Dead by Midnight - Beverly Barton [113]
Chapter 22
Deputy Buddy Pounders lived a quarter of a mile from Lorie, so Jack had gotten in touch with him immediately. When he arrived, Buddy instructed Lorie to stay inside with the doors locked until he canvassed the area around her house. She peered through the living room windows, watching, waiting, and holding her breath. She had turned on every outside light—porch lights, security lights, and even the miniature lights surrounding the patio. Five minutes later, Jack pulled his car up behind Buddy’s. Cathy got out and rushed toward the front porch while Jack stopped to talk to Buddy. Lorie unlocked the door, and the minute Cathy came barreling into the house, Lorie grabbed on to her friend for dear life. Trembling uncontrollably from head to toe, she clung to Cathy.
“You’re safe.” Cathy hugged her fiercely. “I’m here and I’m not going to leave you.”
“Shelley has disappeared and there’s a pool of blood on the back porch. Putting the two together means that he’s killed her, doesn’t it? He’s here in Dunmore and I’m his next victim.”
Rubbing Lorie’s back soothingly, Cathy said, “You don’t know that for a fact. We don’t know anything, not yet. Jack and Buddy will come in and tell us as soon as they finish checking the yard and—”
“How could he have gotten into the house? Why didn’t the alarm go off? How did he outsmart a trained bodyguard?”
Cathy grasped Lorie’s hands. “Listen to me. We do not know that Shelley is dead. Right now, she’s only missing. And we do not know that the Midnight Killer is in Dunmore.”
Lorie took a deep breath and then nodded. Cathy was right, of course. But if the Midnight Killer wasn’t responsible for Shelley Gilbert’s disappearance, then who was? And if she wasn’t dead, why was there a pool of partially dried blood on the back porch?
“Let’s go in the kitchen and I’ll fix you some hot tea or cocoa.” Cathy tugged on Lorie’s hands.
Lorie fell into step beside Cathy. “Just go ahead and fix coffee since none of us will get any more sleep tonight. And it wouldn’t hurt if you put a little whiskey in my cup.”
“Do you have any whiskey?” Cathy asked as they entered the kitchen.
“In the cabinet over the microwave.”
The following fifteen minutes passed slowly, each second unbearably long for Lorie as she sipped on the whiskey-laced coffee and prayed that Shelley Gilbert would be found alive. She and Cathy sat at the table, Cathy doing her best to make idle conversation in order to take Lorie’s mind off the worst-case scenario. Suddenly, they heard the front door open and footsteps trod down the hall. It had to be Jack since he and Cathy were the only other people who had a key to her house.
“Where are y’all?” Jack called.
“We’re in the kitchen,” Cathy told him.
The door swung open and Jack came into the room with Mike Birkett directly behind him. Lorie’s heart skipped a beat when her gaze met Mike’s. She had never been so glad to see anybody. Despite the comfort Cathy offered and the protection Jack and Buddy provided, to her, Mike’s presence meant safety and security.
“How’s it going in here?” Jack glanced at Cathy.
“We’re okay,” Cathy replied. “Drinking coffee”—she eyed the whiskey bottle on the counter—“and doing our best not to jump to any erroneous conclusions.”
“That’s good,” Jack said.
Mike came over to Lorie, dropped to his haunches, and looked into her eyes. “There’s no sign of Shelley, but there is a blood trail from the back porch to the wooded area behind your house. I’ve put in a call for more men and a couple of dogs to search the woods.”
“What about the blood on the porch?” Lorie asked. “Oh, Mike, there’s so much blood out there.”
Mike nodded. “Yeah, there is.” He reached out and laid his hand over Lorie’s. “Cathy is going to stay here with you and I’ll have a couple of deputies watching the house. You’re safe. Do you understand?”
“Yes, I’m safe. But what about Shelley?”
“I don’t know,” Mike admitted. “But as soon as I know something, you’ll know it. I’m not going to keep anything from you.”
“Thank you.