The Last to Die (10 page)

"Closest car ren-tal is out at the air-port," De-puty Bobby Joe Har-te told her.

Thank you, De-puty Har-te." She re-war-ded him with a warm smi-le. "If you'd ple-ase call a ta-xi for me-"

"We don't ha-ve a ta-xi ser-vi-ce in Che-ro-kee Po-in-te," De-puty Wil-lin-g-ham in-for-med her.

"Not sin-ce old John Ber-ryman di-ed. Wasn't ne-ver eno-ugh bu-si-ness for him, so no-body wan-ted to ta-ke on the job."

"It's ne-arly lun-c-h-ti-me," the she-riff sa-id. "Why don't you jo-in me for a bi-te over at Jas-mi-ne's and af-ter-ward I'll dri-ve you out to the air-port?"

She'd rat-her eat glass than di-ne with She-riff But-ler, but she did ne-ed a ri-de to the air-port. If the-re was a flight out to Chat-ta-no-oga la-ter to-day, she'd for-get abo-ut ren-ting a car. The so-oner she es-ca-ped from this ill-ad-vi-sed lit-tle trip in-to the twi-light zo-ne, the bet-ter she'd li-ke it.

"Isn't the-re any ot-her pla-ce in town to eat?" she as-ked, not wan-ting to run in-to Jaz-zy Tal-bot aga-in, pos-sib-le bi-olo-gi-cal sis-ter or not.

"You ha-ve so-me re-ason for not wan-ting to eat at Jas-mi-ne's?"

Ah, hell, Re-ve, gi-ve up be-fo-re you we-ar yo-ur-self out-fig-h-ting a lo-sing bat-tle. It's
des-ti-ned for you to fa-ce yo-ur lo-ok-ali-ke aga-in, so just bi-te the bul-let and go pe-ace-ful-ly
with the she-riff La-ter, on-ce you're back in Chat-ta-no-oga, you can se-ek re-ven-ge
. With one pho-ne call to Se-na-tor Eve-rett or Go-ver-nor Ne-els, she co-uld ma-ke She-riff Jacob But-ler rue the day he'd ever scre-wed with Re-ve Sor-rell.

Damn! Bad cho-ice of words. Put-ting Jacob But-ler's na-me in the sa-me sen-ten-ce with hers and
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the word screw bro-ught so-me rat-her grap-hic and to-tal-ly un-wan-ted ima-ges to her mind.
To-tal-ly
un-wan-ted
, she told her-self aga-in. This guy wo-uld be the last man on earth she'd ever- "Ms.

Sor-rell?"

She snap-ped aro-und and smi-led, ever so swe-etly. "I'd be de-lig-h-ted to jo-in you for lunch at Jas-mi-ne's."

Butler eyed her sus-pi-ci-o-usly. So the guy was no fo-ol. He knew she co-uldn't stand the sight of him, that from the mo-ment he pec-ked on her car win-dow af-ter the wreck, she had ta-ken an in-s-tant dis-li-ke to him.

"Okay, so de-lig-h-ted might be an over-s-ta-te-ment," Re-ve ad-mit-ted. "Let's just say I ne-ed a ri-de to the air-port, and if eating lunch with you is the pri-ce I ha-ve to pay-"

"Humph. I just fi-gu-red you and Jaz-zy ought to ho-ok up be-fo-re you rush out of town. It do-esn't ta-ke a ge-ni-us to fi-gu-re out you two ha-ve to be re-la-ted. My gu-ess is you must be at le-ast a lit-tle cu-ri-o-us abo-ut a wo-man who lo-oks eno-ugh li-ke you to be yo-ur twin. And if I know Jaz-zy-"

"And you do know Jaz-zy, don't you, she-riff? Hell, every man in town knows Jaz-zy."

The two de-pu-ti-es cle-ared the-ir thro-ats si-mul-ta-ne-o-usly. Re-ve smi-led moc-kingly.

"You im-p-li-ed that be-fo-re, back at the ac-ci-dent si-te," But-ler sa-id. "Want to ex-p-la-in how you've jum-ped to that con-c-lu-si-on abo-ut a wo-man you don't know?"

Reve sig-hed lo-udly. "I met Jaz-zy, very bri-efly ear-li-er to-day. But we didn't ha-ve ti-me to del-ve in-to the pos-si-bi-li-ti-es of be-ing re-la-ted. She was too busy ar-gu-ing with a man na-med Ca-leb McCord abo-ut her ha-ving spent the night with Jamie Up-ton."

Reve co-uld swe-ar that She-riff But-ler grow-led, the so-und so-mew-hat li-ke an en-ra-ged ani-mal. Go-od Lord, was this man je-alo-us over Jaz-zy Tal-bot, too?

"Was it so-met-hing I sa-id?" Re-ve as-ked sar-cas-ti-cal-ly. "Did fin-ding out that Jaz-zy's be-en two-ti-ming you with mo-re than one man up-set you?"

"Come on, Ms. Sor-rell." But-ler pic-ked up his Stet-son, put it on, and then grab-bed her arm. "I'll ta-ke you stra-ight to the air-port to pick yo-ur-self up a ren-tal car or buy yo-ur-self a tic-ket out of town. I've de-ci-ded that I wo-uldn't wish you on my worst enemy, let alo-ne a go-od fri-end li-ke Jaz-zy."

How da-re he spe-ak to her in such a man-ner! You'd think she wasn't go-od eno-ugh to kiss Jaz-zy Tal-bot's sho-es, when in fact it was the ot-her way aro-und. Ms. Tal-bot was a whi-te trash slut, re-ared by a to-bac-co-che-wing bag lady.

"Nothing wo-uld su-it me bet-ter." Re-ve jer-ked away from But-ler, but kept pa-ce with his long-leg-ged stri-de as he es-cor-ted her out of the she-rif-fs de-par-t-ment and in-to the co-ur-t-ho-use cor-ri-dor.

Just as But-ler sho-ved open the do-or to the re-ar en-t-ran-ce, a who-osh of co-ol, damp air slap-ped them in the fa-ce. A misty driz-zle pel-ted them the mi-nu-te they wal-ked out-si-de. A lo-ud clap of thun-der rat-tled the win-dow-pa-nes in the old bu-il-ding.
Gre-at, just gre-at
, Re-ve tho-ught.

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Just what I ne-ed-ha-ving to dri-ve back to Chat-ta-no-oga in a ren-tal car du-ring a sprin-g-ti-me
thun-der-s-torm.

They ma-de a mad dash to But-ler's truck, and much to her sur-p-ri-se the she-riff ac-tu-al-ly ope-ned the pas-sen-ger do-or for her and ga-ve her a hand get-ting up and in-to the cab. She glan-ced over her sho-ul-der to say thanks, but he was al-re-ady ro-un-ding the ho-od. He jum-ped in on the dri-ver's si-de, clo-sed the do-or, and to-ok off his Stet-son. He sho-ok the ra-in from his hat and re-tur-ned it to his he-ad, then stuck the key in the ig-ni-ti-on and star-ted the truck. Whi-le the en-gi-ne id-led, he tur-ned to Re-ve.

"What?" she as-ked when he sta-red at her.

"Just to set the re-cord stra-ight, Jas-mi-ne Tal-bot is a go-od wo-man. She and I are fri-ends.

Not-hing mo-re. And Ca-leb McCord works for her at Jaz-zy's Jo-int. He's the bo-un-cer. And he's be-co-me qu-ite pro-tec-ti-ve of her, just as I am, be-ca-use Jamie Up-ton preys on wo-men. He's hurt Jaz-zy in the past, and he'll hurt her aga-in if she gi-ves him the chan-ce."

This elo-qu-ent de-fen-se of Jaz-zy Tal-bot wasn't what Re-ve had ex-pec-ted, and cer-ta-inly not from a man she tho-ught was a bac-k-wo-ods lo-ut. If what But-ler sa-id was true, had she pos-sibly mi-sj-ud-ged the wo-man?

"I know Jamie Up-ton, and whi-le I fo-und him to be a char-ming sco-un-d-rel, I cer-ta-inly didn't think he was-"

"You know Jamie?" 'Yes, we met at a Chris-t-mas party this past De-cem-ber."

"Another vic-tim." But-ler sho-ok his he-ad.

"See he-re, She-riff, I am most cer-ta-inly not a vic-tim. Jamie Up-ton is an ac-qu-a-in-tan-ce.

Not-hing mo-re."

"Don't tell me he didn't se-du-ce you-or at le-ast try to."

"Yes, of co-ur-se he tri-ed. But I'm not so-me gul-lib-le, lo-ve-star-ved fe-ma-le who-"

"Neither is Jaz-zy. But he got his ho-oks in-to her when she was only six-te-en."

"He did men-ti-on that they'd be-en te-ena-ge swe-et-he-arts."

"He told you abo-ut Jaz-zy?" But-ler's vo-ice de-epe-ned with ten-si-on.

"Yes." Re-ve huf-fed. "And yes, that's why I ca-me to Che-ro-kee Po-in-te."

"Because of Jamie Up-ton. Humph. Just as I gu-es-sed."

"Well, you gu-es-sed wrong. I didn't co-me he-re be-ca-use of Jamie. I ca-me he-re to met Jaz-zy, to see if she and I might be re-la-ted."

"Any re-ason ot-her than the strong re-sem-b-lan-ce ma-kes you think she co-uld be a co-usin or-"

"I be-li-eve it's pos-sib-le she's my sis-ter," Re-ve ad-mit-ted.

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"You sho-uld talk to Sally, Jaz-zy's aunt. She'd know if-"

"I tal-ked to her ear-li-er to-day. A chan-ce me-eting in the stre-et," Re-ve ex-p-la-ined. "She swe-ars that Jaz-zy's mot-her ga-ve birth to only one child." ‘’Why ha-ven't you as-ked yo-ur own ma-ma? May-be-"

"I was adop-ted."

Butler's eyes wi-de-ned.

"You see, I was aban-do-ned when I was only a few days or per-haps few we-eks old."

"Where?"

"Not he-re in Che-ro-kee Po-in-te, if that's what you're thin-king. I was fo-und in Se-vi-er-vil-le." No ne-ed to tell him exactly whe-re. Sha-ring the in-for-ma-ti-on that she'd be-en pla-ced in a Dum-p-s-ter, dis-po-sed of li-ke un-wan-ted rub-bish, wasn't so-met-hing she'd wil-lingly tell an-yo-ne, le-ast of all She-riff Jacob But-ler.

"So why le-ave town wit-ho-ut tal-king to Jaz-zy aga-in?"

"Because af-ter me-eting her bri-efly, I re-ali-zed I'd ma-de a mis-ta-ke co-ming he-re. We're ob-vi-o-usly not sis-ters. And if we're co-usins or so-met-hing, it re-al-ly do-esn't mat-ter. I me-an, she and I ha-ve not-hing in com-mon, so the-re's no re-ason we'd want to be-co-me bet-ter ac-qu-a-in-ted."

"You're a fir-st-class, blue-blo-od snob. "Jacob gla-red at her with tho-se hypno-tic gre-en eyes.

'You think you're too go-od for the li-kes of Jaz-zy Tal-bot, don't you? Well, lady, the way I see it, it's de-fi-ni-tely the ot-her way aro-und- she's twi-ce the wo-man you are. The-re's not a sel-fish, cru-el, or un-kind bo-ne in her body. You're as dif-fe-rent as night and day. And you're right, the-re's no way on earth the two of you co-uld be sis-ters. So it's a go-od ti-ling for Jaz-zy's sa-ke that you don't ha-ve the guts to stick aro-und and find out for su-re."

Reve grab-bed the han-d-le and ope-ned the do-or. But-ler clut-c-hed her arm.

"Where the hell do you think you're go-ing?" he as-ked.

"I've chan-ged my mind." She'd had a knee-jerk re-ac-ti-on to But-ler's go-ading. This man didn't know her, co-uldn't ha-ve pos-sibly re-ali-zed that by da-ring her to stay and une-arth the truth abo-ut her re-la-ti-on-s-hip with Jaz-zy, he had hit her we-ak spot. She'd be-en sus-cep-tib-le to da-res ever sin-ce she'd be-en a kid. Tell her she co-uldn't do so-met-hing, and she'd do it or die trying. "I'm not le-aving Che-ro-kee Po-in-te. At le-ast not to-day. I'm go-ing to check in-to the ne-arest ho-tel and-"

"Motels and ca-bins," But-ler sa-id.

"What?"

"Close the damn do-or be-fo-re you get the in-te-ri-or of my truck so-aked. I'll dri-ve you over to Che-ro-kee Ca-bin Ren-tals and drop you off. We don't ha-ve a ho-tel an-y-w-he-re in Che-ro-kee Co-unty, just mo-tels and ca-bins for rent"

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Reve clo-sed the do-or. The right si-de of her body was drip-ping wet from the blo-wing ra-in. "Yes, a ca-bin will be fi-ne, thank you. So-met-hing clo-se to town so I can walk whe-re-ver I ne-ed to go.

And she-riff, on-ce you drop me off, let's ma-ke a po-int of ne-ver se-e-ing each ot-her aga-in."

"Suits me fi-ne," he sa-id. "Only prob-lem is that this is a small town, and we're bo-und to run in-to each ot-her if you stay he-re for a whi-le."

"Then let's try to avo-id each ot-her, and if by chan-ce we see each ot-her, let's pre-tend we didn't."

"For on-ce, Ms. Sor-rell, you and I are in to-tal ag-re-ement."

Sally sat on the front porch of her small ho-me up in the mo-un-ta-ins. Pe-ter and Pa-ul, her blo-od-ho-unds, slept pe-ace-ful-ly out in the yard, the af-ter-no-on sun-s-hi-ne war-ming the-ir big red bo-di-es. She spit a spray of brown ju-ice off the si-de of the porch. Lu-die had as-ked her a hun-d-red qu-es-ti-ons af-ter the-ir talk with Re-ve Sor-rell. So-me she co-uldn't an-s-wer be-ca-use she didn't know. She didn't know me-re had be-en anot-her baby. How co-uld she ha-ve known?

Hell, Sally old girl, you don't know for su-re that this Sor-rell wo-man is Jaz-zy's sis-ter. Co-uld
be just a co-in-ci-den-ce that they lo-ok so much ali-ke. Ye-ah, su-re, and God didn't ma-ke lit-tle
gre-en ap-ples
. She chuc-k-led ner-vo-usly. Of co-ur-se, af-ter all this ti-me what dif-fe-ren-ce did it ma-ke? Jaz-zy was a grown wo-man; she'd so-on be thirty ye-ars old. Co-uldn't no-body ta-ke that gal away from her. They we-re bo-und to-get-her by lo-ve, by ye-ars of be-ing the only fa-mily they each had. The-re wasn't not-hing she wo-uldn't do for her Jas-mi-ne, the child of her he-art, if not of her body.

She'd die to pro-tect Jaz-zy. She'd even kill to pro-tect her.

But if Jaz-zy ever le-ar-ned the truth, what wo-uld she think? How wo-uld she re-act?
Well, sin-ce
you don't know the truth-the who-le truth-then it's un-li-kely Jaz-zy or an-y-body eke ever will,
eit-her.
The truth didn't mat-ter. Wha-te-ver the who-le truth was, it sho-uld stay bu-ri-ed in the past, along with all the li-es Sally had told so no-body wo-uld try to ta-ke Jaz-zy away from her.

But what abo-ut Re-ve Sor-rell?
She ain't the type to let sle-eping dogs lie
, Sally tho-ught. No-pe, that gal se-emed li-ke the type who just might stir up tro-ub-le, in her own very cul-tu-red, hig-h-fa-lu-tin way.
What if she's de-ter-mi-ned to find out why she and Jaz-zy lo-ok so much ali-ke? What if she
starts as-king qu-es-ti-ons, dig-ging in-to the past? What if she puts do-ubts in-to Jaz-zy's he-ad?

What you gon-na do then, Sally, ole girl? What you gon-na do then?

Chapter 6

Jazzy saw them as they en-te-red the res-ta-urant. Jamie, his fi-an-c-ée, and an ol-der co-up-le she as-su-med we-re the bri-de-to-be's pa-rents-Mr. and Mrs. Wil-lis, the we-althy hor-se bre-eders from Ken-tucky. For a split se-cond, Jaz-zy fro-ze to the spot. She glan-ced aro-und, se-ar-c-hing for a wa-it-ress who co-uld ta-ke over her hos-tess du-ti-es im-me-di-ately, but no one was clo-se eno-ugh to sum-mon be-fo-re the party of fo-ur ap-pro-ac-hed her. She had wan-ted to ma-ke her es-ca-pe, but
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fo-und it was too la-te.

"Good eve-ning," the slen-der, dis-tin-gu-is-hed gen-de-man with sil-very gray ha-ir and ne-atly trim-med be-ard sa-id. "We'd li-ke yo-ur best tab-le for fo-ur, ple-ase. I te-lep-ho-ned ear-li-er and was told re-ser-va-ti-ons we-ren't ne-ces-sary."