skimmed the stories online about some lawyer trying to get Pike paroled.
Sheriff Buckley had made the arrest, but a couple of teenagers claimed that Buckley’s daughter, Anna, was dating Johnny, and May Willis said she thought Buckley had it in for Pike.
Others dubbed Sheriff Buckley a hero for locking away a serial killer. If he’d railroaded Johnny Pike, he wouldn’t want that conviction overturned. But if Pike hadn’t killed the girls, who had? Once he was arrested, the murders had stopped.
May Willis was not around any longer to question, though. She had passed away.
Mona searched for the original story about Pike’s arrest, and like a rubbernecker, she couldn’t turn away. The sheriff had found a box of photos of the dead girls under Pike’s bed.
Another teen had come forward and claimed Pike had attacked her, but she’d escaped. The sheriff stated that the young girl did not want her identity revealed, and had kept her name confidential.
The reporter who’d covered the story had also tried to interview the sheriff’s daughter, but the sheriff had sent her away to avoid the ugly press and rumors.
Was Anna the girl who’d claimed Pike had attacked her?
She skimmed another article, but didn’t find the answer anywhere.
Although there was a small story about Pike’s parents. Apparently they’d left town after the conviction. Eventually the mother had committed suicide and there was speculation that the father had changed his last name.
She leaned back in her chair and considered the recent murder. If Gwyneth’s killer wanted a bride, it suggested his age was probably midtwenties to forties.
The typical age for a serial killer.
Carol knew she shouldn’t climb into bed with a stranger, especially for a story, but Deputy Kimball was sexy and mysterious, and he was working on the recent murder case in Graveyard Falls.
So far, none of the other patrons at Blues and Brews had offered any information. And she was sick and tired of being the grunt person at the paper. Her daddy had once told her she’d never amount to anything, and she was determined to prove him wrong. Even if he was dead and would never know.
Various scenarios regarding the murder had surfaced. A disgruntled boyfriend probably killed her. Or a jealous girlfriend? Both reasonable if you didn’t know the details of the case. Carol did, but she hoped Deputy Kimball would be able to offer more. An angle she could run with.
“You look tired,” she said as she slid a beer onto the table in front of him.
He cocked a sexy blond brow at her, his gaze raking her from her sinful stilettos to the short skirt showcasing her legs to the dip of her silk blouse, which exposed just enough cleavage to pique a man’s interest without making her look like a slut.
Then recognition dawned. “You’re that reporter I talked to on the phone.”
Carol pasted on her sexiest, most seductive smile. “Yes. Anything new to tell me?”
He shook his head. “I’m off duty.”
She didn’t think cops were ever off duty, especially when a killer was on the loose, but she bit back her opinion.
A cowboy in a black Stetson strode on stage and strummed his guitar. “I’d like to sing a new song I wrote called ‘Backyard Blues.’”
He launched into the ballad, and Carol made small talk as the music flowed around them.
“How long have you been the deputy?”
He rolled his shoulders and sipped his beer. “A couple of months.”
She noticed he didn’t mention that a Fed was in town heading up the murder investigation.
They ordered a pitcher, then chatted for an hour while the last set played, the drinks and soft music weaving a seductive spell around them. By the time the show ended, she could feel the heat simmering between them.
“Come back to my place,” the deputy said.
Carol hesitated just long enough to seem appropriately moral, then smiled. “All right, Deputy.”
He pushed his big body up, tossed some cash on the table to pay the
Sheriff Buckley had made the arrest, but a couple of teenagers claimed that Buckley’s daughter, Anna, was dating Johnny, and May Willis said she thought Buckley had it in for Pike.
Others dubbed Sheriff Buckley a hero for locking away a serial killer. If he’d railroaded Johnny Pike, he wouldn’t want that conviction overturned. But if Pike hadn’t killed the girls, who had? Once he was arrested, the murders had stopped.
May Willis was not around any longer to question, though. She had passed away.
Mona searched for the original story about Pike’s arrest, and like a rubbernecker, she couldn’t turn away. The sheriff had found a box of photos of the dead girls under Pike’s bed.
Another teen had come forward and claimed Pike had attacked her, but she’d escaped. The sheriff stated that the young girl did not want her identity revealed, and had kept her name confidential.
The reporter who’d covered the story had also tried to interview the sheriff’s daughter, but the sheriff had sent her away to avoid the ugly press and rumors.
Was Anna the girl who’d claimed Pike had attacked her?
She skimmed another article, but didn’t find the answer anywhere.
Although there was a small story about Pike’s parents. Apparently they’d left town after the conviction. Eventually the mother had committed suicide and there was speculation that the father had changed his last name.
She leaned back in her chair and considered the recent murder. If Gwyneth’s killer wanted a bride, it suggested his age was probably midtwenties to forties.
The typical age for a serial killer.
Carol knew she shouldn’t climb into bed with a stranger, especially for a story, but Deputy Kimball was sexy and mysterious, and he was working on the recent murder case in Graveyard Falls.
So far, none of the other patrons at Blues and Brews had offered any information. And she was sick and tired of being the grunt person at the paper. Her daddy had once told her she’d never amount to anything, and she was determined to prove him wrong. Even if he was dead and would never know.
Various scenarios regarding the murder had surfaced. A disgruntled boyfriend probably killed her. Or a jealous girlfriend? Both reasonable if you didn’t know the details of the case. Carol did, but she hoped Deputy Kimball would be able to offer more. An angle she could run with.
“You look tired,” she said as she slid a beer onto the table in front of him.
He cocked a sexy blond brow at her, his gaze raking her from her sinful stilettos to the short skirt showcasing her legs to the dip of her silk blouse, which exposed just enough cleavage to pique a man’s interest without making her look like a slut.
Then recognition dawned. “You’re that reporter I talked to on the phone.”
Carol pasted on her sexiest, most seductive smile. “Yes. Anything new to tell me?”
He shook his head. “I’m off duty.”
She didn’t think cops were ever off duty, especially when a killer was on the loose, but she bit back her opinion.
A cowboy in a black Stetson strode on stage and strummed his guitar. “I’d like to sing a new song I wrote called ‘Backyard Blues.’”
He launched into the ballad, and Carol made small talk as the music flowed around them.
“How long have you been the deputy?”
He rolled his shoulders and sipped his beer. “A couple of months.”
She noticed he didn’t mention that a Fed was in town heading up the murder investigation.
They ordered a pitcher, then chatted for an hour while the last set played, the drinks and soft music weaving a seductive spell around them. By the time the show ended, she could feel the heat simmering between them.
“Come back to my place,” the deputy said.
Carol hesitated just long enough to seem appropriately moral, then smiled. “All right, Deputy.”
He pushed his big body up, tossed some cash on the table to pay the
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