“I’ll call Maxie,” Genny said. “Then I think we should go on over to the sheriff’s department so you can turn yourself in.”
Jazzy looked at Genny, not quite comprehending what she’d said. “You think I should turn myself in?”
“The local media is already in a frenzy about Jamie’s murder,” Genny explained. “Once word leaks out that there’s been a warrant issued for your arrest, all hell will break loose. Newspaper and TV reporters will be swarming around here and around the courthouse like a bunch of killer bees. If we go on over to Jacob’s office and wait, we might avoid the worst of it.”
“Damn Brian MacKinnon. I’ll bet he’s enjoying this. As much as he dislikes me, you know he’ll slant everything on his TV station and in The Cherokee Pointe Herald against me.”
“Forget Brian. We can’t do anything to stop him from doing whatever he wants to do. Our biggest concern right now is hiring Maxie and getting him to meet us over at Jacob’s office.”
“You’re right. To hell with Brian Fucking MacKinnon. One of these days that maggot will get his.”
“Jazzy, my Lord, will you stop shooting off your mouth? Everything you say is going to be scrutinized, and when you say something like that people will twist it around so that they can call it a threat.”
“Well, shit, Genny, you might as well ask me to stop breathing. You know how I am. I say whatever pops into my head. And I didn’t mean I’d personally see that Brian gets his.”
“I know.” Genny offered her a wavering smile. “Look, go freshen up, change clothes or whatever, then grab your purse and let’s head out. In the meantime, I’ll put in a call to Maxie and ask him to meet us over at the courthouse.”
“Find out how much money he’ll charge me up front,” Jazzy said as she headed for her bedroom. “I might need to transfer some funds out of my savings account.”
“I’ll ask,” Genny said. “And Jazzy…if you wind up having to hire a more high-powered lawyer than Maxie and need some help, financially, Dallas and Jacob and I want to—”
“Damn it, you’re going to make me cry.” Jazzy didn’t dare turn around and face her best friend. If she had, she would have burst into tears. “If worse comes to worst, I can always sell Jasmine’s and Jazzy’s Joint.”
“No, you won’t. If it turns out Maxie can’t handle this case, we’ll hire you the best damn lawyer available, no matter what the cost.”
Jazzy ran into the bedroom and closed the door behind her. With tears trickling down her cheeks, she leaned back against the door and thanked God for good friends. And while she was praying, she also asked God to help Jacob and Dallas find out who had really killed Jamie.
The room was quiet. The only sound was her own soft voice as she hummed to her baby. Her precious daughter. So tiny. So pretty. And so dependent on her. Don’t you worry, my little angel, I’ll take good care of you. It was a mother’s duty to love and care for her child, to protect that child from the evil in the world. And there was so much evil, so much cruelty. Bad people doing bad things to her. Mean people plotting behind her back, saying terrible things about her.
As she rocked back and forth, cradling her baby in her arms, she whispered, “You’re safe. No one can hurt you. And no one can ever take you away from me again.”
He had said he loved her. He’d made her promises he never intended to keep. To love, honor, and cherish. But he had lied. Her feelings hadn’t mattered to him, not as long as he got what he wanted.
She held her child close to her heart. “But he’ll never have you. He’ll never hurt you. They’re all alike. Men who tell you they love you, then throw you away and pretend you never existed. And there is always a woman who lures them into evil. A wicked woman who deserves the same punishment for her sins.”
Mustn’t get upset, she told herself. Everything is all right for now. I’m safe. My daughter is safe. Jamie Upton is dead. He can’t hurt anyone ever again. Now all I have to do is bide my time and the law will punish Jasmine Talbot. She will suffer as we have suffered.
She continued humming, a lullaby from long ago. Hadn’t she sung this same song to another baby? Had there been another baby? No, of course not. There was only her little girl, the baby she held in her arms. The child who was safe. The child he couldn’t hurt. The little girl he could never take away from her.
At the right moment, I will make him very, very sorry for what he did. He thinks he’s safe. He has no idea that he will die soon. He shouldn’t have let us down the way he did. I might have forgiven him and killed him quickly if he’d been a better father, if he had protected you and kept you from harm.
Not yet. Wait. There is no need to hurry. She had found him, and if he tried to escape, she would simply follow him. He couldn’t get away from her. Wouldn’t he be surprised when he saw her, when he realized who she was and that she was going to kill him?
Caleb flagged Genny down a block away from the courthouse. He stood in the middle of the street and waved his arms. She slammed on the brakes and rolled down the window. Before she could say a word, Caleb ran toward her Chevy Trailblazer.
“Let me in,” he called out to her as he grabbed for the back door handle on the driver’s side.
The minute Genny undid the locks, Caleb opened the door and jumped in the back seat. “Drive around to the rear entrance at the courthouse.”
“What’s wrong?” Genny asked.
Jazzy turned halfway around in her seat. Her gaze connected with Caleb’s and held.
“Word’s out that Jazzy is going to be arrested for Jamie’s murder. There’s a horde of reporters out front, along with TV cameras ready to follow Jacob when he leaves the courthouse or to catch you the minute you arrive to turn yourself in.”
“How do you know?” Jazzy asked. “Did—?”
“I told you that word’s out all over town.” Caleb leaned over the console and placed his hand on Jazzy’s shoulder. “Jacob and Dallas have posted deputies and officers at the front and back entrances, but it’s going to be a madhouse trying to get you into Jacob’s office.”
“Go ahead, Genny,” Jazzy said. “I’ve got to face the reporters sooner or later. We might as well get this over with.”
“Maxwell Fennel is waiting for you outside on the courthouse lawn and his presence is causing quite a stir,” Caleb told them. “He’s already pleading your case to the press.”
“For what I’m paying him, he’d damn well better be doing a good job.” Jazzy laughed, but there was no humor in the sound.
Caleb would like nothing better than to take Jazzy away from Cherokee Pointe, to run off with her to some tropical island and forget Jamie Upton ever existed. He hated what was happening to her and felt helpless to protect her against the injustice of being charged with a crime she hadn’t committed. What she needed more than anything right now was a topnotch lawyer. Somebody who didn’t know the word defeat, somebody with a reputation for always winning. The first name that came to mind was Quinn Cortez. Cortez was the premiere trial lawyer in the south and southwest. He had successfully defended a slew of accused murderers. But Cortez came with a high price tag. His retainer alone ran into six figures.
Caleb didn’t have the kind of money it would take to pay Cortez’s astronomical fee—and even if the guy did owe Caleb a favor, he could hardly ask him to work for peanuts. But Caleb knew someone who did have that kind of money, somebody who’d driven into town in a Jaguar, someone who was probably Jazzy’s sister. But before he could approach Reve Sorrel, he needed some information on the lady. He still had contacts in Memphis who’d probably help him.
When Genny turned her SUV off the street and into the parking area behind the courthouse, reporters descended on the Trailblazer like a swarm of angry bees.
“Now what do we do?” Genny asked.
“We wait here, with the doors locked and the windows rolled up, until we get a police escort into the building,” Caleb replied.
“This is Brian’s doing,” Genny said. “He’s
somewhere nearby. I can sense his presence. He’s watching. And he’s enjoying every minute of it.”
“Sadistic bastard,” Caleb grumbled under his breath.
Jacob came out the back door of the courthouse, Dallas at his side. Deputies Tewanda Hardy and Tim Willingham, working with a couple of Dallas’s officers, parted the throng of reporters and curiosity seekers while Jacob and Dallas made their way to the Trailblazer. They came to the driver’s side and motioned for Genny to open the door.
“Just park right here. Then I want everybody to get out on this side,” Dallas said. “Genny, we’ll put you and Jazzy between Jacob and me.” He glanced in the backseat at Caleb. “You stay right behind them, and we’ll put Tewanda in front so we can keep them surrounded until we make it to the office.”
Caleb nodded and the minute both women were out of the vehicle, he hopped down to the ground and came up behind them to guard the rear. Moving as quickly as the encroaching horde allowed, they headed toward the back door. Reporters shouted questions. TV cameras rolled. And inch by slow inch, they came closer and closer to the courthouse back entrance.
“Don’t nobody blame you for killing him, honey,” a female voice in the crowd shouted.
“He deserved what he got,” another woman yelled.
“You’re a murderer,” one man bellowed.
And another yelled, “You’re a no-good slut. A murdering whore. You’re going straight to hell.”
Every instinct in Caleb demanded that he tear through the crowd and beat the hell out of everybody who dared say anything bad about Jazzy. But what good would that do her? None. Absolutely none. However, he knew what he could do for her. First, he’d post bond for her as soon as she was booked. He figured he had enough saved up to cover it. Second, he’d make a phone call to a man who owed him a favor. He’d never intended to call in Cortez’s marker, but this wasn’t for himself. It was for Jazzy. And after he got the info he needed on Reve Sorrell, he’d see if he could twist her arm into coming up with some cash. Even if Cortez did owe him, he doubted the man would take on Jazzy’s case for nothing.
Caleb reached out, placed his hand on the small of Jazzy’s back, and kept it there as they entered the courthouse and quickened their pace on their trek to the sheriff’s department. He wasn’t going to let her go through this alone. One way or another, he intended to take care of her.
Chapter 18
Jazzy was grateful for one thing above all else—that she had good friends she could count on. Otherwise she’d be spending the night in jail. Of course, it didn’t hurt that two of those friends just happened to be the chief of police and the county sheriff. And with Maxwell Fennel, a man with more clout with the judges than any lawyer in the county, on her side, a reasonable bond had been set despite the charges being second degree murder. Jacob had explained that Wade Truman would have gone for first degree, but knew he’d never make those charges stick. The evidence against her, though plentiful, wouldn’t hold up well under close scrutiny.
“If Big Jim hadn’t put the pressure on Wade, we wouldn’t have made an arrest so quickly,” Jacob told her. “Seems Miss Reba wants her pound of flesh. Actually, to be more accurate, she wants a pound of your flesh.”
Whatever Big Mama wants, Big Mama gets, Jamie had said numerous times.
Miss Reba. God, how that woman had fucked up her life. Jamie’s grandmother had despised her from day one. If it hadn’t been for Miss Reba, Jamie would have married her when they were teenagers and he’d knocked her up. But Jazzy hadn’t been good enough for the Upton heir. Miss Reba had wanted him married and mated to a blue blood, to somebody whose folks had the kind of money and breeding the Uptons did.
At this precise moment, Jazzy felt nothing. No pain or anger or fear. It was as if something had shut down inside her and her ability to feel had gone into hibernation. An odd sort of numbness had settled over her once the booking process began. Of course, Maxie had earned his retainer when Jacob had questioned her. Wade Truman had been on hand for that, and, to give the devil his due, he’d appeared to be rather uncomfortable with the whole situation. Of course, the fact that whenever he was allowed anywhere near her, Caleb had continuously given the DA the evil eye might have had something to do with Wade’s discomfort.
Jazzy walked up the outside stairs that led to her apartment above Jazzy’s Joint, Caleb’s strong arm around her waist. He hadn’t left her all this time, during the seemingly endless hours it took for her to be fingerprinted and photographed and her personal information to be recorded.
Jacob and two deputies remained on the street below, fending off the reporters who had been lying in wait for Jazzy’s return. As Caleb took her key from her and unlocked the front door, she could hear the newshounds shouting questions at her. She didn’t care what they asked. Didn’t care what they said about her in print. There were a lot of things over which she had no control, and the press was one of those things, as was being accused of Jamie’s murder.
Once inside, Caleb gave her a gentle push toward the sofa. “Go sit down.” He closed and locked the door. “It’s nearly eight-thirty and you haven’t had any lunch or supper. I’m going to fix you something to eat.”
Jazzy shook her head. “I’m not hungry.”
Caleb came up behind her, grasped her shoulders and walked her to the sofa. “Sit.”
She sat.
He knelt down and removed her shoes. After easing her legs up on the sofa, he pulled a knitted afghan off the back and placed it over the lower half of her body. “You’re eating something, even if it’s just half a sandwich.” He stuffed a couple of throw pillows behind her and urged her to lean back and relax. “If I don’t take very good care of you, I’ll have to answer to Genny and your aunt Sally.”
“Believe me, answering to those two would be a fate worse than death,” Jazzy told him and realized despite everything she hadn’t lost her sense of humor.
“Don’t I know it.” Caleb grasped her chin and ran the pad of his thumb over it in a lingering caress. “Try to put all of it out of your mind. At least for now.”
Jazzy nodded, knowing it was the response he wanted, even if it was a lie. She watched him until he disappeared into her small efficiency kitchen, then she closed her eyes and hugged herself. Although she hadn’t cried a drop since being arrested, she felt drained. The numbness was wearing off and exhaustion was taking its place. She burrowed her head into the pillows and cuddled her body against the back of the couch.
Even with the doors and windows closed, she could still hear the rumble of reporters outside being kept at bay by the deputies. In the days and weeks ahead, they would hound her. Brian MacKinnon would see to that. Every aspect of her life would be put under a magnifying glass and written about in detail for the whole county to see. If—God forbid—the grand jury decided to bring down a ruling in favor of indicting her for Jamie’s murder, she could lose her freedom. But she had already lost something as precious as freedom, actually a part of true freedom. She had lost her privacy. Everyone had secrets, things they would prefer the world never know. She supposed she had more skeletons in her closet than most. Yeah, sure, a lot of folks knew a little about her past history, but a great deal of what they thought they knew was nothing more than supposition. If you took a poll of the locals, sixty percent would tell you that Jazzy Talbot was the illegitimate daughter of Sally Talbot’s baby sister. The other forty percent would swear Jazzy was Sally’s child. Jazzy had a birth certificate that proved she was Sally’s niece, born to Corrine Talbot on July twenty-first.
A local poll on what happened to Jazzy and Jamie’s baby would end up pretty much a ninety-five percent agreement that Jazzy had gotten an abortion when she was sixteen. But a handful of folks knew the truth—she had miscarried in the first trimester. And everyone who knew her, except the ones closest to her, would swear that Jazzy Talbot was a good-time girl who had spread her legs for half the men in town. That was most definitely false. But no one would ever believe that she could
count all her lovers on her fingers. Less than ten. Not lily-white by any means, but not exactly the harlot of the century, either.
Yeah, she liked to flirt. And when a woman looked like she did, men just naturally drooled over her. Was that her fault? Maybe. She had never done anything to dispel her bad reputation. Actually, she had done the exact opposite and fostered her town whore image. Just like Aunt Sally had often said, Jazzy sometimes cut off her nose to spite her face. It was that damn, mile-wide stubborn streak in her.
Sighing, she rubbed the back of her neck. Damn, she was tired. She closed her eyes. Weariness overcame her. Not just a physical and mental weariness. No, it was more than that. Jazzy was heart weary. Soul weary.
Dallas Sloan hung up the phone and turned to Jacob. “You are not going to believe this.”
“Was that Teri?” Jacob asked. “Did she come up with something on McCord?”
“Indeed she did.” Dallas mulled over the information his friend and old lover, who still worked for the FBI, had compiled on Caleb McCord. The man was a real surprise on more than one count.
“Well, are you going to tell me or make me guess?” Jacob leaned back in his swivel chair and propped his big feet up on his desk. “It’s been a long day and I’m really not in the mood for twenty questions.”
“Sorry.” Dallas shrugged. He couldn’t help stretching out the suspense just a little, despite knowing what a short fuse Jacob had. In the few months they’d known each other, they had become friends. Good friends. And when Dallas married Genny, Jacob would practically be his brother-in-law. “We knew McCord was from Memphis and that he was a detective on the Memphis police force. But we didn’t know he was one of the youngest men to ever make detective or that he was a well-respected, wellliked, multidecorated cop.”
“What do you know.” Jacob grinned as he lifted his coffee mug to his lips and downed the last sip.
“I know that wasn’t a question, but I do just happen to have a lot more information.” Dallas wondered if Jacob’s take on this startling new info would be the same as his. He’d bet his last nickel that it would be.
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