The Fifth Victim (25 page)

“
I gi do
,” Genny corrected. “It means sister in the Cherokee language.”

Suddenly Dallas felt a twinge of jealousy that she shared so much with her cousin Jacob, that he even had a pet name for her. “Maybe I should learn the Cherokee language,” Dallas told her as he started to leave.

“Do you want to know a name I would like for you to call me?” she asked.

He paused when he reached the doorway, then glanced over his shoulder. “What would you like for me to call you?”

“
A qua da li i
.”

Dallas repeated the words. “What does it mean?”

“I’ll tell you…someday.”

Genny’s smile brightened the whole room. Hell, it brightened his whole world.

“I could ask Jacob.”

“You could. But you won’t.”

“Drink your tea,” he told her. “I’ll be back in a little while with your supper.”

“I can come to the kitchen.”

“All right, if you feel up to it.”

“I’ll come with you now. I need to put out feed for the birds and other animals. They’ll be expecting it.”

“Tell me where you keep the feed sacks and—”

“They won’t take food if anyone else has touched it.”

Dallas grimaced. “I should have known.”

When Genny rose to her feet and followed Dallas, Drudwyn galloped after her. Once in the kitchen, Dallas set about preparing their sandwiches while Genny went out onto the back porch. She removed a huge feed sack from a wooden storage box near the stack of firewood; then she filled four bowls and stacked them one on top of the other and set them on the floor. After removing her coat from the wall rack and putting it on, she picked up the bowls.

When she swung open the screen door with her hip, Drudwyn dashed outside. Balancing the bowls with both hands, Genny walked out into the backyard. The screen door flopped shut with a loud bang. Dallas dropped the butter knife he was using to spread mustard on the bread slices and ran after her.

“Genny, wait,” he called. “I don’t want you—”

The shot rang out in the hushed stillness of twilight. Dallas yelled her name. Suddenly he felt as if heavy weights were attached to his ankles. Everything seemed to be happening in slow motion. He heard the shot. He heard his own voice echoing inside his head. He saw Genny balk, then grab her shoulder and lean to one side. He saw Drudwyn take off like a rocket, chasing something—or someone.

Genny crumpled into a heap on the ground. When Dallas reached her, she lay still and unmoving. He knelt beside her, saw the blood staining the back of her coat, and was forced to accept the fact that she’d been shot. Someone had shot her. In her own backyard. With a big, brave FBI agent guarding her.

He held her in his arms for several seconds before his training kicked in. He checked her vital signs. Weak. But she was still alive. He had two choices: get Genny to the hospital immediately or follow Drudwyn’s lead and chase after the person who had shot her.

Dallas scooped Genny up off the ground. As far as he was concerned there was really only one choice. The only thing that mattered right now was Genny.

Chapter 24

Jazzy placed her hand on Dallas Sloan’s back. He tensed immediately but didn’t turn to face her. Ever since she’d arrived at Cherokee County General last night, she hadn’t heard Dallas utter a single word. The small waiting room was filled to capacity with people who loved Genny. Jacob. Sally and Ludie. Royce. Wallace. Brian. And dozens of people had come and gone during the long night, offering prayers and assistance. Numerous Cherokee County folks had telephoned, as had ministers from the Baptist church and the Methodist church, even though Genny wasn’t a member of either denomination. The nurse’s aides had brought out coffee several times and offered to bring food up from the snack bar. Anyone who knew Genny thought she was special. The entire county cared what happened to her.

And no one, absolutely no one, could understand why anybody would want to harm such a kind, gentle, and loving soul.

When Jacob called her last night, Jazzy had rushed to the ER, but too late to see Genny before they carried her to surgery. She’d found Jacob sitting quietly, his head bowed and his eyes closed, in the surgery waiting area on the second floor. Dallas had been pacing outside in the hall. When she’d spoken to him, he hadn’t even noticed her.

Jacob had explained what had happened, at least what little he’d been able to get out of Dallas. “I’ve got a team up there at the house now searching for evidence all around,” he’d said. “This wasn’t what we were expecting. There’s no way we could have known. Dallas is blaming himself and nothing I’ve said to him has convinced him otherwise.”

After endless hours of waiting and praying, they’d heard good news. Genny had come through surgery with flying colors, and the doctor assured them she would recover fully. The bullet had entered her back and exited her shoulder, but hadn’t struck anything vital. Jazzy had expected Dallas to react the way she and Jacob had—with happy relief. Instead, he’d fled. She didn’t know where he’d gone, but she suspected he had sought a place of solitude where he could be alone. The bathroom? The chapel? He’d probably puked. Or cried. Or offered a prayer of thanks. Maybe all three.

Now, at four-fifty in the morning, Jazzy stood behind Dallas at the end of the hallway where he stared out the window into the darkness. She patted his back. “They’re going to let us go in to see her in a few minutes.”

He nodded, but still didn’t turn around.

“Genny is going to be all right.”

Silence.

“You’ve got to snap out of it before you go in to see her,” Jazzy told him. “She’ll sense something’s wrong the minute she sees you. You look like a man who’s been to hell and back.”

He glanced over his shoulder; his bloodshot eyes glared at Jazzy.

“All this guilt you’re wallowing in won’t help Genny,” Jazzy said. “So take off your hair shirt and accept the fact that you’re not Superman, that you’re just human like the rest of us.”

When he looked away from her, she grabbed his arm. “Damn it, you had no way of knowing some nut was outside waiting for a chance to shoot Genny. She’s the one who is psychic, not you, and she probably didn’t realize she was in danger until it was too late.”

“I should have stopped her from going outside!” The words rumbled from his chest like a cannon blast.

Jazzy tightened her hold on his arm and shook him, then moved around to stand in front of him. “If this person planned to shoot Genny, he could have shot her through a window. You couldn’t have prevented it. If Jacob had been there, he couldn’t have, either.”

Dallas didn’t respond.

Jazzy released her tight grip on his arm, turned, and walked away. She had sense enough to know when to back off. Dallas wasn’t ready to listen to reason. He was still too consumed by guilt and remorse. She’d been to that particular hell a few times herself.

She met Jacob coming out of the waiting room. “How’s he doing?” Jacob nodded toward the end of the hall.

“Is there something going on that I don’t know about?” Jazzy asked. “He’s acting like he was the one who shot her. His guilt isn’t reasonable.”

Jacob hesitated, then motioned for her to follow him, which she did. He pulled her around the corner where two halls crisscrossed.

“Nobody else is to know about this. Understand?”

Jazzy nodded.

“Only Genny, Dallas, and I know.” Jacob looked as if what he was about to say caused him great pain. “Dallas has been tracking a serial killer, a guy he thinks killed his niece in Mobile last year.”

“Yeah, I know. So?”

“This guy kills in fives. Dallas has discovered four sets of practically identical murders occurring over the past few years. None of the victims had anything in common—except that the fifth victim in each case was gifted. The way Genny is gifted.”

Jazzy’s mind spun around and around, trying to absorb the implication of Jacob’s statement. “The sacrificial murders here in Cherokee County—” Jazzy gasped. “My God, he came here because of Genny. She’s his fifth victim.”

“Dallas volunteered to act as Genny’s bodyguard, and I’d planned to keep a deputy there at the house with her whenever Dallas couldn’t be.”

“Do you think the serial killer changed his MO and shot Genny instead of—”

“It wasn’t him,” Jacob said. “But I have a good idea who it might have been. All I need is one tiny scrap of evidence and I’ll haul his ass into jail.”

“Who are you talking about?”

Before Jacob could reply, a nurse walked down the hall toward them, calling Jacob’s name.

“Sheriff Butler, you can go in to see Genny now.”

Jacob whispered to Jazzy, “I’ll explain later.”

When Genny regained consciousness, Jazzy was at her side. She tried to lift her head, but the dizziness quickly aborted the effort.

“Hello, sleepy girl,” Jazzy said. “How do you feel? Pretty rough, huh?”

“I feel like I’ve been shot.” Genny tried to smile, but even that simple action seemed impossible.

“Ah, sweetie. You’re going to be all right. Good as new in a few weeks.”

Genny glanced from side to side, then forward, and caught a glimpse of Jacob standing in the doorway. He came toward her, his movements unnaturally hurried. When he reached the bedside, he smoothed his hand over her cheek.

“You gave us a real scare,
i gi do
.”

“Where’s Dallas?”

Tense silence.

“Is he all right? He wasn’t shot, too, was he?” The thought that Dallas might be dead flashed through her mind.

“He’s fine. He wasn’t shot,” Jacob replied. “He’s been here all night and he’s still here somewhere. He’s been in awfully bad shape. He blames himself for what happened.”

“What did happen?” Genny asked.

“You went outside to feed the animals before Dallas could stop you and somebody hiding in the woods shot you,” Jacob said.

“Who—? Oh, Lord, Jacob, do you think it was—?”

“Either Esther or Reverend Stowe. You got too close to their wicked little secret.”

“Find Dallas,” Genny said. “I want to see him.”

“Hey, girl, there are a few other people out there dying to see you. Aunt Sally and Ludie. Wallace. Royce and Brian. And—”

“I want Dallas!”

“Calm down,” Jazzy told her. “I’ll go find Dallas and bring him to you if I have to hog-tie him and drag him in here.”

“No, you stay with Genny.” Jacob leaned over and kissed Genny’s forehead. “You rest and stop worrying. I’ll find Dallas.”

It took Jacob over thirty minutes to find Dallas, and in the meantime he’d gotten a call from Tim Willingham telling him they had found shell casings, footprints, and a piece of material snagged on a bush in the woods near Genny’s house. Evidence. Proof that the shooter was a rank amateur, someone who’d been very sloppy. The sacrificial killer was an overconfident pro, who covered his tracks and left behind nothing. Nothing but his DNA. But the really good news about the shooter was that Tommy Patrick, Genny’s neighbor who lived on a farm half a mile up the road, had been hunting down a stray cow that had wandered off into the woods at sunset, right about the time Genny was shot. Tommy had heard the rifle fire and had seen a man running through the woods to a car parked on a dirt path leading to the main road. The tall, thin, dark-haired man had been driving a older model BMW that fit the description of the one belonging to Esther Stowe.

Bingo! Got ’em!

Jacob paused before approaching Dallas and tried to put himself in the guy’s shoes. What would be the best way to handle him?
Hell, man, what would be the best way for somebody to handle you if you were in this situation?

Dallas sat alone in the empty snack bar. Hunched over, his arms crossed and resting on the tabletop, he stared off into space. Not much traffic in the snack bar at five-thirty in the morning. When Dallas heard Jacob approach, he lifted his head and looked straight across the room.

“Has something happened to Genny?” Dallas asked.

“Yeah, something’s happened. She’s awake and asking for you.”

Dallas’s shoulders slumped.

“I want you to go upstairs and see her before we drive over to the Stowes and bring them in for questioning,” Jacob said.

“Then your team found some sort of evidence against them?” Dallas’s eyes brightened, and his shoulders lifted.

“Yeah, the best kind—an eyewitness who places a man fitting the reverend’s description in the woods near Genny’s house. And he saw this man get into a car identical to the one Esther Stowe drives.”

Strain marred Dallas’s features as he shut his eyes for a moment. Jacob knew he was thanking God, thanking the Good Lord that Genny was all right and that they probably had enough evidence to arrest Haden Stowe for attempted murder.

Jacob moved closer to the table where Dallas sat. “I’m sure you want to be there when I question them.”

“You know it.” Dallas rose from his chair.

“We’ll head over to the courthouse just as soon as you go upstairs and see Genny.”

“I can’t.” Dallas avoided direct eye contact with Jacob.

“You can and you will. She’s up there waiting for you. She didn’t understand why you weren’t there when she woke up.”

Jacob clamped his hand down on Dallas’s shoulder. Their gazes locked and held, two fierce combatants, neither giving an inch.

“How do I face her after what happened?” Dallas glanced away first.

Jacob released his tenacious hold on Dallas’s shoulder. “She’s not going to blame you. Nobody holds you responsible for what happened, except you.”

“How would you feel if you’d been the one who was supposed to be guarding her?”

“I’d feel just like you do. But I’d suck it up and go on with what had to be done. I’d face my worst fear. I’d walk into that ICU unit and let Genny know that I hadn’t deserted her, that I never would.”

Five minutes later, Dallas stood outside Genny’s ICU cubicle, his hands sweating and his stomach tied in knots. Jazzy glanced up from where she sat by Genny’s bed, smiled at him, and motioned for him to come on in. He hesitated, his heart hammering in his ears. Jazzy said something to Genny, then got up and walked toward him.

She paused beside him and said quietly, “It’s about time you showed up. Genny’s been about to fret herself to death about you. Now get your ass in there and tell that woman you love her and you’re sorry you worried her.”

Dallas let out a pent-up breath, nodded, and forced his legs into action. When he was halfway across the cubicle, Genny saw him. For the rest of his life he’d remember the look on her face. Joy. No other word could describe her expression.

“Dallas.” Her soft voice was terribly weak.

He all but ran the last few feet to her bedside.

“I’ve been so worried about you,” she said and lifted her trembling hand.

Dallas grabbed that small, delicate hand and brought it to his mouth, kissed it, then held it to his cheek. She was the one who’d been shot—because he’d been lax in his attention for a couple of minutes—yet she was the one worried about him.

“I thought I’d die,” he said, choking on his emotions.

“I would have felt the same if you’d been hurt. But you can stop hurting now. Release the pain. Let it go. I’m going to be all right. What happened wasn’t your fault.”

He swallowed hard, then kissed her hand again several times before he leaned over and kissed her mouth tenderly. “I love you, Genny Madoc.”

“I know. I love you, too.”

Dallas sat across the room in the corner while Jacob questioned Esther Stowe. Her husband was cooling his heels in another room, waiting for his lawyer. Esther had waived her rights to have an attorney present, telling them that she hadn’t done anything wrong.

“I didn’t have anything to do with shooting your cousin,” Esther said. “Why would I want to hurt her?”

“You tell me,” Jacob said. “Why would you or your husband want to kill Genny?”

Esther shrugged.

“We have a witness who saw your husband leaving the scene of the crime,” Jacob said, stretching the truth slightly. “And that witness saw Reverend Stowe get into your car. Were you with him? Did you sit there and wait for him while he staked out Genny’s house and shot her the minute she walked outside?”

“I didn’t go anywhere with him. He drove off like a madman after we had an argument. How am I supposed to know what he was doing out in the woods? Besides, maybe your witness was wrong, maybe—”

“Does your husband own a rifle?”

“He has several rifles. Haden likes to hunt.”

“If the bullet the doctor dug out of Genny’s back matches one of your husband’s rifles, then we’ll have all the evidence the district attorney will need to prosecute the reverend for attempted murder.”

“Okay, let’s say he did try to kill her.” Esther glanced at Dallas standing beside the window, then looked right at Jacob. “It’s nothing to do with me. I wasn’t with him. I’m not a part of it.”

Jacob continued questioning Esther for a good thirty minutes, then took a break. Dallas figured he realized he wasn’t going to break Mrs. Stowe. She was as tough as nails.

Jacob called Tewanda, who’d skipped her classes today just so she could pull a double shift and help out. The young deputy came to the office door and waited.