Don't Cry Part 43

He still missed them.

Losing his father had been difficult, but when he had lost his mother, he had been devastated. Lynn Bryant had been his ideal woman. Elegant, attractive, intelligent. When he met Audrey Sherrod, he had immediately perceived a similarity between her and his mother and had mistakenly a.s.sumed she would make him the perfect mate.

He had been so certain. But he had been wrong.

Of course, he knew that there was someone out there, someone with his mother's sterling qualities who would be proud to be Mrs. Porter Bryant.

He checked his Rolex. 3:38 P.M.

Enjoying the view of downtown from his penthouse apartment, Porter poured himself another gla.s.s of Chablis Premier Cru, a twelve-year-old vintage. He appreciated the steely edge to the light, crisp, fruity wine.

Despite not yet having found the right woman, Porter enjoyed his life. By thirty, he had accomplished a great deal and was already an ADA. By the time he was forty, perhaps he would be the DA or even a young congressman or senator. Or there might be a judgeship in his future.

But for now, he was satisfied.

Or he would be once he had kept his promise to Regina Bennett.

He never would have found her again if not for his mother. After his father's death, he had discovered doc.u.ments his mother had stored away in her safety deposit box, doc.u.ments that told his life story. Adoption papers. Newspaper clippings. Letters from Regina, addressed to My Sweet Corey, mailed to him over the years in care of Dora Chaney. Apparently, Dora had forwarded the letters to Lynn.

He had been barely nine when the woman he had thought of as his grandmother had handed him over to strangers. He had been too young to understand why she had done such an unforgivable thing, just as he'd been too young to understand why his mother had disappeared months before that. Dora Chaney had told him that his mother didn't want him any longer and neither did she.

Over the years, those first nine years of his life had gradually slipped into the recesses of his subconscious, coming alive only occasionally in his dreams. What he had remembered at odd times was the sound of a woman's voice singing.

Hush, little baby, don't you cry.

And there had been times when he had looked at himself in the mirror and had seen two identical images staring back at him. The ghost of his twin brother, Cody. He had never forgotten his brother.

When he had discovered that Regina Bennett, the woman accused of being the Baby Blue kidnapper, was his biological mother, he had felt compelled to go and see her. But he could hardly visit a convicted murderess as ADA Porter Bryant. However, Regina's "nephew" Corey could visit her. It had taken very little in the way of a disguise to hide his true ident.i.ty.

Looking back on that first meeting with Regina, he recalled the instant recognition. He had known her the moment he saw her, and the memories of his life with her and his brother resurfaced gradually over the next few months, more and more with each visit.

Despite who she was and what she had done, Regina Bennett had given birth to him. She had loved him. Dora Chaney had lied when she'd told him his mother didn't want him. And when Regina had asked only one thing of him, he had felt compelled to keep the promise he had made her.

Promise me that you'll go there and find Cody. I want him to be with me in heaven. Put him in my arms so I can hold him forever.

Somer Ellis kissed her husband. His lips were warm and moist and gentle. She loved Quint. Being his wife made her so happy. Their life together wasn't perfect, but it was good and held the promise of a bright future.

Today was a glorious day. Springtime warm, the sun shimmering, the birds singing outside her bedroom window, a soft breeze blowing the curtains and sweeping inside with sweet, fresh air.

She stretched languidly as she lay in Quint's arms, completely content.

"I love you." Quint nuzzled her neck.

She turned into his arms and smiled at him. "I love you, too."

"Let's not wait to go to Hawaii," he said. "Let's go now. We'll take our savings and if that's not enough, we'll put the rest on a credit card. Life's too short to waste dreaming about the things we want to do."

"Yes, Quint, yes, life is too short...."

Somer's eyelids flew open. A silent cry screamed inside her head when she realized that she had been dreaming. She wasn't at home safe in Quint's arms. She was still strapped to this d.a.m.n rocking chair, alone in the darkness, waiting for her captor, wondering if, when he came back the next time, he would kill her.

The 24/7 surveillance paid off sooner rather than later. Having no idea that anyone knew his true ident.i.ty and suspected him of being the Rocking Chair Killer, Porter left his home that Sat.u.r.day evening, not realizing his every move was being watched.

When he headed north from downtown Chattanooga, taking US-27, in his pursuit of Corey Bennett/Porter Bryant, J.D. suspected the guy was on his way to Sale Creek. The minute Bryant had left his penthouse and gotten behind the wheel of his expensive Lotus Exige-a $65,000 sports car-J.D. had eased the nondescript black Chevy Impala into the traffic, keeping at least two car lengths behind him. Another unmarked car that had been parked a block from the penthouse and was driven by TBI agent Will Brannock fell in behind J.D. By the time he pa.s.sed the Soddy-Daisy/Sequoia exit, two more unmarked cars, both driven by county deputies, had joined the team, the four men keeping in radio contact as they followed Porter Bryant.

The CPD, TBI, and Hamilton County sheriff's department were working together as a team. A vast number of personnel had been a.s.signed as a precautionary measure: intelligence, homicide, fugitive, and narcotics investigators.

As soon as the silver Lotus exited onto TN-29 N toward Dayton, J.D. knew he'd guessed right. Porter was headed for Sale Creek, probably the old Chaney farmstead. The Hamilton County sheriff's department was providing more backup, as was the CPD, including their SWAT team. But everyone involved knew the importance of keeping a safe distance behind the suspect. Tam and Garth were bringing up the rear.

Garth Hudson was a hothead and this case was personal for him. The last thing J.D. needed was for the veteran officer to go off half c.o.c.ked and blow this entire operation. If he didn't trust Tam to keep Garth under control, he would have excluded them from the unit.

Excitement coursed through Porter's body, following the flow of his blood and affecting every nerve ending. Tonight he would completely fulfill his promise to Regina Bennett, his birth mother. Tonight she and Cody would be together eternally. In only a few hours, it would all be over and he would be free to continue his life, move forward, and forever put the past behind him.

Once she had gone to be with Cody, he would miss her, of course. How sad to think that he would never hear her sing again, never stand beside her and watch her rocking Cody and soothing his cries. How many nights as a young child had he stood and watched her lavish love and attention on his twin brother? How many times had he wished he and Cody could trade places so that he could be the center of their mother's world? He hadn't understood back then that Cody had been dying.

He gripped the steering wheel, his palms damp inside his stylish driving gloves, as he veered off the highway and onto Leggett Road. His heartbeat hummed inside his head. He met a couple of oncoming cars, each dimming its lights as it approached, and he noticed several sets of headlights behind him.

Mile after mile zipped by quickly as he increased the Lotus's speed without even realizing what he was doing. Driving faster than he intended, he almost missed the turnoff that would take him past the old Chaney farmhouse and eventually carry him to the dirt road leading deep into the woods.

J.D. slowed down when he saw the silver Lotus turn off on the winding road that led to the Chaney farmhouse and beyond to the next farm and then looped back and around to rejoin the county road. He waited a few minutes before he turned and followed. He had to be careful not to alert Porter that he was being tailed.

No streetlights illuminated the old country lane, only the three-quarter moon. A dense, pervasive darkness surrounded him, turning the fields and wooded areas on either side of the road into black, shadowy blurs. The vibratory murmur of the Impala's engine and the whirl of tires on the rutted pavement droned in his ears as he managed to keep the Lotus in sight and still remain a discreet distance behind the sports car. Adrenaline pumped through J.D.'s system, preparing him for whatever lay ahead, as he reminded himself that Somer Ellis's life might well depend on what he did tonight.

When he saw the entrance to the old Chaney farm, he expected Porter to turn off, and when he didn't, J.D. slowed the Impala to a crawl. Where was Porter going? J.D. had been so sure that Corey Bennett would be returning home, that somewhere on that hundred-acre tract, he was keeping his victims near wherever Regina Bennett had stored the Baby Blue toddlers' bodies.

"He's gone past the farm," J.D. informed the unit as he crept along a safe distance behind the Lotus. "He's turning off onto what looks like a dirt road going into an open field."

Farmland always had dirt pathways for equipment and workers. But there were no hiding places out in the open.

"I'm turning off my headlights and following him."

Porter parked the Lotus at the edge of the open field, a cl.u.s.ter of high gra.s.s and wild shrubs hiding it from the view of pa.s.sersby. He picked up a flashlight from the floorboard, got out, locked the car, and hiked into the woods, taking the gravel path that led up and into the hills. Within minutes, the crumbling old church came into view. Moonlight reflected off the broken windowpanes. Taking his time, mentally preparing himself for the monumental task facing him, he made his way to the back of the building. As he pa.s.sed by the old Lincoln, he stopped and opened the trunk. After stuffing the small bright blue flashlight into his pocket, he removed the folded quilt near the extra tire and jack and spread it out inside the trunk, preparing a bed for Regina and Cody.

Leaving the trunk open, he entered the church and crept down the wooden stairs into the bas.e.m.e.nt. The stairs creaked with each step he took. After tonight, he wouldn't come back to this church ever again. Like Regina and Cody, it, too, would become nothing more than a part of his past. And after tonight, he would have no need for the old Lincoln. He knew exactly what to do with it. Less than half a mile behind the church, there was a deep ravine, a fitting burial place for Luther Chaney's car.

J.D. parked the Impala just off the road, and notified the others that he would be on foot from here on out as he followed the suspect into the woods. Surprised to find a gravel path wide enough to accommodate a vehicle, he veered off onto the gra.s.sy shoulder to prevent his footsteps from crunching on the rocks. In the distance, he caught a glimpse of Porter as he disappeared behind the hulk of an old wooden building. What the h.e.l.l was it? Why hadn't the FBI discovered this place twenty-three years ago when they had searched the Chaney farm and the surrounding area?

As J.D. drew closer and was able to see the structure more clearly in the moonlight, he realized that it was the ruins of a church.

Maybe the FBI had discovered the church years ago and found nothing suspicious inside the building. Or maybe they had somehow missed it. He couldn't recall any mention of a church in the old files about the Baby Blue toddlers.

His voice little more than a whisper, he gave the others directions. He told them he was going into the building to investigate and ordered them to approach the area silently.

Chapter 34

Somer heard his footsteps.

She had suspected for a while now that she was underground, possibly in a bas.e.m.e.nt or a storm shelter. He was coming down creaky stairs, which meant she had only a few precious moments to prepare herself. There was no reason to think that this time would be any different than the other times, no reason to believe that her life might end tonight.

Why hadn't she paid more attention to the news on TV and in the Chattanooga Times Free Press Chattanooga Times Free Press about the Rocking Chair Killer? If only she could remember the timeline between when he abducted his victims and when they were found dead, their bodies sitting in a rocking chair, a toddler's skeleton in their lap. Had it been a week? Ten days? Two weeks? G.o.d, why couldn't she remember? about the Rocking Chair Killer? If only she could remember the timeline between when he abducted his victims and when they were found dead, their bodies sitting in a rocking chair, a toddler's skeleton in their lap. Had it been a week? Ten days? Two weeks? G.o.d, why couldn't she remember?

Was she destined to share the same fate as those other three women, women whose names she couldn't recall?

Of course she was.

Tonight?

Please, G.o.d, please, give me more time. I don't want to die. I want to go home to Quint. I want that vacation in Hawaii. I want to be a mother. I want to grow old with Quint and live to see our grandchildren.

Suddenly, a dim light flickered softly behind her.

He came up behind the rocking chair.

Every muscle in her body tensed.

"I'm back, Mommy. I'll bring Cody to you. He needs your arms around him. He's missed you. We've both missed you."

He reached out and untied her raw, b.l.o.o.d.y wrists. Even knowing her attempts to escape were futile, she still occasionally struggled against the ropes that bound her to the chair.

"Don't try to get up. Sit still and I'll put Cody in your arms."

No, no, not yet. This wasn't the usual sequence of events. He hadn't allowed her to use the slop jar. He hadn't asked her if she was hungry, hadn't offered to let her wash herself. This wasn't the usual sequence of events. He hadn't allowed her to use the slop jar. He hadn't asked her if she was hungry, hadn't offered to let her wash herself.

"Didn't you bring me something to eat?" she asked.

"You don't need to eat tonight," he told her. "Cody must come first. That's what you always told me. Cody needs you. Can't you hear him crying?"

"Please, let me wash off-"

"No!" He screamed the word.

"Just my hands. Please." She rose halfway up in the chair. "You don't want-"

"Hush now. You mustn't upset yourself." He clutched her shoulders and forced her down into the rocker. "Everything is as it should be. You can trust me to keep my promise. I'm a good boy, aren't I, Mommy? Isn't that what you've always told me? 'You're such a good boy, Corey. You know Mommy loves you, but Cody has to come first because he's very sick.'"

Tell him what he wants to hear, what he desperately needs to hear. Buy yourself some time. Don't give up. Don't you dare give up.

"I-I do love you...just as much as I love Cody."

When he stroked her hair, she shivered involuntarily, knowing the gentle hands touching her belonged to a killer. "And I love you, too," he told her. "That's why I'm going to keep my promise."

"What-what promise?"

He leaned down behind her and kissed her forehead. She gasped. He had never kissed her before tonight. There was nothing sensual in his touch, only a tender affection.

"Do you want me to promise you again?" he asked. "Do you want to hear me say the words, to swear to you that I will fulfill my promise?"

She nodded. "Yes, please...Corey..."

He moved away from the chair.

She held her breath.

She had tried getting away from him in the past and only wound up flat on her face on the floor and then dragged back and tied to the chair. There was no point in trying again, was there?

Tonight was the night. He was going to kill her. She knew it as surely as she knew he was insane.

"Open your arms," he instructed. Coming from behind the chair, he lifted the blanket-wrapped bundle over her head and placed it in her arms.

Don't look down.

She accepted the dead child, cradled it gently, and without any prompting, she began singing softly, crooning to a toddler who had been dead for many years.