Don't Cry Part 17

"Do you have any record of his address or a phone number?"

"I doubt it, but I can check."

J.D. stood and stretched while he waited.

What difference did it make if Jeremy Arden had visited Regina several times? Maybe the young man had needed to confront the woman who had kidnapped him. Maybe he had found a way to forgive her for what she'd done.

The existence of a nephew no one knew about puzzled J.D. There was something off about that bit of info, but he couldn't quite put his finger on exactly what. A mysterious, unknown nephew appeared out of the blue only a few months before Regina died and began visiting her on a regular basis. Where had he been all those years? And why had he suddenly decided to visit his criminally insane aunt?

Ms. Milsaps cleared her throat. "Special Agent Ca.s.s?"

"Yes?"

"We don't have an address for Corey Bennett, but we have a phone number. I believe it's a cell number." She handed J.D. a Post-it Note on which she'd written down the number. "And there's something else."

"What?"

"It seems that Mr. Bennett paid for his aunt's funeral."

"He did? Which funeral home?"

"The Chattanooga Funeral Home, East Chapel, in East Chattanooga."

J.D. thanked her for her a.s.sistance, and by the time he reached his Camaro, parked in the area designated for visitors, he had already placed a call to the office requesting a records search for a man named Corey Bennett.

He waited for her.

Taking her from the cafe parking lot was not advisable. There were too many people in the general vicinity who might suspect something and try to interfere. He had been watching her and studying her routine for days now, although he had limited his visits to the restaurant so as not to arouse suspicion. And in case anyone actually remembered him and described him to the police, a few occasional meals at Callie's Cafe could be explained quite easily.

As she drove into the parking area outside her second-floor apartment, his heartbeat accelerated. Whenever he was this close to bringing her home again-home, where she belonged-the excitement became overwhelming. Just a few more minutes and she would be with him, and within an hour she would be with Cody again. Poor little Cody had missed her terribly. But they would soon be together again, and everything would be as it should be.

A mother should love her child and take care of him.

A mother should be with her child and never leave him.

She and Cody belonged together. Forever and always. All he was doing was making sure that happened, just as he had promised.

She got out of the car, locked it, and headed for the exterior stairs leading to the second level. That man she dated wasn't with her tonight. Good. He hated him. Hated that he had abused her.

He remained in the dark corner of the staircase, waiting and watching patiently. His pulse raced. His heartbeat roared in his ears. His muscles tensed with antic.i.p.ation.

Her footsteps tapped softly against the metal stairs, her cus.h.i.+oned walking shoes m.u.f.fling the sound.

She's close. So close.

As if sensing his presence, she paused at the top of the stairs and looked behind her. He pushed himself back against the wall and held his breath. Unless she took several more steps in his direction, she wouldn't be able to see him. From experience, he had learned that surprising her when she had her back to him made persuading her to go with him a lot easier.

She hurried toward her apartment door, inserted the key in the lock, and- He pounced immediately, threw his right arm around her neck, and covered her face with the ether-soaked rag he held in his left hand. She emitted a startled squeak, but after only a token struggle, she slumped unconscious into his arms. He stuffed the rag into his pocket, lifted her off her feet, and carried her down the stairs and straight to his car. After glancing around to make sure they weren't being watched, he opened the back door and placed her on the seat.

The headlights of what appeared to be an SUV flashed brightly against the building as the vehicle pulled into the parking area. He hurried into the driver's seat of his car, started the engine, and backed out just as the SUV slid in beside him. He didn't look their way as he drove away. Slowly. Cautiously.

"We're going home," he told her. "I'm taking you to Cody."

Whitney Poole regained consciousness slowly, her head aching and her stomach queasy. Why was it pitch-black in her bedroom? She always kept a night-light burning in the bathroom and the door partially open. Had the power gone out? Was that why it was so dark? She felt around in the bed beside her and instantly realized three things: Travis wasn't with her, she wasn't in bed, and her wrists were bound to the arms of the chair she was sitting in.

Then it all came back to her, like a tidal wave hitting sh.o.r.e. She had left work, driven home, gotten out of her car, and walked up the stairs to her apartment. She had glanced up at her windows facing the parking area when she'd first arrived and noticed that there were no lights on. That had meant Travis wasn't there. Good riddance! She'd thought he loved her, but did a guy slap around a woman he really loved?

When she had reached the top of the stairs, she'd gotten one of those weird feelings, the kind that gave you cold chills. But she hadn't seen anybody, so she'd started to unlock her door when-!

Suddenly, Whitney screamed...and screamed...and screamed.

Once she stopped, her throat sore and her body trembling, she listened to the silence. Deadly silence.

"Where are you?" she asked.

No response.

"d.a.m.n it, where are you? Are you sitting over there somewhere watching me? Listening to me? Are you getting your cookies off knowing I'm scared s.h.i.+tless?"

She heard only the unbearable solitude.

She sat there, twisting her wrists, which were tied to the arms of what felt like a wooden chair, and straining to loosen the rope that bound her ankles together. When she struggled harder and harder trying to free herself, the chair moved, rocking back and forth, creaking eerily.

Oh, G.o.d! Oh, G.o.d!

The reality of her situation became immediately evident.

The man who had kidnapped her and brought her here-wherever here was-had done this before. Twice. She had read about it in the newspaper, had seen it on the TV news.

No, no. You can't be sure that it's the same guy.

It could be a coincidence.

It's not.

The Rocking Chair Killer had chosen her for his third victim.

Chapter 14

J.D. left the Chattanooga Funeral Home's East Chapel with the same type of vague description of Corey Bennett that Ms. Milsaps had given him the day before at Moccasin Bend. Average. Young. Probably early thirties at most. Blondish brown hair. Wore gla.s.ses. Had a mustache.

"He paid in cash," Mr. Scudder had said. "Not completely out of the ordinary, but unusual."

"Anything else you remember about him?"

"No, not really. He was quiet. Didn't say much. Seemed genuinely sad about his aunt's death." Mr. Scudder had shaken his head sympathetically. "He picked up the ashes himself. I do remember him saying that she grew up on a farm in Sale Creek and she would want to go back home."

Then just after J.D. had thanked him and had started to leave, Mr. Scudder had called, "Special Agent Ca.s.s?"

"Yes?"

"There were a couple of other things that I-that we all thought were rather peculiar."

"Exactly what were they?"

"Mr. Bennett brought a special container for his aunt's ashes."

"And that's unusual?"

"No, but the container was, well, rather unorthodox."

"What was it?"

"The container was a very small toy box," Mr. Scudder had said. "A toy box that was covered with vividly painted ABC letters and various characters from nursery rhymes."

Yeah, the container was rather unorthodox, to say the least. And rather ironic, considering Regina Bennett had been obsessed with toddlers, with little boys who bore a resemblance to her dead son.

"You said a couple of things," J.D. had reminded Mr. Scudder. "What was the other thing?"

"He requested that we allow him to place a small item in the casket with his aunt before the cremation."

"What item?"

"Well, I didn't see it, but Mr. Bennett said it was a doll that had been his aunt's favorite toy as a child."

"A doll?"

"Yes, he had it wrapped in a blue blanket. I saw the blanket, but of course, didn't unwrap it and look at the doll inside."

Good G.o.d almighty. Had this man actually put one of the toddler skeletons in the coffin with Regina Bennett? If so, they would never know, because whatever had been wrapped in the blanket had been cremated along with Regina.

As he drove away from the East Chapel and headed back to his office, J.D. went over the information he had so far obtained about Corey Bennett. According to the search results from the TBI inquiry, the telephone number Corey Bennett had given at Moccasin Bend had belonged to a disposable cell phone at that time. And the list of Corey Bennetts the TBI came up with proved that the name was actually fairly common and there were even a few female Corey Bennetts. There were a number of Corey Bennetts in the Chattanooga area, but so far, they hadn't found a link between anyone by that name and Regina Bennett, kidnapper and murderer.

The records on Regina showed that she had no siblings and no first cousins. And she was never married. So, how was it that she had a nephew?

J.D. intended to follow every possible lead, even if that meant personally interviewing every Corey Bennett in Chattanooga. But first, before going back to the field office, he needed to make a side trip just to satisfy his curiosity. And to put an end to a highly unlikely scenario that had popped into his head. What if there was some connection between the people who now owned the farm where Regina Bennett had lived and Corey Bennett?

Instead of following Moore Road to Ringgold Road, the route that would take him back to McCallie, J.D. headed west on I-24. At this time of day, without any traffic delays because of accidents or road construction, he would be in Sale Creek within thirty-five minutes.

Tam and Garth hadn't talked about Hart, about how he had shown up on her doorstep at two in the morning. They both knew that there was nothing to say. She suspected that Garth believed she still loved Hart, but he understood that she had no future with his nephew, that he was pure poison to her.

It had been business as usual, the two working together on the Rocking Chair Killer cases, and coming to one dead end after another. Frustration was mounting on a daily basis, from the DA's office and the mayor's office straight to the chief of police. Everyone wanted answers, but so far, all they had were more questions.

Tam rubbed her right temple trying to soothe a pounding headache. It was tension, pure and simple. Ever since Hart's unexpected late-night visit, she'd been coiled so tight that with the least provocation, she would snap. Marcus had commented on how irritable she'd been ever since he came home and she had a.s.sured him that it was just the pressures of her job, the two murder cases they hadn't been able to solve.

Last night, after she and Marcus had made love, after she had faked her o.r.g.a.s.m, she had lain in her husband's arms and prayed for G.o.d to erase every thought of Hart Roberts from her mind and from her heart.

Marcus had held her, kissed her forehead, and told her how much he loved her. Then he had startled her by saying, "Is now a good time to talk about the future, while we're both relaxed and happy?"

How little he knew. How easily she pretended.

"What about the future?" she had asked, not daring to look him in the eye.

"I'm heading fast toward forty and you just turned thirty-four. I've been thinking that if we intend to have children, we might want to consider getting started sooner rather than later."

When she hadn't immediately responded, he had cupped her chin and turned her around to face him.

She had forced a smile, one she prayed he wouldn't realize was as fake as her o.r.g.a.s.m. "Yes, I think we should talk about having a baby, but not now. Not while I'm so involved with these murders." She had caressed his cheek. "I love you. You know that. And we'll talk about having children soon. I promise."

Marcus had accepted her response without question, agreeing that they would temporarily postpone the discussion about parenthood.

"Headache?" Garth's question snapped Tam out of her thoughts.

She glanced up at him. "Yeah."

"Take some aspirin."

"I did."

"Take some more. We need to head out soon and I want you at your best."

She eyed him inquisitively. "We're heading out where?"

"To talk to a missing woman's boyfriend, employer, and neighbors," Garth told her.

"And we're working a missing persons case because...?" But she already knew. "He's kidnapped another woman, hasn't he?"

"Maybe. She fits the general description. Young, attractive, tall, and slender. Long, dark hair."