Dead By Midnight (32 page)

“It’s not your fault,” Mike told her. “It’s my fault for letting Lorie talk me into bringing her here this morning. I knew better, but…” He walked into the storeroom and glared at Lorie. “When I get you safely back to your house, you’ll be lucky if even I let you take a walk in the backyard.”

Lorie bristled. She knew he was upset with the situation and worried sick about her, but damn it, she would not let him take his frustration out on her. “With that attitude, you’ll be lucky if I let you step foot in my house again.”

Mike huffed, blowing off steam, and then grabbed Lorie’s shoulders. He stopped just short of shaking her. “I’m sorry, honey. God, I’m so sorry.” He pulled her into his arms and the rest of the world faded away completely.

She relaxed her tense body and wrapped her arms around his waist. “I’m sorry, too. I shouldn’t have nagged you day after day about letting me come into town to Treasures.”

Cathy cleared her throat. Lorie and Mike pulled apart and looked at her.

“I don’t mean to break up this tender moment, but I think I hear my husband calling out and banging on the back door.”

“You two stay here,” Mike ordered. “I’ll see what’s up with Jack.”

Lorie and Cathy stood in the storeroom doorway while Mike went to the back entrance, exchanged a few words with Jack, and then opened the door. Jack escorted Reverend Patsy Elliott into Treasures.

“Patsy and I have talked to the mob out front and half the folks have gone on their merry way,” Jack said. “There’s maybe a dozen people out front, along with three of the ladies from the WCM, who are still ranting and raving. Of course, the TV reporters are still here, cameras ready, and Ryan Bonner just arrived. He must have broken every speed limit between Huntsville and Dunmore to get here so quickly. One of the reporters is out back, along with maybe five or six people, including two of the WCM ladies.”

“Thanks.” Mike glanced from Jack to Patsy. “I want to take Lorie home as soon as possible. It’s just a matter of deciding on the best route—through the back door or front door. Either way, we’re going to have to maneuver her safely away from the reporters and the WCM.”

“Front door,” Lorie said. “I want to go out the front way, flip Miss Culp a bird as I pass by, and watch her faint dead away.”

“I’m glad you find this so all-fired amusing.” Mike’s brow wrinkled in a censoring frown. “You’ve got this town riled up. People are taking sides, pro-Lorie and anti-Lorie. My mother and my kids have to defend me to their friends and acquaintances because I’m personally protecting you. Keeping a deputy around the clock at your house is costing the county money it doesn’t have. And this little scene today is only adding fuel to the burn-Lorie-Hammonds-at-the-stake frenzy the WCM has stirred up.”

Lorie felt as if Mike had slapped her.

“I did not ask you to personally protect me. And I never asked for around-the-clock protection from the sheriff’s department.” Lorie barely managed to keep her voice calm. What she really wanted to do was scream at Mike. “Don’t do me any favors, Sheriff Birkett!” She turned to Jack. “I’d appreciate it if you’d take me home. And if no one else has anything to say, I’m getting my purse and going through the front door and out onto the sidewalk to meet the press and those uptight old bags. They’re just jealous because I look so damn good in those
Playboy
photos and they know that nobody would ever want to see any of them naked.”

“I’ll take you home.” Mike grabbed her arm.

She jerked away, planted her hands on her hips and yelled, “Don’t touch me, damn you, Mike Birkett!”

“Lorie.” Patsy said her name softly. “As the county sheriff, Mike is under a great deal of pressure trying to protect you and at the same time pacify his constituents. He’s just terribly frustrated. I don’t think he meant what he said as a condemnation. He’s not blaming you. He was simply stating the facts.”

Lorie crossed her arms over her chest and refused to look at anyone in the room.

“How about a compromise?” Jack said. “Let Mike and me take you out of here through the front door and straight to my patrol car and then I’ll drive you home. And you won’t shoot Miss Culp a bird.”

“That sounds like a reasonable plan,” Patsy said.

“If you’d like, I’ll go home with you,” Cathy offered.

When Lorie was angry and hurt the way she was now, she tended not to think straight. Cathy had been her best friend since they were kids and Patsy had become a dear friend during the past few years. She needed to listen to them because they wanted what was best for her.

“No, you stay here and close up shop,” Lorie told Cathy. “Once I’m gone, the WCM will leave and the reporters will no doubt follow me home.” She turned to Jack. “You can take me out of here through the front door. And I promise to behave myself.”

“I’ll need Mike’s help,” Jack told her.

She nodded and then glanced at Mike. “I’d appreciate it if you could post a deputy outside my house until I can hire another Powell agent. I’m sure Maleah can get someone down here in the morning.”

“There’s no need to call Maleah and hire another agent,” Mike said. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Before Lorie could reply, Jack intervened. “For now, let’s just get you to my car and then home. You and Mike can work out everything else later.”

“He’s right,” Cathy told Lorie. “Please, do what Jack says.”

“Okay.” Lorie stiffened her spine, determined to hold her head high as she faced the reporters and the WCM witches.

Jack and Mike flanked Lorie as she picked up her purse and marched out of the storeroom, through the shop and to the front door. When Mike opened the door, three deputies moved in to stop the reporters from storming toward Lorie. Mike walked out onto the sidewalk and the minute she emerged from Treasures, he grasped her arm tightly. Their gazes met briefly, his stern look telling her he wasn’t letting her go, not now or later. Jack came up on her other side, the two men providing a physical barrier between her and everyone else.

“Leave Dunmore today, Jezebel!” Rita Martin bellowed at the top of her lungs. “We don’t want your kind in our town. Not nine years ago and not now.”

“Ignore her,” Mike whispered as he picked up the pace, hurrying Lorie down the sidewalk toward Jack’s patrol car.

“You’re a shame and a disgrace to your parents,” Doreen Culp yelled. “You broke their hearts with your wickedness.”

“We’re almost there,” Mike told her. “Don’t slow down. Don’t acknowledge them.”

Oh, Mike, Mike, don’t leave me. I can’t do this without you.

“Whore! Slut! Harlot!” Sheila Smith hurried after them, repeating the slurs over and over again.

Jack opened the passenger door. Mike practically shoved Lorie into the car.

“Is she worth risking your career, Sheriff Birkett?” one of the TV reporters asked.

Mike froze to the spot, his hand on the door handle.

“She must be,” Ryan Bonner said. “Tell us, Sheriff, is her body still as perfect as it was in those
Playboy
photos? Are the blow jobs she gives you as good as the one she gave that guy in
Midnight Masquerade
?”

Mike snapped around and lunged at the
Huntsville Times
reporter. Jack grabbed Mike in time to stop him just short of attacking Ryan Bonner.

“Don’t do it,” Jack said.

Mike took a deep breath and then turned around to Lorie. “I’ll see you later.” He slammed the door and walked away, not looking back at her or the reporters.

Puff Raven had been and still was an extremely sexy woman, with long legs, slim hips, and enormous breasts. Her huge brown eyes beckoned a man to come closer. Her full red lips promised untold delights. It didn’t matter that she wasn’t classically beautiful. Who cared if she didn’t possess a face that could launch a thousand ships? A guy wasn’t likely to worship at her feet or write love songs in her honor. The typical man would never ask a woman such as she to marry him and be the mother of his children. Only somebody as depraved and wicked as she was would want her on a permanent basis, somebody like Jeff Misner. The woman was good for only one thing—sex. And she had capitalized on her singular talent, making herself rich in the process.

But no matter how wildly vulgar and degrading her online videos were, they could never compare to
Midnight Masquerade
. That movie was a legend in the business, and that legend had followed its actors to their graves.

He sat alone in his hotel room, alternating between watching
Midnight Masquerade
on his portable DVD player and checking the time.

All the preparations had been made. The gun and the mask were in his small suitcase, as were several disguises he could choose from for his return trip home. But tonight, he wouldn’t wear a disguise. It wouldn’t be necessary.

Deciding that the only way to get to Jean Goins, aka Puff Raven, was to walk through the front door as an invited guest, he had telephoned her.

“Well, what a pleasant surprise,” Jean had said when he called.

“I’m out here in LA on business and just wanted to check on you to make sure you’re all right.”

“Of course, you know all about what’s been happening, about the Midnight Killer. I’ve thought about everyone else and wondered how they’re holding up. About like I am, I guess.”

“It’s horrible,” he’d said. “I hope you’re well protected. Better to be safe than sorry.”

“I am. I am. Jeff has made sure there are a couple of bodyguards here at the house with us all the time. And I’m not going out at all these days. Lucky for me, I can work at home.”

Her seductive chuckle had sent a shiver of excitement as well as loathing through him. “I hate to ask, but I’m wondering if I could impose on you. There’s been a mix-up in my hotel reservation. They don’t have me checking in until tomorrow—”

“Say no more. You’ll come straight over here and stay with Jeff and me for your entire visit.”

“That’s very generous of you, but I won’t impose on you for more than one night. I promise.”

“Don’t be silly. We’d love to see you again after all these years. My goodness, how long has it been?”

Gaining entrance to the Misners’ private domain had been the easy part. They would open their doors and welcome him in, feed him dinner and serve him drinks. The difficult part would be disposing of their two bodyguards and then Jeff before turning his attention to Puff. Quick action would be called for. That’s the reason he had purchased the Glock 17, a semiautomatic with an extended ten-round magazine. He could fire repeatedly, in rapid succession, taking out the two guards and Jeff before they knew what had hit them.

Jack had stayed with Lorie until Cathy arrived a little after six, and she was grateful that, for the most part, he had left her alone. He hadn’t tried to start up a conversation or offer her comfort or advice. While she had reclined on the chaise, alone in her room, the shades pulled and a meditation CD playing, Jack had protected her from the reporters who had followed them from Treasures. And he had telephoned his sister Maleah to ask that Powell’s have another bodyguard ready to send if Lorie didn’t change her mind about Mike. Which she wouldn’t and had tried to tell Jack, but like most men, he listened only when he wanted to. By the time Cathy arrived with grilled chicken sandwiches, fries, Cokes, and single-serving apple pies from Burger King, the reporters had left. All except Ryan Bonner.

“Can’t you make him go away?” Cathy asked as she spread out their meal on the kitchen table.

“He’s not on Lorie’s property,” Jack told her. “He’s parked across the road in the Summervilles’ driveway. Apparently, they have no objection to him being there.”

“Maybe you should call and ask them.”

“And maybe you should calm down and pretend he’s not there,” Jack said.

“Is that your subtle way of telling me that ignoring him is the best course of action?”

“Something like that. At least for now.”

“All right then.” Cathy smiled at Lorie and urged her to sit. “Let’s eat before everything gets cold. There’s nothing worse than cold fries.”

“Maybe cold coffee.” Lorie returned Cathy’s smile.

The last thing Lorie wanted was food. But if she didn’t at least go through the motions, Cathy would probably force-feed her. It was an effort to swallow each bite, but to appease Cathy, Lorie slowly ate a third of her sandwich and a few fries.

“Is that all you’re going to eat?” Cathy asked.

“For now. I promise I’ll eat the pie later.” She set the unopened dessert box in the center of the table.

Just as she gathered up the remainder of her food and headed for the garbage can, the doorbell rang. Apparently still a lot more rattled than she realized, Lorie gasped, her hands jerked, and the remnants of her partially eaten meal fell to the floor.

“You two stay here,” Jack told them as he rose from the table. “I’ll see who it is.”

When Lorie bent down to clean up the mess she had made, Cathy got up and rushed over to her. “Let me do that.” She grabbed Lorie’s shaky hands. “You need to pull yourself together.”

By the time Cathy cleaned up the floor and dumped everything, including her leftovers and Jack’s, into the garbage, Lorie had managed to calm her rattled nerves. But relief was short-lived. Jack returned to the kitchen with a guest.

“What are you doing here?” Lorie glared at Mike, who stood in the kitchen doorway, a few feet behind Jack.

Mike glanced at Cathy. “Would you two mind giving Lorie and me a few minutes alone?”

“Don’t you dare go anywhere,” Lorie told her friends as she glowered at Mike. “I want you to leave.”

“Just talk to him, will you?” Jack said as he and Cathy made a hasty exit.

Lorie stood her ground in the middle of the room, her arms crossed over her chest and her chin tilted defiantly.

“I apologize,” Mike said. “Everything I said was the truth, but I said it all wrong. It didn’t come out the way I meant it.”

“And how did you mean it?”

“I was angry with myself for letting you talk me into taking you to Treasures today. If you’d just stayed at home, none of this would have happened.” Before she could protest, he held up his hand in a wait-a-minute gesture. “It’s my fault. Not yours.”

“No, it’s my fault for nagging you about it day after day.”

“Look, honey, I’ve kept a lot bottled up inside me. I should have told you that my mother and the kids are still being harassed by a few stupid people about my moving in here with you. And I should have explained that I’ve been getting some pretty nasty phone calls from a handful of people letting me know how displeased they are by my conduct.”

“Your conduct?”

“Oh, the objections about my conduct range from my setting a bad example by living in sin with a woman of ill repute to I should be forced to resign for spending taxpayer dollars to protect a woman like you.”

Poor Mike. No wonder he had exploded the way he had.

“I guess I owe you an apology, too,” she said. “I think the stress is getting to me more than I realized. I thought everything had settled down somewhat, that the sharks were no longer circling and it was reasonably safe to go back into the water. But apparently the ladies from the Women for Christian Morality were just waiting for a chance to attack.”

“I think Patsy Elliott set them straight today,” Mike said. “In her own diplomatic way she told them that their actions were neither moral nor Christian and that by deliberately being cruel to another human being they were going against Christ’s teachings. ‘Love one another.’ ‘Judge not that ye be not judged.’ She quoted Scripture to them, chapter and verse.”

“Patsy is one in a million,” Lorie said. “God bless Patsy Elliott. If only all ministers could be like her.”

“She’s a good person.” Mike centered his gaze on Lorie’s face. “Am I forgiven?”

“There’s nothing to forgive,” she told him. “It’s been a terrible afternoon, and the sooner we put it behind us the better.”

“I agree.” Mike nodded toward the closed kitchen door. “I’ll tell Jack and Cathy that they can go on home.”

“No, don’t. I mean, wait just a minute.”

“Is there something else?”

“You can’t stay,” she said.

“What do you mean I can’t stay? I thought—”

“I wish you could stay. I want you to stay. But not at the cost of your reputation and your job. And not when Nell and the children are being put in such an awful position. It’s not fair to ask you to pay such a high price—”

Mike grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her. “I’m not walking away from you. Not while you’re in danger. I won’t do it. I can’t.”

“No matter what the personal cost to you and your family?”

He loosened his hold on her shoulders, eased his hands down her arms, and took her hands in his. “I can’t promise you a future and I’m sorry about that. But I can offer you my protection. I need to do this, Lorie. Please, don’t send me away. Not yet.”

Biting down on her bottom lip in an effort not to cry, she closed her eyes and prayed for guidance. How could she possibly refuse his request knowing what it meant to him? If he could keep her safe, no matter what the personal cost, then when all was said and done, he could walk away with a clear conscience. He would then be able to forgive himself for the way he had treated her in the past and move on with his life.

“You can stay,” she told him. “But I’m not sure about—”

“I’ll sleep in the guest bedroom tonight.”

“All right.”

The Misners’ cook had prepared dinner before she left and the housekeeper would clean up when she came on duty in the morning, so only the Misners and their bodyguards were there to welcome him. He was glad that he wouldn’t be forced to kill the cook; after all, she was just an innocent bystander. The bodyguards were, unfortunately, collateral damage. The 8:00
A.M
. to 8:00
P.M
. guards had been relieved by the night shift before he arrived. Lucky day shift. Unlucky night shift.

Feeling safe and secure in their mansion on the hill, behind locked gates and with two trained professionals guarding them around the clock, Jean and Jeff had been the perfect host and hostess. The three of them had sat around after a delicious meal and discussed the past while they downed several drinks and he nursed the one scotch and soda Jeff had prepared for him.

As the midnight hour approached, Jeff yawned several times and mentioned going to bed. Thinking quick on his feet, he managed to revive the conversation and keep it going without arousing suspicion. Then at fifteen till, he rose to his feet just as both bodyguards came into the living room after making their rounds inside and outside of the house. Jeff had explained that at 11:30 each night, the guards double-checked to make sure the house was secure.

“Before we all turn in for the evening, I have something in my suitcase that I brought for you, Jean. A little gift. Let me go get it and give it to you.”

“That’s so sweet,” Jean said. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Oh, but I did.” He moved toward the hallway that led to the guest bedroom. “Just give me a couple of minutes. In the meantime, prepare yourself for a surprise.”

Jean laughed. “I do love surprises.”

She wasn’t going to love this one, but at least he could give her one final, truly impressive surprise before she died. A little parting gift to the woman who had given so much to so many. The woman who had played a part in ruining his life. Of course, she hadn’t single-handedly destroyed him. She’d had a lot of help. Dean and Hilary and Charlie and Shontee. Charlene and Sonny and Lorie. And Terri.

Look at them cavorting around naked as the day they were born.
The voice inside his head boomed loudly in his memory.
Wicked, evil, depraved, sex-craved men and women. See the way he touches her, without love or respect. All he wants is to use her for his own perverted pleasure. How can she let him do those things to her?

Watch and learn. And never forget.

He entered the bedroom with its gleaming hardwood floors and huge windows that overlooked the patio and pool. When he had first arrived, one of the bodyguards had showed him to the room Jean had assigned him so that he could freshen up for dinner. He removed his small suitcase from the closet where he had stored it earlier this evening, set it on the bed, and flipped it open. First, he removed the beautiful mask that Puff Raven had worn in
Midnight Masquerade
and carefully peeled away the protective tissue paper surrounding it. Then he put on a pair of thin plastic gloves he had brought with him and removed the Glock 17 from the quilted pouch attached to the back side of the case. He had purchased the weapon this morning from a rather unsavory character, but then what other kind sold illegal guns? Over the past few months, he had learned that buying a gun that couldn’t be traced back to him was a relatively simple matter. All it required was enough cash in hand and knowing how to go about locating a seller.

He checked the semiautomatic. He would come back for the mask later, once he had killed Jean and removed her clothes.

With the Glock inside his sports coat jacket, he slipped out of the bedroom and back up the hall. A minute before reentering the living room, he pulled the gun from his pocket.

He would have to go into the room shooting. The two bodyguards would still be with Jean and Jeff.

“They are both always with Jean at midnight,” Jeff had told him.

With the element of surprise on his side, he opened fire the minute he saw the first bodyguard, striking the guy three times in rapid succession, the third bullet entering his heart. He then turned to the second bodyguard, who had pulled his pistol from his shoulder holster, but before the guard got off the first shot, he took him out with a lucky hit right between the eyes. Adrenaline surged through his body as Jean screamed and Jeff cursed.