The Fifth Victim (6 page)

“You can’t stop me. That’s my wife.” Jerry Lee jerked away from Jacob. “I have every right to—”

Jacob drew back his fist and clipped Jerry Lee on the temple. The mayor dropped like dead weight tossed into the river. Turning to Chief Watson, Jacob said, “Get a couple of your boys to take him home and stay with him until he calms down.”

“He’s going to be mad as hell when he comes to,” Watson said. “But you did what you had to do.”

Jacob nodded. “You know where to reach me if you need me.”

He left the murder scene, left behind the cocky, stupid police chief, and took a lot of unanswered questions with him.

Esther Stowe held her husband’s hands tightly in hers as they stood at the back of the sanctuary. They had answered questions repeatedly for the past hour and still they weren’t allowed to leave. They’d been told the chief would want to verify a few things. Esther wasn’t sure how much longer Haden could hold himself together. Her husband wasn’t emotionally strong. If not for her strength, he wouldn’t be the man he was today.

Sometimes she regretted having married such a weakling and longed for a man who was her equal. No one would ever guess, seeing Haden and her together, that she was the dominant partner. To the world they presented a rather amusing facade, the old-fashioned married couple, with the husband as head of the household. Haden Stowe didn’t have the balls to be the man of the house, but it served her purpose to allow him to playact the part.

Haden whispered, “What if they find—”

“They won’t!”

“But what if—”

“Shut up. There’s no way they’ll find it. It’s not here in the church. It’s in our house, and there’s no reason for them to search our house.”

“How could this have happened? Why here? Why in my church?” He looked at her accusingly. “You didn’t—”

“Don’t be absurd. Of course I didn’t.”

“But she was sacrificed, just like the other one.”

“We were not involved with either. You know that.” Haden nodded.

Esther kept her gaze fixed on the sheriff as he left the building. Chief Watson she could handle. The man was an idiot. But Jacob Butler was another matter. The sheriff could prove dangerous to her. He needed to be watched. Watched closely.

Chapter 6

Genny woke slowly, languidly, feeling safe and secure. Several moments passed before she remembered what had happened. When she did remember, a deep, profound sadness overwhelmed her. She’d had another vision. One yesterday around dawn and then a second one this morning at daybreak. Both times she had sensed what the killer was going to do. Yesterday she’d actually witnessed his crime. Today she had seen only the woman’s body lying on the altar and felt the man’s anticipation. Oh, God, the poor woman was probably already dead by now. Genny had received a forewarning this time, but it had come to her far too late to help save this second victim.

Morning sunshine brightened the bedroom, telling Genny she had slept for hours. Glancing around the room, she caught sight of Dallas Sloan asleep in the corner chair, Drudwyn curled on the rug beside him. Odd how her wildly protective dog had accepted this man, as if he, too, sensed a trustworthiness in Dallas. When she rose from the bed and dropped her bare feet to the floor, Drudwyn lifted his head and stared at her. She placed a finger to her lips. Drudwyn rumbled an aborted yowl. Dallas’s eyelids flew open and his gaze connected with Genny’s.

“Good morning,” she said as she reached down for her robe at the foot of the bed.

As Dallas sat up straight, the white cotton afghan slipped off his shoulders and down to his waist, revealing his muscular chest.

“Are you all right now?” he asked.

She nodded, belting the long pink chenille robe and tightening the sash around her waist.

After tossing the afghan aside, Dallas stood and stretched. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep. I must have been beat.”

“Then you haven’t checked the phones, have you?”

He shook his head. “Afraid not.”

Genny lifted the receiver from the telephone base on her nightstand and placed it to her ear. “Still no dial tone.” She walked over to the window, pulled back the curtain and secured it on a clip behind the window frame. After glancing out, she said, “It’s a beautiful day. The sun might melt away some of the snow. We should be able to get into town this afternoon, if the snowplows make it up this far.”

Without waiting for a comment from Dallas, she motioned to Drudwyn. “Time to go out, boy.” Her gaze fell on Dallas. “How do pancakes with maple syrup for breakfast sound to you?”

“Delicious,” he replied. “But please don’t go to any trouble for me. I usually just grab a quick cup of coffee before I head out in the morning.”

“Why don’t you take a shower, while I let Drudwyn out and start breakfast? I have a gas hot-water heater, so even with the electricity out, you’ll have plenty of hot water.”

“Sounds good to me.”

“I’m sorry I don’t have anything for you to change into, but I don’t think anything of mine would work, and when Jacob moved into town last year, he didn’t leave any of his clothes behind.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“All right. When you finish your shower, you’ll find me in the kitchen.”

Although a powerful magnetism drew her to Dallas, she forcefully pulled herself away from him. As she went through the house toward the kitchen, Drudwyn at her heels, she thought about the peculiar feelings Dallas Sloan evoked in her. From the first moment she opened the door to him last night, she’d known he was destined to become important to her. As a friend? As a lover? Or simply as an instrument of change in her life? She wasn’t sure. She knew only that her fate was intertwined with the big, blond stranger’s.

When she opened the back door, Drudwyn bounded onto the porch and out into the snow. Shivering, she closed the door quickly. Two sets of high double windows on the outside walls let light flood into the kitchen. Genny flipped the switch to check for electricity. Just as she had suspected, the power was still out. She set about preparing the coffee in an old metal pot, then placed it atop the gas cookstove. While the coffee brewed, she prepared the batter for their pancakes. As she kept herself occupied, she tried not to think about this morning’s vision, but her mind kept replaying the scene over and over in her mind.

Another young woman dead. She’d been able to tell that the woman was fairly young because her breasts had been firm, her body supple. Who had been killed this time? And where? The first victim had been slaughtered on a makeshift altar in the woods. But this time the altar had been more elaborate, similar to ones used in churches.

Oh, God! Multicolored light. Stained glass. A decoratively carved altar. Had he murdered this woman in a church? In a church in Cherokee Pointe?

Genny’s hands trembled. A fresh egg fell from her fingers to the floor and splattered its sticky contents across the wide planks. She hurried to clean up the mess and get on with preparing the pancakes. There was absolutely nothing she could do for the second victim, just as there had been nothing she could do for Susie Richards.
Why, Lord? Why give me this incredible gift and not allow it to be used to save lives?

Fifteen minutes later, Dallas joined her at the kitchen table. His thick, unruly hair was still damp, and a day’s growth of brown beard stubble added a rather rakish quality to his ruggedly handsome appearance. His dark slacks and white shirt were wrinkled, but his slightly disheveled appearance didn’t seem to bother him at all. And oddly enough, Genny thought it made him all the more appealing.

“Something sure smells good,” he said.

“Please, sit down. Everything is ready.”

They sat across from each other at the big, round table and ate in relative silence, occasionally exchanging glances. While she picked at her food, he ate heartily and asked for seconds.

“Would you like another cup of coffee?” she asked as she rose from her seat.

“Stay there,” he told her. “I should be waiting on you. After all, you cooked for us.”

“I have to get up anyway. Drudwyn and the others need to be fed.”

“The others?”

“The squirrels, raccoons, birds, and other wild creatures that depend on me in weather like this.”

“You must have quite a feed bill if you’re providing food for all the animals out there in those woods.”

“I have more than enough money for my needs, so I share my bounty with others.”

Dallas finished his breakfast, downed his fourth cup of coffee, then gathered up their dishes and placed them in the sink. He glanced out the window and saw Drudwyn racing around in the snow, playful and exuberant despite the desperate cold. Then he caught a glimpse of Genny. She wore a heavy, black wool coat over her pajamas and robe, thick rubber boots on her feet, and a black knit cap pulled down over her ears. She stood in the middle of the backyard and was surrounded by a variety of animals. Squirrels. Raccoons. Possums. A couple of foxes. A deer. A silver-gray wolf. And birds perched on her shoulder and outstretched arm.

Dallas blinked to clear his vision, thinking he had imagined the scene before him. Not his imagination. It was real. Genny Madoc had charmed the wild animals in the forest. They came to her like babes to their mother. He’d never seen anything like it. And although he was seeing it now with his own two eyes, he found it incomprehensible.

An odd feeling hit him in the pit of his stomach. He’d humorously considered her a witch who had cast a spell over him last night. Seeing her now, in this setting, with a host of spellbound animals circling her, Dallas didn’t find the thought of Genny possessing some sort of unearthly power quite as amusing.

Get a grip, Sloan
, he told himself.
Genny isn’t a witch, because there is no such thing as witches. She hasn’t cast a spell over you or those animals. You find her sexually appealing. And as for the animals—she’s probably been feeding them for years
. Yeah, that was it. Those explanations made sense to him. They were logical.

Suddenly the birds flew away and the animals scattered. Genny turned her head and looked toward the front of the house. That’s when Dallas heard the drone of motors in the distance.

Genny came running into the house, stripping off her coat and hat as she flew into the kitchen. “The snowplows are coming up the mountain,” she said breathlessly. “We’ll be able to get into town soon.”

“We?” Dallas asked.

“Your car is still in the ditch, so we’ll take mine. We can send a wrecker back for yours. We both want to see Jacob as soon as possible, don’t we?”

“Why do you want to see—”

“To tell him about the second victim,” she replied. “But it’s possible he already knows. I feel fairly certain she was killed in a church, probably one of the fancier churches in town. None of the country churches have stained-glass windows.”

“What are you talking about? You’re actually going to bother the sheriff with that crazy dream you had? You don’t honestly think it was real, that what you dreamed really happened.”

Genny stared at him quizzically, as if he’d spoken to her in an alien language. “You don’t understand, do you? No, of course not.” She tossed her coat and hat on the table, then kicked off her boots. “I’ll freshen up and get dressed. We should be able to head down to Cherokee Pointe very soon.”

As she raced past him, Dallas reached out and grabbed her arm. She halted, glanced over her shoulder and looked directly at him, as if to ask
What?

“You’re right, I don’t understand,” he said. “How about explaining it to me?”

She tugged against his grip. He released her immediately. “Everybody in these parts knows about me. My grandmother and both of her grandmothers before her were…different. And so am I. I’m able to sense things, see things, feel things that other people don’t.”

Dallas glared at her. Hell, what was she trying to tell him? Whatever it was, he already didn’t believe her.

“Before you start trying to convince me that you’re some sort of soothsayer or psychic or whatever the hell all the phonies call themselves, don’t bother,” Dallas said sternly. “If I can’t experience it through my five senses, then I don’t believe it.”

“Ah.” Her mouth formed a soft oval. Moisture glistened in her black eyes.

“Ah, what? You act like I’m the crazy one for not believing you.”

“No one knows except Jacob and my friend Jazzy—and probably Sally and Ludie—about my recent vision. If you stay in these parts for a while, you’ll meet Sally and Ludie.” Genny shook her head. “That’s neither here nor there, of course. The truth is that whether you believe me or not, it doesn’t matter. Jacob believes me. He knows.”

Genny rushed out of the kitchen, leaving Dallas with his mouth hanging open.
Well, she told you, didn’t she?

After a few minutes, he followed her, not willing to leave things as they were between them. When he caught up with her in her bedroom, he walked in on her just as she jerked her pajama top over her head and threw it on the bed atop her robe. Holy shit! Hurriedly, she removed the bottoms, which left her completely naked. He stood frozen to the spot, looking at her, devouring her perfect body with his gaze, unable to move or speak.

When she tossed her pajama bottoms on the bed, she must have sensed his presence. She turned, then gasped. Her eyes rounded in surprise.

“Sorry,” he said, lying through his teeth. To his dying day, he’d never regret this moment. Genny Madoc might be a certifiable nutcase, but he didn’t care. Her beauty took his breath away.

She didn’t scream or try to cover her nakedness. She simply stood there, allowing him to drink his fill. After a couple of minutes, he realized how totally inappropriate his actions were.

“Genny…I-I’ll wait for you in the living room.” He turned and practically ran down the hall.

When he reached the living room, he pounded his fist against the wall. “Idiot!” The sight of Genny in all her naked glory flashed through his mind repeatedly. She was small and slender, delicately made. Her skin, the color of light honey, was flawless. Tiny waist. High, round breasts, peaked with dusty peach nipples. Full, tapering hips. A tight, lush butt. And a triangle of jet black hair nestled between her trim thighs.

Dallas swallowed, then cursed under his breath. He had the hard-on from hell.

Jim Upton caught his grandson trying to sneak up the back stairs. The boy had been out all night doing only God knew what. Jim hadn’t slept much, worrying about Jamie, wondering just what the hell kind of mischief he’d been up to. Some of his usual nonsense, no doubt. Screwing some two-bit floozie. Drinking himself into oblivion. Gambling away money he’d never earned. Getting into a fight and landing himself in jail or winding up in County General’s ER. Seeing Jamie all in one piece, with no black eyes or broken bones, allowed Jim some momentary relief. More than once these past few years he’d been on the verge of writing the boy off as a lost cause. But Reba would champion their only grandchild to her dying day, no matter what he did.

Jim walked across the big, modernized kitchen and stopped at the foot of the stairs. “Glad to see you finally made it home.”

Jamie stopped dead in his tracks. He squared his shoulders and turned to face his grandfather, a silly, aw-shucks grin on his handsome young face.

“Morning, Big Daddy.” Jamie made his way back down the stairs. “Looks like it’s going to be a right pretty day, despite the foot of snow we got last night.”

“Got caught in town, did you?” Jim asked.

Jamie shrugged. His cocky grin widened. “Yeah, something like that.”

“You could have called. Your grandmother was worried sick about you. And Laura was none too happy that you’d deserted her.”

“I’ll smooth things over with my ladies. Don’t worry. They’ll forgive me.”

“Reba will forgive you for anything, but I won’t. You’d better keep that in mind. Sooner or later, you’ll cross the line as far as I’m concerned.”

Jamie reached over and grabbed Jim’s shoulder. “We’re both men of the world. You know how it is. A man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do.”

Jim glowered at his grandson. “Exactly what is it that you do, boy, other than spend my money and raise hell?”

Jamie laughed, an infectious, lighthearted chuckle that personified his shallow, flippant personality. “Don’t tell me you don’t understand what it’s like to need a little variety. Laura is a sweetie. Really she is. But every once in a while I need something a bit spicier. You adore Big Mama, but that doesn’t mean you don’t dip your quill in other inkwells and we both know it.”