Trailblazer. He was inside behind the wheel and appeared to be asleep. It was so like Griff to worry about her. To protect her.
Maybe she shouldn’t have told him what happened between Judd and her last year.
“I know when I’m being tailed.” She let the drapes fall back into place. “Rick’s parked outside. He didn’t have to sleep in his car last night.”
Griff chuckled.
“So, what do I need to know? What do you want me to tell Judd?”
“Barbara Jean says she can’t ID the man she saw coming out of her sister’s apartment building just as she was going in, only moments before she discovered Gale Ann bleeding to death. She claims she didn’t get an up-close-and-personal look, but I think, if we’re patient and understanding with her, she’ll eventually be able to give a halfway decent description to a sketch artist.”
Lindsay let out a long, low whistle.
“How do you think Judd will react to this news?” Griff asked.
How would Judd react? Would the news give him hope? Would it whet his appetite for revenge? Could he wait and give Barbara Jean Hughes the time she needed to admit to herself that she could indeed ID her sister’s killer?
“I honestly don’t know how he will react,” Lindsay said. “I don’t know Judd anymore. I’m not sure I ever really knew him.”
“There are other men out there, you know. Someone who would appreciate you for the wonderful woman you are.”
Griff’s words created a tight knot in her belly, the one that formed whenever she thought about her feelings for Judd Walker. “Look, I don’t have any false hopes where Judd’s concerned. I know that he’ll never love anyone except Jenny.”
“He doesn’t even love her anymore. Judd isn’t capable of human emotions, other than hatred and revenge.”
“I know.”
“I shouldn’t have sent you out on this case, but I thought … Hell, I don’t know what I thought, maybe that you needed to confront your demons, conquer them, and walk away a stronger person.”
“Watch out, Griffin Powell. You’re on the verge of exposing your soft underbelly, and you don’t want to do that, do you?”
“You know me too well.”
“Not really. I don’t think anyone knows the real you.”
“If you change your mind, hand Judd over to Carson, and come on home alone.”
“Is there anything else I need to know, anything else I should tell Judd?”
When Griff didn’t respond immediately, she realized that there was more. “Griff?”
“Killing is a game to him.” Griff paused. “Redheads are worth twenty points. Gale Ann was able to tell us that much before she died.”
“Son of a bitch.” Information swirled through Lindsay’s mind. She discarded some facts and categorized others. “The roses! A yellow rose for each redhead. A pink rose for each blonde and a red rose for each brunette. We figured that out about a dozen murders ago. Now we know he’s using a point system. Twenty for redheads. How much for a blonde? For a brunette? Oh, God, Griff, how many points was Jennifer Walker worth?”
Judd ordered a large breakfast—three scrambled eggs, a stack of pancakes, hash browns, and both bacon and sausage. He ate ravenously as if he were starving to death. Lindsay picked at her French toast while she watched in fascination as her companion devoured his meal. The local Waffle House had been the closest restaurant that served break fast and since the place suited Judd, it suited her. She mostly wanted some strong black coffee. She hadn’t slept more than three hours last night, so it was either prop toothpicks under her eyelids to keep them open or get a wake-up boost from caffeine. “You’re not eating.” Judd eyed her plate.
“I need to ask you something.”
Judd sliced off a hunk from his stack of pancakes, put it in his mouth and chewed, then washed the food down with a big gulp of coffee. He looked right at Lindsay. “So ask.”
“How badly do you want to be part of the Powell
Maybe she shouldn’t have told him what happened between Judd and her last year.
“I know when I’m being tailed.” She let the drapes fall back into place. “Rick’s parked outside. He didn’t have to sleep in his car last night.”
Griff chuckled.
“So, what do I need to know? What do you want me to tell Judd?”
“Barbara Jean says she can’t ID the man she saw coming out of her sister’s apartment building just as she was going in, only moments before she discovered Gale Ann bleeding to death. She claims she didn’t get an up-close-and-personal look, but I think, if we’re patient and understanding with her, she’ll eventually be able to give a halfway decent description to a sketch artist.”
Lindsay let out a long, low whistle.
“How do you think Judd will react to this news?” Griff asked.
How would Judd react? Would the news give him hope? Would it whet his appetite for revenge? Could he wait and give Barbara Jean Hughes the time she needed to admit to herself that she could indeed ID her sister’s killer?
“I honestly don’t know how he will react,” Lindsay said. “I don’t know Judd anymore. I’m not sure I ever really knew him.”
“There are other men out there, you know. Someone who would appreciate you for the wonderful woman you are.”
Griff’s words created a tight knot in her belly, the one that formed whenever she thought about her feelings for Judd Walker. “Look, I don’t have any false hopes where Judd’s concerned. I know that he’ll never love anyone except Jenny.”
“He doesn’t even love her anymore. Judd isn’t capable of human emotions, other than hatred and revenge.”
“I know.”
“I shouldn’t have sent you out on this case, but I thought … Hell, I don’t know what I thought, maybe that you needed to confront your demons, conquer them, and walk away a stronger person.”
“Watch out, Griffin Powell. You’re on the verge of exposing your soft underbelly, and you don’t want to do that, do you?”
“You know me too well.”
“Not really. I don’t think anyone knows the real you.”
“If you change your mind, hand Judd over to Carson, and come on home alone.”
“Is there anything else I need to know, anything else I should tell Judd?”
When Griff didn’t respond immediately, she realized that there was more. “Griff?”
“Killing is a game to him.” Griff paused. “Redheads are worth twenty points. Gale Ann was able to tell us that much before she died.”
“Son of a bitch.” Information swirled through Lindsay’s mind. She discarded some facts and categorized others. “The roses! A yellow rose for each redhead. A pink rose for each blonde and a red rose for each brunette. We figured that out about a dozen murders ago. Now we know he’s using a point system. Twenty for redheads. How much for a blonde? For a brunette? Oh, God, Griff, how many points was Jennifer Walker worth?”
Judd ordered a large breakfast—three scrambled eggs, a stack of pancakes, hash browns, and both bacon and sausage. He ate ravenously as if he were starving to death. Lindsay picked at her French toast while she watched in fascination as her companion devoured his meal. The local Waffle House had been the closest restaurant that served break fast and since the place suited Judd, it suited her. She mostly wanted some strong black coffee. She hadn’t slept more than three hours last night, so it was either prop toothpicks under her eyelids to keep them open or get a wake-up boost from caffeine. “You’re not eating.” Judd eyed her plate.
“I need to ask you something.”
Judd sliced off a hunk from his stack of pancakes, put it in his mouth and chewed, then washed the food down with a big gulp of coffee. He looked right at Lindsay. “So ask.”
“How badly do you want to be part of the Powell
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