”
“They found Jill Scott.” His boss, Special Agent in Charge Phil Hayes, had a deep baritone voice made even rougher and throatier from a lifetime of smoking.
“Alive?”
“No.”
“Where?”
“How close are you to Lookout Valley?”
“Why?” J.D. got a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.
“Because we’re fixing to get dragged into this mess, so I want you to head on over to the crime scene pronto.”
“Shit! Why is the TBI getting involved?”
“Because the DA wants us to be on standby. It turns out that there is a second missing woman. Debra Gregory, the mayor’s wife’s cousin, disappeared sometime late last night.”
“Doesn’t the mayor think his own police force can handle the investigation? This isn’t our—”
“His Honor wants to use every resource available to him,” Phil said. “And that includes us, buddy boy. The mayor called the DA and then Everett Harrelson called me personally fifteen minutes ago. Last night, the Chattanooga PD had two missing persons cases. This morning they have a murder case and a suspected kidnapping case. Since both women fit the same profile, there’s a chance the same guy kidnapped Jill and Debra.”
“When I show up at the crime scene, just how official am I?”
“You’re unofficial for the time being. We’ll ease into this gradually. Tell the investigators you’re there in an advisory capacity. Assure them that the TBI isn’t taking over their case.”
“Yeah, sure. Like they’re going to believe that.”
After J.D. returned his phone to the belt holder, he looked across the table at Holly. She slid her phone into an outer pocket on her shoulder bag and shrugged.
“Bad news?” he asked.
She nodded. “What about you?”
“Yeah. That was Phil. They believe they’ve found Jill Scott, the woman who’s been missing for the past two weeks.”
Scott, a local middle school teacher, beloved by students and parents alike, had mysteriously disappeared two weeks earlier. Her parents, her fiancé, and her friends assured police that Jill would never leave without a word to anyone. They were convinced that she’d been abducted. Thanks to local media coverage, there probably wasn’t a man, woman, or child in Hamilton County who didn’t know the teacher’s name.
“It seems our calls were about the same case,” Holly told him. “Of course, I’m not actually involved with the case, not yet, but—”
“But your nephew was in Jill Scott’s seventh-grade class and her murder is semipersonal for you, right?”
Holly nodded. “So, did the TBI get drafted to—?”
“Unofficially at this point,” J.D. said. “But that status can change at any time.” He offered Holly a life-sucks-sometimes frown. “I have to head over to the crime scene.” He stood, pulled out his wallet, and laid down a couple of twenties to pay for their meal, plus a generous tip.
“Mind if I go with you?” she asked.
When he gave her an inquisitive stare, she said, “I’ll stay out of the way. I know that I’m nothing more than a concerned citizen.” She smiled. “Okay, a