Don't Cry Part 42

"Hush, little baby, don't you cry."

Somer's quavering voice echoed in the hushed stillness as she sang the old lullaby. She remembered a few of the words, enough to please her captor; the rest of the words, she made up and repeated them again and again.

When he left her alone, she went out of her mind, waiting and wondering, longing to be rescued, praying for life. But now she knew who had abducted her and the fate that awaited her, the same fate that had ended three other lives. Why was he prolonging her agony? Why didn't he just smother her and end the torment the way he had with those other women she had heard about on the TV news?

If by some miracle she could escape or if she was rescued, she would be able to identify him. She had seen his face. Awake or asleep, his image never left her mind.

Had the other women he had kidnapped and murdered known who he was, had he showed them his face, or had he hidden himself from them?

When he was there in the dark room with her, she couldn't begin to describe the terror she experienced. The first time he had placed Cody in her arms, she had screamed hysterically. Even now, after holding the tiny skeleton in her arms many times, she couldn't bring herself to look down again at the "child." He had once been someone's little boy. His parents had loved him and were perhaps still mourning his loss. Did they suspect his fate or did they still live in hopes that he was alive and would one day come home to them?

When his hand smoothed down over her head from crown to nape, she shuddered. She hated the feel of his hands, despised the sound of his voice, and felt nauseous smelling the faint hint of his expensive cologne. Each time he touched her, always with the utmost gentleness, she wondered if it was the touch of death, if this time, he would end her life.

"He loves it when you sing to him," he told her. "And so do I. Keep singing so Cody won't cry anymore."

He stood behind her, his hand on her shoulder. "If that looking gla.s.s gets broke..." Her voice cracked with emotion. She gasped for air. Tears filled her eyes. He moved to the side of the rocking chair, reached out and fingered the dampness on her cheek. "Don't Cry, Mommy. Don't you cry, too. Cody's going to be all right. G.o.d will take care of him. You'll be with him forever. I promised you, didn't I, and I would never break my promise."

She gulped several times, swallowing her fear, doing her best to believe that G.o.d would take care of her, too.

Are you there, G.o.d? Can you hear me? Do you care?

With a courage forged of pity and resolve, Somer rocked back and forth, humming the old Southern lullaby generations of women had crooned to their babies. Poor little baby. Poor little baby. She cradled the shawl-wrapped skeleton. She cradled the shawl-wrapped skeleton. Somebody's baby. I don't know who you are, little boy, but one day very soon, you will be going home. Your mommy and daddy will be able to say a final good-bye to you. Somebody's baby. I don't know who you are, little boy, but one day very soon, you will be going home. Your mommy and daddy will be able to say a final good-bye to you.

Somer tried not to think about her own fate, although she knew the odds of ever leaving this dark, dank room were not good. It would take a miracle for anyone to find her, and she wasn't sure she believed in miracles or in a loving, benevolent G.o.d.

The question of why bad things happened to good people had become far more than just a philosophical one.

What had she ever done to deserve this? What had the sweet, innocent child she held in her arms ever done to deserve death at the hands of a madwoman?

Spending time with his mother and brother always gave him a feeling of deep and abiding peace. His sweetest memories were of standing beside his mother's rocking chair as she sang to Cody. For so many years after he was taken from her, he dreamed about her and Cody. But when he had shared his dreams with anyone else, he had been told he was simply having nightmares, that none of it had ever happened. And eventually, he had believed what he was told and had almost forgotten about his mother and his brother.

Two years ago he had begun searching for the truth about his biological parents. What he had unearthed had changed his life forever. He had known the first time he visited Regina Bennett at Moccasin Bend that she held the answers to all his questions. Regina, Cody's mother. And his mother, too.

Coming out of the old, ramshackle church, he stood on solid ground and gazed up at the night sky. Twinkling like minuscule Christmas lights thrown onto a black canopy, stars glimmered from far, far away. The crisp autumn wind rustled through the treetops in the surrounding woods.

Regina's voice came to him. He could hear the last thing she'd ever said to him, could feel her hand clutching his and her eyes pleading.

Promise me that you'll go there and find Cody. I want him to be with me in heaven. Put him in my arms so I can hold him forever.

He breathed in the night air, cool and fresh there on the country hillside, far from the city and its dirtiness. Once he fulfilled his promise to his mother, she and Cody could rest in peace, their souls joined forever in heaven. And then he would be free to live the life he had been destined to lead without being weighed down by nightmares from his childhood.

Rest tonight, Mommy. Tomorrow night, I'll come back one final time. I'll place Cody in your arms and you'll be with him forever and ever.

J.D. wiped the shaving cream off his face and splashed warm water over his smooth cheeks. He had come home after midnight last night and had fallen fast asleep. His alarm had gone off at six. He had showered and just now shaved. He was meeting with Tam and Garth at police headquarters at eight that morning.

As he walked barefoot into the bedroom, wearing only his boxers, he heard his cell phone ringing. Where the h.e.l.l had he put his phone? Was it still attached to his belt? No, he distinctly remembered taking it off his belt and laying it down somewhere. He checked the nightstand. Wasn't there. He glanced around the floor on either side of the bed. Not there.

The phone stopped ringing. J.D. cursed under his breath as he stomped around in his bedroom searching for his phone.

And then it rang again.

He stopped, listened, and followed the sound.

Squatting on his haunches, he ran his hand under the right side of his bed until his hand encountered his phone. How the h.e.l.l had it gotten under there?

"Special Agent Ca.s.s," he answered.

"Good morning," his boss, Phil Hayes, said. "Are you at home?"

"Yeah. I'm meeting Sergeant Hudson and Officer Lovelady at eight."

"Well, you're going to have some mighty interesting news to share with them," Phil told him.

"I am?"

"You are."

"And what news would that be?"

"I have some information that's going to blow your mind if it turns out to be what I think it is."

"d.a.m.n it, Phil, stop dragging this out and tell me."

"Those adoption records you were so interested in...Seems like that court order has paid off. In spades."

"We've found Corey Bennett."

"Yep. A nine-year-old boy named Corey Bennett was adopted the year Dora Chaney married Frank Elmore. It was a private adoption, and as you already know, the adoptive parents, through their lawyer, paid Dora Chaney twenty thousand dollars."

"Who were the adoptive parents? Have you got a name for me?"

"The adoptive parents were a well-to-do Lexington, Kentucky, couple, both in their mid-fifties at the time of the adoption," Phil said. "He was a lawyer and she was an interior designer. Their son followed in the old man's footsteps and became a lawyer. Morris and Lynn Bryant are dead now, and before you ask, both pa.s.sed away of natural causes."

"Morris and Lynn Bryant?" J.D.'s mind whirled with the information. "My G.o.d!"

"Blondish brown hair, blue eyes, medium height and build. Pretty-boy good-looking. Last name of Bryant. Ring any bells?"

"Porter Bryant is Corey Bennett!"

Chapter 33

Driving like the proverbial bat out of h.e.l.l, J.D. arrived at police headquarters twenty minutes after he got off the phone with Phil Hayes. But before leaving home, he'd called Tam and told her that they had found Corey Bennett and he'd fill her and Garth in on the details as soon as they met. Phil had told him that he would contact Chief Mullins.

"I want you to do something for me," J.D. had told Phil.

"Okay, what do you need?"

"Have Chief Mullins station an officer outside Audrey Sherrod's town house and follow her if she leaves home today. Tell him this needs to be a discreet operation."

"You think Porter Bryant is a danger to-?"

"Possibly. Bryant and Dr. Sherrod dated for a while. When she broke things off with him, he came d.a.m.n near close to stalking her for a while. I don't want to take any chances."

"Is this personal for you, J.D.?"

"In a way."

"I'll see to it immediately."

J.D. parked his Camaro, got out, dashed across the road, and hurried into the police station. Tam met him moments after he entered and offered him a cup of coffee.

"I figured by the way you sounded when you called that you wouldn't take time even for coffee this morning," she said.

He accepted the mug and walked with her into Garth's office, where the sergeant waited at his desk.

"Close the door," J.D. told her.

Tam closed the door. "What's going on? You said that you know who Corey Bennett is. Does that mean he's using an alias?"

J.D. set his coffee mug on Tam's desk and turned to face the CPD investigators. "If he'd had a birth certificate, which he didn't, the information would have read Corey Ray Bennett. Mother, Regina Bennett. Father, unknown. But he didn't have a birth certificate, just as his brother Cody didn't have one. It seems the Bennett boys were twins."

"Twins? Then Regina Bennett really did have another son," Tam said.

"What happened to Corey?" Garth asked. "Where is he now?"

"A better question is who is he now." J.D. glanced from Tam to Garth.

"Don't tell me he's someone we know," Tam guessed.

"When Corey Bennett was eight years old, Luther Chaney died, Regina was admitted to Moccasin Bend, and Dora Chaney moved away and remarried less than a year later. She took Corey-more than likely her husband's son-with her to Bristol, but the new husband wouldn't allow her to keep the boy, so she sold him."

"This is old information, Ca.s.s," Garth grumbled.

"The boy was adopted by a well-to-do Lexington, Kentucky, couple. Morris and Lynn Bryant." J.D. waited, allowing the surname to sink into their minds.

"Morris and Lynn Bryant." Tam repeated the names a couple of times. Her eyes widened in shock. "You can't mean that..." She gulped. "My G.o.d, is Porter Bryant-?"

"Porter Bryant is Corey Bennett?" Garth shot up out of his chair.

"One and the same." When J.D. saw Garth reach for his phone, he quickly said, "Audrey's safe. She has protection. Phil Hayes took care of it for me."

Garth visibly relaxed, but frustration and anger stamped tension lines on his face. "Think of all the time you've wasted suspecting Hart." Garth mumbled several obscenities. "And apparently you were dead wrong about Jeremy Arden, too. And all along the real killer was right under your nose."

"He was right under our noses, too," Tam pointed out to her partner. "How could J.D. have known? How could anyone have known? Porter Bryant certainly seems normal. He's hardly the type you'd suspect of being a serial killer. My G.o.d, I've socialized with the man for months. My best friend dated him." Tam groaned. "Oh, G.o.d, how is Audrey going to feel when she finds out?"

"Audrey's feelings aren't important at the moment," J.D. said. "What's important is putting a surveillance team on Bryant ASAP. If he is our killer-"

"What do you mean if if he's our killer?" Garth asked. he's our killer?" Garth asked.

"Just because he's Regina Bennett's son and fits the general description of our killer and the man who purchased the 1980s Lincoln from Eugene Vann doesn't mean he's the Rocking Chair Killer."

"You're right," Tam said. "We have no proof whatsoever."

"That's why we're going to watch him twenty-four/seven. If he abducted Somer Ellis, sooner or later, he'll go to wherever he's keeping her. And when he does, we'll follow him."

"What if he's already killed her?"

"We'll work under the a.s.sumption that he hasn't," J.D. said.

"We can haul Bryant's a.s.s in here and beat the truth out of him." Garth spat the words through clenched teeth.

"That's emotion talking," J.D. told him. "Not logic."

"The last thing we want is for him to have any idea that we suspect him." Tam watched her partner closely, waiting for his reply. J.D. figured she'd seen Garth Hudson's temper get the best of him on more than one occasion.

Garth grunted. "Yeah, yeah, you're right."

"As soon as Chief Mullins and SAC Hayes arrive, I want us to have a plan of action to present to them so that we can implement it without any delays. The sooner we start keeping tabs on Porter Bryant's every move, the sooner we may find Somer Ellis and capture the Rocking Chair Killer."

"Commander Nicholson will want to have a predeployment briefing before the surveillance is started," Tam reminded them.

"Right," J.D. said. "Call Hugh and ask him to join us."

Porter had a standing Sat.u.r.day-morning appointment for a manicure and a monthly appointment with his hair stylist. Today was the Sat.u.r.day for both. He was a man who appreciated the finer things in life, thanks to his parents, Morris and Lynn Bryant. Lynn had been a meticulous lady in every aspect of her life, from the furnis.h.i.+ngs in her beautiful home to her impeccable personal appearance. Her fastidiousness had rubbed off on him, as had his father's love of the law. From the age of twelve, he had known he would one day make Morris proud of him by becoming a lawyer. The Bryants had adored him, had treated him as if he were their own, had given him everything money could buy. And he had loved them and appreciated the life they had given him.