BEVERLY BARTON - The Fifth Victim

“What’s wrong?” When Tewanda flipped on the overhead light in Jacob’s office, he took a good look at the mayor. The guy looked like death warmed over. Drenched to the skin, his face red from exposure to the frigid temperatures and his hair plastered to his balding head, he was a sorry sight, downright pathetic. Jacob glanced past Jerry Lee to Tewanda, who lifted her hand to her lips repeatedly in a gesture that told him she believed the mayor was drunk.

“Have you been drinking?” Jacob asked.

“Yes, I’ve been drinking,” he replied. “I was out at Big Jim’s for a welcome-home party for Jamie tonight and I had a couple of glasses of champagne. And then I had a few sips of Scotch at the house, to warm myself up. But I’m not drunk.” He whirled around and glared at Tewanda. “I’m upset, dammit, not drunk.”

“Whatever you say, Mayor Todd.” Tewanda rolled her eyes toward the ceiling.

“Would you mind leaving us? I need to speak to Jacob alone,” Jerry Lee said.

Without another word, Tewanda turned and exited the office, but she left the door open. Jerry Lee kicked the door closed behind her.

“Women shouldn’t be deputies,” Jerry Lee said.

“Want to tell me what’s going on?” Jacob crossed his arms over his chest. “It’s four o’clock in the morning. What couldn’t wait until a decent hour?”

“Cindy’s missing.”

“What?”

Jerry Lee rubbed his closed eyelids with his fingertips. “She left the party early. Caught a ride with the new doctor and his wife.” He opened his eyes and stared toward Jacob, but his gaze was unfocused as he continued explaining. “I’ve talked to them. They said they dropped her off on their way home, around nine forty-five. I got home a little after eleven and she wasn’t there.”

“Any reason why she would have left you?” Jacob asked, knowing full well that half the town had heard about Cindy and Jerry Lee’s marital brawls.

“She didn’t leave me. All her stuff is still at the house. Whenever she takes off for a few days, she always packs a couple of bags. Nothing’s missing.”

“Maybe she spent the night with a friend.” Jacob purposely didn’t mention the friend’s gender. Cindy had a reputation for sleeping around and had cheated on Jerry Lee with at least half a dozen men—maybe more—during their six-year marriage.

“She never stays out all night with any of her friends. She’s always home by this time of the morning.” Jerry Lee slumped down in one of the two chairs facing Jacob’s desk. The man aged ten years right before Jacob’s eyes. “I know what you’re thinking. You believe she’s gone off with some man, but I tell you she hasn’t.”

Jacob walked over and placed his hand on Jerry Lee’s shoulder. “How can you be so sure?”

“Her latest is that Carson guy. You know, the wannabe actor/director who’s in charge of the town’s little theater.” Jerry Lee entwined his fingers and popped his knuckles. “I called him and he wouldn’t talk to me, so I went over to his apartment. He finally admitted that she’d been there last night, but swore she’d left before eleven.”

Jacob wanted to feel sorry for Jerry Lee, but he couldn’t. He’d brought a lot of this misery on himself. He’d married the wrong woman, refused to let her go, then had taken out his misery on her and everyone else around him.

“Give me a list of her friends,” Jacob said. “Around six I’ll make a few phone calls.”

“She’s not with any of her friends. I’m telling you, she’s in trouble. I feel it”—he punched his stomach with his closed fist—“in here. We’ve got ourselves a killer running loose in Cherokee County—”

“Don’t go jumping to conclusions. Cindy’s probably just fine and she’ll show up at home in a few hours.”

“Do you really think so?”

Jacob nodded.

“I want to fill out a missing person’s report,” Jerry Lee said. “And if she doesn’t come home, I want you to—”

“If she isn’t home by noon today, call Roddy Watson. You live in town, remember? You’ll need to file a report with the Cherokee Pointe police.”

“Yes, yes. I know. It’s just I trust you to find Cindy for me. You know about our past history and all. Roddy and I play golf together, we belong to the Country Club, our mothers are bridge partners. You understand.”

Yeah, Jacob understood all too well. Jerry Lee didn’t want to involve his friend, the chief of police, a man the mayor considered his social equal. He could admit to Jacob that he’d confronted Cindy’s most recent lover, but he could never be that honest with a friend.

“Why don’t you go home, try to get some rest, and if Cindy doesn’t show up by noon, give me a call and we’ll go from there.”

With his shoulders slumped and weariness etched on his features, Jerry Lee rose from the chair, held out his hand, and said, “Thanks,” as he shook Jacob’s hand.

The minute the mayor left, Tewanda brought two cups of coffee into Jacob’s office and handed one to him. He looked up from where he sat behind his desk and smiled at her as he accepted the coffee.

“He’s a real piece of work, isn’t he?” Tewanda said.

“Why, Ms. Hardy, saying something like that makes me think you don’t like our mayor.”

“Like him?” Tewanda harrumphed. “The man’s a bigot, a wife beater and a—”

“Don’t hold back, tell me what you really think of him.”

“I hope Cindy Todd has run off with somebody and stays gone for good.”

“If she has run off with some guy, I wish she’d left Jerry Lee a note or something. As it is, he’s going to run us crazy if she doesn’t come home.” Jacob sipped on the hot coffee and sighed with pleasure when he realized it was fresh. “You made a fresh pot. Thanks.”

“As soon as Jasmine’s opens for breakfast at six, I’ll run out and get us some sausage biscuits,” Tewanda said. “Until then, I’ve got peanut butter and crackers if you want some.”

“Nah, thanks.” He held up the orange UTC mug. “This will tide me over for the time being.”

Tewanda glanced down at the photographs spread out on Jacob’s desk. Crime-scene photos of Susie Richards’s mutilated body.

“Makes me sick at my stomach just to look at those,” she said.

Jacob gathered up the photographs, slid them into a folder, and laid them aside. “We did everything we were supposed to do, but I doubt it will be enough to catch this guy. He didn’t leave us much to go on. He covered his tracks like a pro, which tells me he’s done this sort of thing before.”

Tewanda shivered. “Are you saying what I think you are?”

“Yeah. If he’s done it before, he’ll do it again. I just hope we find him before another innocent person is killed.”

After a restless night, Jazzy woke at dawn. She had slept an hour, woke, and thought about Jamie. Then she’d slept another couple of hours, woke, and thought about Jamie. The pattern had repeated itself all night—except for when Big Jim’s telephone call woke her around one-thirty.

Had she seen Jamie? Hell, yes! He’d come by Jazzy’s Joint around ten-thirty. One look at him and her stomach had tied in knots. Even now she wasn’t sure whether the reaction had been lust or fear. Perhaps both.

He’d been so damn sure of her that she’d derived a great deal of pleasure from telling him to leave her the hell alone. He had pressed her; she’d retreated.

“I’m over you,” she’d told him. “I’ve moved on. So don’t think you can walk back into my life and crawl back into my bed. Never again!”

Half the patrons in Jazzy’s Joint had heard her screaming at him. She didn’t care. The whole damn town knew their sordid history, knew she’d gotten pregnant with Jamie’s baby when she was seventeen, knew his grandmother had forbidden him to marry her. Most folks thought she’d had an abortion and she’d never told them any different. Only a handful of people knew the truth—Aunt Sally, Ludie, Genny, and Jacob. She’d miscarried at three and a half months. A part of her heart had died with that sweet little baby.