Don't Cry. Beverly Barton

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СКАЧАТЬ the River Street Deli downtown and bought lunch for four. She figured the “we” Tam had referred to were Tam and Garth and Willie.

      Audrey parked her cocoa brown Buick Enclave in the civilian parking lot adjacent to the Police Service Center, across the highway on Wisdom Street. She hoisted her em-bossed black leather Coach bag over her shoulder and picked up the large sack from the passenger seat. Using the crosswalk between Amnicola Highway and Wisdom Street, she approached the 911 Center and the CPD headquarters housed in the two-story gray buildings.

      Everyone at the police department knew Audrey. The old pros had known her all her life and there actually were a few of those still around, men like her uncle Garth and Willie Mullins. Some of the young guns were her friends and a few of them were childhood buddies, as Tam was. Others were acquaintances. She had worked, in an advisory capacity, with the CPD in the past, so no one raised an eyebrow when she showed up at headquarters on a Sunday afternoon. Normally, visitors had to be accompanied by police personnel beyond the front information center desk lobby area.

      Audrey went up to the second floor of the PSC, where the patrol squad rooms were located. The door to the office that Garth now shared with Tam stood wide open. Just as Audrey approached, Garth must have sensed her presence. He turned and glared at her, not looking all that happy to see her. She held up the sack and waved it slowly back and forth to let him know that she came bearing gifts. Shaking his head as if reluctantly agreeing for her to join him, he motioned to her. Tam, who stood in the corner of the office, was on the phone. She glanced at Audrey and forced a weak smile.

      Willie—Police Chief Mullins—sat behind Garth’s desk, his attention focused on the papers and photographs lying on the desktop in front of him. As a general rule, the chief didn’t come to headquarters on a Sunday afternoon. But there was a good chance the CPD was dealing with a serial killer and not your regular run-of-the-mill murderer. Both the mayor and the DA were probably breathing down Willie’s neck.

      She often wondered if Willie missed being an investigator, if he missed working with his old partner, her dad. Of course, no one had forced him to take the police chief position. He could have taken the route her uncle Garth had and turned down chances for promotion just so he could stay in the field.

      “I don’t want a desk job,” Garth had said more than once. “And I sure as hell don’t want to play politics.”

      But Willie excelled in his new position. He had an even temper, an easygoing manner, and a keen intelligence that made him an excellent diplomat and a great leader. Garth was smart—street smart and book smart—but he was also temperamental, moody, not easy to get along with, and known for his hard drinking and womanizing.

      “Thanks,” Tam said to the person on the other end of the line just before she ended their conversation. “Pete Tipton said that if or when another similar murder occurs, the TBI will send in a crime scene vehicle, either from Nashville or Knoxville. A third murder would erase all doubts about our having a serial killer on our hands.”

      “Is there any doubt now?” Garth grumbled.

      “He’s killed twice that we know of,” Willie said. “He’ll kill again. It’s only a matter of time before he kidnaps another woman.”

      “And we don’t have a clue who he is or when and where he’ll strike again.” Tam looked from her father to Audrey. “What’s in that sack?”

      Audrey placed the sack on Tam’s desk. “Sandwiches from the River Street Deli. One for each of us.”

      “You’re not part of this investigative team,” Garth told her. “We’ve got a job to do. So thank you for the sandwiches. Leave them with us and go.”

      “No,” Willie said. “Stay. We can take a break, long enough to eat together.” He looked right at Garth. “I want to talk to Audrey. I had Tam ask her to stop by. There are things she needs to know.”

      Garth mumbled under his breath, but didn’t contradict his boss. Instead he said something about getting coffee and disappeared around the corner.

      “He’s frustrated,” Willie told Audrey. “We all are. You know how Garth is.”

      “Yes, I know only too well,” Audrey replied.

      Tam opened the sack and removed the four sandwiches, but before handing them out, she looked to Audrey for information.

      “Here, let me do that.” Audrey handed Willie a sandwich. “Roast beef, rare.” Then she placed a sandwich in front of Tam and laid another aside for herself. “A couple of their Elana Ruz sandwiches for us—turkey, cream cheese, and strawberry preserves.”

      Tam sighed deeply. “If you weren’t already my best friend, you would be now.”

      Audrey and Tam exchanged smiles.

      Garth returned with two cups of coffee, gave one to Willie, and kept the second cup. “I figure you girls will want to doctor up your coffee to suit yourselves. I’ve got no idea how either of you want it.”

      “I’ll get us both a Coke,” Tam said. “Does that suit you?”

      “A Coke’s fine,” Audrey replied

      “I’ll make yours regular and mine diet.”

      Audrey nodded. She and Tam had different body types and different metabolisms. Tam was always dieting. Audrey had never dieted. But she suspected that eventually, probably in her fifties, that would change.

      When Tam walked off, Audrey noticed that Willie was once again engrossed with some of the papers and photos spread out on Garth’s desk.

      “Would I be out of order to ask what you’re looking at?” she asked.

      “You know better than to ask,” Garth told her.

      “Sorry.” Audrey eased away from the desk.

      “It’s something we chose not to share with the media.” Willie glanced from Garth to Audrey. “But Audrey isn’t the media.”

      “She’s not one of us, either,” Garth reminded the chief.

      Choosing to ignore Garth’s comment, Willie said, “It’s something that we all find odd about how both bodies were staged.”

      “Everything’s odd,” Garth said. “There’s nothing normal about it either.”

      Willie glowered at Garth before turning back to Audrey. “It’s about what the two women held in their laps.”

      “Jill Scott was holding a doll, right? Or at least that’s what everyone assumes. That’s what the reporters said. So, what was Debra Gregory holding?”

      “The media present at the scene where Jill Scott’s body was discovered were kept at a distance and assumed they saw a doll lying in her lap.” Willie shuffled through the photos in front of him, chose two, and held them up to show Audrey. “It wasn’t a doll.”

      Audrey stared at the crime scene photograph of Jill Scott. It took her brain several seconds to grasp the reality of what she saw. Her mouth parted to release a soft, startled gasp.

      “It’s a…a skeleton.” Audrey took the photo from Willie and studied it more closely. “Oh my God! The killer СКАЧАТЬ