Dead by Midnight - Beverly Barton [0]
“He followed his usual routine,” Jack said. “He stripped Jean Misner and put a mask on her face after he killed her.”
A loud gasp behind them alerted Mike to the fact that Lorie had overheard Jack’s last statement.
“Jean’s been killed? But it’s still April. He wasn’t supposed to strike again until May.”
“Derek warned us that he might begin escalating the kills,” Jack reminded her. “Killing again before May indicates that he’s altering his MO, at least to some extent.”
“There are only two of us left,” Lori said. “Terri and me.”
“But he probably doesn’t know that,” Mike said. “It’s unlikely that he’s found out Charlene Strickland and Sonny Deguzman are already dead.” Mike reached out, put his arm around Lorie, and pulled her to his side, but she jerked away from him.
“You have to leave,” she said. “You can’t stay here. He’ll kill you if you stay.”
“That’s nonsense,” Mike told her. “If he comes after you—”
“When, not if,” Lorie said. “When he comes after me, he’ll kill anyone who gets in his way…”
Books by Beverly Barton
AFTER DARK
EVERY MOVE SHE MAKES
WHAT SHE DOESN’T KNOW
THE FIFTH VICTIM
THE LAST TO DIE
AS GOOD AS DEAD
KILLING HER SOFTLY
CLOSE ENOUGH TO KILL
MOST LIKELY TO DIE
THE DYING GAME
THE MURDER GAME
COLD HEARTED
SILENT KILLER
DEAD BY MIDNIGHT
Published by Zebra Books
DEAD BY MIDNIGHT
BEVERLY BARTON
ZEBRA BOOKS
Kensington Publishing Corp.
http://www.kensingtonbooks.com
Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Epilogue
Prologue
There it was again, that odd sound. It must be the wind. What else could it be? Possibly a wild animal, a raccoon or possum or even a stray dog. Bears are in hibernation this time of year.
Get hold of yourself. You’re imagining things. Nobody’s out there. Nobody is going to show up here in the middle of the woods in the dead of winter just to frighten you.
Dean’s bone-thin hands trembled as he pulled back the gingham curtain from the dirty window and peered out into the darkness. The quarter-moon winked mockingly at him through a thin veil of clouds, as if it knew something he didn’t. The cold wind whispered menacingly. Was it issuing him a warning?
Releasing the curtain, he rubbed his hands together, as much to warm them as to control the quivering. He sure as hell could use a drink about now. Or something stronger, quicker. But he had learned to settle for strong coffee. A caffeine fix was better than no fix at all. He had been clean and sober for three years and he had no intention of allowing a few stupid letters to destroy his hard-won freedom from drugs and alcohol.
Forget the damn letters. They’re just somebody’s idea of a sick joke.
There were things he should be doing—stoking the fire he’d built in the fireplace, checking supplies, preparing the coffeemaker for morning coffee, bringing in more firewood, putting fresh linens on the twin beds. Dean wanted everything to be in order before his brother got here. Jared, who was driving in from Knoxville where he taught biology at the University of Tennessee, would arrive sometime in the morning, and if all went as planned, they’d spend the weekend here. This was the first time they’d been together at their family’s cabin in the Smoky Mountains since they were teenagers.
God, that had been a lifetime ago. Jared was forty-eight now, widowed, the father to two adult sons. His brother was successful in a way he would never be. Jared lived a normal life, always had and always would. Dean was a failure. Always had been and probably always would be. He’d been married and divorced four times. But he’d done one thing right—to his knowledge he had never fathered a