The Last to Die (41 page)

Caleb fi-nis-hed off his drink and po-ured him-self anot-her. "How do you fe-el abo-ut Jamie Up-ton? And I want the truth."

She sta-red at him, a puz-zled lo-ok in her eyes. "Whe-re is this co-ming from? I tho-ught I ma-de myself per-fectly cle-ar last night. Jamie is my past. Be-fo-re he di-ed, I'd set myself free from him. I knew that I didn't lo-ve him, that wha-te-ver frag-ments of ca-ring we-re left in my he-art I co-uld de-al with and mo-ve on."

Caleb to-ok a sip of whis-key. "Was last night abo-ut Jamie? Or was it abo-ut me?"

She sta-red at him, her ga-ze tran-s-fi-xed, as if his qu-es-ti-on stum-ped her. Af-ter a long, tor-tu-ro-us si-len-ce, she fi-nal-ly sa-id, "Both, I gu-ess."

Caleb nod-ded, then dow-ned the se-cond shot of whis-key.

She re-ac-hed out and to-ok the glass from his hand, then re-cap-ped the li-qu-or bot-tle and set it asi-de. "Be-ing with you was un-li-ke an-y-t-hing I'd ever ex-pe-ri-en-ced. Bet-ter than an-y-t-hing."

God, how he wan-ted to be-li-eve her. Not just for his mas-cu-li-ne pri-de. He lo-ved Jaz-zy. He wan-ted her to lo-ve him. Lo-ve him best. Lo-ve him mo-re.

She put her arms aro-und his neck. His body stif-fe-ned, and he knew he co-uldn't re-sist her. "After be-ing with you last night…" When he con-ti-nu-ed lo-oking away from her, she kept one arm aro-und his neck and, with her free hand, gras-ped his chin and for-ced him to lo-ok right at her. "Even if Jamie we-re ali-ve, you'd ha-ve no re-ason to be je-alo-us. If he we-re he-re right this mi-nu-te, I'd cho-ose you."

Caleb cup-ped the back of her he-ad and bro-ught her fa-ce up to his. And whi-le he kis-sed her, he tri-ed to for-get abo-ut Jamie Up-ton. What dif-fe-ren-ce did it ma-ke who-se na-me she whis-pe-red in her sle-ep? It didn't me-an she lo-ved Jamie.

Keep tel-ling yo-ur-self that and may-be one of the-se days you'11 be-li-eve it!

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While the Wil-lis fa-mily met with Dr. Mac-Na-ir and the yo-ung hot-s-hot law-yer Jim Up-ton had sup-pli-ed them, Jacob and Dal-las wa-ited in Jacob's of-fi-ce. Des-pi-te An-d-rea's co-ol, up-pity at-ti-tu-de, Jacob had se-en be-low the sur-fa-ce and fi-gu-red An-d-rea Wil-lis had so-met-hing to hi-de. His first gu-ess was that she was trying to pro-tect her el-der da-ug-h-ter, that she eit-her knew La-ura had kil-led Jamie or sus-pec-ted she had. His se-cond sup-po-si-ti-on was that Mrs. Wil-lis was the one who'd kil-led Jamie.

"So who's this law-yer?" Dal-las as-ked.

''Trent Lan-g-ley," Jacob told him. "He's yo-ung and eager. And from what I he-ar, pretty darn sharp.

He's from Jef-fer-son City and was re-com-men-ded by the most Pres-ti-gi-o-us law firm in Knox-vil-le.

Ho-bart, Ric-hards and En-g-lish."

"Mm-hmm."

"Big Jim wo-uld ha-ve sent Ma-xie, if we hadn't al-re-ady hi-red him for Jaz-zy. Ma-xie's the best law-yer in Che-ro-kee Po-in-te."

"But not Big Jim's bu-si-ness at-tor-ney?"

"Nope. That wo-uld be Ho-bart, Ric-hards and En-g-lish."

"Out of Knox-vil-le."

Jacob grin-ned. "Ye-ah."

Dallas wal-ked over to the open do-or and glan-ced ac-ross the outer of-fi-ce to a qu-i-et cor-ner whe-re Dr. Mac-Na-ir sat hol-ding La-ura Wil-lis's hand and tal-king to her, so-ot-hing her. The yo-ung law-yer, Lan-g-ley, sto-od se-ve-ral fe-et away, de-ep in con-ver-sa-ti-on with Mr. and Mrs. Wil-lis.

Dal-las's ga-ze scan-ned the ro-om and fo-und the yo-un-ger Wil-lis da-ug-h-ter per-c-hed on the ed-ge of De-puty Bobby Joe Har-te's desk. Bobby Joe lo-oked dow-n-right mor-ti-fi-ed.

Glancing over his sho-ul-der at Jacob, Dal-las sa-id, 'What abo-ut She-ri-dan Wil-lis? Think the-re's any chan-ce she might ac-tu-al-ly know so-met-hing? She told Bobby Joe she be-li-eves her sis-ter might ha-ve kil-led Jamie, but that co-uld be co-nj-ec-tu-re on her part."

"She might know so-met-hing. But my gu-ess is that Mrs. Wil-lis told her to ke-ep her mo-uth shut.

And I'd say Ma-ma ru-les the ro-ost."

"I ag-ree." Just as Dal-las star-ted to clo-se the do-or, his cell pho-ne rang aga-in. His ga-ze met Jacob's. He ret-ri-eved the pho-ne and hit the on but-ton. "Slo-an he-re." Jacob wa-ited pa-ti-ently, so-met-hing not easy for him. Dal-las didn't say much, just "uh-huh" a few ti-mes and "inte-res-ting"

twi-ce. Then Dal-las's eyes wi-de-ned in sur-p-ri-se and he lo-oked at Jacob. So-met-hing was up.

So-met-hing mo-re im-por-tant than the fact La-ura Wil-lis had at-tem-p-ted to run down her high scho-ol boy-f-ri-end with her six-te-enth bir-t-h-day pre-sent-a Mus-tang con-ver-tib-le.

''Thanks, Te-ri," Dal-las sa-id. "I can't tell you how much Jacob and I ap-pre-ci-ate yo-ur
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une-ar-t-hing this in-for-ma-ti-on so qu-ickly." Af-ter he rep-la-ced his cell pho-ne on its belt clip, he fa-ced Jacob. "You might want to ask Mr. and Mrs. Wil-lis to co-me in he-re alo-ne."

"What's up? What did Te-ri find out?"

"She fo-und out why La-ura was born a ye-ar be-fo-re her pa-rents mar-ri-ed."

Jacob frow-ned. ‘’I don't see how that in-for-ma-ti-on co-uld af-fect Jamie's mur-der ca-se, not the way kno-wing La-ura tri-ed to run down her te-ena-ge boy-f-ri-end co-uld go to pro-ve she might be un-s-tab-le eno-ugh to kill so-me-one."

"What if I told you that La-ura's mot-her was dec-la-red le-gal-ly in-sa-ne when La-ura was an in-fant and it's pos-sib-le La-ura in-he-ri-ted her mot-her's men-tal il-lness?"

Andrea he-si-ta-ted when the she-riff as-ked to spe-ak to Ce-cil and her. She didn't want to le-ave La-ura. But se-e-ing how calm La-ura was, what a so-ot-hing ef-fect Dr. Mac-Na-ir se-emed to ha-ve on her, An-d-rea ag-re-ed. Ho-we-ver, she in-sis-ted Trent Lan-g-ley ac-com-pany them. She didn't trust She-riff But-ler. He sus-pec-ted La-ura had kil-led Jamie and sin-ce he was Jaz-zy Tal-bot's fri-end, he wo-uld no do-ubt do ever-y-t-hing pos-sib-le to lay the bla-me el-sew-he-re.

"Have a se-at." The she-riff in-di-ca-ted the two cha-irs in front of his desk.

Cecil lo-oked to her be-fo-re do-ing an-y-t-hing. When she sat, he sat. The-ir law-yer sto-od di-rectly be-hind the two of them.

''What's this all abo-ut, She-riff?" Mr. Lan-g-ley as-ked.

''First, I ne-ed to pre-fa-ce what I'm abo-ut to say by tel-ling y all that La-ura is a sus-pect in both mur-ders, "Jacob told them.

See he-re, She-riff But-ler, you can't re-al-ly be-li-eve that y La-ura"-Cecil's vo-ice bro-ke. "She is the swe-etest, de-arest child. She lo-ved Jamie. She wo-uldn't ha-ve… she's not ca-pab-le of such a he-ino-us cri-me."

"Maybe not, but her mot-her was ca-pab-le of it, wasn't she?" Jacob But-ler ma-de the pro-fo-und com-ment and wa-ited for a re-ac-ti-on.

All co-lor dra-ined from Ce-cil's fa-ce. An-d-rea tri-ed her best not to gasp or cry out a de-ni-al. She la-id her hand over her hus-band's, then lo-oked from the she-riff to the po-li-ce chi-ef. "Exactly what do y'all know?"

"We know that Ce-cil Wil-lis was mar-ri-ed to a wo-man na-med Mar-ga-ret Ben-t-ley and that she ga-ve birth to a da-ug-h-ter na-med La-ura," Dal-las sa-id. "And we know that Mar-ga-ret Ben-t-ley was fo-und gu-ilty of at-tem-p-ted mur-der, but in-s-te-ad of go-ing to ja-il, she was pla-ced in a pri-va-te sa-ni-ta-ri-um when the jud-ge ru-led her le-gal-ly in-sa-ne."

"Laura do-esn't know," An-d-rea sa-id. "She must ne-ver know."

"Laura do-esn't know that you aren't her bi-olo-gi-cal mot-her?" Jacob as-ked.

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"No." An-d-rea sho-ok her he-ad. "I sup-po-se we sho-uld ha-ve told her, but…" An-d-rea lo-oked at the she-riff, ho-ping he was ca-pab-le of gre-at un-der-s-tan-ding and com-pas-si-on. "Wo-uld you want to know that yo-ur mot-her was cri-mi-nal-ly in-sa-ne? That she had tri-ed to kill yo-ur gran-d-fat-her by tor-tu-ring him to de-ath?"

"No, ma'am, I wo-uldn't."

"Then you can un-der-s-tand why we wan-ted to ke-ep the truth from La-ura, why we've li-ved in fe-ar all the-se ye-ars that the truth wo-uld co-me out. Very few pe-op-le know abo-ut Ce-cil's first mar-ri-age. He and his fat-her had a fal-ling out when Ce-cil mar-ri-ed Mar-ga-ret. She wasn't… she wasn't our kind."

"My first wi-fe ca-me from trash, She-riff But-ler," Ce-cil sa-id. "She was a be-a-uti-ful wo-man de-ter-mi-ned to es-ca-pe from po-verty, and she saw me as her es-ca-pe ro-ute. I was yo-ung and fo-olish, and al-t-ho-ugh I was in lo-ve with An-d-rea and we we-re prac-ti-cal-ly en-ga-ged, one night I suc-cum-bed to Mar-ga-ret's rat-her con-si-de-rab-le charm. She ca-me to me a co-up-le of months la-ter and told me she was preg-nant. Na-tu-ral-ly, I did the ho-no-rab-le thing and mar-ri-ed her.

Aga-inst my pa-rents' wis-hes.

"We mo-ved to Lo-u-is-vil-le and we-re li-ving the-re when La-ura was born." Ce-cil sig-hed he-avily. "My pa-rents cut off my funds, and I was ill-equ-ip-ped to ma-ke a li-ving on my own.

Mar-ga-ret dis-co-ve-red that I co-uld of-fer her very lit-tle wit-ho-ut my fat-her's mo-ney, and it was men mat I re-ali-zed my wi-fe had se-ve-re men-tal prob-lems. She… she… uh-" Ce-cil cle-ared his thro-at "I to-ok La-ura, left Mar-ga-ret, and went ho-me to my pa-rents." Te-ars tric-k-led down Ce-cil's che-eks. "My pa-rents ar-ran-ged for the mar-ri-age to be an-nul-led and we-I-ga-ined full cus-tody of La-ura."

Andrea co-uldn't be-ar se-e-ing her hus-band this way, so to-tal-ly de-fe-ated, in so much pa-in. She had ne-ver lo-ved an-yo-ne but Ce-cil. She had for-gi-ven him, lo-ved him, mar-ri-ed him, and adop-ted La-ura. And she had ne-ver reg-ret-ted tho-se de-ci-si-ons.

"Margaret so-me-how ma-na-ged to ab-duct Mar-s-hall Wil-lis, Ce-cil's fat-her," An-d-rea sa-id.

"She bla-med him for ever-y-t-hing at the ti-me. She had in-ten-ded to kill him, af-ter she tor-tu-red him.

She to-ok him to the Wil-lis hunt-mg lod-ge and only by me-re chan-ce a co-up-le of hun-ters he-ard Mar-s-hall's scre-ams and in-ves-ti-ga-ted."

"Margaret had tor-tu-red my fat-her for ho-urs," Ce-cil sa-id. "If tho-se hun-ters hadn't… he al-most di-ed." ‘’You must see that our kno-wing La-ura's bi-olo-gi-cal mot-her's bac-k-g-ro-und sheds new light on Jamie's mur-der ca-se," Jacob sa-id.

Just be-ca-use Mar-ga-ret was ca-pab-le of do-ing so-met-hing so ter-rib-le do-esn't me-an La-ura is," Ce-cil sa-id. "You tell them, An-d-rea. Tell them that La-ura wo-uld ne-ver…"

''You ha-ve ab-so-lu-tely no pro-of that La-ura had an-y-t-hing to do with Jamie's mur-der."

An-d-rea held her he-ad high and lo-oked the she-riff right in the eye. "Yes, our el-der da-ug-h-ter is emo-ti-onal-ly fra-gi-le and it's pos-sib-le she in-he-ri-ted a men-tal we-ak-ness from Mar-ga-ret. But La-ura is, as Ce-cil told you, a kind, swe-et yo-ung wo-man, in-ca-pab-le of mur-der."

"Is that what her psychi-at-rist told y'all af-ter you com-mit-ted her for tre-at-ment a few days af-ter she tri-ed to run down her boy-f-ri-end when she was six-te-en?" Dal-las as-ked.

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Andrea gla-red at the po-li-ce chi-ef. ''That was not-hing mo-re than an ac-ci-dent. No char-ges we-re ever fi-led."

Andrea lo-oked to the-ir law-yer and the mi-nu-te he no-ti-ced her sta-ring at him, he cle-ared his thro-at and sa-id, "I sug-gest that in-s-te-ad of tor-men-ting the Wil-lis fa-mily and po-in-ting fin-gers at La-ura Wil-lis, you ma-ke so-me in-qu-iri-es abo-ut Mar-ga-ret Ben-t-ley's whe-re-abo-uts. Is she still con-fi-ned to the men-tal hos-pi-tal? If not, then I'd say she co-uld very well be yo-ur-"

"Shut up!" An-d-rea huf-fed. Dam-ned stu-pid yo-ung man!

"Ma'am?" Wi-de-eyed and mo-uth aga-pe, Trent Lan-g-ley gul-ped as he lo-oked at An-d-rea.

"The sa-ni-ta-ri-um whe-re Mar-ga-ret Ben-t-ley re-si-ded for ne-arly twen-ty-two ye-ars bur-ned to the gro-und two ye-ars ago," Dal-las ex-p-la-ined. "She and ne-arly two do-zen ot-her pa-ti-ents di-ed in that fi-re."

If only Mar-ga-ret we-re ali-ve, An-d-rea tho-ught. If only that in-sa-ne bitch had be-en the one who'd kil-led Jamie. But Mar-ga-ret was de-ad. And the truth abo-ut La-ura's ma-ter-nity was no lon-ger a well-kept fa-mily sec-ret. She had spent twen-ty-fo-ur ye-ars trying to pro-tect Ce-cil's lit-tle girl, but now she fe-ared the ti-me had co-me when the-re was very lit-tle she co-uld do to pro-tect La-ura from a tra-gic past that had co-me back to ha-unt them all.

Chapter 26

Andrea Wil-lis slap-ped the mor-ning edi-ti-on of
The Che-ro-kee Po-in-te He-rald
down on the tab-le in front of her hus-band. Jim Up-ton glan-ced up from his pla-te, lit-te-red with the rem-nants of ham and red-eye gravy, scram-b-led eggs and Do-ra's ho-me-ma-de bis-cu-its. Ce-cil Wil-lis lo-oked li-ke a damn whip-ped dog. Jim wan-ted to sho-ut at the man, tell him to grow a bac-k-bo-ne-hell, to grow a set of balls. Only re-cently he'd en-vi-ed Ce-cil be-ing mar-ri-ed to a strong, ta-ke-char-ge wo-man, but that was be-fo-re he'd re-ali-zed just how pussy whip-ped the guy was. He'd ta-ke a clin-ging vi-ne li-ke Re-ba any day of the we-ek over so-me-one li-ke Wil-lis's wi-fe.

Look at the he-ad-li-nes!" An-d-rea sho-uted. "How are you go-ing to de-al with this?"

Cecil lif-ted the new-s-pa-per off his pla-te. A wad of scram-b-led eggs, which had stuck to the back of the pa-per drop-ped off, le-aving a gre-asy spot on the new-s-p-rint. He re-ad the he-ad-li-nes, sig-hed, and lo-oked up at his wi-fe, who ho-ve-red over him li-ke a vul-tu-re.

"It was to be ex-pec-ted," Ce-cil told her.

"Is that all you ha-ve to say?" An-d-rea de-man-ded.

"What's the prob-lem?" Jim as-ked. "I as-su-me the re-por-ters ha-ve got-ten wind of La-ura's past his-tory… her emo-ti-onal prob-lems when she was a yo-ung girl."

Cecil fol-ded the pa-per and han-ded it to Jim. "Now that La-ura is a sus-pect in Jamie's mur-der, if you'd pre-fer we find so-mew-he-re el-se to stay, I'll un-der-s-tand."