Read The Last to Die Online

Authors: Beverly Barton

The Last to Die (31 page)

BOOK: The Last to Die
5.28Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

"Don't you know, swe-et-he-art? I'm yo-ur prin-ce char-ming, and I've be-en wa-iting for you to wa-ke up from an evil spell so I co-uld co-me ri-ding in on my whi-te hor-se and ta-ke you to li-ve hap-pily ever af-ter with me in my cas-t-le."

Jazzy la-ug-hed. And God, it felt so go-od to la-ugh. She kis-sed him. Just a hap-py-to-be-ali-ve kiss. A pre-lu-de to so-met-hing mo-re. He didn't ta-ke ad-van-ta-ge, didn't press for an-y-t-hing el-se.

In-si-de that ro-ugh and rug-ged ex-te-ri-or be-at the he-art of a true gen-t-le-man.

"I can sle-ep on the so-fa," she told him. "Why don't you ta-ke the bed?"

"No, way. No whi-te knight worth a damn wo-uld let a true prin-cess sle-ep on the so-fa."

"Is that the way you see me… as a prin-cess?" Her he-art flut-te-red wildly, as if it had ne-ver he-ard a com-p-li-ment be-fo-re to-night.

"Actually, Jas-mi-ne Tal-bot, you're not a prin-cess." He ca-res-sed her che-ek with the back of his hand as his ga-ze loc-ked with hers. "You're a qu-e-en."

Tears mis-ted her eyes. "Damn you, McCord. You're not re-al. You know that, don't you? You're too go-od to be true." 'Ye-ah, that's what all the la-di-es say."

With te-ars glis-te-ning in her eyes, she la-ug-hed aga-in, and when Ca-leb put his arm aro-und her wa-ist and led her to her bed-ro-om, she knew he wo-uldn't co-me in and stay. He was simply wal-king her to her do-or. He wo-uld sle-ep on the so-fa. Li-ke the true prin-ce char-ming he was.

Chapter 19

When Ca-leb pul-led his '57 Thun-der-bird, which he had per-so-nal-ly res-to-red a few ye-ars ago, on-to the as-p-halt dri-ve, he saw her put-ting her bag in the trunk of a dark blue clas-sic Mer-ce-des.

No do-ubt when she'd fo-und her-self or-de-red not to le-ave town, she'd sent so-me-one from Chat-ta-no-oga with anot-her car. Odd how that at a dis-tan-ce she co-uld easily pass for Jaz-zy, es-pe-ci-al-ly if her ha-ir was shor-ter and a brig-h-ter red. At the sa-me ti-me, Re-ve Sor-rell re-sem-b-led Jaz-zy less from far away be-ca-use she was pro-bably a co-up-le of in-c-hes tal-ler-abo-ut fi-ve-ten, he'd say-and out we-ig-hed Jaz-zy by a go-od twenty po-unds. He par-ked the car and got out. She ig-no-red him com-p-le-tely as she he-aded back to-ward the ren-tal ca-bin.

"Ms. Sor-rell," he cal-led to her.

She pa-used, but didn't turn aro-und.

He'd ma-de it he-re just in ti-me. Anot-her ten mi-nu-te and she'd ha-ve be-en on the hig-h-way he-aded back to Chat-ta-no-oga. Of co-ur-se, if he'd fo-und her go-ne, he wo-uld ha-ve fol-lo-wed her-down In-ter-s-ta-te 75, all the way ho-me, all the way back to that big fancy ho-use she ow-ned on
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv
erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

Lo-oko-ut Mo-un-ta-in.

"We ne-ed to talk," he told her.

She glan-ced over her sho-ul-der and pin-ned him with a don't-bot-her-me gla-re. "What co-uld we pos-sibly ha-ve to talk abo-ut, Mr. McCord?"

"Your sis-ter."

"I'm an only child. I don't ha-ve a sis-ter." She wal-ked to-ward the ca-bin.

"You we-re adop-ted," Ca-leb sa-id. "When you we-re an in-fant."

Her body ten-sed for a mil-li-se-cond, ba-rely long eno-ugh for him even to no-ti-ce the pa-use in her qu-ick steps.

"Spencer and Les-ley Sor-rell adop-ted a baby girl who had be-en thrown in a Dum-p-s-ter and left for de-ad in Se-vi-er-vil-le twen-ty-ni-ne ye-ars ago. The bir-t-h-day they ga-ve you is only a few days dif-fe-rent from Jas-mi-ne Tal-bot's bir-t-h-day. Do you re-al-ly be-li-eve it's not-hing mo-re than a co-in-ci-den-ce that you two lo-ok eno-ugh ali-ke to be twins?"

"We are not twins!" Re-ve hal-ted and tur-ned to fa-ce him. "I don't know how you fo-und out such per-so-nal things abo-ut me, but I am not that Jaz-zy per-son's sis-ter. I co-uldn't be."

"I think you are."

''Then you think wrong."

"When Jamie Up-ton told you abo-ut Jaz-zy, you we-re cu-ri-o-us eno-ugh to hi-re a pri-va-te de-tec-ti-ve to check her out. And on-ce he pro-vi-ded you with in-for-ma-ti-on and pic-tu-res, you must ha-ve tho-ught the-re was a chan-ce you two we-re re-la-ted or you wo-uldn't ha-ve co-me to Che-ro-kee Po-in-te to see her, to check her out in per-son."

"I ma-de a mis-ta-ke," Re-ve sa-id. "If you'll ex-cu-se me, I ne-ed to lock up be-fo-re I le-ave."

"Why are you in such a hurry?"

"I ha-ve be-en de-la-yed he-re for se-ve-ral days aga-inst my will by that bar-ba-ri-an she-riff of yo-urs be-ca-use I be-ar a va-gue re-sem-b-lan-ce to a wo-man who mur-de-red her lo-ver and be-ca-use I don't ha-ve an eye-wit-ness to my whe-re-abo-uts when the man was kil-led." Re-ve's cin-na-mon brown eyes flas-hed with an-ger. He'd se-en that sa-me ex-p-res-si-on on Jaz-zy's fa-ce co-un-t-less ti-mes and co-uldn't help but won-der if, be-ne-ath tho-se gre-en con-tacts Jaz-zy wo-re, her eyes we-re as fi-ery dark as Re-ve's.

''Jazzy didn't kill Jamie," Ca-leb sa-id. "She was with me part of the ti-me that mor-ning. She's be-en fra-med, and she ne-eds a re-al-ly go-od law-yer."

"What she do-es or do-esn't ne-ed has ab-so-lu-tely not-hing to do with me."

"Jazzy's blo-od type is AB ne-ga-ti-ve." He pa-used to al-low that bit of in-for-ma-ti-on to sink in, then sa-id, 'The sa-me as yo-urs."

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv
erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

She shrug-ged, but he ca-ught a lo-ok of sur-p-ri-se she wasn't ab-le to dis-gu-ise. "So?"

"So that's a very ra-re blo-od type."

"It's just anot-her co-in-ci-den-ce." '’Jaz-zy's right han-ded and you're left han-ded. That's a tra-it many iden-ti-cal twins ha-ve."

"Go away, Mr. McCord. Not-hing you say will per-su-ade me to stay and be-co-me bet-ter ac-qu-a-in-ted with that wo-man."

"Is that why you think I'm he-re?"

"Isn't it?"

He sho-ok his he-ad. "No-pe. Stay. Go. I don't ca-re."

"Then why are you he-re? What do you want?"

"I want you to hi-re Qu-inn Cor-tez to de-fend Jaz-zy if the grand jury hands down an in-dic-t-ment."

She lo-oked at him in-c-re-du-lo-usly. "The Qu-inn Cor-tez?"

"Yeah, the Qu-inn Cor-tez."

"And why wo-uld you think I'd pay Mr. Cor-tez's enor-mo-us re-ta-iner for a wo-man I don't even know?"

"Because she's yo-ur sis-ter."

"She is not-"

"Do you want all yo-ur hig-h-fa-lu-tin fri-ends in Chat-ta-no-oga and all yo-ur bu-si-ness as-so-ci-ates to know that you we-re fo-und in a Dum-p-s-ter as an in-fant? Do you want them to know that yo-ur sis-ter owns a hon-ky-tonk, has a re-pu-ta-ti-on as a lo-ose wo-man, and is now on tri-al for kil-ling her ex-lo-ver? And do you want them to know that you hi-red a PI to check her out and, even af-ter le-ar-ning what sort of per-son she was, you still wan-ted to me-et her?"

"Are you thre-ate-ning to blac-k-ma-il me?"

"I don't think I men-ti-oned the word blac-k-ma-il. I'm just tel-ling you that if so-me-one do-esn't co-me up with the cash to pay Qu-inn Cor-tez, then-"

"What do you want me to do-wri-te you out a check?"

Caleb grin-ned. Fin-ding out how im-por-tant the Sor-rel-ls' so-ci-al stan-ding was to Re-ve-and her own ster-ling re-pu-ta-ti-on as well-had gi-ven him an ad-van-ta-ge. He owed his old buddy Joe for co-ming up with the dirt on Ms. Sor-rell so qu-ickly.

"I'll call Cor-tez," Ca-leb sa-id, "sin-ce I know him and he owes me a fa-vor." When Re-ve ope-ned her mo-uth to say so-met-hing, Ca-leb sho-ok his he-ad. "Long story. No ti-me for it now. An-y-way,
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv
erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

when I call Cor-tez, I want you to get on the pho-ne, tell him who you are and that you'll be glad to pick up the tab for Jaz-zy. Then gi-ve him a cre-dit card num-ber or wha-te-ver the hell he re-qu-ires."

"I co-uld say no."

"Yeah, you co-uld." Ca-leb's grin bro-ade-ned in-to a wi-de smi-le. "But you won't"

"She must me-an a gre-at de-al to you for you to re-sort to strong-ar-ming me in-to pa-ying you hush mo-ney."

"Don't lo-ok at it that way," he told her. 'Just think of it as hel-ping yo-ur sis-ter."

"I told you that she is not my sis-ter."

"Okay, ha-ve it yo-ur way. Jaz-zy is not yo-ur sis-ter. But you two are de-fi-ni-tely flip si-des to the sa-me co-in. You pre-tend to be su-gar, whi-le Jaz-zy is de-fi-ni-tely spi-ce. You co-me ac-ross as be-ing cold, cal-cu-la-ting, snob-bish, and une-mo-ti-onal. Jaz-zy's the exact op-po-si-te." Ca-leb wal-ked over, gras-ped her arm, and sa-id, "After we go in-si-de and call Cor-tez and you put him on re-ta-iner, you can le-ave Che-ro-kee Co-unty and ne-ver lo-ok back."

"And you won't tell an-yo-ne-"

He ma-de a zip-ping-my-mo-uth ges-tu-re.

"Very well. Co-me in-si-de and let's con-tact Mr. Cor-tez. The so-oner we get this do-ne, the so-oner I can le-ave and put this en-ti-re nig-h-t-ma-re be-hind me."

"Yeah, su-re." Ca-leb lo-ose-ned his hold on her arm and fol-lo-wed her in-to the ca-bin. May-be she tho-ught that on-ce she went back to Chat-ta-no-oga she co-uld for-get all abo-ut Jaz-zy, but he'd bet his old age pen-si-on-if he had one- that so-oner or la-ter Re-ve Sor-rell's cu-ri-osity wo-uld bring her back to Che-ro-kee Co-unty.

Jim Up-ton lay in the qu-e-en-si-ze, pi-ne sle-igh bed, his bre-at-hing calm, his body re-la-xed. For the past ho-ur, he had be-en ab-le to for-get that to-day was the day of Jamie's fu-ne-ral, that this af-ter-no-on he wo-uld bury all his and Re-ba's ho-pes for the fu-tu-re. It was wrong of him to be he-re with Erin, to ha-ve ma-de lo-ve to her with mo-re pas-si-on than he'd felt in qu-ite so-me ti-me, when he was in mo-ur-ning for his gran-d-son. His wi-fe was at ho-me ma-king pre-pa-ra-ti-ons for the af-ter-fu-ne-ral re-cep-ti-on at the-ir ho-me. Not only wo-uld three-fo-urths of Che-ro-kee Co-unty's po-pu-la-ti-on wan-der in and out of the-ir ho-use la-ter to-day, but fri-ends and bu-si-ness as-so-ci-ates-as well as the go-ver-nor and both U.S. se-na-tors-wo-uld co-me by to pay the-ir res-pects.

Erin ca-res-sed him, her slen-der fin-gers twi-ning aro-und the thick whi-te ha-ir on his chest "It's all right, you know," she told him. "You mustn't fe-el gu-ilty abo-ut our ma-king lo-ve. The de-ath of so-me-one ne-ar and de-ar to us ma-kes us ne-ed to re-af-firm that we're ali-ve." She prop-ped her-self up be-si-de him, then le-aned over and kis-sed his mo-uth in that swe-et, ten-der way of hers.

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv
erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

"I can't le-ave her, you know," Jim sa-id.

"Are you tal-king abo-ut Miss Re-ba?" Sig-hing, Erin lay back down alon-g-si-de him and snug-gled clo-se. "You've told me be-fo-re that you won't di-vor-ce her, so why bring that up now?"

He flip-ped over on his si-de and lo-oked in-to her eyes. 'That mor-ning… be-fo-re I fo-und out abo-ut Jamie be-ing mur-de-red, I ca-me he-re to talk to you."

"You ca-me he-re? Why ha-ven't you sa-id-"

"You we-ren't he-re."

"No, I wasn't."

Where we-re you? Who we-re you with? Did you spend the night in anot-her man's arms?
"I ca-me he-re to tell you that I had de-ci-ded to ask Re-ba for a di-vor-ce. I wan-ted us to ha-ve a few ye-ars-ho-we-ver many I've got left-to-get-her. As man and wi-fe."

"Oh, Jim. I-I don't know what to say."

"That's chan-ged now. You see that, don't you? How co-uld I ask her for a di-vor-ce now that we've lost Jamie? He was all-"J-im clen-c-hed his te-eth. "I don't want to lo-se you, but I'll un-der-s-tand if you don't want to con-ti-nue our af-fa-ir."

Erin wrap-ped her arms aro-und him and la-id her he-ad on his chest. "I'm not go-ing an-y-w-he-re. I lo-ve you. I want wha-te-ver you can gi-ve me."

He ca-res-sed her na-ked back. Soft, pa-le skin, dot-ted he-re and the-re with small, dark mo-les.

He knew every inch of her. Had kis-sed tho-se lit-tle mo-les, had me-mo-ri-zed the-ir lo-ca-ti-ons.

"Whe-re we-re you?" 'The mor-ning you ca-me by he-re and I was go-ne?" She re-ac-hed down and gras-ped his hand.

"If the-re's so-me-one el-se-"

"Don't."

"You're still yo-ung and-"

"I went to Knox-vil-le. I spent the night with a fri-end. And be-fo-re you ask, the fri-end is fe-ma-le.

She's a doc-tor."

Jim ten-sed, fe-ar zip-ping thro-ugh him li-ke a fast-ac-ting drug. "Are you ill?"

"No, my he-ath is fi-ne. This fri-end is a gyne-co-lo-gist. I had cal-led and as-ked her to put to-get-her so-me in-for-ma-ti-on for me abo-ut in vit-ro fer-ti-li-za-ti-on. Abo-ut using a do-nor egg and a hus-band or lo-ver's sperm."

"I don't un-der-s-tand." Jim ro-se in-to a sit-ting po-si-ti-on.

Erin ca-me up be-si-de him, lo-oked him in the eye, and sa-id, "I'm too old to gi-ve you a child, as much as I wish I co-uld. I knew how di-sap-po-in-ted you we-re with Jamie, how much you wis-hed
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv
erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

the-re had be-en ot-her gran-d-c-hil-d-ren. I tho-ught that if-"

"My sperm, a do-nor egg, and you'd carry the child in yo-ur body." Jim re-ac-hed down and la-id his hand over her flat belly. "You lo-ve me that much?" Te-ars mis-ted his eyes.

"Now I ha-ve mo-re re-ason than ever to want to gi-ve you-"

He cup-ped her fa-ce with his hands and kis-sed her. "You don't know what yo-ur of-fe-ring to try so-met-hing li-ke that me-ans to me. But you're not the only one too old to ha-ve a child. I'm se-ven-ty-fi-ve. Even if I'm not sho-oting blanks the-se days, do you know how old I'd be when our child is ten? Eig-h-ty-fi-ve. Eig-ht-fi-ve fuc-king ye-ars old. It wo-uldn't be fa-ir to the child."

"Yeah, I know." Te-ars tric-k-led down Erin's che-eks. "What ten-ye-ar-old wo-uld want a six-ty-ye-ar-old mot-her?" Jim hug-ged her to him, lo-ving her mo-re than he'd lo-ved an-y-t-hing or an-yo-ne, at this mo-ment lo-ving her even mo-re than he'd lo-ved Mel-va Mae Nel-son all tho-se ye-ars ago. He kis-sed her fo-re-he-ad and as-ked in a whis-per, "Will you co-me to Jamie's fu-ne-ral?"

BOOK: The Last to Die
5.28Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

Other books

Dead Even by Mariah Stewart
Claiming Her Mate by Jess Buffett
Winging It by Annie Dalton
Hidden in Paris by Corine Gantz
The Lonely Lady by Harold Robbins
Harbinger by Jack Skillingstead