The Last to Die (3 page)

nights he sta-yed at ho-me. His gran-d-mot-her, Miss Re-ba, as-su-red her that Jamie wasn't with ot-her wo-men on tho-se nights he sta-yed out un-til dawn, but she knew bet-ter. Her Jamie was a la-di-es'

man. And the-re was one lady-and she used the term lo-osely-Jamie fo-und ir-re-sis-tib-le. Jaz-zy Tal-bot.

Maybe she was a fo-ol to be-li-eve that on-ce she and Jamie we-re mar-ri-ed he'd be fa-it-h-ful to her. But he had so-lemnly vo-wed to her that on-ce they sa-id the-ir "I dos," he wo-uld be true to her.

Per-haps she had to be-li-eve he'd ke-ep his word be-ca-use she lo-ved him so much.

And he lo-ved her. She knew he did. He co-uld be ten-der and con-si-de-ra-te and lo-ving, as well as wildly pas-si-ona-te. She was lucky that he in-ten-ded to marry her. He'd be-en en-ga-ged twi-ce be-fo-re, but this ti-me wo-uld be dif-fe-rent. In three we-eks they wo-uld say the-ir vows and she wo-uld be-co-me Mrs. James Up-ton HI. And if Jaz-zy Tal-bot didn't sta-ya-way from her hus-band, she'd… what wo-uld she do? She'd kill her, that's what she'd do.
No, no, La-ura, you don't me-an that.

You co-uld ne-ver kill anot-her hu-man be-ing. Not even Jaz-zy.

The eas-tern sky brig-h-te-ned as dawn co-lo-red the ho-ri-zon with mu-ted pas-tels. La-ura co-uld see the front dri-ve from her win-dow as well as the ex-pan-si-ve front lawn. Qu-i-et, empty, not-hing mo-re than the spring bre-eze stir-ring at this ti-me of day.

You 're with her, aren't you, Jamie? You spent the night with her. To-uc-hing her, kis-sing her,
ma-king lo-ve to her the sa-me way you do me. No, no, no! It's not the sa-me. He lo-ves me. He
only wants to fuck her.

Tears gat-he-red in La-ura's eyes. She swal-lo-wed hard and wil-led the te-ars away. It wasn't too la-te to call off the wed-ding. But what go-od wo-uld that do? Jamie had al-re-ady bro-ken her he-art.

And she knew that wit-ho-ut him, she'd die. He was ever-y-t-hing to her. Her who-le world. The only way she'd ever be free of him was if she di-ed. Or if they both di-ed.

"Where do you sup-po-se that fi-ancé of yo-urs went?" She-ri-dan as-ked as she ap-pro-ac-hed the win-dow se-at Not re-ali-zing her sis-ter was even awa-ke, let alo-ne out of bed, La-ura gas-ped. "I'm sorry if I wo-ke you. I co-uldn't sle-ep."

"I wo-uldn't be ab-le to sle-ep eit-her if my fi-ancé had left our en-ga-ge-ment party be-fo-re it en-ded and sta-yed out all night." She-ri-dan sat down be-si-de La-ura and glan-ced out the win-dow.

"You do know what pe-op-le we-re sa-ying, don't you?"

"I do not want to he-ar gos-sip."

Laura wis-hed her sis-ter wo-uld le-ave her alo-ne, but she knew She-ri-dan wo-uld ne-ed-le her un-til she'd drawn blo-od. Fi-gu-ra-ti-vely drawn blo-od, of co-ur-se. She-ri-dan had a knack for it, es-pe-ci-al-ly whe-re La-ura was con-cer-ned. Her sis-ter se-emed to de-ri-ve so-me per-ver-se ple-asu-re from po-in-ting out all of La-ura's shor-t-co-mings.

"You know, I won-de-red how you'd ca-ught yo-ur-self such a pri-ze," She-ri-dan sa-id.

"So-me-one li-ke Jamie. So-me-one in our so-ci-al cir-c-le, very rich, han-d-so-me, char-ming. But I'm be-gin-ning to un-der-s-tand. Yo-ur fi-ancé has a ma-j-or cha-rac-ter flaw, do-esn't he?"

"I don't know what you're tal-king abo-ut."
Ple-ase, God, ma-ke her le-ave me alo-ne. I don't want
to des-pi-se my own sis-ter, but so-me-ti-mes…

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Sheridan la-ug-hed. La-ura ha-ted the so-und. She'd ha-ted that moc-king la-ug-h-ter sin-ce they'd be-en chil-d-ren and She-ri-dan had po-in-ted out to La-ura that "Mommy lo-ves me best." May-be Mot-her did lo-ve She-ri-dan best. God knew so-me-ti-mes it se-emed that way. But La-ura knew she was her fat-her's fa-vo-ri-te, so-met-hing She-ri-dan pu-nis-hed her for, even tho-ugh it wasn't her fa-ult.

"I sup-po-se it's only fa-ir that both you and yo-ur fi-ancé aren't qu-ite per-fect."

Laura for-ced her-self to con-f-ront her sis-ter. The-ir ga-zes met for-ce-ful-ly-and this ti-me La-ura didn't blink, didn't back down as she so of-ten did. "I've ne-ver cla-imed to be per-fect-"

"Good thing… con-si-de-ring."

"Considering what? That I'm crazy?" 'You sa-id it, I didn't."

"I'm not crazy. I'm not! I'm high-st-rung and ner-vo-us. I'm mo-re emo-ti-onal-ly sen-si-ti-ve than the ave-ra-ge per-son. That's all. Daddy sa-id that I'm all right. Even the doc-tors sa-id I'm okay." Why did She-ri-dan ha-ve to ke-ep re-min-ding her abo-ut her past men-tal and emo-ti-onal prob-lems?

"Does Jamie know?" She-ri-dan as-ked. "Is he awa-re that his lit-tle bri-de-to-be co-uld easily go com-p-le-tely ber-serk at any gi-ven mo-ment?"

"What a cru-el thing to say to me."

"Maybe so-me-one told him abo-ut you and he's run away be-fo-re-"

"He's go-ne to her!" La-ura cri-ed out. That's what you wan-ted to he-ar, isn't it? You wan-ted me to ad-mit that he left our en-ga-ge-ment party to go to her."

"Then you do know all abo-ut her, don't you?"

"Yes, I know all abo-ut Jas-mi-ne Tal-bot."

Sheridan smir-ked, the ex-p-res-si-on har-de-ning her cu-te che-er-le-ader bru-net-te be-a-uty. Her big brown eyes twin-k-led with de-light "If Jamie was my fi-ancé, he wo-uldn't ha-ve to go to an old gir-l-f-ri-end for what he ne-eded. I'd gi-ve it to him. I'd ke-ep him so sa-tis-fi-ed that he'd ne-ver even lo-ok at anot-her wo-man." She-ri-dan pa-used, smi-led wic-kedly, and lic-ked her lips. "Why he cho-se you in-s-te-ad of me, I'll ne-ver know. May-be he tho-ught you we-re a vir-gin." She-ri-dan chuc-k-led softly. "Of co-ur-se, he knows from fir-s-t-hand ex-pe-ri-en-ce that I'm not."

The me-aning of her sis-ter's ta-unt hit La-ura full for-ce. Be-fo-re she re-ali-zed what she was do-ing, she slap-ped She-ri-dan, who simply con-ti-nu-ed smi-ling as she rub-bed her red che-ek.

La-ura jum-ped up and ran to-ward the do-or, te-ars clo-uding her vi-si-on.

"Where are you go-ing?" She-ri-dan cal-led af-ter her.

Laura pa-used af-ter she ope-ned the bed-ro-om do-or. "Anywhe-re away from you."

"Why don't you dri-ve in-to town? You might find Jamie still in bed with his old lo-ver. Or ha-ve you al-re-ady be-en to town? Is that whe-re you di-sap-pe-ared to last night af-ter the party en-ded?"

Laura wal-ked out in-to the hall and he-aded to-ward the sta-irs. May-be she co-uld find
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san-c-tu-ary in Big Jim's study. Su-rely She-ri-dan had tor-men-ted her eno-ugh and wouldn't fol-low her. As she des-cen-ded the spi-ral sta-ir-ca-se, her sis-ter's last qu-es-ti-on pla-yed it-self over in her he-ad.
Or ha-ve you al-re-ady be-en to town? Is that whe-re you di-sap-pe-ared to last night af-ter
the party ended ?

What was She-ri-dan tal-king abo-ut? La-ura had no me-mory of go-ing an-y-w-he-re af-ter her en-ga-ge-ment party en-ded. Why wo-uld she ha-ve dri-ven in-to town alo-ne? She wo-uldn't ha-ve, wo-uld she?
Don't think abo-ut it. Just be-ca-use you ha-ve no me-mory of the ti-me bet-we-en
when you sa-id go-od night to yo-ur pa-rents and when you ca-me to yo-ur ro-om two ho-urs
la-ter do-esn’t me-an you went to Che-ro-kee Po-in-te to se-arch for Jamie.

But what if she had fol-lo-wed him to Jaz-zy's apar-t-ment? What if du-ring tho-se two mis-sing ho-urs she'd do-ne so-met-hing stu-pid? So-met-hing ter-rib-le? She'd be-en so hurt and angry when she re-ali-zed Jamie had de-ser-ted her on the-ir spe-ci-al night and em-bar-ras-sed that most of the pe-op-le at-ten-ding the en-ga-ge-ment party sus-pec-ted he'd left her to go to Jaz-zy.

Just be-ca-use ye-ars ago she lost se-ve-ral ho-urs and had no me-mory of whe-re she'd go-ne or what she'd do-ne didn't me-an it had hap-pe-ned aga-in. Just be-ca-use she had do-ne so-met-hing bad that ti-me didn't me-an she had this ti-me. She wasn't crazy!

But what if I am ?
a frig-h-te-ned lit-tle vo-ice in-si-de her as-ked.

Jazzy hadn't slept a wink af-ter Jamie fi-nal-ly left. He'd sta-yed two ho-urs-an ho-ur lon-ger than she'd told him he co-uld stay. And he'd tri-ed his le-vel best to con-vin-ce her to let him spend the night in her bed. And truth be told, she'd be-en tem-p-ted. May-be with Jamie, she al-ways wo-uld be.

But a per-son co-uld over-co-me tem-p-ta-ti-on. Al-t-ho-ugh be-ing tem-p-ted po-sed a prob-lem, it was gi-ving in to that tem-p-ta-ti-on that wre-aked ha-voc in her li-fe. She sup-po-sed she was ad-dic-ted to Jamie, the way anot-her per-son might be ad-dic-ted to to-bac-co or bo-oze or drugs.

You knew it was bad for you, knew it co-uld kill you, but you still cra-ved it.

Although each ti-me she tur-ned Jamie away, it be-ca-me just a lit-tle easi-er the next ti-me, she knew in her so-ul that only de-ath-his or hers-wo-uld ever free her com-p-le-tely. At this po-int in her li-fe, she ha-ted Jamie mo-re than she'd ever lo-ved him. And the per-ver-se, si-nis-ter part of her wis-hed him de-ad-but only in tho-se dar-kest, most frig-h-te-ning mo-ments when her in-s-tincts for sur-vi-val over-ca-me her com-mon de-cency.

There was no po-int mo-oning aro-und in her apar-t-ment, we-aring out the rug in her li-ving ro-om.

All the res-t-less pa-cing in the world wo-uldn't ta-ke her mind off her pre-di-ca-ment. She had to find a way-short of mur-der-to ke-ep Jamie out of her li-fe. Per-ma-nently. She co-uld ha-ve Jacob or Dal-las is-sue a res-t-ra-ining or-der, but that wo-uld pro-bably ha-ve an ad-ver-se ef-fect. Jamie wo-uld see it as a sign of we-ak-ness on her part and pur-sue her all the mo-re, even if it me-ant his be-ing ar-res-ted.

With Big Jim Up-ton's mo-ney, Jamie co-uld af-ford the best law-yers and un-li-mi-ted ba-il mo-ney.

What she ne-eded was to get out of the ho-use, go down to Jas-mi-ne's for bre-ak-fast, find as much work to do in the of-fi-ce this mor-ning as pos-sib-le. Jaz-zy sho-we-red hur-ri-edly, then slung on je-ans and a long-sle-eved gold shirt. She grab-bed a be-ige che-nil-le swe-ater and her pur-se as she
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he-aded out the do-or. The air was crisp and chilly, the sky cle-ar and bright. Al-re-ady at six o'clock the lit-tle town was sho-wing signs of ac-ti-vity. When she re-ac-hed the bot-tom of the out-si-de sta-irs that led from her up-s-ta-irs apar-t-ment to the si-de-walk that ran along the back of Jaz-zy's Jo-int, she he-ard a horn honk. When she glan-ced up, she saw Dr. Mac-Na-ir toss up his hand and wa-ve at her.

She wa-ved back as he tur-ned his SUV in-to a par-king pla-ce in front of Jas-mi-ne's, the res-ta-urant she ow-ned that was lo-ca-ted be-si-de her hon-ky-tonk on the cor-ner of Flo-ren-ce Ave-nue and Lo-den Stre-et Now why co-uldn't she fall for a ni-ce guy li-ke Gar-vin Mac-Na-ir? She'd bet her last dol-lar that he'd be-en as fa-it-h-ful as an old dog to his wi-fe be-fo-re she up and left him for her for-mer high scho-ol swe-et-he-art a co-up-le of months ago. Why was it that ni-ce guys se-emed to fi-nish last, when as-sho-les li-ke Jamie ca-me out on top ti-me and aga-in?

Poor Gal-vin. The who-le town knew his per-so-nal bu-si-ness, knew his wi-fe had left town, mo-ved in with her for-mer lo-ver, and fi-led for di-vor-ce. Every mot-herly old wo-man in Che-ro-kee Co-unty had ma-de it her mis-si-on in li-fe to con-so-le him and try to fix him up with the-ir da-ug-h-ter or ni-ece. So why didn't she ask Gal-vin out? A new man in her li-fe was just what she ne-eded. But not Gal-vin. He just wasn't her type. He was too damn ni-ce. Too swe-et.

"Morning, Jaz-zy," Gal-vin sa-id as he got out of his truck. "You're out and abo-ut mighty early."

"So are you," she rep-li-ed. "You don't usu-al-ly eat bre-ak-fast at Jas-mi-ne's. What's wrong, ti-red of hos-pi-tal fo-od?"

"I de-ci-ded to eat out to ce-leb-ra-te." When Jaz-zy eyed him spe-cu-la-ti-vely, he ex-p-la-ined.

"Ni-na went to Re-no for a qu-ic-kie di-vor-ce. It se-ems she co-uldn't wa-it."

"Gee, Gal-vin, I don't know what to say. Sho-uld I say con-g-ra-tu-la-ti-ons or I'm sorry?"

He shrug-ged. "Ne-it-her, I gu-ess."

She pla-ced her hand on his sho-ul-der. "Co-me on in-si-de. Bre-ak-fast is on me."

"That's aw-ful-ly ni-ce of you, but not ne-ces-sary." He fol-lo-wed her in-to Jas-mi-ne's.

When she saw Tif-fany, one of her wa-it-res-ses, she cal-led out to her, "Dr. Mac-Na-ir's bre-ak-fast is on the ho-use."

"Sure thing." Tif-fany smi-led warmly and sho-wed the doc-tor to a tab-le.

Maybe Tif-fany and Dr. Mac-Na-ir might ma-ke a go-od co-up-le.
For-get it
, she told her-self.

Don't try to play mat-c-h-ma-ker. You ne-ed to find yo-ur-self a man, so-me-body who'll ta-ke
yo-ur mind off Jamie.

No so-oner had the tho-ught be-en pro-ces-sed than the do-or ope-ned and She-riff But-ler en-te-red the res-ta-urant. Big, rug-ged Jacob. A six-fi-ve qu-ar-ter bre-ed who'd on-ce be-en a Navy SE-AL. Now the-re was a man for you. A re-al man, one hun-d-red per-cent, thro-ugh and thro-ugh.

She'd known Jacob all her li-fe and lo-ved him-li-ke a brot-her. They'd tri-ed da-ting back last ye-ar and fo-und out af-ter only a co-up-le of months the re-ason they'd ne-ver da-ted be-fo-re then. No sparks.

Ab-so-lu-tely no se-xu-al che-mistry. She wo-uldn't go as far as to say kis-sing him had be-en li-ke kis-sing a brot-her, but they'd both fi-gu-red out pretty qu-ick that they we-re bet-ter off re-ma-ining go-od fri-ends than ris-king the-ir fri-en-d-s-hip by sle-eping to-get-her.

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"Good God, has hell fro-zen over?" Jacob as-ked te-asingly in his de-ep ba-ri-to-ne vo-ice.

"Okay, so I re-cently sa-id that hell wo-uld fre-eze over be-fo-re I'd get up be-fo-re se-ven, but the-re's no ne-ed to be sar-cas-tic so early in the mor-ning."

Jacob re-mo-ved his Stet-son and nod-ded to-ward a bo-oth in the back. 'Jo-in me for bre-ak-fast?"