Authors: Beverly Barton
"I'll be dam-ned!" Jacob stor-med off the porch and he-aded stra-ight to his truck.
"Jacob!" Genny went af-ter him, for-get-ting how much her psychic trips we-ake-ned her. When she stum-b-led, Dal-las was the-re to each her. She glan-ced up at the man she lo-ved and told him, "I ne-ed to find out what's go-ing on with Jacob."
Dallas nod-ded. "All right. Co-me on." He bra-ced her with his strong arm as he hel-ped her off the
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porch, ac-ross the yard, and down the gra-vel dri-ve to whe-re Jacob was tal-king on the ra-dio.
"Get in to-uch with Roy Til-lis and find out if that gre-en Jagu-ar he to-wed in yes-ter-day is still in his lot," Jacob sa-id. "And check on a lady na-med Re-ve Sor-rell. She's sta-ying in one of the Che-ro-kee Ca-bin Ren-tals. Just ma-ke su-re she do-esn't le-ave town. I want to qu-es-ti-on her per-so-nal-ly."
Genny gras-ped Jacob's arm. "What's go-ing on? Do you know so-me-one who dri-ves a gre-en sports car?"
"Yeah. A very in-te-res-ting lady who lo-oks eno-ugh li-ke Jaz-zy to be her sis-ter," Jacob rep-li-ed.
"She had a wreck in her gre-en Jagu-ar yes-ter-day, on her way out of town. And it just so hap-pens that she ca-me to Che-ro-kee Po-in-te be-ca-use she'd met Jamie Up-ton at a party se-ve-ral months ago. She sa-id she didn't fall for his pretty boy charm, but I had my do-ubts then and I've got even mo-re now."
"Someone who lo-oks li-ke Jaz-zy?" Genny co-uldn't sha-ke the over-w-hel-ming sen-sa-ti-on that this myste-ri-o-us wo-man and Jaz-zy we-re ir-re-vo-cably con-nec-ted. And not by the-ir as-so-ci-ati-on with Jamie Up-ton. The-re was so-met-hing el-se. So-met-hing ba-sic. So-met-hing dan-ge-ro-us.
Dr. Gal-vin Mac-Na-ir dro-ve up to the open ga-tes at the Up-ton Farm at ni-ne-fifty. Jim had te-lep-ho-ned the doc-tor on his cell pho-ne when one of Jacob's de-pu-ti-es had dri-ven him ho-me.
He'd be-en wa-iting fif-te-en mi-nu-tes he-re at the ga-te, not wan-ting to go up to the ho-use and tell ever-yo-ne abo-ut Jamie, not wit-ho-ut a doc-tor in at-ten-dan-ce. Re-ba was a strong, he-althy wo-man, but she was al-so past se-venty, had al-re-ady lost both of her chil-d-ren, and her who-le world re-vol-ved aro-und Jamie. He was ever-y-t-hing to her. Fin-ding out that he had be-en mur-de-red…J-im co-uld hardly be-ar to think abo-ut it him-self. Des-pi-te how much sor-row that boy had ca-used them over the ye-ars, he had be-en the-ir only gran-d-c-hild and they lo-ved him.
Jacob hadn't let Jim see Jamie, had told him that his last me-mory of his gran-d-son sho-uldn't be of his blo-ody body. Al-t-ho-ugh Jacob had be-en ho-nest eno-ugh with Jim to ad-mit that Jamie had be-en tor-tu-red, as Genny had fo-re-se-en, Jacob hadn't go-ne in-to de-ta-ils. It was well eno-ugh. So-me things an old man just didn't ne-ed to know. But he'd be-en fig-h-ting his ima-gi-na-ti-on, do-ing his best not to vi-su-ali-ze what the kil-ler had do-ne to Jamie.
Emotion so raw and pa-in-ful that he was prac-ti-cal-ly numb with it sap-ped Jim's strength.
Al-t-ho-ugh he re-ali-zed that he wo-uld ha-ve to be the strong one, the one who'd sup-port and ca-re for Re-ba and La-ura, he ne-eded so-me-one him-self. He ne-eded a sho-ul-der to cry on. Lo-ving arms to hold him. He'd te-lep-ho-ned Erin, but her an-s-we-ring mac-hi-ne had pic-ked up aga-in. Whe-re the hell was she? Whe-re had she spent last night? Why wasn't she the-re when he so des-pe-ra-tely ne-eded her?
Dr. Mac-Na-ir pul-led to a stop, rol-led down his win-dow, and cal-led to Jim, "I got he-re as qu-ickly as I co-uld."
Jim nod-ded, then wal-ked aro-und the ho-od of Mac-Na-ir's truck, ope-ned the pas-sen-ger do-or, and slid in-to the se-at. 'Thanks for co-ming. I don't know how Re-ba is go-ing to be ab-le to han-d-le
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this. She lo-ves Jamie. Lo-ves him mo-re than an-y-t-hing."
"Yes, sir, I un-der-s-tand. He is… was… yo-ur only grand child. How are you hol-ding up, Mr.
Up-ton? Is the-re so-met-hing I can do for you right now?"
Jim lo-oked at the "doc-tor. Mac-Na-ir, a stocky, rud-dy-fa-ced man in his thir-ti-es, had a kind fa-ce. He was new to Che-ro-kee Co-unty, but in the few short months sin-ce he'd ta-ken over Dr.
Web-s-ter's prac-ti-ce af-ter the ol-der doc-tor had re-ti-red, he'd ga-ined a re-pu-ta-ti-on as a fir-st-ra-te physi-ci-an.
''Thanks, but I don't think it wi-se for me to ta-ke an-y-t-hing-pil-ls or an inj-ec-ti-on," Jim sa-id. "I'm the one who'll ha-ve to de-al with the fa-mily, then ma-ke the ar-ran-ge-ments and han-d-le the lo-cal press. I'll ne-ed a cle-ar he-ad for all that."
"Yes, of co-ur-se," Mac-Na-ir ag-re-ed. "But if you think you'll ne-ed so-met-hing to help you rest to-night… for the next few nights…"
"Mm-hmm. All right. That might not be a bad idea." Jim ad-mit-ted to him-self that he was un-li-kely to sle-ep much to-night or for many nights to co-me un-less he did ta-ke a sle-eping pill. It wo-uld be im-pos-sib-le to rest with ima-ges of Jamie's bru-ta-li-zed body flas-hing thro-ugh his mind. Even tho-ugh he hadn't ac-tu-al-ly se-en the body, he had a pretty go-od idea what had hap-pe-ned from the bits and pi-eces of what he'd over-he-ard the de-pu-ti-es sa-ying. And not only that, but how did a man rest when his gran-d-son's kil-ler was on the lo-ose?
"Mr. Up-ton… I'm de-eply sorry abo-ut Jamie."
Jim nod-ded. "Thank you."
"Are you re-ady to go up to the ho-use now?"
"No, I'm not re-ady, but it has to be do-ne. No po-int in put-ting it off any lon-ger," Jim sa-id. "I cal-led Do-ra and ex-p-la-ined wit-ho-ut go-ing in-to de-ta-ils. I told her to ma-ke su-re no one ex-cept she an-s-we-red the pho-ne and that °o one ma-de any calls out."
Dr. Mac-Na-ir shif-ted his truck from park in-to dri-ve and he-aded the la-te mo-del Ford up the long dri-ve-way to-ward the big ho-use Jim had cal-led ho-me sin-ce the day he was born. A ho-me was a pla-ce for a fa-mily, for chil-d-ren and gran-d-c-hil-d-ren and… on-ce he and Re-ba we-re go-ne, the-re wo-uld be no one. No mo-re Up-tons to carry on. No gran-d-c-hil-d-ren and gre-at-gran-d-c-hil-d-ren to fill the empty ro-oms of the old ho-me pla-ce.
When Mac-Na-ir par-ked his truck in front of the ho-use, Jim got out and he and the doc-tor wal-ked up the steps to-get-her and on-to the front ve-ran-da. Do-ra ope-ned the do-or and ca-me rus-hing out to me-et them.
"I've had the de-vil's own ti-me ke-eping ever-yo-ne from ma-king pho-ne calls," Do-ra sa-id. "And the pho-ne's be-en rin-ging off the ho-ok. Word's do-ne got out abo-ut our Jamie. Ne-ig-h-bors ha-ve be-en cal-ling. And the new-s-pa-per and… it's only a mat-ter of ti-me be-fo-re the-re's a hor-de of pe-op-le at the ga-te. You'd best fi-gu-re out what to do abo-ut it."
"Close the ga-te," Jim told her. "And ta-ke the pho-nes off the ho-ok. All fo-ur se-pa-ra-te li-nes.
On-ce I've bro-ken the news to Re-ba and La-ura, I'll con-tact Jacob and ha-ve him send so-me-body
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out he-re to ke-ep or-der. And if ne-ces-sary, I'll hi-re my own pri-va-te gu-ards."
"Yes, sir." Do-ra lo-oked up at Jim and he co-uld tell she'd be-en crying. Do-ra had be-en with the fa-mily sin-ce she was a te-ena-ger, first as one of the ma-ids and as the ho-use-ke-eper for the past for-ty-fi-ve ye-ars. The wo-man was prac-ti-cal-ly fa-mily.
Jim pat-ted Do-ra's back. "We've lost him. Our Jamie's de-ad."
"Breaks my he-art," Do-ra told him. "God help Miss Re-ba. This is gon-na kill her." "Is she down yet?" Jim as-ked.
"Yes, sir. She's in the di-ning ro-om. Miss Re-ba and Mr. and Mrs. Wil-lis are eating bre-ak-fast.
Miss She-ri-dan is in the den, wat-c-hing te-le-vi-si-on. And Miss La-ura is still up-s-ta-irs."
Jim us-he-red Do-ra back in-si-de; Dr. Mac-Na-ir fol-lo-wed them. On-ce in the mas-si-ve fo-yer, Jim stif-fe-ned his spi-ne. He'd do-ne this twi-ce be-fo-re, when Jim Jr. and his wi-fe we-re kil-led in an ac-ci-dent and when they'd re-ce-ived news abo-ut Me-la-nie's de-ath ye-ars af-ter she'd run away.
Each ti-me he had won-de-red how he and Re-ba wo-uld sur-vi-ve. They'd be-en yo-un-ger then… and they'd still had Jamie. Now, they had no one.
"Dora, ask ever-yo-ne to co-me in-to the li-ving ro-om," Jim told her. "And send one of the girls up-s-ta-irs to wa-ken Miss La-ura. I can't do this mo-re than on-ce. I want ever-yo-ne as-sem-b-led in ten mi-nu-tes."
''Yes, sir. I'll see to it"
Reve Sor-rell step-ped out of the sho-wer, dri-ed her-self off, and slip-ped in-to the whi-te terry cloth ro-be which was one of the stan-dard ame-ni-ti-es at Che-ro-kee Ca-bin Ren-tals. When she tra-ve-led, she ne-ver went to-urist class, but even with her dis-cer-ning tas-tes, she had to ad-mit that this ca-bin wasn't half bad. Not lu-xu-ri-o-us by any stretch of the ima-gi-na-ti-on, but cle-an, ne-at, and qu-ite com-for-tab-le. On a sca-le of one to ten, she'd cer-ta-inly gi-ve it a six.
Just as she re-mo-ved the ha-ir dryer from the wall unit, the te-lep-ho-ne rang. So-met-hing el-se she li-ked abo-ut this ca-bin-the-re was an ex-ten-si-on pho-ne in the bat-h-ro-om. She had pla-ced a call to her per-so-nal as-sis-tant, Pa-ul Welby, la-te yes-ter-day to alert him that she wo-uld be re-ma-ining in Che-ro-kee Po-in-te a few days and to re-qu-est he ha-ve anot-her car-the dark blue Mer-ce-des 300SL, her fa-vo-ri-te, se-cond only to her Jag-bro-ught to her. She had in-s-t-ruc-ted Pa-ul to ha-ve who-ever he sent with the Mer-ce-des to-day pick up the Jagu-ar at the ga-ra-ge whe-re it had be-en to-wed and ta-ke it back to Chat-ta-no-oga for re-pa-irs. She didn't want any of the-se jake-leg body re-pa-ir pe-op-le in Che-ro-kee Po-in-te to-uc-hing her pre-ci-o-us car.
When she an-s-we-red the pho-ne, she ex-pec-ted to he-ar Pa-ul's soft, cul-tu-red vo-ice on the ot-her end. In-s-te-ad she he-ard a ro-ugh, hil-lbil-ly red-neck sa-ying, "Ms. Sor-rell, this he-re is Roy Til-lis over at Til-lis and Son Wrec-king and To-wing Ser-vi-ce. I got so-me bad news for you, and I'm su-re sorry abo-ut it. I do-ne cal-led She-riff But-ler and told him. And it ain't my fa-ult. I ain't ne-ver had no car sto-len from the lot. Not in all the ye-ars-"
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"Mr. Til-lis, exactly what are you trying to tell me?"
"Well, ma'am, I tho-ught I told you. So-me-body sto-le that gre-en Jagu-ar of yo-urs so-me-ti-me af-ter dark last night."
"What!"
"Yes'm, they just wal-t-zed right in, got past old Wor-t-h-less, and just dro-ve right off with yo-ur car."
"How is that pos-sib-le? They wo-uld ha-ve had to ha-ve the keys. And I'm su-re you ke-ep the keys loc-ked up in yo-ur of-fi-ce, don't you?"
"Well, the-re's whe-re you might fi-gu-re it's my fa-ult," Roy hem-med. "But it we-ren't my fa-ult. You see, one of the boys left the keys in the car and-"
"Let me get this stra-ight. You par-ked my car in an un-gu-ar-ded, un-p-ro-tec-ted area with the keys in the ig-ni-ti-on. Then so-me-one got past a dog cal-led Wor-t-h-less and just dro-ve off with my wrec-ked Jagu-ar. Is that right?"
"Yeah, that's abo-ut it. But I fi-gu-re it's no big de-al, sin-ce you're bo-und to ha-ve in-su-ran-ce out the wa-hoo."
"What did She-riff But-ler say when you con-tac-ted him?" Re-ve as-ked, her pa-ti-en-ce al-most at an end.
"He didn't say much ex-cept that he'd put an all-po-in-ts-bul-le-tin out on it," Roy rep-li-ed. "Then he sa-id so-met-hing that didn't ma-ke no sen-se to me."
"What was that?"
"He sa-id 'mighty con-ve-ni-ent for her that the car got sto-len.' He sort of mum-b-led it un-der his bre-ath."
"I see." But she didn't, not re-al-ly. What had But-ler me-ant by that un-fat-ho-mab-le re-mark?
Al-t-ho-ugh she ha-ted that her car had be-en sto-len, what she ha-ted even mo-re was the tho-ught of ha-ving to de-al with Jacob But-ler aga-in. The man was a Ne-an-der-t-hal.
"Well, Ms. Sor-rell, I su-re ho-pe they find yo-ur car. And I'm re-al sorry abo-ut what hap-pe-ned.
You ain't gon-na sue me or not-hing li-ke that, are you? I fi-gu-red you wo-uldn't, se-e-ing how yo-ur in-su-ran-ce will co-ver-"
"I'm not go-ing to sue, Mr. Til-lis." She slam-med down the re-ce-iver.
There was so-met-hing abo-ut this town, Re-ve de-ci-ded. Eit-her the pla-ce was a jinx to her or it was the ot-her way aro-und and she was the jinx. She'd en-co-un-te-red a me-na-ge-rie of odd cha-rac-ters yes-ter-day mor-ning-from her lo-ok-ali-ke who'd got-ten in-to a he-ated ar-gu-ment with a go-od-lo-oking to-ugh guy to a raw-bo-ned old ko-ok who che-wed to-bac-co. Then when she'd tri-ed to ma-ke her es-ca-pe and le-ave Che-ro-kee Po-in-te, she'd had a wreck, which en-ded with the ca-ve-man she-riff all but loc-king her up. And now this-her Jag had be-en sto-len. She co-uldn't help but won-der, what next? May-be when the Mer-ce-des ar-ri-ved la-ter to-day, she sho-uld for-get
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sa-tis-f-ying her cu-ri-osity abo-ut Jaz-zy Tal-bot and simply go ho-me to Chat-ta-no-oga and for-get all abo-ut the wo-man who might be her sis-ter.
Chapter 12
"My go-od-ness, Jim, what's this all abo-ut?" Dres-sed for church in her new su-it and stylish hat, Re-ba pran-ced in-to the li-ving ro-om, her eyes alight with cu-ri-osity. She glan-ced at Gal-vin Mac-Na-ir. "Well, hel-lo, Dr. Mac-Na-ir. What brings you out he-re on a Sun-day mor-ning?"
MacNair lo-oked to Jim, who nod-ded, let-ting him know that he wasn't ex-pec-ted to reply to Re-ba's qu-es-ti-on. It was Jim's pla-ce to gi-ve his wi-fe the he-ar-t-b-re-aking news abo-ut Jamie.
Jim stu-di-ed Re-ba for a mo-ment. A fra-gi-le smi-le for-med on his lips and va-nis-hed qu-ickly. He tho-ught that even past se-venty his wi-fe was still a fi-ne-lo-oking wo-man. She to-ok go-od ca-re of her-self in a way only a we-althy wo-man co-uld do. A per-so-nal tra-iner to ke-ep her body to-ned and a tummy tuck, a bo-ob job, and se-ve-ral fa-ce lifts had do-ne won-ders to ma-ke her lo-ok a go-od ten ye-ars yo-un-ger than her ac-tu-al age. No do-ubt abo-ut it, Re-ba Up-ton was a lo-vely, vi-va-ci-o-us wo-man, and al-t-ho-ugh she wasn't per-fect-who was?-she'd al-ways be-en a ba-si-cal-ly go-od wo-man. And a bet-ter wi-fe than he'd de-ser-ved.