Forbidden (Southern Comfort) by O'Neill, Clark (best affordable ebook reader txt) 📕

etcetera, etcetera, told them a great deal about the sex offender known as William Wayne, the fact was that William Wayne was dead.

And Clay hadn’t seen one shred of evidence which suggested the man had any type of association, professional or otherwise, with anyone else.  Either the man they were searching for had come and swept the apartment prior to staging his accomplice’s suicide, or their normal protocol involved living completely separate from one another.

Which was probably the case.  The man who’d obviously engineered this enterprise was too smart to spend more time in the albino’s presence than he had to, and he was probably adamant about circumspection in behavior.

Until today.

And now, joy of joys, Clay and the other law officers who’d drawn the short stick that was this case, got to sit through several hours of thoroughly stomach-turning porn, in the hopes that they might A.) Be able to identify some of the girls shown on the tapes, or B.) Find any clues which might help lead them to the dead man’s partner.

“Tell ‘em to go ahead with whatever they need to do.  I’ve seen enough.”  And wasn’t that the truth.

Kim disappeared through the door, and Clay leaned against the railing, watching the colors of impending sunset dance across the broad expanse of sky over Beaufort Bay.  The apartment which William Wayne had inhabited for the past few months was one of four in an elegant old building, a shining example of antebellum architecture from the city’s pre-Civil War heyday.

A graceful collection of curved balustrades, heavy masonry, tabby foundation and waved glass windows, the building was surrounded by both ancient oaks and towering palmettos, and offered stunning views of the water over which it stood watch.

Sailboats, wings unfurled, glided past other pleasure craft on the silent waters, which lapped gently along the seawall in undulating waves. A salt breeze blew in periodically, carrying the scents of diesel and brine, breaking the stillness of the air which hung thick and damp after the earlier storm.   Lingering raindrops fell from the fronds of the nearby palmettos in a steady, rhythmic patter.  A lone blue heron, unfurled wings more graceful than the sailboats’, soared high and far into the heavy cover of dusk.

It was too beautiful a view for a degenerate.

Sighing, Clay loosened his tie from his sweat-dampened collar, trying to catch some of the cooling whisper of air as it sighed past.  He was hot, tired and disgusted.  More than ever, he’d like to pack it in and call it a day.

But there was a monster still out there somewhere, who saw dollar signs in a young girl’s innocence.

And since he had to get into the forbidden corners in the mind of that monster, he, like evil, couldn’t sleep.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

JR double-checked the contents of his grandmother’s valise, making sure he had everything he needed.  The chloroform would suffice until the stronger drug in the syringe could take effect, and he stuffed both into the deep pockets of his housecoat.

The padding he wore slicked his stomach with sweat, and the fake skin on his face and arms itched.  But these were minor inconveniences, considering the end goal. He comforted himself with the fact that this was the last time he’d ever have to assume the old bitch’s persona.

Of course, it was also the last time he’d be able to walk about publicly as JR Walker.

It wouldn’t take long, after he’d done what he’d come to do, for the police to run everyone who’d stayed at the Inn tonight.  And even though he’d done all that he could to eradicate his trail, eventually the fuzz would get around to putting two and two together.  Then they’d show up at his grandmother’s farm with a search warrant.

The place would be empty, but they’d find Billy Wayne’s blood on the floor and the walls, and inevitably they’d start a search for sweet little Alma’s grandson.

Of course, by that time he’d be long gone, with a completely new identity. Maybe this time he’d make his transformation a little more final with plastic surgery.

JR Walker, no more.

He’d move around for a while, lose himself in city after city. After the trail had gone cold and the search died off, he’d pick a nice spot and settle down.

Maybe get a dog.

Kids liked dogs.

He laughed lightly, thinking how perfect this whole thing had turned out.  He’d jettisoned Billy Wayne, whom he’d been carrying like excess baggage for too many years, and he finally had the opportunity to mete out a little justice to Tate Hennessey.

He wondered how long it would take for her to figure it out.

She’d stood there, shaken his hand, and hadn’t had an inkling of who he was.

He had to admit there was a little thrill in that.

He unlocked the latches on the old piece of Samsonite, and studied the size of the space within the hard walls.  She’d come awfully damn close to picking up the suitcase, and then the little bitch might have realized it was empty.  And wouldn’t that have been an interesting situation?  He could have played the crazy old lady card, but why make anyone suspicious before he had to?

He ran his hand around the inside of the case.  It was solid, and air might be a problem after a while, but he wouldn’t allow enough time to pass for suffocation.  He’d only gotten one brief glimpse of the kid, as he was being shepherded upstairs for bedtime, because Tate hovered over him like a mother hen.  Not encouraged to mingle with the guests.  Blah, blah, blah. Paranoid bitch, wasn’t she?

The boy looked like the mother, all dark hair and big green eyes.

And he was small enough to fit in the suitcase.

After milking the old lady – who was like most normal grandmas, and couldn’t pass up a chance to talk about her progeny – he’d discovered the kid’s name was Max.

Of course, it wouldn’t be Max for long.

Like JR, he’d have to undergo an identity change.  And while it