Don't Cry Part 40

Because of her mixed emotions about J.D. and the reoccurrence of the nightmares, Audrey had spent several restless nights lately.

When Mr. Dwyer, her 11:30 A.M. client, left a few minutes after 12:30, Audrey opened the middle desk drawer, removed a bottle of aspirin, and dumped two tablets in her palm. Just as she got up, intending to retrieve a bottled water from the mini-fridge, Donna knocked, called Audrey's name, and cracked open the door.

"I'm heading out for lunch." Donna inclined her head backward, the gesture indicating the outer office. "You've got a visitor."

J.D.?

As if hearing Audrey's unspoken question, Donna shook her head. "It's Porter Bryant."

Audrey groaned quietly. What was he doing here? Didn't she have enough problems without having to deal with Porter today?

"Thanks, Donna. You go on to lunch."

"Are you sure?" Donna asked.

"I'm sure." Audrey forced a smile as she walked toward the door between her private office and the outer office waiting area.

Porter looked as he always did-immaculate. A gray pin-striped suit, silver shirt, and dark red tie. Spit-polished shoes. Manicured nails. His hundred-dollar haircut kept neatly styled with hair spray.

"h.e.l.lo, Audrey." He held out a single red rose.

Go away, Porter, please.

She had hoped that since she hadn't heard from him in a while, his unnerving pursuit of her had been a short-term obsession.

She took the rose and laid it on Donna's desk. "Why are you here, Porter?"

"I miss you." He took a tentative step toward her.

She stood her ground. "Please don't do this."

"How about lunch? I have to eat. You have to eat. Just two friends sharing a meal. What do you say?"

If she thought he actually meant what he'd said-just two friends sharing a meal-she might have accepted the offer. But she had no intention of giving Porter any false hopes about their relationship. The easiest excuse was a lie. "I'm sorry, but I already have lunch plans."

"With Special Agent Ca.s.s?"

"Who I'm meeting for lunch is really none of your business," she said. "But no, I'm not meeting J.D. for lunch."

"Another man? I had no idea you had become so popular with the opposite s.e.x. You're certainly not the type. That's what attracted me in the first place-the fact that I wouldn't have to compete with anyone else for your favors."

"If you were trying to be insulting, you succeeded." Audrey sensed a strange vibe coming from Porter, something she hadn't felt in the first few months they'd been dating and something she had ignored until she ended their going-nowhere relationship.

"I would never insult you, darling. I adore you. You must know that."

"Porter, you have to stop this. Do you hear me? If you don't stop-"

He grabbed her upper arms and shook her. She yanked out of his firm hold and glared at him. A rush of pure fear-induced adrenaline pumped through her system.

"What is the matter with you? Have you lost your mind?" Despite being rattled by Porter's unexpected actions, Audrey didn't back down; instead, she confronted him with her bold att.i.tude. "If you don't stop hara.s.sing me, I'll have no choice but to take out a restraining order against you."

"You wouldn't do that."

"Yes, I would. I thought I knew you, but the Porter Bryant I knew would never stalk a woman. This is insanity. You have to see that."

He stood perfectly still. His eyes misted. The pulse in his neck throbbed when he clenched his teeth.

After a few silent, intense moments, he cleared his throat and said, "I thought you were the one. I thought you, of all people, would understand. But apparently I was wrong about you, about us."

"Yes, you were wrong," she told him, not completely sure what he was talking about, but it didn't matter as long as he accepted the fact that there was no "us" now or ever.

"I'm sorry. I was so sure," he said, his expression one of complete puzzlement. "I can a.s.sure you that I will not bother you again with my unwanted attention."

"Thank you, Porter." On the verge of mentally sighing with relief, she held her breath, sensing he had something else to say.

Staring at her, his blue eyes bright and moist, he said, "Why you would prefer J.D. Ca.s.s to me, I don't understand. I am superior to him in every way. I have more money, I'm more intelligent and have more cla.s.s in my pinky than he does in his entire body."

Before Audrey could respond, Porter snapped around, squared his shoulders, and left Audrey's office without a backward glance.

Several minutes later, certain that he was gone and wouldn't return, she slumped down in one of the waiting-area chairs and finally breathed that mental sigh of relief.

J.D. answered his phone after the first ring. "Ca.s.s here."

"Yeah, this here is Eugene Vann."

"Yes, sir, Mr. Vann. Have you taken a good look at the photos I e-mailed you?" Please, G.o.d, please, let him ID either Roberts or Arden as the guy who bought the old Lincoln. Please, G.o.d, please, let him ID either Roberts or Arden as the guy who bought the old Lincoln.

"Sure have. Took my time, just like you said. I wanted to make sure before I called you."

"And?"

"And I can't say for certain."

J.D. felt like a tire gone suddenly flat. "You don't recognize either man?"

"Didn't say that. I just said I couldn't be certain, at least not about one of 'em."

"What do you mean?"

"The picture you got labeled Number One. I don't think it's him. Got the same coloring and all, same look about him, but it ain't him."

Hart Roberts's photo was labeled #1.

"What about the other photo?" J.D. asked.

"Well, there's where I'm not sure. Could be him. He sure looks more like the fellow I remember than the other guy. But there's something different about him. Could just be the picture, I guess, but there's something not quite the same. Can't put my finger on it. It's like this guy maybe could be a brother to the man I sold the Lincoln to instead of being him."

"Then the resemblance is strong enough that they could be mistaken for brothers?"

"Yeah, that's what I said. If I saw the man in person, I might be able to say for sure. I thought I could ID him from a picture, but I wouldn't want to swear when I ain't a hundred percent sure."

"I understand. Thank you, Mr. Vann. I appreciate your help."

"Any time, Special Agent Ca.s.s, any time. I'm a G.o.d-fearing, law-abiding citizen and I'm proud to do my part to help out you state boys."

After the phone call ended, J.D. sat at his desk, his thoughts centered on the best way to use the information. No positive ID that would stand up in court. Nothing that would warrant arresting Jeremy Arden or putting the man in a lineup.

Eugene Vann couldn't be sure that Arden was the man who had bought the old Lincoln from him, but he'd been sure it was not Hart Roberts. Was Jeremy Arden also using the name Corey Bennett? If so, did that mean that Luther Chaney's illegitimate child wasn't Corey Bennett, that whoever the boy was he had nothing to do with the Rocking Chair Murders?

If he eliminated Hart Roberts and concentrated only on keeping tabs on Jeremy Arden and locating Luther Chaney's b.a.s.t.a.r.d son, could he be certain that one of them was the man who had already murdered three women and abducted a fourth? Yes, definitely yes, his gut instinct told him. It had to be one or the other, didn't it?

But what if your gut instinct is wrong?

Chapter 31

Jeremy had needed a fix last night. Had needed one bad. But he hadn't been able to score, so he'd settled for getting pa.s.s-out drunk. The thoughts that had driven him to drink last night had returned this morning, as strong and tormenting as ever.

He couldn't get her off his mind.

Regina Bennett wouldn't die.

No matter how many times he mentally killed her, she kept coming back. Again and again.

d.a.m.n you! Get out of my head. Go away and never come back.

Sitting on the side of the bed, he moaned as his stomach rumbled. He was going to throw up again.

Within minutes, he was hanging over the commode, groaning and puking. He knew better than to drink so d.a.m.n much of the hard stuff. It wasn't as if this hadn't happened to him before more than once. He deserved what he got, even if he was suffering from alcohol poisoning.

Merciful G.o.d, he felt like s.h.i.t.

Fumbling from the toilet to the sink, nearly falling into the wall, Jeremy managed to turn on the faucets and splash cold water on his face.

He had to get hold of himself, had to find a way to separate fact from fiction. His muddled brain kept messing him up, kept telling him things that weren't true.

Or were they?

He stared at himself in the mirror. "Regina Bennett is dead."

That's right. She's dead. And you didn't kill her. She died in Moccasin Bend.

But what about the other one?

What other one?

Jeremy beat on his head with his fists.

d.a.m.n it, you know, you know. The other Regina. The one rocking Cody in her arms.

Hush, little baby, don't say a word, Mama's going to buy you a mocking bird. He could hear her singing to him, her voice soft and sweet, her arms tender and caring. He could hear her singing to him, her voice soft and sweet, her arms tender and caring.

No! She was a monster. She stole me from my real mother. She thought I was Cody. She was going to kill me.

And that's why I have to make her go away. Again and again.

Every time she reappears, I have to get rid of her. I have to make her stop tormenting me. I have to make her get out of my head. If I don't, I'll go crazy.

Jeremy laughed hysterically.

"I'm already freaking crazy," he said aloud as he dropped to his knees on the bathroom floor. "G.o.d help me."

J.D. had been living off coffee and fast food, sleeping no more than four hours at night, and hadn't seen his daughter in five days. He'd been living and breathing the Rocking Chair Killer cases, determined to find the son of a b.i.t.c.h before he killed Somer Ellis. As best he could, he had coordinated his efforts-the TBI's efforts-with Garth and Tam and the CPD. Garth had continued to set aside any hostility he'd felt toward J.D. in order for them to work together to solve this case. Garth Hudson was the only person who was even more determined than J.D. to find their killer before he could kill again.

Armed with Eugene Vann's "could be him" ID of Jeremy Arden as the man who had called himself Corey Bennett, J.D. had at least gotten the CPD to put an around-the-clock tail on the guy. So far-nothing. If he had kidnapped Somer Ellis and was keeping her under lock and key somewhere, he hadn't checked on her in several days. Of course, she might already be dead. But if she was, why hadn't her body shown up?

Then again, maybe Arden wasn't their guy. Maybe Hart Roberts was, despite Eugene Vann's certainty that he wasn't the man who had bought the old Lincoln. Or maybe the real Corey Bennett, Regina Bennett's son, a second child fathered by her uncle, was out there somewhere, a man living under another ident.i.ty. A judge had finally issued the court order that allowed the TBI to search the sealed birth records, starting with the state of Tennessee, of every male child adopted the year that Dora Chaney married Frank Elmore. If there was a record of Corey Bennett or any child with the last name of either Bennett or Chaney, it was only a matter of time before the TBI secured the information.

J.D. parked the Camaro, killed the engine, and sat there for a few minutes. He had spoken to Zoe once every day, usually at night before her bedtime. Their conversations had been succinct, as if for both of them the daily call was a mere formality. He was trying to be a good dad; she was trying to be the kind of daughter she thought he wanted.

He hadn't seen or spoken to Audrey since Sat.u.r.day evening. But despite being consumed with the Rocking Chair Killer cases, he had thought quite a bit about her, far more than he should have. At the oddest moments, her pretty face would pop into his mind. Her soft pink mouth curving into a smile. Her smooth, slender neck inviting his touch. Her green-and gold-flecked brown eyes gazing at him with a combination of curiosity and longing.

If you need a woman, there are a lot less dangerous choices. You know d.a.m.n well that Audrey Sherrod is off-limits. And you know all the reasons why she is.

When Zoe had called and asked him if he could take time from his busy schedule to at least stop by and have dinner with her, why hadn't he told her he couldn't make it? Why had he instantly said, "What time?"

Because he missed his daughter? Sure, that was part of it. Oddly enough, he did miss Zoe. He'd sort of gotten used to having her around. He had been alone most of his life and had convinced himself he liked it that way. J.D. Ca.s.s was a loner, a guy who didn't want or need anyone else.

He barely remembered his mother, and his sister Julia had no memory of her at all since she'd left them high and dry when Julia was barely a year old. Sometimes he thought he could remember her laughter, and other times he was sure he remembered the sound of her crying. But what he remembered most about his childhood was their old man. Jed Ca.s.s had been a man's man in every sense of the word. Hard as nails. Unemotional but not uncaring. As long as their dad lived, he and Julia had known they could count on him. He'd never once told them he loved them, but he had shown them every day of his life. J.D. had been just shy of nineteen when the old man had died. A freak accident. After an ice storm had downed power lines, Jed Ca.s.s, along with the utility company's other electricians, had worked around the clock. On his way home, driving up Fifth Street that freezing-cold February morning, his father had been killed. An enormous overhanging limb from one of the many oak trees that lined the street had broken off from the weight of the ice, hit his truck, and crushed the cab down on him, breaking his neck and killing him instantly.

J.D. had dropped out of college and gotten a job so he could support himself and Julia. Eventually, he'd earned a degree by attending night cla.s.ses, after going through the academy and being hired by the Memphis PD. He supposed that in some ways, he'd been as much a father to Julia as he had a big brother. So why was it that he couldn't make that father-and-daughter connection with his own daughter?

Julia had been easy. He had loved her always, from the first moment he saw her. She had such a sweet disposition, and never once had she defied him. Zoe wasn't easy. He hadn't loved her instantly. And G.o.d knew no one would ever call her sweet. She was far too much like him in every way. And he'd be d.a.m.ned if she didn't defy him every chance she got, although he had to admit that since Audrey had come into their lives, Zoe's behavior had greatly improved.