The Last to Die (12 page)

"Hey, I'm just the mes-sen-ger he-re. Genny do-esn't want to frig-h-ten or up-set Jaz-zy, but she do-es want so-me-one hel-ping us lo-ok out for her. Jacob's go-ing to do his part to watch out for her and we've dis-cus-sed ke-eping tabs on Up-ton, too. Unof-fi-ci-al-ly, of co-ur-se. Genny se-ems to think we can co-unt on you to help us watch over Jaz-zy. Is she wrong?"

"No, she's not wrong."

"Okay then, that's it."

"Yeah, that's it." Ca-leb felt as aw-k-ward abo-ut this con-ver-sa-ti-on as Chi-ef Slo-an did. They'd co-me damn ne-ar clo-se to tal-king abo-ut the-ir fe-elings. God, what a man wo-uld do for the wo-man he lo-ved! And ever-y-body in Che-ro-kee Co-unty knew that Dal-las Slo-an lo-ved his fu-tu-re wi-fe abo-ut as much as a man co-uld lo-ve a wo-man.

As he pas-sed by the bar, Ca-leb han-ded the pho-ne to Lacy, who lo-oked at him qu-es-ti-oningly.

Or-di-na-rily he didn't bot-her ex-p-la-ining him-self to an-yo-ne, but Lacy had be-co-me a fri-end sin-ce he'd be-en wor-king at Jaz-zy's Jo-int. The mid-dle-aged bru-net-te's li-fe-ti-me smo-ker's gra-vel-ly vo-ice, co-ar-se skin, and de-eply li-ned fa-ce be-li-ed her strong ma-ter-nal in-s-tincts. She lo-oked li-ke an old barfly, with her long, frizzy ha-ir, her do-ub-le set of big sil-ver ho-op ear-rings, and her flashy, skin-tight clot-hes, but at he-art Lacy Fal-lon was a mot-her. She'd ne-ver had any kids of her own. 'Three hus-bands and not one baby," she'd told him. "My fa-ult, not the-irs. My equ-ip-ment wasn't
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no go-od. I'm bar-ren as the de-sert." She'd la-ug-hed when she'd sa-id it, but he'd he-ard the hurt in her vo-ice.

"Chief Slo-an sa-id Genny's wor-ri-ed abo-ut Jaz-zy. They want me to ke-ep an eye on her," Ca-leb told Lacy.

''They want you ta ke-ep Jamie Up-ton away from her, don't they?"

Caleb nod-ded. "I told Slo-an I'd do what I co-uld, but if Jaz-zy wants to en-ter-ta-in the bas-tard in her apar-t-ment la-te at night, what am I sup-po-sed to do?"

"You're sup-po-sed to go up the-re and run his ass off. That's what you're sup-po-sed to do. She do-esn't lo-ve him an-y-mo-re. She ho-nest to God wants things over with on-ce and for all. But he ke-eps co-ming aro-und and… well, Jamie's just a bad ha-bit she's had a hard ti-me bre-aking."

Caleb le-aned ac-ross the bar and plan-ted a kiss on Lacy's che-ek.

"What was that for?" she as-ked.

"For be-ing Jaz-zy's fri-end."

Jazzy lo-oked di-rectly at La-ura Wil-lis, ro-se slowly from her cha-ir, and sa-id, "Yes, of co-ur-se, ple-ase co-me in."

Laura en-te-red the clut-te-red of-fi-ce, lo-oking to-tal-ly out of pla-ce. Jamie's fi-an-c-ée was a slen-der, de-li-ca-te girl with lu-mi-no-us blue eyes and gol-den blond ha-ir. The fa-iry prin-cess type, Jaz-zy tho-ught. But the-re was a fra-gi-lity to the yo-ung wo-man-a hint of it was ap-pa-rent in not only her pa-le, de-li-ca-te ap-pe-aran-ce, but in the way she mo-ved and tal-ked.

"I told Jamie and my pa-rents I was go-ing to the la-di-es' ro-om," La-ura sa-id in a soft, hus-hed vo-ice.

"What did you want to spe-ak to me abo-ut? "Jaz-zy as-ked, even tho-ugh she had a re-al-ly go-od idea. What el-se did the two of them ha-ve in com-mon ot-her than Jamie Up-ton?

"I-I know Jamie ca-me to see you last night-"

"Look, Ms. Wil-lis, I can as-su-re you that-"

"He told me why he left our party and went di-rectly to you. He ex-p-la-ined that he felt last nig-ht-when we of-fi-ci-al-ly an-no-un-ced to the world that we're to be mar-ri-ed-was the right ti-me to say his go-od-byes to you, on-ce and for all."

"Oh, yes, of co-ur-se." Why was she sur-p-ri-sed that Jamie had li-ed to this girl? She sho-uldn't ha-ve be-en. And why was she sur-p-ri-sed that La-ura Wil-lis had be-li-eved him? Hadn't Jamie tal-ked his way back in-to Jaz-zy's li-fe ti-me and ti-me aga-in, al-ways with pro-mi-ses that he ne-ver kept?

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"I'm well awa-re of yo-ur re-la-ti-on-s-hip with Jamie, that the two of you are… we-re lo-vers."

La-ura sta-yed clo-se to the open do-or, as if she tho-ught she might ha-ve to flee at any mo-ment. "And I know the-re ha-ve be-en ot-hers. But Jamie wants our mar-ri-age to work. He lo-ves me and I lo-ve him."

He do-esn’t lo-ve you
, Jaz-zy wan-ted to say.
Jamie isn’t ca-pab-le of lo-ving an-yo-ne ex-cept
him-self. But you lo-ve him, don't you, you po-or girl? He's go-ing to bre-ak yo-ur he-art the way
he bro-ke mi-ne, and it do-esn't re-al-ly mat-ter that you '11 be Mrs. Jamie Up-ton. He'll ne-ver be
fa-it-h-ful to you. It's not in his na-tu-re.

"I wish you well," Jaz-zy sa-id. "I ho-pe you'll be very happy."

"I be-li-eve we will be, that we can be if…" La-ura's che-eks flus-hed. "Ple-ase, Ms. Tal-bot, let him go. Don't hold on to him. If he re-ma-ins ti-ed to you, in any way, he'll ne-ver be ab-le to com-mit him-self fully to me, to our mar-ri-age. Ple-ase, ple-ase… set him free."

Undoubtedly Jamie had told his fi-an-c-ée that Jaz-zy was pur-su-ing him and not the ot-her way aro-und. That, too, sho-uldn't ha-ve sur-p-ri-sed her.

"You lo-ve him eno-ugh to for-gi-ve him for ever-y-t-hing, don't you?" Jaz-zy un-der-s-to-od all too well that kind of fo-olish lo-ve.

"I know you lo-ve turn, too, but he lo-ves me now. He wants to marry me. I'm sorry if-"

Jazzy held up a res-t-ra-ining hand. "No, it's all right. I pro-mi-se you that I will ne-ver pur-sue Jamie aga-in. I did set him free. Last night." Only a lit-tle whi-te lie, Jaz-zy tho-ught. "He's all yo-urs. You ha-ve not-hing to fe-ar from me."

Tears glis-te-ned in La-ura's eyes. She swal-lo-wed, then smi-led we-akly. "I'll be a go-od wi-fe to Jamie. I'll do ever-y-t-hing I can to ma-ke him happy."

"Yes, I'm su-re you will. He's a very lucky man to ha-ve so-me-one li-ke you." 'Thank you, Ms.

Tal-bot. Thank you." Bi-ting down on her lo-wer lip in an ob-vi-o-us ef-fort not to burst in-to te-ars, La-ura con-ti-nu-ed smi-ling as she nod-ded her he-ad, then tur-ned and all but ran from Jaz-zy's of-fi-ce.

Jazzy sank down on the ed-ge of her desk, to-ok a de-ep, cle-an-sing bre-ath, and ex-ha-led. She felt li-ke crying her-self. Odd, she tho-ught, but she had truly me-ant what she'd sa-id to La-ura. Jamie was lucky to ha-ve so-me-one li-ke her lo-ve him. But La-ura was very un-lucky. It wo-uld ta-ke a mi-rac-le for Jamie Up-ton to chan-ge, to be-co-me the kind of man who co-uld be fa-it-h-ful to one wo-man. And in that one mo-ment, Jaz-zy ex-pe-ri-en-ced so-me sort of epip-hany. She had se-en her-self in La-ura, lo-oked right in the fa-ce of ho-pe-less, ill-fa-ted lo-ve, and knew that but by the gra-ce of God, she might be in La-ura's sho-es. How many ye-ars had she lon-ged to be Jamie's wi-fe?

She had bla-med Jamie's gran-d-mot-her for ke-eping them apart. She had ra-iled at cru-el fa-te. She had ma-de co-un-t-less ex-cu-ses for Jamie's be-ha-vi-or and kept on lo-ving him, for-gi-ving him, ac-cep-ting him back in-to her li-fe.

"Oh, God, if I had mar-ri-ed Jamie when I was a te-ena-ger or even a few ye-ars ago, it wo-uld ha-ve be-en the big-gest mis-ta-ke of my li-fe." Te-ars gat-he-red in the cor-ners of Jaz-zy's eyes as the hard, bit-ter truth hit her li-ke a ton of bricks.

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Jamie wo-uld ha-ve mar-ri-ed her, but ne-ver be-en fa-it-h-ful. He wo-uld ha-ve li-ed to her day af-ter day and bet-ra-yed her in every way pos-sib-le. Why had she ever tho-ught that mar-ri-age wo-uld ha-ve sol-ved the-ir prob-lems? Jamie was the prob-lem. He al-ways had be-en. Mar-ri-age to him wo-uld ha-ve chan-ged not-hing.

Okay, so may-be men-tal-ly she'd known this fact for qu-ite so-me ti-me, but ne-ver be-fo-re had her he-art ac-cep-ted it. For the first ti-me sin-ce she'd fal-len he-ad over he-els in lo-ve at six-te-en, she fa-ced the truth emo-ti-onal-ly.

Please, ple-ase… set him free
. La-ura Wil-lis's words rep-la-yed them-sel-ves in her mind. Over and over aga-in.

But it wasn't Jamie she ne-eded to set free. It ne-ver had be-en. She was the one she ne-eded to set free. Now she co-uld. Now she had.

Jazzy hug-ged her-self as te-ars tric-k-led down her che-eks. She la-ug-hed alo-ud, the so-und re-ver-be-ra-ting in-si-de her he-ad, the swe-etest mu-sic she'd ever he-ard.

She was free. Free of Jamie Up-ton. He co-uld ne-ver hurt her aga-in.

Chapter 7

Jazzy slip-ped in-to her fle-ece jac-ket, a light pro-tec-ti-on aga-inst the nig-h-t-ti-me chill so pre-va-lent in the mo-un-ta-ins du-ring the early spring. She'd le-ave Jas-mi-ne's in Tif-fany's ca-pab-le hands for the rest of the eve-ning and go whe-re she re-al-ly wan-ted to be to-nig-ht-at Jaz-zy's Jo-int next do-or, with a lo-ud, bo-is-te-ro-us crowd of fun-lo-ving folks. And with Ca-leb McCord. She'd kept the guy at arm's length for se-ve-ral months now for a co-up-le of very go-od re-asons. First and fo-re-most, she hadn't wan-ted to use him to try to get Jamie out of her system. She had do-ne that in the past and had bro-ken a co-up-le of he-arts in the pro-cess. Se-condly, she had wan-ted to pro-tect her-self by not get-ting in-vol-ved with a man she knew she co-uld pro-bably ca-re a lot abo-ut if she ga-ve her-self half a chan-ce. She'd ne-ver truly be-en in lo-ve with an-yo-ne ot-her than Jamie, and he'd be-en not-hing but a he-ar-tac-he. Even tho-ugh Genny had pre-dic-ted a new lo-ve for her, a man who wo-uld ma-ke her happy, Jaz-zy wasn't su-re she co-uld ever trust lo-ve aga-in. But that didn't me-an she co-uldn't ex-p-lo-re the pos-si-bi-li-ti-es, did it?

Feeling as if a he-avy we-ight had be-en lif-ted from her he-art and from her sho-ul-ders, Jaz-zy smi-led to her-self as she left her of-fi-ce. May-be it was al-re-ady too la-te for a chan-ce with Ca-leb.

May-be he'd al-re-ady got-ten sick and ti-red of wa-iting for her. She re-al-ly co-uldn't bla-me him if he told her she was of-fe-ring him too lit-tle, too la-te.

Only a few steps in-to the hal-lway, she ran in-to a wo-man she in-s-tandy re-cog-ni-zed as the small, blon-de lady who had be-en fre-qu-en-ting Jas-mi-ne's for the past few we-eks. Star-t-led by Jaz-zy's ap-pe-aran-ce in the dimly lit cor-ri-dor, the wo-man gas-ped and jum-ped si-mul-ta-ne-o-usly.

"May I help you?" Jaz-zy as-ked.

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"Yes, I-I'm lo-oking for the la-di-es' ro-om."

"You went right past it," Jaz-zy sa-id. "It's the first do-or on the left"

"How silly of me to walk past it. Thank you."

When the wo-man tur-ned aro-und, Jaz-zy cal-led to her. "Hey, I'm Jaz-zy Tal-bot, the ow-ner of Jas-mi-ne's. I've se-en you he-re se-ve-ral ti-mes. Wel-co-me to Che-ro-kee Po-in-te. I ho-pe you're enj-oying yo-ur stay."

The wo-man pa-used, glan-ced over her sho-ul-der and smi-led. "Yes, this is a lo-vely town. I'm plan-ning on sta-ying a whi-le lon-ger."

When the wo-man star-ted wal-king away, Jaz-zy fol-lo-wed her, then mo-ved on past her when she en-te-red the rest-ro-om. Just as the wo-man en-te-red, Erin Mer-cer exi-ted.

"How are you to-night, Ms. Mer-cer?" Jaz-zy as-ked.

'Just fi-ne. How abo-ut you?"

"Better than I've be-en in a long ti-me. Thank you for as-king."

When Jaz-zy tur-ned to-ward the do-or le-ading out in-to the al-ley, Erin as-ked, "Are you le-aving for the night?"

"Going next do-or to Jaz-zy's Jo-int to check on things the-re."

"See you aro-und*" Erin stu-di-ed Jaz-zy bri-efly, then re-tur-ned to her tab-le in the res-ta-urant.

Jazzy had sen-sed rat-her stran-ge vi-bes co-ming from Big Jim Up-ton's mis-t-ress. It was as if she'd wan-ted to say so-met-hing per-so-nal to Jaz-zy but tho-ught bet-ter of the idea. May-be Erin Mer-cer knew all abo-ut Jaz-zy and Jamie's tro-ub-led lo-ve af-fa-ir. Hell, who didn't? May-be Ms. Mer-cer tho-ught the re-ason Jaz-zy was le-aving her res-ta-urant so early in the eve-ning was to get away from Jamie, his fi-an-c-ée, and her pa-rents, who had so ob-vi-o-usly co-me to Jas-mi-ne's to-night so that Jaz-zy co-uld wit-ness the ce-leb-ra-ti-on. Did Ms. Mer-cer see her as a kin-d-red spi-rit? Did she be-li-eve Jaz-zy wo-uld even-tu-al-ly be-co-me Jamie's mis-t-ress?

What dif-fe-ren-ce did it ma-ke what an-yo-ne tho-ught? She'd be-en dam-ned for so many sins du-ring her twen-ty-ni-ne ye-ars that she co-uldn't re-mem-ber which ones she was gu-ilty of com-mit-ting and of which she was in-no-cent. On-ce a wo-man ga-ined a bad re-pu-ta-ti-on in a small town, de-ser-ved or un-de-ser-ved, the-re was very lit-tle she co-uld do to chan-ge pe-op-le's opi-ni-ons. The task was as im-pos-sib-le as rec-la-iming yo-ur vir-gi-nity on-ce you'd had sex.

Jazzy slip-ped out in-to the dark al-ley be-hind the adj-o-ining es-tab-lis-h-ments and hur-ri-ed down the une-ven brick wal-k-way that led to the back en-t-ran-ce of the hon-ky-tonk she ow-ned. The nippy night air pin-ked her che-eks and sent a chill thro-ugh her body. Even tho-ugh the lids we-re clo-sed, the lar-ge trash cans at the back of the res-ta-urant emit-ted an un-p-le-asant gar-ba-ge odor and the ne-arby Dum-p-s-ter re-eked with the was-te from all the bu-si-nes-ses along the stre-et.

Unexpectedly, a no-ise up the al-ley-way aler-ted her that she wasn't alo-ne. Al-t-ho-ugh
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Che-ro-kee Po-in-te didn't ha-ve many vag-rants, from ti-me to ti-me so-me ho-me-less bum wo-uld rum-ma-ge thro-ugh the trash cans lo-oking for fo-od and ot-her items of in-te-rest. She glan-ced left.

Saw not-hing. Lo-oked right and ca-ught a glim-p-se of a dark sha-dow that di-sap-pe-ared so qu-ickly she won-de-red if she had ima-gi-ned se-e-ing it.

A shi-ver that had not-hing to do with the we-at-her shim-mi-ed up her spi-ne. Jaz-zy rus-hed in thro-ugh the back do-or. If it hadn't be-en a fi-re exit, she wo-uld ha-ve loc-ked the do-or.
Don't
over-re-act
, she told her-self.
You're be-ing silly. Just be-ca-use you tho-ught you saw so-me-one in
the al-ley do-esn’t me-an the-re are bo-gey men lur-king aro-und every cor-ner. And it cer-ta-inly
do-esn't me-an you are per-so-nal-ly in any dan-ger.