Dead by Midnight - Beverly Barton [98]
“I’ve put him in charge of Lorie Hammonds’s case.”
“Hmm…”
“Considering our past history, I thought it best to remove myself from any personal involvement in Lorie’s case,” Mike said, not sure who he was trying to convince that he had valid reasons for putting Jack in charge.
“You don’t owe me any explanations,” Wainwright told him.
“You’re right. I don’t. But I wanted to set the record straight so there won’t be any misunderstandings later on.”
“Okay. Sure. Just inform Deputy Perdue to notify me when Ms. Hammonds receives another letter.”
Mike nodded. When Lorie received another letter warning her that she was on the Midnight Killer’s death list, she’d need somebody to lean on, somebody to console her, somebody to protect her. But damn it, that somebody couldn’t be Mike Birkett, county sheriff, M.J. and Hannah’s dad, and Abby Sherman’s boyfriend. Lorie had Shelley Gilbert and Jack Perdue to protect her. She had Cathy to console her. She also had other friends like Reverend Patsy Floyd that she could lean on. She didn’t need him.
“I’d appreciate your keeping us routinely updated,” Mike said as he picked his bill up off the table and stood.
Wainwright stood, shook Mike’s hand, and replied, “Your department will be kept in the loop. And if there is anything we can do for Ms. Hammonds, have your office contact us.”
“Yeah, sure.”
Why was it that Mike had a gut feeling that Special Agent Wainwright would like an excuse to see Lorie again?
For obvious reasons, you dumb ass.
What man wouldn’t give his right arm for a chance with Lorie Hammonds?
Maleah and Derek arrived in Danville, Virginia, midafternoon for their appointment with Tyler Owens, whose mother, Terri, had once been known as Candy Ruff. Nestled in the foothills of the Blue Ridge Mountains, Danville, with a population of more than 50,000, was located in the Piedmont region of the state. And as Maleah drove along the area locally known as Millionaires’ Row, she was reminded of the research they had done on Terri Owens, who was the descendant of one of the tobacco kings of long ago. How a Virginia debutante from one of the oldest and most respected families in the state had become a porno star puzzled Maleah.
“What’s the address again?” Maleah asked.
When Derek recited the street and number, she nodded. They were on the correct street of the Old West End Historic District.
“There it is.” He pointed to the red brick Queen Anne Victorian home with the bed & breakfast sign on the front lawn. “Tyler Owens and his wife are the proprietors.”
Maleah turned into the narrow drive at the Tyler House B&B and followed the paved lane to the back of the house where the parking area could accommodate a dozen vehicles.
“Mr. Owens booked rooms for us here tonight,” Derek said. “Unless we gain any meaningful information about a suspect from Owens, we’ll catch our flight to Louisville tomorrow to see Grant Leroy, known as Reverend Leroy these days since he’s become a born-again Christian.”
“Do you think Tyler Owens actually has some idea who the killer is?” Maleah opened the car door.
“Apparently, he thinks he does.”
Derek got out and met her on the sidewalk and together they went to the office in the rear of the three-story house. An attractive young brunette wearing jeans and a Tyler House B&B T-shirt greeted them.
“Hello, I’m Amelia Rose Owens. Welcome to Tyler House.”
“We’re here to see Tyler Owens,” Derek said.
“You must be Mr. Lawrence and Ms. Perdue. Tyler is expecting y’all. He’s discussing the menu with our cook. Come with me into the front parlor and I’ll let Tyler know y’all are here.”
As they followed the woman they assumed was Tyler’s wife out of the office and down the central hall, Maleah noted the similarities between this house and the one she had grown up in. Of course, Tyler House was much larger, had retained its original splendor, and was filled with priceless antiques.
“If there’s anything y’all want to know about the house or about Danville, feel free to ask,” the young woman said.