Every Move She Makes by Beverly Barton Read Free Book Online Page B

would never have let me go to prison for a crime she’d committed.”
    “Yeah, you’re probably right. Aunt Judy would do just about anything for you and Regina.” When Briley Joe removed his ball cap and scratched his head, curly brown locks fell across his forehead. The rest of his shoulder-length hair had been pulled back into a short ponytail. “Man, where can you start? The police didn’t find no evidence against anybody but you. And we know you didn’t kill Junior. So who did? Who else besides you, Aunt Judy, and Regina had a reason to want to see Junior dead?”
    “I don’t know for sure,” Reed said. “But I’ve made out a list of possible suspects, and Webb Porter’s name is at the top of that list.”

Chapter 4
    Ella removed her robe, hung it in the closet, and collapsed happily in the swivel desk chair. What a day! Presiding over a case fraught with emotion always got to her. She tried to not allow her own personal feelings on the matter affect her, but she found that she was only human and couldn’t completely divorce herself from her own sensitivity on certain issues. Had Clyde Kilpatrick committed suicide, or had his death been a tragic accident? The insurance company said suicide. The family said accident. From today’s evidence, she had reached a tentative decision. But would the jury come to the same conclusion that she had? Even though it meant Clyde’s two children would not see a dime of his insurance money, the facts plainly showed that the man had killed himself. He’d left a note forgiving his wife for her infidelity, but also stating that he didn’t want to live without her. The damning evidence had come from the ballistics expert, who had explained the trajectory of the bullet that entered Clyde’s body, saying that it was highly unlikely, if not impossible, for an accident to have been the cause.
    Ella kicked off her two-inch gray heels, wriggled her toes, and lifted her stocking feet up to rest on her desk. The heel of her foot accidently brushed against a white envelope, sending it sailing off the desk and onto the floor. Grunting, she leaned over and picked up the legal-size envelope. Her name was typed across the front. Only her name. Eleanor Porter. Odd, she didn’t remember this particular bit of correspondence being on her desk earlier today. She’d eaten lunch at her desk around twelve-thirty—a salad she’d ordered from the Oakwood Bar and Grill across the street from the courthouse.
    She flipped the letter over and noticed it was still sealed. Undoubtedly someone had hand-delivered the message. But who? Kelly had already left for the day, so she couldn’t ask her until tomorrow. Ella pulled a brass letter opener from the pencil holder that was part of the gold-monogrammed leather desk set Uncle Jeff Henry had given her when she’d been elected circuit judge last year. After slicing open the envelope, she reached inside and pulled out the single-page missive. She unfolded the white stationery and read.
    Ella, sweet Ella, I dream of you at night and wake in a cold sweat. Aroused and wanting you. Desperately. You were meant to be mine. I have made plans for us. Delicious plans. Long, hot nights together. Naked. Going at each other like a couple of wild animals. Monkey fucking. You can’t even begin to imagine all the things I want to do to you. All the things I long for you to do to me. When the time is right, I’ll come for you. I will not allow anyone to stand between us. Not ever again. I’ll make you turn against your evil family. When you choose me, it will break your father’s heart. And that is only the beginning of my revenge .
    Ella swallowed hard. Dear God! Who would have sent her such a thing?
    The letter was typewritten. Actually, it looked as if it had been composed on a computer and printed from a laser printer. There were several laser printers at the courthouse and one at the public library. And several copy shops provided laser printers for use by