Carnal Innocence

you going to want them burgers?” “Make them all medium, Earleen, and load ’em up.”
    Josie picked up her Diet Coke. “Y’all must be busy as one-armed paperhangers down at the office if you can’t even break for lunch.”
    “We are that, Josie.” He was so tired himself he could have slept standing up. Belatedly, he remembered to take off his hat. “County sheriff and a couple of his boys’redown. Agent Burns has had that fax machine clicking all morning. It’s hot enough in that office to smoke a ham.”
    “With all of you working so hard, you must have some clues.”
    “We got a thing or two.” He glanced over as Earleen turned expectantly from the grill. “Now, I can’t tell you what we got, official like. But Y’all know Darleen was killed like the others. We gotta figure it was the same person using the same weapon.”
    “It ain’t right,” Earleen said. “We got some psychopathic killer running loose, and not a woman in the county can feel safe.”
    “No, it ain’t right. But we’re going to stop him. You can take that to the bank.”
    “Matthew says serial killers’re different.” Josie sucked on the straw. “He says they can look and act just like regular people. It makes them hard to catch.”
    “We’ll catch this one.” He leaned closer. “I figure I should tell you, Josie, since you’ll be finding out soon anyway. Looks like Darleen was killed right there, right by the pond.”
    “Sweet Jesus.” Earleen was torn between excitement and terror. “You mean to say he did it over to Sweetwater?”
    “We got reason to think so. I don’t mean to scare you, Josie, but you want to be mighty careful.”
    She took a cigarette from the pack on the counter and her fingers shook lightly. “I will be, Carl. You can take
that
to the bank.”
    Slowly, she blew out a stream of smoke. And she intended to find out exactly what they knew the minute she could get Teddy alone.
    There were reporters camped out in her yard. Caroline had stopped answering the phone. Invariably, it was another inquisitive newsman or woman on the other end. To distract herself, she took out the scrapbook she’d found in her grandmother’s trunk.
    Caroline could see most of her own life on thosepages. Her parents’ wedding announcement clipped from the Philadelphia and Greenville papers. The studied, professional photographs taken at the wedding where her mother had worn an heirloom bridal gown— from the Waverly side. The card announcing the birth of Caroline Louisa Waverly. She’d been named for her paternal grandmother.
    A few photographs, again professionally done, of the proud parents with their little bundle of joy. Then, of Caroline alone, one studio portrait for each year of her life.
    No snapshots, she noted, no out-of-focus or candid shots, except for the few her grandparents had taken themselves on her brief visit all those years ago.
    Newspaper clippings marking her musical career, showing her at six and twelve and twenty, and the years between and after.
    It was one of the few things her grandparents had had of her, Caroline thought as she set the book back inside the trunk. Now it was one of the few things she had of her grandparents.
    “I’m so sorry,” she murmured, and drew deeply of the scent of lavender and cedar that wafted from the trunk. “I wish I’d known you better.”
    She reached in and took out a cardboard box. Inside, wrapped in tissue, was a tiny christening gown trimmed with white ribbons and yellowing lace.
    Perhaps her grandmother or grandfather had worn it, Caroline thought as she ran her fingers over the soft white lawn. Surely her mother had.
    “You saved it for me.” Touched, she brushed her cheek over it. “I couldn’t wear it when my turn came, but you saved it for me.”
    Carefully, she wrapped it back into its bed of tissue. One day, she vowed, her child would wear it.
    Useless raced out of the room to stand at the top of the steps, then raced back again as someone hammered on the door. Caroline set the box back in the trunk, then took out a pair of bronzed baby shoes. She smiled over them.
    “Don’t bother, Useless. It’s just one of the idiot reporters.”
    “Caroline! Dammit, open up before I have to kill one of these jackasses.”
    “Tucker.” Jumping up, she ran downstairs with the dog at her heels. “Sorry.” As she unlocked the door, she could see the reporters crowding behind him, thrusting out their mikes, snapping pictures and shouting