The Fifth Victim (14 page)

“You should rent one of my cabins,” she told him. “We’ve got winter rates.”

“You own some cabins?”

She nodded. “And this bar and the restaurant next door.”

He whistled softly. “Rich lady.”

Jazzy laughed. “Far from rich. Just a hardworking girl who knows how to manage her money.”

“Then you must be Jazzy. Or is it Jasmine?” He took a couple more sips from the bottle.

“Jasmine Talbot,” she replied. “But my friends call me Jazzy.”

“May I call you Jazzy?”

“Do you think we’re going to be friends?”

His smile disappeared. “I’m not the type who makes a good friend. So how about we just remain good acquaintances…Jasmine.”

There was something about the way he said her name that sent sensual shivers through her. A soft, caressing tone that a man would use in bed, after the loving.

“Works for me,” she said. “So, my
good acquaintance
, what’s your name?”

“Caleb McCord.”

It suited him. It was a strong name. Her gut instincts told her that Caleb was a good man, albeit perhaps a dangerous one. And there was no doubt in her mind that he was one strong, tough son of a gun. Without realizing it, he exuded a warning not to mess with him.

“Where are you from, Caleb?”

“Memphis.”

“Mm—hmm. What are you doing in Cherokee Pointe?”

“Visiting.”

“Then you have friends or relatives in Cherokee County?”

He shook his head. “Just visiting the area.”

“Planning on staying long?”

“Maybe.”

“You’re not much of a conversationalist, are you?”

“My talents lie elsewhere.”

A fire ignited deep inside Jazzy and quickly spread through her body. A picture of the two of them naked and wrapped in each other’s arms flashed through her mind. She’d never felt such a strong attraction to a man—not since she’d been sixteen and had fallen hard for Jamie Upton. But in retrospect she figured she’d fallen more for who Jamie was than the boy himself. This man was different. She sized him up to be a drifter, no ties, no roots—and little or no money. So what was it about him that excited her?

“You’re blunt-spoken, too, I see.” Jazzy stared directly into his eyes and saw a reflection of her own desire.

“I’ve found that being totally honest and up front from the very beginning is the best policy.” He took another swig from the beer bottle. “If anything happens between us, it won’t be anything more than body heat. You scratch my itch, I’ll scratch yours. No emotional entanglements.”

“If anything happens between us, a purely physical relationship suits me just fine.”

Jazzy scooted back her chair and stood. Caleb stared up at her.

“Leaving me already?” he asked.

She grinned. “I’m here almost every night about this time. If you show up again, I’ll take it as a sign you’re interested. If not…” She shrugged.

“I’m interested. Tonight. Right now.”

“Put on the brakes. We just met. I don’t even kiss on a first date.”

“Was this our first date?”

“Could be our only date.”

Before she succumbed to Caleb’s lethal magnetism, Jazzy turned and walked away. When she got halfway to the bar, she took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. Just as she headed toward the back storage room, planning to escape into her office, the front door of Jazzy’s Joint opened, letting in a swish of frigid night air. She paused a moment, glanced back, and then groaned. Jamie Upton marched into the bar; and when his gaze connected with hers, he smiled as he came toward her. Same old sexy, overconfident swagger. Damn his black soul to hell!

“Jazzy, honey, don’t run off,” Jamie called to her.

Putting a stoic expression on her face and squaring her shoulders for battle, she turned to face him.

His smile widened as he scanned her from head to toe, his gaze lingering at her breasts. “You sure do look good tonight. Good enough to eat.”

Jazzy glanced around the room. Every eye in the place focused on her. Except Caleb McCord. He glared at Jamie, studying him as if he were a specimen under a microscope.

The three-inch heels on her calf-length boots clip-clipped sharply on the wooden floor as she made a beeline to Jamie.

“What do you want?” She kept her voice low, not wanting to share any more of her private life with her customers than she already had.

Jamie reached for her, but she sidestepped him. He laughed. “You know what I want. I want you. Same as always.”

“It’s not going to be the same as always,” she told him. “Not ever again.”

“Ah, honey, why do you want to act this way when you know that sooner or later you’re going to surrender and give us both what we want.”

“I want you to leave.” She pointed to the door. “Get out of here. Go away and stay away.”

“I’ll leave if you’ll go with me.” He cast his gaze toward the ceiling. “Invite me upstairs. Come on, Jazzy, baby, you know you want to.”

This time when he reached for her, he outmaneuvered her so that she wasn’t able to avoid his clutches. He grabbed her and hauled her up against him. She smelled liquor on his breath. Jamie was always at his most conniving and his most charming when he’d had a few drinks.

“Let go of me,” she demanded. “Leave me alone.”

“No way, baby. I’m staying right here and keeping you close until you come to your senses.”

“If you don’t let go of me, I’ll—”

“You’ll do what?”

Jamie tried to kiss her. She struggled against him. Why had Bert chosen tonight, of all nights, not to show up? If ever she needed somebody to toss Jamie out of Jazzy’s Joint on his ass, it was tonight.

Suddenly a big hand clamped down on Jamie’s shoulder and jerked him away from Jazzy. She almost lost her balance when he released her so unexpectedly. After taking a deep breath and steadying herself, she saw Caleb McCord manhandling Jamie. He had one hand on Jamie’s shoulder and the other gripping the back of his neck. Jamie squirmed and grumbled. Caleb held fast.

“What the hell?” Jamie tried to free himself, but to no avail. “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll release me this instant.”

“And if you know what’s good for you, you’ll do as the lady asked and leave.”

Caleb began marching Jamie toward the door. Jamie’s feet skidded on the wood in an effort to halt his departure.

“Do you know who I am?” Jamie asked, his voice tinged with anger and fear.

Jazzy wasn’t sure she’d ever heard fear in Jamie’s voice.

“I don’t give a damn who you are,” Caleb said. “You’re leaving here and not coming back. If I find out you’ve bothered Jasmine again, I’ll take it personally.”

Caleb escorted an uncooperative Jamie out the front door, onto the sidewalk, and to his car. As if drawn by an invisible force, Jazzy followed them, as did all the customers in the bar. And even Lacy came over and stood behind the others in the open front door.

Caleb bent Jamie over the hood of his fancy little Mercedes parked in a no-parking zone directly in front of Jazzy’s Joint. Caleb leaned over and whispered something in Jamie’s ear.

Jazzy held her breath.

Caleb released his hold on Jamie and took several backward steps. Jamie straightened to his full height, turned around, and glowered at Caleb. But he avoided even glancing at anyone else.

“You’ll be seeing me again,” Jamie said.

“Bring it on,” Caleb replied. “Anytime. Any place.”

Jamie jerked the keys from his pocket, unlocked his car, got in and revved the motor. When he drove off down the street, a resounding cheer rose from the small crowd standing behind Jazzy. The minute Caleb walked toward her, the others scattered and returned to the bar.

Standing there on the sidewalk, the bitterly cold winter wind whistling around the street corners, Jazzy waited for Caleb.

“Thanks,” she said. “Not many people in Cherokee Pointe would stand up against Jamie Upton.”

Caleb’s eyebrows lifted. “Jamie Upton, huh? I take it he’s not used to being told no.”

“What did you say to him? When you had him bent over his car, what did you say?”

Caleb laced Jazzy’s arm through his and led her toward the front entrance to the bar. “What I said to him is between me and him. Besides, it isn’t something fit for a lady’s ears.”

Jazzy felt as if the wind had been knocked out of her. Nobody had ever called her a lady. And only a few had ever treated her like one.

“Come on inside and let me buy you a drink,” she said. “And, call me Jazzy. I think we are going to be friends after all.”

Chapter 13

Genny sensed that Dallas wanted to stay longer, even if that need went against his better judgment. He’d gotten up to leave a couple of times, but kept lingering. He didn’t understand why, of course, but she did. Everything in life happened for a reason. And despite any evidence otherwise, she knew there was a rhyme and reason to events, even those that seemed inexplicable. She had been waiting a lifetime for him, perhaps more than one lifetime. Waiting for the man destined to be her mate. Naturally, she’d known from the beginning that Brian MacKinnon wasn’t the man for her; and even though she’d been drawn to Royce Pierpont, she’d never felt “the connection.”

Granny Butler had told her once, long ago, she had known the moment she met Papa Butler that he was the one. She’d known because of the strong spiritual connection. Granny had tried to explain it to Genny, but until Genny had sensed Dallas Sloan’s presence—even before he appeared on her doorstep—she’d had no idea how powerful the connection would be. And as Dallas and she spent more time together, the bond between them strengthened. He felt it, but dismissed it as mere physical attraction. He didn’t believe in anything beyond the five senses, so it would take a while for him to come to terms with what was happening to him.

“You’re awfully quiet,” Dallas said. “Have I put you to sleep? I’ve been talking nonstop.” He shrugged. “It’s not like me to talk so much. But there’s something about you that makes me want to tell you everything.”

“I’ve been told that I’m a good listener.”

“You must be. I’ve never talked so much in my entire life.”

“It’s been good for you to tell me about your family, about your two sisters. I love the way your mother chose her children’s names. Savannah, Alexandria, and Dallas.”

“She and Dad moved around quite a bit in the early years of their marriage. Wherever they lived when one of us was born, that’s what she named that particular kid.”

“Thank goodness you weren’t born in New Orleans or Los Angeles or Salt Lake City.”

“Yeah, and I’d hate to be the one named Savannah.” Dallas chuckled. “Things were pretty good for us growing up. Until Mom died. After that, Dad was never quite the same. And unfortunately, his second marriage hasn’t been a happy one.”

Genny reached out and laid her hand on his. Instantly he stiffened. “Don’t be afraid of me,” she said.

He eyed her skeptically. “What are you talking about? Why would I be afraid of—”

She leaned closer to him on the sofa and placed her index finger over his lips to silence his denial. “I would never hurt you. Don’t you know that?”

He grasped her wrist and pulled her hand away from his face. “It’s not you that I’m afraid of. It’s myself. And you’re the one who could wind up getting hurt. My track record with women isn’t all that good.”

“Are you trying to tell me that you’ve left a string of broken hearts behind you?”

Dallas let go of her wrist and took her hand in his. “I’m trying to tell you that I’m the wrong man for you, even for a brief affair. You and I aren’t on the same page, so to speak. Hell, we aren’t even in the same book. I’m a cynical bastard. I’ve spent twelve years with the Bureau and seen the world’s underbelly, and it’s not a pretty sight. I’ve had a couple of short-lived, semi-serious relationships, but for the most part, I’m a loner.” He released her hand and eased backward, putting some distance between them.

“I’m a loner, too,” she said. “I’ve had several romantic relationships, but none of them progressed to the serious stage. And although I tend to be an optimist, I’ve seen the dark side of life, too. In my visions.”

“Dammit, Genny, that’s another thing.” Dallas shot to his feet. Standing over her, he focused on her face. “You have dreams and nightmares, and you call them visions. It’s your subconscious or simply your imagination. Nothing more. Somebody did a number on you, convincing you that you possess some sort of psychic talents. I guess that grandmother of yours put the hoodoo on the people around these parts and—”

“Granny had powerful abilities,” Genny told him. “She didn’t put the hoodoo on anybody.”

“Would you just listen to yourself? You honest-to-God think you’re psychic! Do you have any idea how crazy that is?”

Why was it that when the man destined for her and her alone finally came into her life, he had to be such a stubborn jackass? “I am psychic. I do have visions. I can see into the future. I often know things before they happen. And I’m not crazy. I’m gifted. Or I’m cursed. Take your pick. There are times when I’d give anything to be normal. To be just like everyone else.”

Dallas reached down, grabbed her by the shoulders, and yanked her to her feet. “I can’t buy into that garbage. Believing shit like that goes against my basic nature.” After releasing her abruptly, he turned and paced the floor; then he stopped dead still and settled his gaze on her again. “I’ll admit that you’re unlike any woman I’ve ever met. There’s something special about you, but…Let’s just forget it, okay? I was a fool to come here tonight and a bigger fool for thinking…”

Halting midsentence, he gave her a hard look, then walked out of the room. Genny took a deep breath. Give him time, she told herself. He’s fighting his feelings because he doesn’t understand them.

He doesn’t understand me!

When Genny followed Dallas, she found him in the foyer, putting on his overcoat. As she approached him, he kept his back to her and reached for the doorknob.

“Don’t leave this way,” she said.

She sensed him tense and knew he was running from her, trying to get away while he still could. What he didn’t comprehend was the fact that he could never escape from her. Not now that they had actually met. Their lives would forever be intertwined.

“I didn’t count on this…this thing between us,” he admitted. “I don’t want it, don’t have time for it.”

“You can run, but you can’t escape.”

He snapped his head around and glared at her. “I can sure as hell try.”

When he opened the door and walked out of her house, slamming the door behind him, Genny stood in the foyer for several minutes and listened to the sound of his car as he drove away. She pulled the edges of her cardigan sweater together over her breasts and crisscrossed her arms at her waist, hugging herself.

All her life she had been different from other people, unlike the girls she knew. Some saw her as a freak; others envied her because of her unique talents. Many of the towns-people either accepted her or ignored her, a lot of them referring to her as the old witch woman’s successor. She supposed that’s exactly what she was. As long as her grandmother had lived, Granny had shielded her as best she could. And only Granny had truly understood what it meant to possess abilities few others had. But, then, those talents seemed to be hereditary, passed down from grandmothers to granddaughters, similar to the way certain genes passed on to her from her parents had given her black hair and brown eyes.

Genny sighed as she woke Drudwyn from his nap and herded him toward the back door. Before following him outside, she slipped on her heavy coat, hat, and gloves. The night sky glimmered with starlight, twinkling beacons from millions of miles away. The temperature had already dropped below freezing, but the wind was calm, making it feel less cold. While Drudwyn went about his business, Genny checked the greenhouses.

A barn owl flew overhead and lit in a nearby tree, then began an eerily mournful hooting chant. On the edge of the woods a pair of gray wolves watched, their eyes like amber crystals.

Once Genny had completed her nightly check and made her way toward the back porch, a sudden feeling of unrest came over her. She paused, breathed deeply, and waited. Her eyelids closed of their own accord.
No, not now. Not here
. She tried to make her feet cooperate, tried to walk, but she stood frozen to the spot as dark shadows crept into her mind. Wide awake, standing in the middle of the backyard, Genny gave herself over to the darkness, and the vision consumed her. And as with all the visions she’d experienced in the past, she had no control over this one.

The woman in Genny’s vision lay quietly, her eyes wide with fear. When he touched her, she cringed, but she couldn’t cry out or make any protest. She was gagged. Gagged and bound. He lifted her off the bed and carried her toward a door. Genny couldn’t see the room, couldn’t identify the woman or the man.

“Soon, my little lamb, very soon,” he whispered in the woman’s ear.

Genny did not recognize the voice, which wasn’t really audible. The words seemed to be echoing inside her head as if she heard them through a filter. She dropped to her knees, but the vision didn’t end, the images simply faded and then reformed at another time and place.

The woman lay on a slab of wood balanced by two wooden sawhorses. A makeshift altar. A glove-covered hand held an impressive, ornately decorated sword. Daybreak fought the darkness within a large empty space. Genny heard two distinctive heartbeats. The man removed the gag from the woman’s mouth. Her terrifying scream rent the deadly quiet.

Suddenly, all Genny could see was the woman. Her mouth. Her blond hair. Her tear-filled blue eyes.

Genny cried out. The owl swooped low and lit on a nearby tree branch. Drudwyn bounded toward her. The two wolves crept out of the woods, moving slowly in her direction.

Genny knew who the killer’s next victim would be. She had seen her face. Clearly.

At dawn, Misty Harte would die.

Jacob glanced up from his desk and looked through the open doorway when Tewanda Hardy entered. She removed her hat and jacket and headed straight for his office.

“Any problems?” Jacob asked.

She shook her head. “All quiet on the western front.”

“Any sign of Misty?”

“None,” Tewanda replied. “No one has seen her today. Looks like you’re the last person who saw her.”

Jacob didn’t like having to share information about his personal life with other people, certainly not with any of his deputies. Even if Misty wasn’t Bobby Joe’s sister, ordinarily he wouldn’t have mentioned Misty spending the night with him. He wasn’t the type to brag about his sexual exploits. But with Misty apparently missing and Bobby Joe half out of his mind with worry, Jacob hadn’t had much choice but to tell the deputies searching for Misty that she’d been alive and well when she’d left his apartment early this morning.

“Has Bobby Joe been in touch with all her friends?” Tewanda asked, and Jacob heard the unspoken accusation that Misty had so many male friends it might take a week to question them all.

“The ones he thinks she might have contacted. But he’s come up with nothing. It’s as if Misty vanished without a trace.”

“You don’t think…well, I mean, what with a killer on the loose and all—”

“I haven’t been thinking of much else,” Jacob admitted.

“No point in our jumping to conclusions. As flighty as Misty is, there’s no telling where she might be. She could have just up and decided to take off somewhere and she’ll call Bobby Joe tomorrow. She’s done it before.”

“Yeah, that’s possible.”

The phone on Jacob’s desk rang. Tewanda jumped. Jacob tensed. He lifted the receiver and identified himself.

“This here’s Jimmy Lewey, out on Pike’s Gap. You remember me, don’t you? Your old man and mine were hunting buddies. Anyhow, I heard you’ens been looking for Misty Harte.”

“That’s right. Do you know anything about Misty?”

Tewanda’s eyes opened wide, her gaze questioning Jacob. When she started to speak, Jacob held up his index finger as a signal for her to wait.

“Ain’t got no idea where she is, but I can tell you where her car is.”

“What kind of car?” Jacob asked.

“Yellow Vega.”

“Where is it?”

“Parked out back of the old filling station on Pike’s Gap. I still own the building even though I ain’t been in business for years. But I got me a sixty-five Mustang inside the garage there that I been working on. I go over a couple of nights a week, usually pretty late. Like tonight.”

“Look, Jimmy, don’t bother anything. Leave everything just like it is.”

“You’re thinking that killer’s got hold of Misty, ain’t you?”

“I’m not thinking anything in particular,” Jacob said. “So don’t go around telling folks that the sheriff thinks Misty is the third victim.”

“Sure thing. I’ll keep my trap shut.”

“Wait around out there, will you? We’re heading out that way right now,” Jacob said.

He hung up the receiver and turned to Tewanda. “Misty’s car is parked behind Jimmy Lewey’s old service station out on Pike’s Gap. Make a couple of calls. I want a wrecker out there to bring the car in and I need a search warrant issued ASAP. Call Judge Tubbs at home. And apologize for waking him.”

“I’ll contact Bobby Joe, too, and let him know.”

“Yeah, you do that. And call Chief Watson.”

“And tell him what?”

“I want some of his people on the job. I need all the help I can get. Tell the chief what we need to do is coordinate our efforts. It’s time we form a task force to find this killer.”

“You do think the killer’s got Misty, don’t you?”

“I think it’s a damn good possibility.”

The room was lit solely by candlelight, golden, glistening illumination that cast gloomy shadows and doomed every corner to darkness. A low, repetitive hum droned in his head as he listened to the chants reminiscent of the ones he’d heard so often as a child. Wherever he went, he sought people such as these, the children of the night who petitioned the spirit world for magical powers. Tonight was an auspicious time because, as all good witches knew, when the moon is in its crescent period, any and all things can be accomplished. But to have every aspect in perfect alignment, the experiments must be made by true believers, faithful, and diligent concerning the task at hand.

Wearing hooded dark robes, members of the cult formed a circle around the pentagram drawn on the concrete floor. He pulled his hood up over his head and took his place in the circle. Even though he knew where the greatest power came from, old habits died hard. Besides, he needed all the strength he could acquire, from whatever source, before the ultimate fifth victim gave him what he had longed to possess all his life.