Dead by Midnight - Beverly Barton [155]
“Leave Dunmore today, Jezebel!” Rita Martin bellowed at the top of her lungs. “We don’t want your kind in our town. Not nine years ago and not now.”
“Ignore her,” Mike whispered as he picked up the pace, hurrying Lorie down the sidewalk toward Jack’s patrol car.
“You’re a shame and a disgrace to your parents,” Doreen Culp yelled. “You broke their hearts with your wickedness.”
“We’re almost there,” Mike told her. “Don’t slow down. Don’t acknowledge them.”
Oh, Mike, Mike, don’t leave me. I can’t do this without you.
“Whore! Slut! Harlot!” Sheila Smith hurried after them, repeating the slurs over and over again.
Jack opened the passenger door. Mike practically shoved Lorie into the car.
“Is she worth risking your career, Sheriff Birkett?” one of the TV reporters asked.
Mike froze to the spot, his hand on the door handle.
“She must be,” Ryan Bonner said. “Tell us, Sheriff, is her body still as perfect as it was in those Playboy photos? Are the blow jobs she gives you as good as the one she gave that guy in Midnight Masquerade?”
Mike snapped around and lunged at the Huntsville Times reporter. Jack grabbed Mike in time to stop him just short of attacking Ryan Bonner.
“Don’t do it,” Jack said.
Mike took a deep breath and then turned around to Lorie. “I’ll see you later.” He slammed the door and walked away, not looking back at her or the reporters.
Chapter 31
Puff Raven had been and still was an extremely sexy woman, with long legs, slim hips, and enormous breasts. Her huge brown eyes beckoned a man to come closer. Her full red lips promised untold delights. It didn’t matter that she wasn’t classically beautiful. Who cared if she didn’t possess a face that could launch a thousand ships? A guy wasn’t likely to worship at her feet or write love songs in her honor. The typical man would never ask a woman such as she to marry him and be the mother of his children. Only somebody as depraved and wicked as she was would want her on a permanent basis, somebody like Jeff Misner. The woman was good for only one thing—sex. And she had capitalized on her singular talent, making herself rich in the process.
But no matter how wildly vulgar and degrading her online videos were, they could never compare to Midnight Masquerade. That movie was a legend in the business, and that legend had followed its actors to their graves.
He sat alone in his hotel room, alternating between watching Midnight Masquerade on his portable DVD player and checking the time.
All the preparations had been made. The gun and the mask were in his small suitcase, as were several disguises he could choose from for his return trip home. But tonight, he wouldn’t wear a disguise. It wouldn’t be necessary.
Deciding that the only way to get to Jean Goins, aka Puff Raven, was to walk through the front door as an invited guest, he had telephoned her.
“Well, what a pleasant surprise,” Jean had said when he called.
“I’m out here in LA on business and just wanted to check on you to make sure you’re all right.”
“Of course, you know all about what’s been happening, about the Midnight Killer. I’ve thought about everyone else and wondered how they’re holding up. About like I am, I guess.”
“It’s horrible,” he’d said. “I hope you’re well protected. Better to be safe than sorry.”
“I am. I am. Jeff has made sure there are a couple of bodyguards here at the house with us all the time. And I’m not going out at all these days. Lucky for me, I can work at home.”
Her seductive chuckle had sent a shiver of excitement as well as loathing through him. “I hate to ask, but I’m wondering if I could impose on you. There’s been a mix-up in my hotel reservation. They don’t have me checking in until tomorrow—”
“Say no more. You’ll come straight over here