All the Pretty Faces (27 page)

“Go on,” Sheriff Kimball said.

Grimley heaved a breath. “The last time I saw her, she told me she was going away to college, and I panicked. I couldn’t lose her. She was everything to me. So I told her how I felt. I thought if I declared my love, she wouldn’t leave, but she said I was too young for her, that I needed to date someone my own age like she intended to do.”

Dane’s chest ached from trying to control his rage. He’d been waiting years for this. Yet the man in front of him was pathetic, like a sick puppy.

“She met Eddie Easton at the nature preserve, too, and I thought she was going to hook up with him, so I followed her to that party,” Grimley continued. “I saw her talking to Eddie. They were laughing and having fun. They didn’t care that I was hurting inside.”

Dane steeled himself. “So you confronted Eddie?”

“No, it turned out that Eddie was meeting his girlfriend, Sherry.” Grimley rocked back in the chair, the wooden rungs creaking. “I got all excited then. I thought I had another chance. Then Betsy started flirting with other guys, and I couldn’t stand it.”

Dane gripped the chair edge to keep himself from bolting from the room. He didn’t want to hear this. But he had to stick it out, had to hear for himself exactly what had happened.

“She went outside, and I followed her.” Grimley’s right hand trembled so badly he dropped it to the table and covered it with his other hand. “Instead of being happy to see me, she told me to go home, that we would never be anything but friends. Then she started to walk away, said we shouldn’t see each other anymore, that she was cutting out her work at the nature preserve. I couldn’t let her leave me, so I grabbed her arm to keep her from going.” He gave Dane a childlike look as if he thought he’d understand.

Dane’s body tensed with rage. Josie gave him an encouraging look, a reminder that she and he were on the same side.

“But Betsy got upset and I . . . lost it.” Grimley’s voice cracked on a sob. “It was as if I blacked out, like it was someone else in my body. I had that knife, and I was shaking her, and she told me I was crazy, and I . . . must have stabbed her.” He held his hands in front of him as if they were foreign objects. “Blood was spurting everywhere, and she was crying, then she doubled over and went limp in my arms, and my hands were bloody.”

Dane couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. The scene Grimley painted played over and over in his mind like a bad horror show.

“I didn’t know what to do then,” Grimley continued. “Suddenly I realized what I’d done, and Betsy, my dear sweet Betsy, was looking up at me in shock, and she had this sadness in her eyes like she knew she was going to die. I . . . I couldn’t save her.”

A dark coldness settled over Dane as the man wailed like a baby. “You tried to save her?”

Grimley nodded, a wildness in his eyes. “I tried to stop the bleeding, but it happened so fast and her aorta was ruptured, and I couldn’t.”

Dane leaned closer, resuming his intimidation tactics. “You didn’t call nine-one-one.”

Grimley’s eyes glazed over as if he was reliving that day. He rocked himself back and forth again to soothe himself. “No, and I . . . I hated what I’d done.”

“You hated it, but instead of calling for help, you ran and left Betsy alone,” Dane said. “You left her in an alley like she was nothing.”

A self-deprecating sigh escaped the man. “I was scared. I knew the police would lock me up, and I’d been locked in that cage with the birds so many times that I couldn’t stand to be trapped like that again.”

Dane stared at him with all the rage and hatred he’d kept bottled since the police had knocked on the door and informed him that his sister was gone.

Grimley wiped at his eyes. “I’m so sorry, I hated myself, I really did. I decided I had to make up for what I’d done, that I’d turn my life around, and I’d never hurt anyone else again. That I’d spend my life as a doctor, taking care of other people, making them better.”

Dane tapped each of the victim’s photos—Charity, Patty, then Neesie. “Except you did hurt again,” he said, not bothering to hide his disgust. “You killed Betsy, then decided you liked it and you killed Eddie’s girlfriend and now these women.”

Grimley shook himself as if he needed a jolt back to reality. “I did kill Betsy, and I hated myself for it, but I didn’t kill those other women. I swear.”

Dane gave him a hate-filled look. “I don’t believe you.”

“It’s true. I told you I made a vow to help people.” His voice rose a decibel as if he could convince Dane he’d redeemed himself. “That’s why I became a doctor.”

“You aren’t saving lives. You do cosmetic surgery,” Dane hissed.

“I am saving people,” Grimley insisted. “You don’t understand what it’s like to be damaged, scarred. To be laughed at and pointed at and ostracized because you’re ugly.”

Dane scoffed. “So you’re rationalizing murder by saying that your scars drove you to kill?”

“No . . . no,” Grimley stammered. “I’m just saying that being scarred can be emotionally and mentally crippling. I give people a chance to be the best they can be.”

“You’re a sick pervert,” Dane snapped. “You have this idea of the perfect woman, and you try to create her by performing surgery on women to make them look like that damn Mitzi doll.”

Grimley gripped both sides of his head with his hands as he shook it in denial. “No . . . no . . . no.”

Dane pressed on. “You whetted the taste for killing when you were a teenager. Your father was a cruel man, and you turned on him and killed him so you could escape.”

Shock registered on Grimley’s face. “What? No, you’re wrong. I didn’t kill my father. He ran out on me.”

“That’s what you wanted everyone to believe,” Dane said. “I know that he was cruel, and he’s the reason you were scarred. One night you couldn’t take it anymore, and you murdered him.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Josie shifted, absorbing all the doctor had said.

Dane was furious, but a calm came over him. Not that that calm wasn’t full of unleashed rage, but the seasoned agent had returned. His shoulders became more relaxed, the seething look in his eyes fading to resignation. He had Grimley now. He had succeeded.

No wonder he was so good at his job. The controlled man was just as menacing as the enraged one.

“I didn’t kill my father,” Dr. Grimley said. “I can’t believe you’d suggest a thing.”

“Why not? He was the root of all your problems, wasn’t he?” Dane asked. “He abused you. Put you in that cage and treated you like you were an animal.”

“He was only trying to make me strong. To help me learn to bond with the animals. As he did.”

Disgust at Grimley’s father made Josie’s throat thicken. Grimley represented a classic case of abuse—he defended his abuser, even made excuses and blamed himself for the abuse.

Of course, most likely he was parroting what his father had told him.

“When you got rid of him, you could finally leave that place,” Dane said. “You had a chance at a real life.”

“I was put into a group home for misfits—that’s not a real home,” Dr. Grimley said bitterly.

“If you didn’t kill your father, what happened to him?” Dane asked.

Dr. Grimley rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t know. I kept thinking he’d come back for me, but he never did.”

Dane took pleasure in watching the man squirm. “What about Sherry, Eddie’s girlfriend?”

Grimley studied his nails. His despair seemed to have dissipated quickly. “What about her?”

“Eddie Easton was your buddy. He had a girlfriend, and you were jealous,” Dane said. “You thought he was going to cut you out of his life for Sherry, so you killed her?”

“No.” Dr. Grimley dropped his hands to his lap. “Eddie loved Sherry like I loved Betsy.”

“You loved Betsy so much you killed her,” Dane said coldly. “So Eddie loved Sherry like that?”

“No, no, that’s not what I meant,” Grimley stammered.

“Eddie killed her. Then the two of you traded stories about killing Betsy and Sherry, and you bonded and became partners. Later, you decided you could murder again, maybe even take turns. It was the perfect plan. You provided alibis for each other to throw off the police.”

Denial bled through the doctor’s eyes. “That’s crazy.”

Dane showed him photos of the scalpels they’d found in his car. “You always carry a bag of scalpels with you?”

The man’s face paled again.

“We also traced the message you sent to Corbin Michaels, the reporter who leaked the MO of the killer.” Dane leaned into his face. “Only the killer would know those details.”

The doctor gasped. “You traced it to my phone?”

“That’s correct,” Dane said.

“That’s impossible. Check my phone and you’ll see.” He fumbled in his pocket, then seemed to realize the sheriff had confiscated his belongings.

Dane made a low sound of disgust. “Of course you wouldn’t do it on the phone you carry. You’re smart enough to buy another one or use a burner phone like you did when you sent pictures to Josie.”

Grimley rocked the chair back again. “I didn’t send any pictures to Miss DuKane. I didn’t send a message to that reporter either.”

Dane recited the phone number of the phone Peyton had traced.

Grimley stood, hands shaking, handcuffs clinking. “I lost that phone months ago.”

“Lost it?” Dane asked, mocking him.

“Yes, just ask my secretary. I was frantic that day. Someone had been in my office while I was out. I don’t know who, but things were moved around and that phone was missing.”

Josie tried to read Grimley again. He’d admitted to killing Betsy, so if he had murdered Charity, Patty, and Neesie, why not take credit for those murders as well?

Dane scoffed at Grimley. “Convenient excuse, you lost your phone.”

“It’s true,” Grimley said. “I remember the exact day because I was running late. I had to catch a flight for Africa. I do volunteer work on children with birth defects.”

Dane simply stared at him. If the bastard thought he was going to redeem himself for Betsy’s murder by his Good Samaritan work, he was wrong.

Sheriff Kimball shoved a pad in front of Grimley. “Write down everything you told us about the night you killed Betsy Hamrick.”

Grimley’s hand trembled as he picked up the pen. He stared at the blank page for a moment, then tapped the pen on the pad and began to write.

As they left the sheriff’s office, Dane released a weary breath. “I have to go tell my mom.”

“I’m sure she’ll be relieved to have closure,” Josie said, her heart breaking for him.

Dane shrugged, his jaw tightening as he drove her back to her house. “She hasn’t responded to anything in months. The nurse says she believes Mom can hear me, but she’s too lost to speak.”

Josie squeezed his arm. “Maybe this news will shake her from her depression.”

“I hope so, but I’m not counting on it. Putting Grimley away still won’t bring my sister back.”

“No, but at least you both know that her killer didn’t escape. There is some peace in getting justice. Putting Billy away helped me.”

Dane nodded, but the anguish in his expression lingered. She didn’t push, though. It would take time.

He veered down her drive and killed the engine. His eyes darkened as he faced her. “I need to see my mother tonight. The nurse says sometimes she has nightmares and wakes up screaming Betsy’s name.”

“I understand about nightmares,” Josie admitted.

Dane took her hand in his, then planted a soft kiss on her palm. “I know you do.”

They sat in silence for a moment, her heart racing at the fierce hunger in his eyes. She wanted him to come inside. She wanted to hold him and soothe his pain and purge the tension vibrating between them.

Her heart tripped. If she wasn’t careful, she’d find herself in love.

She didn’t want to end up with a broken heart. Dane was completely devoted to his job. Except for an occasional one night in his bed, a woman had no place in his life.

Maybe one night would be worth it.

He didn’t give her the chance to invite him inside.

He pulled his hand away, released a shaky breath, then squared his shoulders. In spite of his pain, Dane was still the strong one. The one who took care of everyone else.

But who took care of him?

She wanted to be that someone.

First he needed to talk to his mother. So she opened the car door.

He caught her hand and squeezed it again. “Call me if you need me.”

She offered him a small smile. “I was going to tell you the same thing.”

Their gazes locked, heat and emotions simmering between them.

She had to let him go.

She slid from the car, walked to her door, and waved good night.

Dane clenched the steering wheel in a white-knuckled grip. He wanted to go inside with Josie, strip her clothes, and climb inside her warm body.

He’d seen a flicker of heat that indicated she wanted the same thing.

He remained rooted to the spot, though. How could he lose himself in sex when his mother sat in a catatonic state because she had no answers about her daughter’s death?

The wind picked up to an ominous level, ripping twigs and limbs from trees and hurling them across the road. Tornado season had started out with a twister in Georgia, and the sky and freakish storms and temperatures indicated one might be headed their way.

By the time he arrived at the nursing facility, dark clouds had moved in, obliterating the stars and painting the sky black.

He parked in the lot by the nursing home, anxious to see his mother. For so long, he’d hung on to the fact that arresting Betsy’s murderer would make a difference, that his mother would come out of her depression, that he didn’t know what he’d do if she didn’t.

Memories of her making chocolate chip pancakes for him and Betsy for breakfast teased his mind. His mother had loved to bake. While he was growing up, his house had always smelled like peach pie and cinnamon or chocolate. He could still see Betsy licking the brownie bowl.

He checked to make sure his weapon was secure and hidden beneath his jacket, then fought the wind as he braved his way to the front door. He was a grown man, but entering this place made his stomach churn like he was a kid heading to the doctor for a shot.

He signed in at the nurses’ station, wincing at the sound of the medicine cart rattling by.

“We weren’t expecting you today, Agent Hamrick,” the nurse said.

“It’s important I see Mother tonight. How is she?”

A sympathetic look tugged at her slim face. “About the same, I’m afraid. She had another nightmare this morning.”

Maybe those could stop now.

“The good news is that she’s made a friend.”

“A friend?”

“Yes, a blind woman named Ellie who lives down the hall,” the nurse said. “Your mother doesn’t talk to her, but she seems comforted to have a visitor sit with her every day.”

Dane breathed out. Maybe that was a good sign. His mother had always been social. That made it twice as hard to see her so withdrawn.

“I appreciate you telling me. I worry about her being so alone.”

The nurse squeezed his hand. She was pretty, in a quiet kind of way, and a great nurse. She’d also expressed interest in him before.

She didn’t stir his blood like Josie DuKane.

No one did.

The sound of a patient crying jerked Dane back to reality, and he thanked the nurse again, then strode down the hall.

As usual, he inhaled a deep breath before entering, bracing himself for the pale, fragile woman who’d once thrown baseballs with him and laughed when he’d chased lightning bugs.

She was sitting by the window in a wheelchair, her hair twisted into a neat bun, a shawl wrapped around her arms. Though she was only in her midfifties, she seemed much older. Her hair had grayed, something she never would have tolerated if she hadn’t been so depressed.

He padded over to her and called her name, not wanting to alarm her. She didn’t respond, but he pulled a chair up beside her.

Her hands were twined in her lap, and he picked them up and placed them between his own. Hers were cold, limp, her eyes vacant as she stared into space.

“Mother, I had to see you tonight,” he said softly. “I finally did it. I caught Betsy’s killer.”

He waited a second, and when she didn’t respond, he spoke again. “I promised you I would find him, and I did. He’s in jail right now, and he’s never going to get out.”

A slight twitch of her fingers against his palm made his heart jump. Had she heard him?

“Did you hear what I said, Mother? Betsy can rest now. The man who took her life won’t hurt anyone else.”

Another twitch, then she blinked and her eyes focused slightly. A small smile tugged at her mouth. Or maybe it was a twitch as if she was trying to speak.

He held his breath, waiting.

But a second later, her eyes glazed over again.

Once again, she was gone.