SUNFLOWER: A Novel - Hardcover

Powers, Martha

3.62

66 ratings by Goodreads

Hardcover

ISBN 10: 0684837676 ISBN 13: 9780684837673

Publisher: Simon & Schuster, 1998

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Detective Sheila Brady is a newcomer to the small town of River Oaks, Wisconsin, and is determined that its peace will not be disturbed by a series of brutal child murders somehow related to her and her daughter. 20,000 first printing.

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About the Author:

Martha Powers, a native of Cleveland, Ohio, and currently a resident of Park Ridge, Illinois, is the author of nine previous novels, all historical romances. Her acclaimed thrillers, Sunflower and Bleeding Heart are available from Pocket Books.

Chapter One

Friday, September 6th

Lieutenant Sheila Brady picked up the glossy photographs and fanned them out like a deck of cards. Four children had been murdered in River Oaks, Wisconsin, in the last two years. Blond, blue-eyed, preteen girls. Sheila's eyes registered and identified each face: Janette Davis, Tiffany Chastain, Meredith Whitford.

And now the most recent victim, Lindy Pottinger.

It had been two months since Lindy's death, and they still were unable to identify the killer.

Sheila leaned back in the swivel chair. It was a hot day for early September, and the conference room of the police station was stuffy. She unbuttoned the collar of her uniform shirt. As a detective she wasn't required to wear a uniform, but she usually did. It helped her blend in with the other officers.

She'd have to watch her time. Meg got out of school at three-thirty. Staring down at the photos in her hand, Sheila tried to block out the image of her daughter. Lindy Pottinger and Meg had been in the same class at River Oaks Elementary.

Since the murders, most River Oaks parents had become overly protective. Unfortunately for Meg, Sheila was already paranoid. After seven years of police work in Milwaukee, she'd seen too much to be indifferent to her daughter's safety.

With her index finger, she touched the small raised scar close to the outside corner of her right eye. The cut had given her the impetus to join the police force. Along with working for a more ordered world, she would be able to protect herself and Meg.

Meg was growing up so fast, she thought. Eleven now. Physically, she resembled her father. The same high cheekbones. The same thick brown hair and dark eyes. The same wide mouth. Only in an occasional hand gesture or body motion, a tilt of the head or a cocked eyebrow, could Sheila see her own influence on her daughter.

"I'll keep Meg safe," Sheila said. She repeated the words, a trusted totem against evil.

She'd jumped at the opportunity to leave Milwaukee and move to a small town. She had known there had been two unsolved murders but accepted the job on the basis that she wouldn't be working on the murder cases.

In December she and Meg had moved to River Oaks. The third child was killed in January.

She'd questioned whether she'd made the right decision, but the murderer's pattern of targeting blond, blue-eyed girls reassured her that her daughter was not in any immediate danger.

There were no guarantees in life, though. The killer could change his pattern at any time. Ultimately, the only way to protect Meg and the other children of River Oaks was to find the killer.

Originally, she had been relieved that she wouldn't be involved in the murder investigations. Lindy Pottinger's death changed her perspective. When her daughter's friend had been killed, she couldn't remain on the sidelines. Knowing Lindy, Sheila felt she had an edge and might be able to make a difference. Besides, she had found a clue.

She'd gone to the Chief of Police, Hank Harker, with her suspicions. Harker had listened without comment, then told her to pursue the theory and give him a report. She'd given it to him last week but had heard nothing since then.

If her instincts proved correct, she planned to ask him to allow her more involvement in the investigation. Until then, she continued reading through the files to familiarize herself with the individual cases. She reached for the next folder with new resolution and opened the cover to the page of summary notes.

The first child had been murdered two years earlier. Janette Davis was ten, blond, and blue-eyed and was living in the new development east of town called the Estates. Two months before her disappearance, she and her mother had moved to River Oaks from Green Bay Wisconsin.

Janette had been reported missing late in the afternoon. The following morning, her body was discovered, partially buried, in a strip of woods between the road and an open field. The little girl's skull had been crushed by repeated blows from a rock found in the woods near the body. After she was dead, she had been raped.

It had rained heavily the day of the girl's death, wiping out most of the evidence at the crime scene. It was concluded that someone had given her a ride. Whether he had intended to attack her was uncertain, but the murder had been committed out of panic rather than premeditation. Months of investigation had produced no solid clue to the identity of the killer.

Ten months after Janette's death, another child had been kidnapped and killed. The body of twelve-year-old Tiffany Chastain had been found south of town in Worley Woods. The girl had been missing for several days.

No attempt had been made to hide Tiffany's body. The child had been laid on a blanket with her arms crossed over her chest. She held two red roses in her right hand, her lips had been painted with red lipstick, and she was naked.

Once the autopsy reports were in, Chief Harker had been convinced the two children had been killed by the same person. Although the presentation of the body had been different, Tiffany, like Janette, had been raped after she was dead. It was highly unlikely that two killers with the same obscene tastes were preying on the children of River Oaks.

The autopsy revealed she had not been bludgeoned like Janette. The cause of death was asphyxiation. Synthetic fibers had been found in her mouth, trachea, and lungs. Something had been pressed over her nose and mouth until she stopped breathing.

Poor Tiffany, Sheila thought, staring at the girl's picture. Her death had occurred around midnight, thirty-four hours after she had been reported missing.

Eight months later, Meredith Whitford had been killed, and six months after that, Lindy Pottinger. Meredith had been eleven, Lindy ten. Like Tiffany, each girl had been missing for several days and had been found naked in the woods.

Meredith, the third victim, had held three red roses in her right hand, and Lindy, the fourth, had held four red roses. Each childish mouth had been painted with lipstick.

Sheila brushed her fingertips across the comparison chart of the four murdered children. She shoved the summary aside. Staring up at the calendar, she checked the dates she'd lotted on a yellow-lined tablet.

Ten months. Eight months. Six months. The intervals between murders had been shortening, and if the pattern continued, four months would be the next logical progression. It had already been two months since Lindy Pottinger's death.

Time was running out. The cycle was beginning again. From the moment of Lindy's murder, the killer had begun the hunt for a new victim.

Sheila glanced up at the clock. It was close to three. Meg would be out of school in half an hour. Putting her briefcase on the desk, she dumped a pile of folders inside, returning the others to the file cabinets.

Downstairs in the locker room, she pulled out her purse and reached inside for her makeup bag. A touch of lipstick and some blush was all she ever used. She put on gold dangling earrings, checked herself in the mirror, and piled everything back in her purse.

She removed her gun, checked it, and placed it on the top shelf of her locker. She was relieved that she wasn't required to carry it twenty-four hours a day. With Meg and other children around, she considered it too dangerous to keep it in the house.

Guns weren't standard issue in River Oaks; every officer bought his or her own. Chief Harker had recommended the .40-caliber Beretta, only on the market four or five years. The reports had indicated it was well worth the higher price tag. After trying it at the range, Sheila bought one.

Upstairs, the bullpen was nearly empty. Sergeant Kinkelaar stood at the coffee machine and looked up as she hurried to her desk.

"I thought you'd gone home, Sheila."

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