As Good As Dead (Griffin Powell Book 4)

by Beverly Barton

  “It’ll get worse,” Dallas said. “Especially if another local woman is murdered.”

  “I sure would like to know how to prevent that from happening.” By moving only slightly, Jacob once again brushed his arm against Reve’s. He scooted his chair over as far as it would go toward the end of the table. All of two, maybe three inches. His left shoulder was pressed up against the wall.

  “You could let the public know that it seems to be only redheaded women who are at risk,” Reve said, but didn’t look at Jacob.

  “I shared that info with them in confidence,” Dallas explained.

  “With all the redheads we have in Cherokee County, that bit of information could cause a real panic.” Jacob had been looking forward to a quiet, peaceful dinner with Genny and Dallas, but instead he was doomed to at least an hour of abject discomfort.

  “Caleb plans to keep a close watch over Jazzy,” Genny said. “Just in case.”

  “Yeah, since I’m a redheaded slut, I’m probably numero uno on this guy’s hit list.” Jazzy laughed, but there was no humor in her voice.

  “You shouldn’t joke about it that way,” Reve said.

  Jazzy shrugged. “Why not? It’s a lot better than biting my nails down to the quick and living in fear. It’s not my style to run scared, especially from such a non-specific threat.” She eyed Reve insightfully. “Something tells me running isn’t your style either.”

  “You’re right. It’s not my style,” Reve said. “I’m stubborn and determined, and when my fight-or-flight instincts kick in, I tend to stand and fight.”

  “Another thing you two have in common.” Genny glanced from Jazzy to Reve, then leaned in slightly so she could look around Reve at Jacob. “I think perhaps the sheriff’s department should check on Reve every night and make sure—”

  Reve bristled. “Genny, I told you that if I feel I need protection, I’ll hire a bodyguard.”

  When Jacob glanced over at Reve, he noted a subdued blush on her creamy cheeks. “Yeah, sure, Genny. As a favor to you and”—he looked across the table—“to Jazzy, I’ll send one of my deputies around to check on Ms. Sorrell every night.”

  “That won’t be necessary!” Reve’s voice rose loud enough so that customers at the nearest table turned and stared at her. Her face turned bright red.

  “Here comes our supper,” Jazzy said as Denise and Kalinda brought two large serving trays to the table. “Yum, everything looks delicious. We have great food here at Jasmine’s, if I do say so myself.”

  Okay, Jacob thought, he could take the hint and ease up on Ms. Sorrell, if she’d do the same. Participating in a verbal sparring match during a meal wasn’t high on his agenda of things to do. Besides, he had the oddest notion that his comment really had offended Reve Sorrell. Unless she was a lot dumber than she looked, she had to know that Genny was playing matchmaker. Her ploy to have Jacob make a nightly check on Reve had to be as repulsive to Reve as it was to him.

  And then he did something really stupid. He looked at Reve and caught her looking right back at him. The expression in those big brown eyes reminded him of a deer caught in the glare of oncoming headlights. There was more to her animosity toward him than simply hatred—the woman was afraid of him. Their gazes locked for a second too long, and a hush fell over the table as everyone else seemed aware of their visual Mexican standoff. Thankfully, just about that time, Denise set his bowl of chili down in front of him. He broke eye contact first, picked up his spoon and dug into his meal. But he could feel Reve’s heated glare boring into him. Ignore her, he told himself.

  “This sure does look good,” Jacob said, and within seconds everyone breathed again and renewed their conversations.

  It was done. A fait accompli. He couldn’t go back and undo it; he wouldn’t even if he could. After all, it wasn’t his fault that after all these years, Dinah had chosen to come back to him in Cherokee County. Of course, in the past, he hadn’t searched for her locally, had made a point of looking for her in other places and had once been able to exert some control over her reappearances. But lately, things had changed. And this time, she had forced him to act more impulsively than ever before, making it necessary for him to also kill someone else in order to protect himself.

  He’d done what he had to do. This time, he hadn’t sought her. She had found him.

  She walked right into your life and all but begged you to notice her.

  Then the next move had been his. He’d hated going through that bastard Timmons, but it had been the quickest and easiest way to make contact. And killing Timmons had been no more trouble to him than cleaning mud off his shoes.

  This time Dinah had resurfaced in the guise of Becky Olmstead, a local prostitute. Once again, she had chosen someone a great deal like herself, someone in whose body she’d felt comfortable. In all her reincarnations, not once had she chosen someone pure and innocent. She probably never would. Nor had she ever chosen anyone who was as beautiful as she had been. Not until now.

  He had been aware of this woman for years, had even found himself fascinated by her beauty as all the other men in the county had been. But he had kept his distance from her, not wanting to tempt Dinah into tricking him into killing her in his home territory. But she’d fooled him after all—by not choosing Jazzy Talbot first. She’d used Becky, as she’d used all the others, to seduce him, to lure him into her trap, to force him to destroy her yet again.

  He couldn’t believe that she was returning so quickly now—three times in less than a week—giving him little peace and no rest whatsoever. Less than a week ago, he’d killed her and dumped her body in the Tennessee River near Loudon Dam. She’d called herself Kat Baker then. He had thought, had hoped, she would stay away for months, as she usually did, sometimes even as long as eight or nine months. But she had come back to him almost overnight in the form of Becky Olmstead. And now, less than twenty-four hours later, she had done what he had always feared she would do someday. He was almost certain that she had come back in Jazzy Talbot’s body.

  Sitting there tonight at Jasmine’s with her friends and current lover, Jazzy had been totally unaware of her fate. Dinah never let her victims know she had possessed them, not until it was too late. Poor Jazzy didn’t even suspect that she was as good as dead.

  CHAPTER 14

  Reve caught a glimpse of her reflection in the shop window she passed on her way to Jasmine’s. She was too tall. Her hips were too wide. She needed to lose twenty pounds. Damn, she had to stop berating herself. How could a wealthy, intelligent, reasonably attractive woman waste time worrying about her physical appearance? Because you’re human, she reminded herself. She certainly didn’t have any self-esteem problems—except about her body. And if she were honest with herself, she’d admit that those concerns had become greatly magnified after meeting Jazzy. They looked almost alike. Almost being the operative word. She was probably two inches taller and at least twenty pounds heavier than the slender, curvy Jazzy. And her twin’s hips were in perfect proportion to the rest of her sexy body. Okay, so Jazzy was more attractive than she was. Big deal. She possessed qualities her sister didn’t. And she wouldn’t trade a one of them for a body like her sister’s.

  Her sister? Yes, her sister. She felt certain the DNA test results would prove what she had already accepted—that she and Jazzy were twins.

  Picking up her pace, she hurried down the sidewalk, avoiding making eye contact with any of the downtown shoppers she passed. The townspeople seemed to be particularly interested in her because she looked so much like Jazzy. According to Genny and Jazzy, apparently everyone in Cherokee County was speculating about their relationship and the consensus was that Jazzy and she were twins. Although some people gawked at her and others merely stole quick glances, no one spoke to her. Thank goodness.

  Were these people comparing her to her sister? Were they thinking she was a pale imitation of the real thing? Or did they marvel at how different they were? At the fact that Jazzy was vivacious and flashy and, alth
ough extremely friendly, had a kiss-my-ass attitude, whereas Reve appeared well-bred, conservative in her appearance and hopefully mannerly in her demeanor. God knew Lesley Sorrell did her best to drill good manners into her only child.

  Just as Reve entered the restaurant, she met Caleb. He grabbed her by the shoulders and kissed her on the cheek.

  “Good morning. Isn’t it a beautiful morning?” Caleb’s grin spread from ear to ear.

  “Somebody is certainly in a good mood.”

  “Jazzy and I just set our wedding date, and I’m on my way over to tell my grandparents.”

  Reve smiled. “That should be interesting. So when is the big day?”

  “December the eighteenth. Jazzy really does want a Christmas wedding.”

  “Then I hope she gets what she wants.”

  “Can you keep a secret?” Caleb asked.

  Reve widened her eyes in a questioning manner.

  “After I tell Miss Reba and Big Jim the news, I’m driving over to Knoxville to pick out an engagement ring. Of course I wouldn’t be leaving Jazzy alone, not after what Dallas and Jacob told us last night, but I understand that you two are going to spend the rest of the day together. Just stick together at all times and play it safe.”

  “We will. You don’t have to worry about Jazzy. We can look out for each other.”

  “You’re beginning to like her, aren’t you?”

  Reve laughed. “Maybe.”

  “Give her a chance, will you? I think you two can be really good for each other.”

  “Did she tell you that I’ve hired Griffin Powell to investigate our past, to try to find out the truth about our births?”

  “Yeah, she told me.” Caleb’s smile softened. “She said you phoned him last night and he’s driving in today to meet with y’all. I guess that’s what you can do when you’ve got the Sorrell money and power at your disposal—you can get Griffin Powell to personally take your case.”

  “Wealth does have its privileges,” she said. “Now that you’re part of the Upton family, you’ll soon find out.”

  He studied Reve for a moment, then asked, “About being an Upton…I’ve been debating whether to ask my grandfather for a loan so I can buy Jazzy a really impressive diamond. But I’m just not sure. What do you think?”

  Why ask me? I hardly know Jazzy, had been the first thought that crossed her mind, but she managed not to voice the question. “I think you know Jazzy better than I do. Do you think she expects an impressive diamond?”

  Caleb shrugged. “Maybe. And I know she deserves something spectacular. I just don’t want her to think that I think she’s marrying me because of the Upton fortune. So, tell me, Ms. Sorrell, if you were going to marry a guy who couldn’t afford a huge diamond, what would you want him to do?”

  “If I loved a man enough to marry him, I wouldn’t care about the size of the diamond.” Well, where had that thought come from? Reve wondered. Surely she’d never consider marrying a man who wasn’t extremely wealthy in his own right.

  Caleb nodded. “Yeah, but you’ve already got enough expensive jewelry to open up your own jewelry store.” He eyed the two-carat diamond studs in her ears and glanced down at the small diamond and gold butterfly pin attached to the collar of her brown jacket. “Jazzy likes flash and sparkle. She’s that kind of girl. Nothing about her is subdued, if you know what I mean.”

  “Then buy her a big, flashy diamond,” Reve said. “Something that will knock her socks off with its sparkle and glitter.”

  Caleb chuckled. “You’re right. See, you know Jazzy a lot better than you think you do.”

  After she wished him luck in finding the perfect engagement ring, Caleb and she said their good-byes and she entered the restaurant. Several customers turned and stared at her. Holding her head high, with just a hint of snobbery in her expression, she ignored them completely.

  The hostess on duty, Tiffany Reid, smiled warmly at Reve and said, “Jazzy’s expecting you. Go on back to her office.”

  “Thank you.”

  “She said to take your lunch order when you got here and we’ll serve y’all in her office later, after your meeting with Mr. Powell.” Tiffany giggled. “I can’t believe that Griffin Powell is coming here. Today. I’ve seen pictures of him, of course, but I never thought I’d get a chance to see him in the flesh.”

  “Tiffany, when Mr. Powell arrives, please show him into Jazzy’s office immediately. And whatever you do, don’t drool all over him.”

  Tiffany giggled again, the sound slightly irritating. “I’ll do my best. I promise. But we’re all talking about Griffin Powell. He’s a legend around here, you know. Not only is he one of the most famous former UT football players, but now he’s the most talked-about man in Tennessee. His picture’s always in the newspaper or in magazines whenever his agency is involved with a big case or when he’s attending some high society do, like charity balls and stuff like that.”

  “Yes, well, that may all be true, but today, please see to it that none of the other customers bother him. Usher him straight to Jazzy’s office the minute he arrives.”

  “I will. I swear. Jazzy’s already given me my instructions.”

  Reve offered Tiffany an understanding smile. “I’d like soup and salad. Onion soup, if you have it. If not, vegetable will do. And a Caesar salad.”

  Grinning, Tiffany shook her head.

  “Is something wrong?” Reve asked.

  “Nope. It’s just funny. Jazzy ordered the same thing. Veggie soup and a Caesar salad. Only she added carrot cake. Miss Ludie brought in three fresh-baked carrot cakes early this morning.”

  Beginning to get used to the idea that she and Jazzy had certain tastes in common, Reve simply said, “Add a slice of carrot cake to my order.”

  She then made her way to the back of the restaurant. She passed the restrooms and the door leading to the storage area, then stopped and knocked on the closed door to Jazzy’s office.

  “Come on in,” Jazzy called.

  Reve opened the door. “Aren’t you concerned that I might have been the latest Cherokee County killer, the one murdering redheads?”

  “Nope. I wasn’t the least bit concerned.” Jazzy swirled her swivel office chair around and faced Reve. “I heard your footsteps coming up the hall. Most men don’t wear high heels.”

  Reve walked into the room and shut the door behind her. “Have you contacted your Aunt Sally?”

  Jazzy motioned for Reve to take a seat in the empty chair to the left of her desk. The other chair, on the right, was piled high with magazines. “No, I thought it best not to alert Aunt Sally that we’re coming to see her later today. She just might decide to take a hike in the woods. Believe me, she is not going to want to talk to us about my mother. Our mother.”

  “You think she’ll stick to the lie that Corrine Talbot gave birth to only one child.”

  “Every time I’ve questioned her, she’s sworn that it’s the truth.”

  Reve sat, placed her brown leather purse in her lap and rested her clasped hands on top of the purse. “And what if it is the truth?” She kicked back in her chair and crossed her arms over her waist.

  “How’s that possible? I thought we’d both decided, even without the DNA test results, that we’re definitely twins.”

  “We did decide that and I do believe we are twin sisters,” Reve said. “But that doesn’t mean Corrine Talbot gave birth to us.”

  Jazzy’s eyes widened; her mouth gaped open. “I don’t understand. If Corrine isn’t our mother, then who is? And how did Aunt Sally get hold of me and not you, too? And if Corrine gave birth to a child, what happened to that baby?”

  “Good questions. Ones we need to ask your aunt.”

  Jazzy stood. “Yeah, you’re right. As soon as our meeting with Griffin Powell ends, we’ll drive up the mountain to Aunt Sally’s place and pay her a surprise visit. And if the old coot tries to run off, I’ll tie her to a chair.”

  Despite the harshness of the comment, Reve heard the
underlying affection in Jazzy’s voice when she spoke of her aunt. “You love her very much, don’t you?”

  Jazzy chuckled, then faced Reve with a closed-mouth smile. “Oh, yeah. I love her. She’s the only mother I’ve ever known. Aunt Sally’s one brick shy of a load by anybody’s standards, but she’s a wonderful old woman. She’s been awfully good to me my whole life.”

  “How will it affect your relationship with her if you find out she’s been lying to you all these years?”

  Jazzy sighed loudly and blew out a huffing breath. “I’m not sure. But I know it won’t make me hate her. No matter what, she’ll always be my Aunt Sally.”

  “When my parents told me that I was adopted, I was only six. They made it sound as if being adopted was something special. They made me feel as if I was a chosen one. Then when I was fourteen, I started getting curious about my biological parents and I asked Mother and Father if they knew anything about where I’d come from and why my birth mother had given me away. They swore they didn’t know anything.”

  Reve gritted her teeth in an effort not to cry. Remembering the day her mother had finally confessed the truth to Reve still affected her at a deep emotional level. “When I graduated from college, my mother finally told me about my being found in a Dumpster in Sevierville. She said I’d been little more than a newborn when I was found. But that was all she and my father ever knew about me.”

  “You know, that’s something that makes no sense to me. If our birth mother threw you into a Dumpster, why didn’t she toss me in there with you?”

  “Another very good question.”

  Jazzy walked over to Reve and stood above her, looking down at her until she lifted her gaze so that they were staring right at each other. “I guess it makes you feel like shit, doesn’t it? Knowing you were thrown away like a piece of garbage.”

  Reve swallowed, then cleared her throat. “Yes. Yes, it does.”