Hearing the humor in his voice, she glowered at him. “It would have been unnecessary for me to lie if you’d gotten up at a decent hour and attended services with me.”
“Don’t beat around the bush, Veda, just come right out and ask me.”
“Very well.” She drew in a deep, hopefully calming breath. “Where were you all night? You didn’t come home until after daybreak this morning.”
“I drove over to Sevierville and rented a hotel room.” His gaze collided with hers. She noted a defiant look in his eyes, one she hadn’t seen in years. “And I spent an enjoyable night with a very entertaining young woman.”
Veda’s face flushed, and her heartbeat drummed deafeningly in her ears. “You say that as if you think I wouldn’t care that you broke your promise to me. How could you? And how dare you act so cavalier about it.”
“If you intend to kill yourself, my dear, would you mind doing it after Sunday dinner? Abra has prepared prime rib, and you know it’s my favorite.”
CHAPTER 11
When Jacob entered the kitchen, Genny handed him the high school photo of Becky Olmstead. “You know that in my visions I don’t always see everything. And with a person, it’s often only the hair or the eyes or—”
Jacob grasped her shoulders lovingly. “What are you trying to tell me, little sister?”
“In my vision, I saw the woman’s hair and neck…and her legs and hips.”
“You saw more.”
“Yes. I got a quick look at her face.” Genny glanced at the photo Jacob held. “This is the person I saw in my vision. I’m sure.”
Jacob’s gut tightened. “I’ll contact Becky’s mother and ask her to drive over to Jefferson County with me.”
“I’m sorry,” Genny said. “I realize how difficult it will be to tell this woman her daughter is probably dead.”
Jacob nodded. “It’s part of my job.”
“The body being found in Douglas Lake complicates matters some, too, doesn’t it,” Dallas said. “Not only do you have the Jefferson County sheriff’s office involved, you’ve got the TVA guys and the state boys, too.”
“If I know Noland Floyd, he’ll cut through all the crap pretty quick. He’s an experienced lawman. Been the sheriff over there for nearly twenty years. I’ll let him deal with the state. They’re not my problem. And I doubt TVA will get involved.”
“If there is a serial killer loose in northeast Tennessee, then every law enforcement agency around these parts has a major problem,” Dallas said. “But what we need to worry about is whether this guy will strike again in our territory.”
“Yeah, I know. And a part of me wants to go on television and issue a warning to all redheads in Cherokee County, but I can’t do that. It could cause a panic. Considering that three-fourths of the families in these parts are of Scottish and Irish decent, we have a high percentage of redheads.”
“Including Jazzy and Reve,” Genny said.
Jacob and Dallas turned and stared at her. Damn, she was right. Why hadn’t those two even crossed his mind? Especially Jazzy, considering the fact that she had a less than sterling reputation. Anyone who didn’t know her well might think she was a slut. She wasn’t. But if the killer listened to local gossip…
“Genny, did you pick up on—?” Dallas asked, but Genny cut him off in mid-sentence.
“No, I haven’t sensed a connection between the danger I believe lies ahead for Jazzy and Reve and the man who killed Becky Olmstead, but…” Genny’s black eyes moistened with tears.
“But what?” Jacob knew his cousin often tried to pretend, even to herself, that some of the horrible things she saw in her visions were not real. But time and again, her psychic abilities had proven to be reliable and accurate.
Genny shook her head. “I don’t know. It’s just an odd feeling that I can’t explain. If I could try to connect with the killer’s mind—”
“Absolutely not!” Dallas growled the words.
“Perhaps later, after I’ve rested more. I want to help.”
“Maybe later,” Jacob said. “But not now. Dallas is right to protect you from your own good intentions.” He kissed Genny’s cheek. “I’ll stop by this evening.” He turned to Dallas. “Walk me out.”
Dallas followed Jacob onto the porch and into the backyard. Drudwyn, who’d been curled up in a corner on the porch, raised himself on all fours and followed them. The sky was gray and overcast, giving the day a solemn aura. Dallas reached down to stroke the wolf dog’s head.
“Make those other calls for me, will you?” Jacob unlocked his truck. “Find out if there have been similar murders anywhere else in northeastern Tennessee. Like you said, this could be the guy’s first kill in Cherokee County, but not elsewhere.”
“I can do that. And later we need to contact Caleb and tell him to keep a close eye on Jazzy. Just in case.”
“He’ll ask questions.”
“And I’ll give him answers.”
Reba inspected the dining room table. Everything was in order as she had expected it would be. Dora never let her down, unlike so many others in her life had and still did. Her housekeeper was reliable, trustworthy and highly competent. The china, crystal and silver glistened. The floral arrangement sat low and wide in the center of the antique mahogany Duncan Phyfe table. A delicate hint of their meal wafted from the nearby kitchen, where Dora was putting the finishing touches on Sunday dinner.
If anyone had told her six months ago that she would be entertaining Jasmine Talbot in her home, she’d have called them crazy. Reba disliked the woman. No, dislike was too mild a word. She had despised Jazzy since the woman was sixteen and had deliberately gotten herself pregnant with Jamie’s child. It had soon become apparent to everyone that the baby had been nothing more than a trap to snare herself a rich husband. Once Jamie had refused to marry her, she’d gotten an abortion. And until the day Jamie died, she had kept her hooks in him, never setting him free to be happy with someone else.
Reba still mourned Jamie, the grandson she had loved so deeply. He had disappointed her more times than she cared to remember, but she had forgiven him each time he broke her heart. After losing her two children, Jim, Jr., and Melanie, Jamie had been all Jim and she had—he’d been their legacy, the heir to the Upton fortune. When he’d been brutally murdered this past summer, she had thought they’d lost everything. But she’d been wrong. Like a miracle, Caleb had come to them, the grandson they’d never known existed. Melanie’s child. And already she understood how different Caleb was from Jamie. He was a better man. Strong and reliable. Trustworthy and caring. But he did share one weakness with his dead cousin—being in love with Jasmine Talbot.
Despite her intense hatred for the woman, Reba had invited her for Sunday dinner today, to please Caleb. She was damned and determined not to make the same mistakes with Caleb that she’d made with Jamie. If Jazzy Talbot was the woman Caleb loved, the woman he intended to marry, then if she wanted to keep her grandson in her life, she’d have to swallow her pride and accept the inevitable.
Of course, if there was any way she could manipulate the situation, she would. If only Caleb would realize how much more suitable Reve Sorrell was for him.
“Everything looks mighty fine,” Jim said.
Reba gasped at the sound of her husband’s voice. She hadn’t realized he’d come downstairs. She turned and smiled at Jim. “I want things to be perfect. For Caleb’s sake.”
Jim walked over, put his arm around Reba’s shoulder and kissed her cheek. “I’m proud of you, old gal. I know this won’t be easy for you, but you’re doing the right thing. We both learned our lesson with Jamie, didn’t we?”
There had been a time when this small show of affection from her husband would have thrilled her, but now it was only moderately satisfying. It wasn’t that she didn’t love Jim. She did. She probably always would. But she hadn’t been in love with him for quite some time. And now there was Dodd. Was she really in love with another man? Yes, she thought perhaps she
was. Stealing away to her chalet in the mountains to meet with a lover wasn’t something she’d ever done; she had never even entertained the thought. But Dodd was different. He made her feel different. Besides, technically, they weren’t lovers. Not yet. Last night they had sat together, drunk champagne, held hands and talked until nearly midnight; then they’d kissed good-bye.
On the way home, she’d wondered what she would tell Jim, if he happened to be at home. He hadn’t been. More and more lately, he stayed gone all night. She knew where he was; he was with Erin Mercer. If Jim had been at home, would she have told him the truth—that she’d been with Dodd Keefer, that she was in love with Dodd?
Reba eased away from Jim and moved about the room, pretending to inspect the table, something she’d already done. “You were missed at church this morning.”
Jim hadn’t been the only one missed this morning—Dodd, too, hadn’t attended services. He’d been raised a Presbyterian, but his late wife had been a Congregationalist and he’d converted early in their marriage. She hoped Dodd would call her later today to set up a time when they could meet again. Odd how, at her age, to experience anticipation and giddiness as if she were a young girl with her first boyfriend.
“I apologize for not making it to services today,” Jim said.
No further explanation. Not one word of where he’d been all night or with whom he’d spent his time. Perhaps after all these years, all the mistresses, all the nights spent away from home, there really was no need for little white lies between them.
Tilting her head proudly and looking him square in the eyes, she said, “That’s all right. No need for apologies. Not between us. Not any longer.”
He eyed her speculatively. She smiled secretively. Let him make of that whatever he wanted to. Let him wonder.
Farlan had allowed Veda to fuss and fume and oddly enough actually enjoyed her discomfort. Had it reached the point that he not only no longer loved his wife, but he could derive pleasure from her unhappiness? No, not really. He didn’t want Veda miserable, although little he did seemed to make her happy. But in this one instance, he felt justified in turning the screws just a little. After all, she had held the threat of suicide over his head like the proverbial sword of Damocles for thirty years now. He had toed the line out of fear he’d do something to push Veda over the edge. And partly out of guilt. He had betrayed his marriage vows, had not only taken a mistress, but had dared to love the woman.
If only he could turn back the clock three decades. But he couldn’t do that; and even if he could find her now, it would be too late for them. She was probably married, with children and possibly grandchildren.
Weeping quietly, her body quivering every so slightly, Veda gazed up at him from where she sat in the leather chair. She looked rather pitiful, like a fat, withered rose, ready to fall apart. Poor old thing. He shouldn’t have been so unkind to her, but damn it all, he was seventy-five and didn’t have much time left. With little to look forward to, he’d become depressed lately. Paying that girl last night to spend time with him had been like a breath of fresh air in his stale life. Once he’d gotten it through her cute little head that he didn’t want sex, she’d relaxed and opened up to him about herself. And he had told her about another young woman who’d been in her line of business, a girl he’d loved and lost.
They had talked and laughed and even cried together. And around midnight, they’d ordered room service. After eating, he’d stretched out on the bed and she’d curled up next to him, the way a man’s daughter might do. Innocently. That was how he’d thought of her—as if she were his daughter.
“I don’t see how you could have done this to me,” Veda said, then sobbed loudly.
“I didn’t have sex with her,” he explained.
Veda’s head popped up. “What?”
“I needed someone to talk to.”
“I don’t understand. You and I talk every day.”
“You’re right,” he said. “Maybe what I needed was to spend time with someone young and fun and nonjudgmental.”
Eyes dry, face scrunched with disapproval and a hint of anger, Veda glared at him. “What you mean is that you wanted to spend time with someone who reminded you of her. That’s it, isn’t it? You’ve found yourself another whore to love.”
Farlan snorted. “Damn it, woman, I’m not in love with the girl. I spent a few hours with her. We didn’t have sex, and I probably won’t ever see her again.”
“Probably?”
“No probably about it. I won’t see her again.”
“Do you think about her?” Veda asked.
“I just met the girl last night. Why would I—”
“You know who I mean. Her.”
He could lie and swear he’d never given her a thought, not once in all these years. But Veda would know he was lying. “Yes, I think about her sometimes. I wonder where she is. I hope she’s happy. I hope she found a nice man, got married and”—he swallowed hard—“had children.”
“Other children, you mean.”
“Yes, Veda, other children.”
“Do you ever think about—”
“Damn it, woman, leave it alone, will you? I’ve tried my best to give you what you wanted. I stayed with you, didn’t I? We made things work for Brian’s sake. The past is dead and buried. Let’s leave it at that.”
Veda’s eyes widened; her face went ashen. What the hell was wrong with her? But before he could ask her what had shaken her so badly, she snapped out of it, rose from the chair and walked toward him. “You’re right. I shouldn’t bring up the past. I—I won’t do it again.”
He patted her on the shoulder. “I apologize for being so cruel to you. You know I didn’t mean what I said about your killing yourself.”
She sighed dramatically. “Yes, dear, I know.”
Veda smiled. Triumphantly. Wickedly? She left the study, closing the door behind her. Farlan heaved a deep sigh. He crossed the room, reached up over the fireplace and pulled on the hinges connected to the frame of the painting hanging over the mantel. His personal wall safe appeared. He and he alone knew the combination. Rarely did he open this safe. It contained personal items. With speed and accuracy, he rotated the nob, letting the numbers click into place. The door swung open. He reached inside and removed one item. The photograph of a young woman. A pair of vivid hazel-green eyes stared up at him, and for a moment he drowned in memories of a forbidden love.
Dodd felt as if he had a hangover. Perhaps he’d drunk too much last night, after he’d left Reba. He wasn’t sure, couldn’t exactly remember. He’d wanted to make love to Reba, to consummate their affair in a physical way, but he realized she wasn’t ready for anything that intimate. And he loved her enough to wait until she was ready. If only she weren’t married, if only they could build a life together. Neither of them was getting any younger. But would she ever leave Big Jim? Would she ever willingly give up the prestige and privileges associated with being Mrs. James Upton? Could she be content as the wife of a circuit court judge?
If she loved him, truly loved him, she could be.
But that was the question—did she truly love him?
Dodd sat there in Jasmine’s Restaurant as he did every Sunday, after church. And he always ordered the same thing—fried chicken. He’d missed church this morning, something he seldom did, but since he hadn’t gotten to sleep until dawn, he had slept until nearly eleven. His sleep had been fitful, filled with crazy dreams. No, not dreams. More like nightmares.
What would Reba think of him if she ever learned about what he’d done? Would she understand and forgive him as his wife had? His Beth Ellen had been an extraordinary woman, kind and gentle beyond belief. Until he’d become smitten with Reba, he had thought he’d never love another woman. Most women wouldn’t forgive a man for straying. Veda sure hadn’t forgiven Farlan. Quite the opposite—she’d made his life a living hell. To this day, Dodd felt guilty. After all, he’d been the one who’d persuaded his brother-in-law to go with him to
Knoxville that first time, and it had been Farlan who had paid the highest price for both their sins.
“Afternoon,” Max Fennel said as he and his wife approached Dodd’s table. “You look as bad as I feel. We really tied one on last night, didn’t we?”
Claudia Fennel inspected Dodd as if he was a product she was considering buying. Max stood right behind her, an odd expression on his face. Dodd almost missed the sly wink Max gave him, but quickly realized that his old friend was giving him some sort of signal. No doubt Max wanted to use him as an alibi once again. There was no telling where Max had been last night or who he’d been with or what he’d done. The man was a charming scoundrel, but they’d been buddies for years and this wouldn’t be the first time Dodd had covered for him.
“I told Maxwell that I was thoroughly disappointed in him.” Claudia’s cheeks flushed; her voice held a hint of censure. “I’d think you would be a better influence on him, Dodd. Whoever heard of a judge and a respected lawyer whooping it up together and getting so drunk that they didn’t sober up and come home until morning. You’re both entirely too old for such shenanigans.”
“Now, sweetheart, don’t embarrass Dodd.” Max hugged Claudia, who cringed at his touch, apparently more than a little upset with him. “We learned our lesson last night, didn’t we?” Max’s gaze pleaded with Dodd to back him up.
“We most certainly did.” Dodd tried his best to smile at Claudia, but all he could manage was not to frown.
Although she was a bit of prude, Claudia was a nice lady and Dodd hated lying to her. But he consoled himself by halfway believing he was sparing her feelings by keeping the truth from her. If he had a wife like Claudia, you wouldn’t catch him fooling around. He’d learned infidelity came at too high a price. For everyone involved. There were always consequences. His careless actions years ago had almost cost him the thing he’d treasured most—his sweet Beth Ellen. How men could repeatedly cheat on their good wives, he didn’t know. Big Jim Upton was every bit as bad as Max. Both of them were philandering bastards. Reba’s husband had gone through a succession of mistresses, and just about everyone in town knew it. How did Reba endure the shame?
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