Dead By Morning by Beverly Barton Page B

his pillow, stretched out his naked body beneath the cool, slightly wrinkled sheet, and closed his eyes.
    Life was good. At long last.
    Errol knew he was one damn lucky SOB.

    Wearing tan cargo shorts and a hideous floral shirt, he sat at the end of the bar nursing some elaborate rum concoction, doing his best to look like a typical tourist. Most of the visitors at the resort were couples, many newlyweds or second honeymooners. In order to fit in, he had made a point of flirting with several single ladies who were obviously there man-hunting. He had already decided that tomorrow night he’d take one of those ladies to his room and ease some of the pre-kill tension he always experienced. A night of rough sex would do wonders for him.
    He was in no rush. The most important thing was timing. Errol and Cyrene Patterson were on their honeymoon and spent a great deal of time in their room. The couple had been inseparable since their arrival at the resort last week. He didn’t want to kill both of them, but if necessary, he would. But only one was his target, only one was destined to become the Copycat Carver’s fifth victim.
    Just as he took another sip of the syrupy sweet rum drink, his mobile phone vibrated in his shirt pocket. He lifted the phone from the pocket and glanced at the caller ID.
    No information. Unknown number and name.
    He tapped the answer key and put the phone to his ear. “I’m enjoying my vacation in the Bahamas. I’ve met some lovely ladies. Unfortunately some of the prettiest women are married and here on their honeymoon. There’s one woman . . .”
    â€œI don’t need to know the details tonight. I prefer to allow my imagination to paint a mental picture of all the gruesome details.”
    â€œWhatever you want.”
    â€œDid you send Ms. Perdue her gift?”
    â€œShe should have received it today.”
    â€œYou sent it in care of her employer?”
    â€œI did.”
    â€œThen it’s only a matter of time before he arranges for her to visit the Georgia State Prison.”

Chapter 5
    Maleah wasn’t surprised that Griff had managed to arrange for visitation privileges for Derek and her at the prison in Reidsville so quickly. He had placed a call to the governor over the weekend and by noon Monday, she and Derek were packing their bags. Barbara Jean, who handled a lot of the mundane details for the agency, booked them two rooms at the Hampton Inn in Vidalia, a twenty-minute drive from Reidsville. They had checked into the hotel before six and then had driven over to the county seat of Tattnall County where the state prison was located. Before they had left Griffin’s Rest yesterday, Sanders, who had confiscated their laptops earlier that morning, had informed them that all pertinent files on Jerome Browning had been loaded into a file folder. One file contained info on the penitentiary, the oldest state prison in Georgia. Constructed of marble in 1937 and opened in that same year, it remained the largest contributor to the city’s economy.
    Numerous buildings containing four two-tiered cell blocks with single cells, the newer buildings spanning from the original structure, housed the convicts. The cell blocks were divided by population into two categories: general population units and one special management unit. As a convicted serial killer serving multi-life sentences, Jerome Browning was housed in a maximum security area.
    Maleah hadn’t slept worth a damn. She would never admit it to Derek, but she was more than just a little nervous about meeting Browning. In all honesty, she was borderline terrified—terrified by the thought of how she might react when she actually came face-to-face with Noah’s killer. While she had tossed and turned for hours, longing for sleep that wouldn’t come, her mind had wandered back more than a dozen years, to the day she had met Noah Laborde, sophomore class president. It hadn’t been love