"Yes, ma'am, there has been and you just made it." He turned her around, pulled her arms behind her back and laced the cuffs over her wrists.
"You do know who I am, don't you, young man? I'm Mrs. Farlan MacKinnon. My husband will be outraged when he learns of the way you're treating me."
"That may well be, but there won't be much he can do about it. The chief of police and I caught you red-handed trying to smother Jazzy Talbot. That's attempted murder."
Veda stuck her nose in the air. "If she didn't have such a hard head, she'd have died when I hit her that night on the bridge."
"This is your case since the hospital is in your jurisdiction. Read her her rights before she says anything else," Jacob Butler told Chief Sloan, who did just that.
"Mrs. MacKinnon, you have the right to-"
His voice became little more than a pesky roar. What did she care about rights? About being handcuffed and arrested? Farlan would take care of everything. He'd call Max and Max would have her out of jail and home in her own bed this very night. It wasn't as if she'd done anything wrong. Both of Dinah's little bastards were supposed to have died thirty years ago. She'd handed over both babies to Slim, the MacKinnons' handyman at the time and a person who would do anything for the right amount of money. She'd given him specific instructions to kill both twins and dispose of their bodies separately in two different locations, in two different counties. She had told him that if the bodies were ever found, she didn't want Farlan or anyone else to suspect that those individual babies were Dinah Collins's twins.
"Are you taking me to jail, Sheriff?" Veda asked.
"Chief Sloan will take you to the police station, where you can make a phone call,"
Sheriff Butler told her. "I'll be staying here with Jazzy."
Veda glanced at the bed where Jazzy Talbot lay. "You were supposed to have died thirty years ago. You and your twin sister. Why didn't you both die then?"
"Get her out of here," Sheriff Butler said.
"Let's go, Mrs. MacKinnon." Chief Sloan grasped her arm firmly. "If you don't cooperate, things could get embarrassing and a lady such as yourself wouldn't like that, would you?"
"No, I wouldn't. Thank you for understanding. I won't put up a fight. I'll go peacefully.
But as soon as we arrive at the police station, I'll call Farlan. He'll take care of everything."
He waited until he was reasonably certain no one would see him. With the loud music and rowdy fun inside Jazzy's Joint, there wasn't a chance anyone would hear him. The si-de street where the policeman was parked was semidark. The young officer, positioned so he could see anyone who approached the steps leading to the apartment above the honky-tonk, was keeping watch over Reve. Shadows cast from the streetlight on the corner illuminated only the back half of the black-and-white car.
He'd never killed anyone with a gun before, but there was a first time for everything.
He preferred strangulation. A black braided ribbon had always been his weapon of choice, ever since he'd killed Dinah with the ribbon she wore around her neck. When he'd first seen that little gold heart attached to the ribbon, he'd wondered about it. And when he'd removed it and taken it with him after he'd killed Dinah, he'd been almost afraid to hold it in his hand. But he'd examined the eighteen-karat gold locket thoroughly, and when he opened it, he had discovered two pictures inside. One of Farlan. The other of her twin babies.
Damn Farlan. Damn him to hell.
He had to make sure the policeman didn't hear him, didn't see him coming. All he had to do was get close enough to the car to aim and fire. With a silencer on the gun, it shouldn't make much noise. And at close range, he couldn't miss.
Dallas spoke personally to Judge Earl Ray Stilhvell, who issued a warrant to search the MacKinnon property tonight. He called in Lieutenant Tommy Glenn to oversee the search, wanting his very best man for this particular job. Although Veda MacKinnon had talked nonstop since he'd brought her in and had even told him where she'd put the hammer she'd used to attack Jazzy, Dallas didn't want to risk losing any evidence that might show up at her home.
Max Fennel arrived five minutes after Veda called him, which she'd done when she couldn't reach her husband. "He's probably off in Sevierville with Dinah," Veda had said.
"She's his mistress, you know. He keeps her in a fine apartment over on Hyatt Street."
"Veda, stop talking," Max advised.
"Oh, shut up yourself, Max. It's not like everyone doesn't know about Farlan and that slut" Veda smiled at Dallas. "He's going to acknowledge those girls as his daughters. He's already met with Reve. I can't allow that. You understand, don't you? I have to protect Brian. I can't allow Farlan to give away my son's legacy to Dinah's children. It wouldn't be right."
Dallas figured Max wouldn't have a problem proving Veda MacKinnon was insane. If she wasn't certifiable, then she was a great actress. The best he'd ever seen.
"Veda, honey, I do wish you'd be quiet," Max told his client. "All you're doing is digging yourself into a hole that I won't be able to get you out of."
"Nonsense." She dismissed him with a wave of her hand. "I'm Mrs. Farlan MacKinnon.
There's no one who can touch me. My husband would never allow anyone to harm me.
He'd do absolutely anything for me."
Dallas shook his head. He'd seen cases where people faked insanity, some quite cle-verly, but his gut instincts told him that Veda wasn't faking. She was the genuine article.
A crazy woman who had tried to kill Jazzy because, according to her, Jazzy and Reve we-re going to disinherit Farlan MacKinnon's legitimate son.
"Where is Farlan anyway?" Veda asked. "Did you tell him about my little problem?"
"I've left messages for him at home and at the club and I've tried his cell phone repeatedly," Max told her. "I'm sure it's only a matter of time before he gets one of my messages."
As if on cue, the outer doors to the small downtown police station swung open, and Farlan MacKinnon came storming in. Dallas left the interrogation room and closed the door behind him. He met Mr. MacKinnon, stopping him dead in his tracks.
"Where's my wife?" MacKinnon demanded.
"She's with her lawyer, Mr. Fennel."
"Is it true-did she try to kill Jazzy Talbot tonight?"
"Yes, sir, it's true. Sheriff Butler and I caught her in the act."
"God help me. This is all my fault. I should have done something years ago, but-" He paused as if realizing he was voicing his thoughts aloud. "Is Jazzy all right?"
"She was unharmed tonight, but because of the head injury she received, she'll have to undergo months, perhaps years of physical therapy." When MacKinnon hung his head and said nothing, Dallas reached out and grasped his shoulder. "Your wife has confessed to beating Jazzy with a hammer that night on the old covered bridge and dumping her in-to the creek below. She's told us that she had to kill Dinah's children. And she says Jazzy and Reve are your daughters."
"My wife has severe mental problems," MacKinnon said. "Far more serious than I've allowed myself to accept." He looked Dallas right in the eyes. "I am Jazzy and Reve's biological father."
"Does Reve know?"
"Yes. I met with her this afternoon and explained to her about her mother and me."
"Well, that's another matter," Dallas said. "Right now, I'm going to have to book your wife for attempted murder."
"I understand. I assume she'll be sent to the psychiatric ward of County General as so-on as possible."
"Yes, possibly as early as tomorrow. You can probably pull a few strings and-"
"Maxwell will handle things tonight, but by morning I'll have Quinn Cortez here, if I have to send a goon squad to find him. Veda may have tried to kill my daughter, but I'm the one to blame. It's my fault. It's all my fault."
"You should know that Judge Stillwell issued a warrant for us to search your house and grounds," Dallas explained. "Your wife has already told us where she hid the hammer she used to bludgeon Jazzy."
Farlan MacKinnon crumbled right before Dallas's eyes. A proud old man almost literal-ly brought to his knees by guilt and regret. When he swayed, unsteady on his feet, Dallas grabbed his arm. "Come on into my office and sit down for a few minutes."
"I should go see Veda."
"That can wait." Dallas motioned toward his closed office door. "If you'd like, you can use my private line to contact Quinn Cortez. I guess everybody knows he's one of the best trial lawyers in the country. Your wife is fortunate that you're not only wealthy enough to afford Cortez, but that you're willing to spare no expense to help her."
"You're wondering what sort of man I am, aren't you? How could I be concerned about a woman who wants to kill both of my daughters, who probably tried to kill them when they were babies and also probably killed their mother?"
"It's not my job to judge anyone, Mr. MacKinnon."
"You've seen Veda. Surely you see how emotionally fragile she is."
"If you mean crazy-"
"Yes. She's suffered with mental problems all her life. Inherited from her father, who killed himself when she was a young girl. I thought I did the right thing thirty years ago. I told myself that for Brian's sake…" MacKinnon's voice cracked. "I believe I would like to use your office for a few minutes, if that's all right with you, Chief Sloan."
"Go on in," Dallas said. "No one will bother you. Make what calls you need to make, and when you're ready to see your wife, let me know."
"Thank you."
Reve put on her silk pajamas, then wrapped the matching robe around her as she slipped into her house shoes and headed toward the kitchen. She intended to go to bed early and get a full night's sleep. Tomorrow she'd meet with Dr. Cornelius to discuss Jazzy's therapy. If her sister would receive the best treatment in Nashville, then that was where she'd go. Or if it was California or even somewhere in Europe, it didn't matter. The only thing that was important was helping Jazzy return to her old self.
After filling a mug with water, Reve popped it into the microwave to heat, then removed a bag from the box of Earl Grey tea she'd brought with her when she moved into Jazzy's apartment. She pulled back the curtain over the sink and peeked out into the dark night. Just seeing the police car still parked below, although she couldn't actually see the policeman from this vantage point, reassured her that she was safe.
The microwave beeped. She removed the hot water, dumped in a tea bag and timed it for a minute, then discarded the bag. Carrying the mug into the living room, she decided that she'd drink her tea and watch the late night news before going to bed.
She placed the mug on a coaster atop the coffee table, then curled up on the sofa and grabbed the remote control. If she wanted local weather, she'd have to watch WMMK. As she put the TV on that station, she couldn't help thinking about the fact that Farlan MacKinnon, owner and chairman of the board of MacKinnon Media, was her father. Her father was one of the wealthiest men in Tennessee, actually in the Southeast, probably as wealthy as her adoptive parents, the Sorrells.
"But don't forget that your mother was a teenage prostitute," Reve said aloud.
She hadn't been paying much attention to what the TV reporter was saying until she heard the name Veda MacKinnon. Reve turned up the sound and focused on the television.
"We don't have all the details, but we're camped out here in front of the police station and will update you when we know more," the reporter announced. "What we do know is that earlier this evening, Veda MacKinnon was seen being brought to the police station in handcuffs. Chief Sloan has not made an official statement, but we're told that Farlan MacKinnon is with his wife, as is Maxwell Fennel, a member of the MacKinnon family and a Cherokee Pointe lawyer."
As she absorbed the information, Reve sat up straight and scooted to the edge of the sofa. Trying not to assume anything, she told herself to wait and call Dallas to find out what was going on before she allowed her imagination to spin some fantastic scenario.
Too late. Already she was thinking about Farlan MacKinnon's reaction earlier today when she'd asked him if he knew anyone who would have wanted to harm her mother or would have wanted to see Jazzy and her dead. What more likely suspect than his wife?
Veda MacKinnon had known about her husband's affair with Dinah. What woman wouldn't have hated her husband's mistress? And if she'd hated Dinah, then she would have hated Dinah's twins. But had the woman been vicious enough to try to kill two innocent babies?
Stop tormenting yourself. Call Dallas and ask him what's going on.
Before she made it to her feet, she heard a repetitive knocking at the front door. Could it be Jacob? Her heart raced wildly as she stood up and rushed across the room. Remembering to be cautious, she looked through the peephole and saw a uniformed policeman.
His cap was pulled down over his forehead and his gaze cast downward.
"Ms. Sorrell, it's Officer Graves. I'm just checking on you. I thought I saw someone in the alley behind Jazzy's Joint. Is there any way somebody could have gotten in through one of the back windows?"
"I don't think that's possible."
"If you'd like for me to, I can go through the apartment and make sure everything is secure."
"All right. Thank you."
She unlocked and opened the door. And only then-when it was too late-did she realize that the man in the uniform, standing on the stoop, was not young officer Graves.
"What are you doing-"
He put a sinister-looking gun to her head and grabbed her arm. "Let's go back inside, Reve. We have some unfinished business to take care of."
Caleb stormed into the hospital, straight to Room 310. Jacob rose from where he sat at Jazzy's bedside and headed him off before he woke a peacefully resting Jazzy.
"She's asleep," Jacob warned as he motioned for Caleb to follow him out into the hall.
"Whatever you have to say to me, you don't want to upset her." When Caleb did as he'd requested, Jacob followed him into the hall and closed Jazzy's door. "Okay, let me have it."