“Yes, of course I will be.”
“I’ll try to come by. Just for a while.”
“If you can’t, it will be all right. Just know that if you need me, I’m here for you.”
“I’ll come by. I want to be with you.” Without saying another word to her, he walked away, and all the while he wished he could turn around, go back to her, and pull her into his arms.
“I need your permission to search your office,” Jacob told Jazzy.
“Why do you need to search her office?” Genny inquired at the precise moment Caleb asked “Why?”
“You have my permission,” Jazzy said. “I have nothing to hide.”
Jacob shifted uncomfortably. “Hell, Jazzy, I know that. Don’t think just because I’ve got to search your office that for one minute I think you killed Jamie. Not even if we find evidence to the contrary.”
Caleb snorted. “I don’t see why you have to go searching for evidence against Jazzy just because some nut called you and said—”
“He’s just doing his job.” Jazzy grabbed Caleb’s arm.
“Is it his job to help some crazy woman railroad you for a crime you didn’t commit?” Caleb glared at Jacob.
“What will you do if you find some sort of planted evidence in Jazzy’s office?” Genny asked. “You’ll know that it was put there, that Jazzy is innocent.”
Jacob removed his Stetson, then ran his fingers through the back of his hair where it rested just above his shoulders. “I’m not trying to build a case against Jazzy, but as the sheriff, it’s my job to share all the information I have with Wade Truman. Our ambitious young DA is already breathing down my neck hot and heavy about coming up with a suspect.”
“And I’m the most likely suspect, aren’t I?” Jazzy said.
When Jacob reached out and placed his hand on Jazzy’s shoulder, Caleb tensed. Jacob could tell the guy wanted to knock his hand off her. He understood the other man’s proprietorial, possessive attitude. He’d sensed the same thing in Dallas Sloan the very first time he saw him with Genny.
“You didn’t kill Jamie,” Jacob said. “We all know that out there somewhere is a very disturbed woman who will, sooner or later, give herself away.”
“Yeah, but in the meantime, I may just wind up in jail.” Jazzy crossed her arms over her waist and emitted a couple of nervous, mocking chuckles. “It’s not as if Jamie didn’t screw me over enough while he was alive. Now he’s reaching out from the grave to do it.”
While Jacob and Deputy Moody Ryan searched Jazzy’s office, she waited outside in the hall with Genny and Caleb. She could feel the noose tightening around her neck. She didn’t need Genny’s psychic gifts to know that someone had intentionally framed her for Jamie’s murder. But who? And why?
Someone had hated Jamie so much that they had tortured him to death. And that same person hated her enough to want to see her go to jail—oh, God, not just go to jail, but be sentenced to death for Jamie’s murder. How could this be happening? And why now, when she had thought maybe she had a chance of finding happiness with Caleb?
When Jacob came out of her office carrying a plastic bag, she grabbed Caleb by the arm. Jacob held up the bag to show them the bloody knife it contained.
“Where was it?” Jazzy asked him.
“Hidden in the back of one of the file cabinets,” Jacob told her.
“It’s the knife she used on Jamie,” Genny said. “But you won’t find any fingerprints on it. Only Jamie’s blood.”
“I didn’t put it there,” Jazzy said, her strong survival instincts kicking in, forcing her to defend herself, even to her friends.
“We know that,” Genny said. “Jacob, the knife was planted in Jazzy’s office to make her look guilty.”
“Yeah, I know,” he replied. “But I’m afraid whoever put it there accomplished her goal.”
“Are you going to arrest me?” Jazzy asked.
“Hell no, he isn’t going to arrest you.” Caleb moved between Jazzy and Jacob. “You and I were together last night and this morning. I’ll swear in court that we were together whenever Jamie was killed.” He glared at Jacob, his aggressive stance and determined expression issuing a warning.
Jazzy pushed Caleb gently aside and looked directly at Jacob. “What happens next?”
“Nothing right now,” Jacob replied. “It could take a while to determine if this knife was used on Jamie, if this is his blood. Besides, if this is all the evidence that shows up—”
“She couldn’t have killed Jamie,” Caleb reiterated. “She was with me.”
In that slow, easy way Jacob had, he turned and squinched his eyes as he focused on Caleb. “If you lie to try to protect Jazzy, you won’t help her. You just might hurt her and get yourself in trouble to boot.”
Caleb stared inquiringly at Jacob.
“Folks might think you two were in cahoots,” Jacob said. “Maybe Jazzy lured Jamie up to that cabin where you were waiting for him. Maybe it wasn’t a woman who killed him. Maybe it was a jealous lover. Maybe the two of you decided that the only way to get Jamie out of Jazzy’s life permanently was to kill him.”
Jazzy grabbed Caleb’s arm, sensing he was on the verge of hitting Jacob. “No, don’t. Jacob is only playing devil’s advocate. Besides, he’s right—you won’t help me by lying about our being together when Jamie was killed.”
Jacob’s cell phone rang. He handed the evidence bag to Moody and told him to get it over to the sheriff’s office immediately. Retrieving his phone from its belt holder, he punched the ON button.
“Butler here.” He listened, then said, “Why am I not surprised?”
“What is it?” Genny asked, but Jazzy sensed that by the look on her best friend’s face she already suspected what Jacob had been told.
“Yeah, Dallas, thanks. Meet me over at my office as soon as possible.” He looked at Jazzy. “I know what I have to do, but I sure as hell don’t have to like it.” Jacob hit the off button and returned his phone to the clip holder on his belt.
“You know Dallas went back to the cabin and then to the site where the Jag was dumped, to oversee things there,” Jacob said. “We’ve combined forces—the sheriff’s department and the police department.”
“What did Dallas tell you?” Jazzy asked, and when Genny slipped her hand over Jazzy’s and squeezed, she knew the news was really bad.
“They found a book of matches at the cabin,” Jacob said. “They’re from Jazzy’s Joint. Got the logo on the cover.”
“So? Big deal.” Caleb all but snarled his statement. “Half the population of Cherokee County probably has a Jazzy’s Joint book of matches.”
“Yeah, I know, and the matches alone wouldn’t prove anything. But coupled with the bloody knife and—” Jacob paused and cursed softly under his breath. “They found something in the woods only a few feet away from the burned out Jag.”
Three sets of eyes focused on Jacob, but he looked only at Jazzy. “They found a red silk scarf with the initials J.T. monogrammed on it.”
Jazzy laughed. “Whoever the hell she is, she’s good. She didn’t steal just any of my scarves. No, she had to steal the one with my initials on it—the one my friend the sheriff gave me for my birthday last year.”
Chapter 16
“Is everything set for Miss Laura’s return?” Reba asked Dora as the housekeeper served them afternoon coffee in the sunroom.
“Yes, ma’am. The florist delivered the fresh flowers you ordered, and I’ve placed the arrangements around the room,” Dora replied. “I changed the bed linen as you requested and I moved Miss Sheridan’s things into another room so that Miss Laura can have complete peace and quiet.”
“Has the nurse we hired to look after Laura arrived?” Reba nervously rubbed her throat, the tremor in her hand a sure sign that the medication Dr. MacNair had prescribed to soothe her was wearing off.
Jim reached over and grasped his wife’s wrist, then slipped his big hand around her small one. “Mrs. Conley went directly to the h
ospital to meet Andrea and Cecil. She suggested it was best if she speak to Laura’s parents before bringing her home, as well as get instructions on Laura’s care from Dr. MacNair and the hospital psychiatrist.”
Dora placed the silver service on the wicker table, then lifted the silver pot and poured coffee into two china cups. “Will there be anything else?”
“No, that will be all,” Jim told the housekeeper.
“I want everything possible done for Laura. That child has been through—” Reba’s voice cracked; tears pooled in her eyes. “She has lost everything, just as we have. Jamie. And the baby.” She clutched Jim’s hand tightly. “Oh, Jim, the baby. Jamie’s baby. If only…”
Jim scooted to the edge of his wicker chair, leaned over, and draped his arm around Reba’s shoulders. “Nothing can be done about it now. The baby’s gone.”
“Yes, the baby’s gone.” Reba dabbed the corners of her eyes with her fingertips. “It’s as if we’ve been cursed, as if Fate—or God—is determined to take everything from us and leave us nothing. First Jim Jr. and then Melanie. Our children. Both such beautiful, fine people. And now Jamie, our only grandchild. If only Laura hadn’t lost the baby, we would have—”
Reba broke down and cried. She’d been crying a lot these past four days, and Jim had done his best to be at her side. She deserved no less. As he patted her tenderly, he thought about Erin and how desperately he’d wanted to be with her, to find the comfort in her arms that he could find nowhere else. But how could he slip away—day or night—when Reba needed him so? And if he were totally honest with himself, he’d have to admit that as much as he wanted Erin, as much as he needed her, right now he needed his wife more. No one understood the depth of his despair the way Reba did. No one shared his grief and sense of hopelessness as she did. No one else had loved Jamie as much as he did, only Reba.
“We’ll get through this somehow.” Jim held her, and as she melted into him as if somehow absorbing his strength, he leaned his head over against hers and pressed his lips to her temple. A tender feeling swelled up inside him. He had never been in love with Reba, but he did care for her, perhaps even loved her in a way. “We’ve still got each other, for what it’s worth.”
Sniffling softly, she turned to face him. “Do we? Do I still have you?”
A nervous pang hit him in the gut. Did Reba know about Erin? Or did she simply suspect that there was another woman, that there had always been other women? “Of course you still have me. I’m here, aren’t I?” With the utmost gentleness, he caressed her cheek. “We’ve been through a lot together in these past fifty-four years and somehow survived. We’ll survive this, too.”
“I don’t know if I want to survive.” Reba gazed into Jim’s eyes, and what he saw frightened him. Utter hopelessness. The will to live fading away.
“I can’t bear to see you like this. Please—”
Dora came rushing into the sunroom. “They’re here. Miss Laura is home!”
Jim helped Reba to her feet and together they hurried to greet Laura. Andrea and Cecil flanked their daughter. A sulking Sheridan came in behind them, carrying Laura’s overnight case. A tall, robust woman in her mid forties entered the foyer last. Jim assumed the tall brunette was Mrs. Conley, the psychiatric nurse that Dr. MacNair had highly recommended.
Reba walked quickly forward, then hesitated for a moment, searching Laura’s pale, emotionless face. Jim moved in slowly behind his wife and put his hands on her shoulders.
“Welcome, home, my dear, dear girl,” Reba said. “Your room is all ready for you.”
“Thank you,” Laura replied. “You’ve been so kind to me. Since the day Jamie brought me home and introduced me to y’all as his fiancée, you’ve been nothing but gracious and kind.”
“Oh, Laura…sweet girl…you’re everything we ever hoped for in a wife for our Jamie.”
Andrea slipped her arm around Laura’s waist. “If y’all don’t mind, I think Laura should lie down for a while.”
“Yes, of course.” Tensing, Reba leaned backward into Jim. “How thoughtless of us to keep you standing here in the foyer when you—”
Laura pulled away from her mother, went straight to Reba, and held out her hands. “Would you walk me to my room, Miss Reba? And please sit with me, just for a few minutes. No one else will let me talk about Jamie. No one else loved him the way we did.”
Jim glanced from Cecil Willis to Mrs. Conley, silently questioning them as to whether Reba should agree to Laura’s request.
Mrs. Conley moved in and answered his question quite efficiently. She laid her hand gently on Laura’s shoulder as she looked right at Reba. “Yes, Mrs. Upton, why don’t you come with us and help me get Laura settled in? Her parents and sister can check in on us later.”
Laura grasped Reba’s hand and the two headed toward the staircase. Mrs. Conley took Laura’s overnight bag from Sheridan, and after a quick glance at Jim—with an understanding passing between them that she would look after both Laura and Reba—she followed her charges.
“Am I dismissed?” Sheridan asked insolently.
Andrea sighed. “Why don’t you—oh, dear, you’re sharing a room with Laura. I didn’t think—”
“We had Dora move Sheridan’s things into the bedroom across the hall from Laura,” Jim said.
“Thank you,” Andrea replied.
“That’s great,” Sheridan said, an insolent, phony smile on her face. “Does anyone mind if I take a break from all this melodrama? I’d like to freshen up and then go into town, if I could borrow a car.”
“Take Jamie’s Mercedes,” Jim said. “Ask Dora for the keys.” He’d decided that he didn’t like Sheridan Willis. She came across as a spoiled rotten, hateful little bitch. Actually she was the female equivalent of Jamie. Those two would have been a perfect match. And they probably had been, Jim thought. He didn’t doubt for a minute that Jamie had scored with the younger Willis sister.
“That’s very nice of you,” Andrea said, “but—”
“You and Daddy take care of Laura,” Sheridan said. “Don’t worry about me. Laura comes first, doesn’t she? As always.” With a smirking, condescending grin, she whirled around and headed down the hallway toward the kitchen.
“I must apologize—” Cecil said.
“No need.” Jim held up his hand in a stop gesture.
“We plan to take Laura home with us after the funeral,” Andrea said. “The sooner she gets away from…well, from the reminders of Jamie, the sooner she’ll start to heal.”
“I understand,” Jim said. “But it will be difficult for Reba to let her go. I think those two need each other right now. If y’all could stay on just a few days after the funeral, I’d appreciate it.”
Cecil nodded. “We’ll do whatever the doctors suggest is best for Laura.”
“Yes, of course. Naturally Laura must be your first concern.” An awkward silence followed. Finally Jim said, “If y’all haven’t had lunch, we can get Dora to whip up something.”
“I couldn’t eat a bite,” Andrea replied. “But a cup of tea would be nice.” She turned to her husband. “Darling, why don’t you come with me? We’ll have Dora fix you a sandwich.”
Jim watched as Andrea Willis led her husband away. It was apparent who the dominant partner in that relationship was. It wasn’t that he thought Cecil allowed his wife to lead him around by the nose. No, he didn’t think that. He suspected that Cecil found it comforting to be married to such a strong, capable woman. Jim almost envied the man. He wondered what it would be like, just once, to have a mate he could lean on instead of the other way around.
As he walked upstairs, he wondered how the visit between Laura and Reba was going. Jamie’s doting grandmother and besotted fiancée. Two women who had loved Jamie deeply and overlooked his many character flaws. No doubt they would find Jamie, in death, to be a saint. Grunting, he shook his head sadly. When he reached the landing and started to turn toward his bedroom suite, he paused for a moment. Despite assuring hims
elf that Mrs. Conley could handle two weeping, mournful women, he found himself walking in the opposite direction and straight toward Laura’s room. The door stood open. He paused outside, feeling a bit like a voyeur as he looked in at a private moment. Mrs. Conley busied herself unpacking Laura’s overnight case. Reba stood by the window, talking softly, telling Laura some silly little tale about Jamie’s sixth birthday, and yet ignoring Laura completely. Jim could see that his wife had slipped away briefly into a world where Jamie still existed, that she was oblivious to everything and everyone around her.
His gaze traveled to Laura, who sat in the rocking chair, only a few feet away from the windows. One hand lay atop the other on her belly, as if she were protecting that spot. Her eyes appeared glazed. Apparently, she was completely unconnected to reality. Then, as she rocked back and forth, she looked down at her stomach and smiled.
A cold chill shot through Jim’s body.
Wade Truman was as new at being Cherokee County’s district attorney as Jacob was at being the sheriff. They’d known each other all their lives and had been friends just about as long, despite being total opposites and despite the fact Wade was several years younger. Wade was pure Scots-Irish, not a drop of Cherokee blood in his veins, which accounted for his ruddy complexion, sky blue eyes, and sandy hair. Where Jacob had joined the navy at eighteen, Wade had gone off to UT. Wade came from an upper-middle-class background. His father had been a state senator, his grandfather a federal judge. And Wade had ambitions to run for political office. Jacob suspected that he had his eye on the governor’s mansion. On the other hand, Jacob’s ambitions were modest in comparison. All he wanted was to learn how to be a good lawman.
While rubbing the back of his neck, Wade paced the floor. “Damn it, Jacob, I don’t like the idea anymore than you do, but, my God, man, the evidence is right there in front of our eyes. Jazzy Talbot killed Jamie.”
“No, she didn’t,” Jacob replied, trying to keep his voice calm, which was no easy task, considering how agitated he was. He’d spent the better part of the last hour doing his level best to convince Wade that somebody had framed Jazzy.
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