As Good as Dead (17 page)

"Did y'all find anything in particular that indicated strangulation?"

"A black braided cord of some kind was still around her neck. That bit of info won't be released, of course. Beneath the cord, there was a straight line bruise on her neck and it looks as if the cord cut into her flesh."

Jacob sucked in a deep breath, then released it slowly. "Ask your coroner to check carefully to see if she was raped."

"I thought you said she was a prostitute."

"If what I suspect is true, the last sex this girl had was not consensual. She could have been drugged, and he probably raped her only moments before killing her."

Veda MacKinnon returned from Sunday services at the Methodist church she had attended since coming to Cherokee Pointe as a young bride. Although she'd been raised Presbyterian, she had soon converted, much to her husband's and his parents' delight. In those early years, she had truly tried to please Farlan and his family. She had longed to fit in, to belong. Although their marriage hadn't been perfect, they had once loved each other. And when she'd given birth to Brian, all the MacKinnons had treated her like a que-en. But time had a way of changing things. She had tried unsuccessfully to give her husband more children, but after five miscarriages, the doctors had warned her to never become pregnant again. If only there could have been other children. Perhaps a daughter.

When she entered the foyer, Abra met her and took her coat and purse.

"Has Mr. Farlan come down yet?" Veda asked.

"Yes, ma'am. He's in his study with Wallace."

"What about Mr. Brian?"

"I haven't seen Mr. Brian this morning."

"Thank you." Veda removed her gloves and handed them to the housekeeper. "I'd like dinner served at one-thirty today."

"Yes, ma'am."

Veda glanced up the carpet-covered staircase and wondered if Brian was still in bed.

He often stayed out late on the weekends, but usually didn't stay out all night as he'd done last night. When he had moved back in with them after his

divorce from Phyllis, he'd remodeled two rooms and a bath on the opposite end of the hallway from his parents' rooms. Under normal circumstances, she wouldn't have been aware of exactly what time he'd come home, wouldn't have known that he'd stayed out until shortly before dawn. But this morning she had been awake and waiting, not for her son, but for her husband. It wasn't like Farlan to stay out all night, although when he ma-de business trips, she had no idea what type of schedule he kept.

Veda had gone to bed at eleven, but had been unable to rest, knowing Farlan hadn't co-me home. He had telephoned earlier and left a message for her with Abra. At three this morning, she'd gotten out of bed, put on her robe and sat by the windows overlooking the driveway. She'd seen Brian pull his Porsche into the garage, then heard him walk up the backstairs. Being quiet as a mouse, she'd eased open her bedroom door and watched her son rush down the hall and into his bedroom. Just as his door closed behind him, she'd heard the grandfather clock strike. Five o'clock.

Where her son went and what he did was his own business. He was no longer a boy, but a man of forty-two. He'd probably been with some woman, but that was perfectly un-derstandable. After all, a man had needs. It wasn't her son's needs that concerned her, but her husband's. Sex wasn't a regular part of their lives these days. She had lost interest in sex in her mid-fifties, but had faked passion to satisfy her husband. But as time passed, Farlan's sex drive had also waned, and only recently he'd assured her that at seventy-five, he preferred a good meal to a good fuck.

In all the years since that one ill-fated affair so long ago, Farlan had been faithful to her. At least she was reasonably certain he had been. After all, he'd sworn to her that he would never let another woman come between them. And she had made it abundantly clear that if she ever discovered he'd been unfaithful to her again, she would kill herself.

She wasn't

sure if she'd actually commit suicide, but that didn't matter as long as she'd convinced Farlan. And apparently she had.

Veda walked down the hall and knocked on the closed study door. "May I come in, please?"

She heard murmurs, then footsteps. The door opened, and Wallace came out, a wide smile on his face. Poor, sweet Wallace smiled most of the time. Smiled as if he knew a secret no one else knew. Perhaps in his childlike mind, he held all kinds of mysterious thoughts.

"I got me a dog," Wallace told her. "I found him this morning, out in the front yard.

Farlan says he's a stray, but that if I make him a bed out in the garage, I can keep him.

You don't mind, do you, Veda?"

A dog? Veda wasn't overly fond of animals and had never allowed Brian to keep a pet.

She had always vetoed the idea of Wallace keeping any of the strays he brought home, something he did quite often. "Well, isn't that nice. A dog."

"I'll keep him outside, and he won't bother you none. I promise. I'm going to name him Spotty since he's white with black spots all over him. Do you think that's a good name?"

The more excited Wallace became, the faster he talked. "Farlan says I can ask Abra for some old quilts to make his bed and to tell her to fix him a dish of food."

"Yes, yes, dear. You go along and take care of Spotty."

Wallace barreled past her and lumbered down the hall. He was a bear of a man with a little boy's mind. She squared her shoulders and entered her husband's private domain, but stood just over the threshold until he looked up at her from where he sat in his leather easy chair.

"Come on in and close the door," Farlan said. "I'm sure what you have to say to me needs to be said in private."

Turning around, she closed the door, then pivoted to face her husband. "Do we need privacy for what you have to say to me?" Their gazes met and momentarily locked.

"Don't stand there glaring at me. Come on in and sit down." He indicated the chair across from him. She broke eye contact as she walked over and sat, her back ramrod straight "How was Reverend Prater's sermon this morning?"

She folded her hands in her lap. "He asked about you. I told him you were a bit under the weather this morning."

"A socially acceptable white lie."

Hearing the humor in his voice, she glowered at him. "It would have been unnecessary for me to lie if you'd gotten up at a decent hour and attended services with me."

"Don't beat around the bush, Veda, just come right out and ask me."

"Very well." She drew in a deep, hopefully calming breath. "Where were you all night?

You didn't come home until after daybreak this morning."

"I drove over to Sevierville and rented a hotel room." His gaze collided with hers. She noted a defiant look in his eyes, one she hadn't seen in years. "And I spent an enjoyable night with a very entertaining young woman."

Veda's face flushed, and her heartbeat drummed deafeningly in her ears. "You say that as if you think I wouldn't care that you broke your promise to me. How could you? And how dare you act so cavalier about it."

"If you intend to kill yourself, my dear, would you mind doing it after Sunday dinner?

Abra has prepared prime rib, and you know it's my favorite."

When Jacob entered the kitchen, Genny handed him the high school photo of Becky Olmstead. "You know that in my visions I don't always see everything. And with a person, it's often only the hair or the eyes or-"

Jacob grasped her shoulders lovingly. "What are you trying to tell me, little sister?"

"In my vision, I saw the woman's hair and neck… and her legs and hips."

"You saw more."

"Yes. I got a quick look at her face." Genny glanced at the photo Jacob held. "This is the person I saw in my vision. I'm sure."

Jacob's gut tightened. "I'll contact Becky's mother and ask her to drive over to Jefferson County with me."

"I'm sorry," Genny said. "I realize how difficult it will be to tell this woman her daughter is probably dead."

Jacob nodded. "It's part of my job."

"The body being found in Douglas Lake complicates matters some, too, doesn't it,"

Dallas said. "Not only do you have the Jefferson County sheriff's office involved, you've got the TVA guys and the state boys, too."

"If I know Noland Floyd, he'll cut through all the crap pretty quick. He's an experienced lawman. Been the sheriff over there for nearly twenty years. I'll let him deal with the state. They're not my problem. And I doubt TVA will get involved."

"If there is a serial killer loose in northeast Tennessee, then every law enforcement agency around these parts has a major problem," Dallas said. "But what we need to worry about is whether this guy will strike again in our territory."

"Yeah, I know. And a part of me wants to go on television and issue a warning to all redheads in Cherokee County, but I can't do that. It could cause a panic. Considering that three-fourths of the families in these parts are of Scottish and Irish decent, we have a high percentage of redheads."

"Including Jazzy and Reve," Genny said.

Jacob and Dallas turned and stared at her. Damn, she was right Why hadn't those two even crossed his mind? Especially Jazzy, considering the fact that she had a less than sterling reputation. Anyone who didn't know her well might think she was a slut. She wasn't.

But if the killer listened to local gossip…

"Genny, did you pick up on-?" Dallas asked, but Genny cut him off in mid-sentence.

"No, I haven't sensed a connection between the danger I believe lies ahead for Jazzy and Reve and the man who killed Becky Olmstead, but…" Genny's black eyes moistened with tears.

"But what?" Jacob knew his cousin often tried to pretend, even to herself, that some of the horrible things she saw in her visions were not real. But time and again, her psychic abilities had proven to be reliable and accurate.

Genny shook her head. "I don't know. It's just an odd feeling that I can't explain. If I could try to connect with the killer's mind-"

"Absolutely not!" Dallas growled the words.

"Perhaps later, after I've rested more. I want to help."

"Maybe later," Jacob said. "But not now. Dallas is right to protect you from your own good intentions." He kissed Genny's cheek. "I'll stop by this evening." He turned to Dallas. "Walk me out."

Dallas followed Jacob onto the porch and into the backyard. Drudwyn, who'd been curled up in a corner on the porch, raised himself on all fours and followed them. The sky was gray and overcast, giving the day a solemn aura. Dallas reached down to stroke the wolf dog's head.

"Make those other calls for me, will you?" Jacob unlocked his truck. "Find out if there have been similar murders anywhere else in northeastern Tennessee. Like you said this could be the guy's first kill in Cherokee County, but not elsewhere."

"I can do that. And later we need to contact Caleb and tell him to keep a close eye on Jazzy. Just in case."

"He'll ask questions."

"And I'll give him answers."

Reba inspected the dining room table. Everything was in order as she had expected it would be. Dora never let her down, unlike so many others in her life had and still did.

Her housekeeper was reliable, trustworthy and highly competent. The china, crystal and silver glistened. The floral arrangement sat low and wide in the center of the antique mahogany Duncan Phyfe table. A delicate hint of their meal wafted from the nearby kitchen, where Dora was putting the finishing touches on Sunday dinner.

If anyone had told her six months ago that she would be entertaining Jasmine Talbot in her home, she'd have called them crazy. Reba disliked the woman. No, dislike was too mild a word. She had despised Jazzy since the woman was sixteen and had deliberately gotten herself pregnant with Jamie's child. It had soon become apparent to everyone that the baby had been nothing more than a trap to snare herself a rich husband. Once Jamie had refused to marry her, she'd gotten an abortion. And until the day Jamie died, she had kept her hooks in him, never setting him free to be happy with someone else.

Reba still mourned Jamie, the grandson she had loved so deeply. He had disappointed her more times than she cared to remember, but she had forgiven him each time he broke her heart. After losing her two children, Jim, Jr., and Melanie, Jamie had been all Jim and she had-he'd been their legacy, the heir to the Upton fortune. When he'd been brutally murdered this past summer, she had thought they'd lost everything. But she'd been wrong.

Like a miracle, Caleb had come to them, the grandson they'd never known existed. Melanie's child. And already she understood how different Caleb was from Jamie. He was a better man. Strong and reliable. Trustworthy and caring. But he did share one weakness with his dead cousin-being in love with Jasmine Talbot.

Despite her intense hatred for the woman, Reba had invited her for Sunday dinner today, to please Caleb. She was damned and determined not to make the same mistakes with Caleb that she'd made with Jamie. If Jazzy Talbot was the woman Caleb loved, the woman he intended to marry, then if she wanted to keep her grandson in her life, she'd have to swallow her pride and accept the inevitable.

Of course, if there was any way she could manipulate the situation, she would. If only Caleb would realize how much more suitable Reve Sorrell was for him.

"Everything looks mighty fine," Jim said.

Reba gasped at the sound of her husband's voice. She hadn't realized he'd come downs-tairs. She turned and smiled at Jim. "I want things to be perfect. For Caleb's sake."

Jim walked over, put his arm around Reba's shoulder and kissed her cheek. "I'm proud of you, old gal. I know this won't be easy for you, but you're doing the right thing. We both learned our lesson with Jamie, didn't we?"

There had been a time when this small show of affection from her husband would have thrilled her, but now it was only moderately satisfying. It wasn't that she didn't love Jim.

She did. She probably always would. But she hadn't been in love with him for quite some time. And now there was Dodd. Was she really in love with another man? Yes, she thought perhaps she was. Stealing away to her chalet in the mountains to meet with a lover wasn't something she'd ever done; she had never even entertained the thought. But Dodd was different. He made her feel different. Besides, technically, they weren't lovers. Not yet. Last night they had sat together, drunk champagne, held hands and talked until nearly midnight; then they'd kissed good-bye.