Beg to Die

by Beverly Barton

  Jazzy tried to get a better look at the woman, but all she could see in the shadowy darkness was the shimmer of blond hair. “You’re crazy. I’ve never fooled around with a married man. And I sure as hell never stole anybody’s baby.”

  “Lying won’t help you. Not now.”

  The woman moved closer, close enough for Jazzy to see her face clearly and to recognize the wild-eyed creature pointing a gun right at her.

  “We’re going to take a little ride.”

  “I don’t think so,” Jazzy said.

  “We can do this the easy way or the hard way,” the woman told her.

  “I’m afraid it’s going to have to be the hard way.”

  Before Jazzy realized the woman’s intent, she aimed her gun at Jazzy’s midsection and fired. The bullet entered Jazzy’s belly like a hot serrated knife, ripping her apart with fiery pain.

  When Jazzy dropped to her knees, the woman came closer and stood over her. Jazzy couldn’t believe this had just happened, couldn’t believe this crazy bitch had actually shot her. Gripping her belly with both hands, she felt the warm stickiness of her own blood. Oh, God, please help me.

  The woman grabbed Jazzy by her hair. Jazzy yelped. She took hold of the nape of Jazzy’s sweater and started dragging her down the alley. Damn, for a small woman, she was strong as an ox.

  “Where…where are you taking me?” Jazzy asked, knowing that she was on the verge of fainting.

  “Back to my cabin, of course. I have Cecil and Laura waiting for us.”

  Cecil and Laura? Laura Willis and her father? Jazzy realized she was fading fast and her thought processes probably weren’t working all that well, but none of what this woman had said made any sense.

  You’re going to die if you don’t do something, Jazzy told herself. But what could she do? She was bleeding profusely and about half a minute away from passing out. Leave a clue. It’s only a matter of time until somebody misses you and comes looking for you.

  While the woman continued tugging on the neck of Jazzy’s sweater, pulling her along the rough alleyway, Jazzy managed to muster enough strength to ease out the big key chain from her sweater pocket and slide it quietly down on the ground.

  Chapter 29

  Dallas Sloan knew the signs. It hadn’t taken him long to recognize both the subtle and the obvious clues when Genny’s mind left this temporal plane and moved into a spiritual realm. Whenever one of her visions took her away, she often became very still and very quiet and her eyes would glaze over. Then when she became fully immersed in that place out of time and space, where she witnessed either the future or events occurring somewhere else at that very moment, she often fainted dead away. If she was asleep when a vision happened, her body would become rigid only moments before she began tossing and turning. And more often than not, she would wake screaming.

  Tonight she’d been wide awake. They’d been removing items from the dishwasher and placing them in the appropriate cupboards and drawers before turning in for the night. They had been talking and she’d just made a comment to which he had replied. When she didn’t respond, he’d looked at her and realized she was fading away, leaving him.

  “Genny?” He grasped her arm and shook her gently.

  The ceramic dish she held slipped from her hand and crashed onto the floor. Dallas shook her again. No response. Damn, he hated it when this happened. Hated it because it scared him just a little. Admit it, Sloan, sometimes it scares the bejesus out of you. Even now, after months of knowing and loving Genny, of day by day becoming more and more telepathically linked with her, he still felt overwhelmed by her psychic abilities.

  Suddenly he knew, without a word being spoken and a split second before it happened, that Genny needed him to catch her before she fell. As she swayed unsteadily on her feet, he reached out and grabbed her, then lifted her up into his arms. Using his foot, he slid one of the kitchen chairs away from the table, then sat down with Genny in his lap. Holding her rigid body securely, protecting her with every ounce of his strength, he spoke to her inside his mind, hoping he could reach her and give her his support. He’d found that if he could link with her while she was in that other world, she was able to draw power from him so that when she came out of her trancelike state, she wasn’t quite as physically weak and emotionally vulnerable as she otherwise would have been.

  Stay with me, Dallas, Genny pleaded telepathically. It’s bad. Really bad. Oh, God…oh God. Jazzy!

  “What is it Genny?” he said aloud. “What are you seeing? Is something wrong with Jazzy?”

  Silence.

  I can’t lose the connection. Dallas told himself. I have to stay focused on Genny, on helping her.

  For what seemed like an eternity, he couldn’t sense what she was experiencing and it made him wonder if something or someone had severed the link between them. Then, with a tidal wave of sensation, she touched him, touched his mind and drew him closer and closer. He held her tighter and shut his eyes. Darkness. Utter and complete blackness.

  Hang on to me, she told him. Keep calling my name so that I can find my way back to you.

  Dallas saw nothing. He heard and felt only Genny. She was all around him and inside him, a part of him. Her body trembled involuntarily, then she began moaning. When she thrashed about in his arms, he trapped her in his embrace, cocooning her. Her moaning turned to sharp, high-pitched keens. And then she dissolved like ice in the snow—slowly, languidly—her body going limp and her mouth silent.

  He held her all the tighter, poured all his mental and emotional strength into her, quite certain what would happen next. Genny’s eyelids flew open and her black eyes stared sightlessly off into space. A millisecond later, she opened her mouth and screamed.

  “It’s all right, sweetheart,” he told her. “You’ve come back to me. You’re here in my arms.”

  She turned her head and looked at him. “Oh, Dallas, we have to find Jazzy before it’s too late.”

  “Tell me everything.”

  “She—she…the woman who killed Jamie is going to kill Jazzy. She shot Jazzy. I could see Jazzy clutching her stomach, her hands covered with blood. And this woman was dragging Jazzy down an alley.”

  “Is this happening now?” he asked.

  Genny shook her head. “I think it’s already happened. I think this woman has taken Jazzy somewhere to kill her.”

  “Do you have any idea where?”

  “No. Not yet. But…”

  “But what?”

  “I’m going to try linking with Jazzy. We haven’t done that in years, not since we were kids.” Genny grasped the front of Dallas’s shirt. “And Jazzy was never…never—” Tears glistened in Genny’s eyes, like stars in the black night sky. “She was never very good at it, at linking with me.”

  “I’ll call Jacob and we’ll form a search party.”

  “How could this happen? Caleb was supposed to be with her. And I didn’t feel his presence anywhere near Jazzy. All I felt was Jazzy’s pain and fear.” Tears trailed down her cheeks. “She felt alone. So alone.”

  Dallas kissed the top of Genny’s head, loving her beyond all reason, wanting desperately to comfort and reassure her. “We’ll find Jazzy. I swear we’ll find her before…”

  He shouldn’t be making promises to Genny that he wasn’t a hundred percent sure he could keep. But damn it all, if Jazzy died, it would destroy Genny. And he couldn’t—wouldn’t—let that happen.

  When she regained consciousness, Jazzy realized she must have passed out sometime between when the crazy bitch forced her into a car and when she woke inside this cabin. Jazzy glanced around in the semidark room and realized she was indeed inside a Cherokee Cabin Rentals. And she was lying on the sofa. When she tried to move, pain ripped through her body, radiating from her stomach and outward. Oh, God, now she remembered. She’d been shot. That wild-eyed woman who looked vaguely familiar had shot her. Jazzy tried to feel her wound, and suddenly realized she couldn’t move her hands. Damn it, her hands were tied behind
her. She tried to lift her legs and couldn’t. Her feet were bound together. Not good. Actually bad. Very bad.

  Jazzy glanced around the room, searching for the woman. That’s when she saw the naked man lying on the floor, spread-eagled, his hands and feet tied to some sort of metal spikes in the floor.

  Holy shit!

  When she managed to roll over just enough to get a better look, she recognized the man. Cecil Willis. The crazy bitch had not only kidnapped her, but Laura’s father, too.

  “Please, why are you doing this?” a soft, quivering voice asked.

  Who said that? Jazzy wondered. From where she was trapped on the sofa, she couldn’t see the entire room, only the expanse of floor where Cecil Willis lay spread out like a sacrifice to some ancient god.

  “Oh, Laura, my sweet baby girl,” the crazy bitch said. “You must know that everything I’ve done, everything I will do, is for you. To protect you.”

  “I—I don’t understand,” Laura said.

  Jazzy closed her eyes and uttered a silent prayer, pleading with God for help. This nutcase had kidnapped Laura, too. But why? I don’t understand any of this. Okay, so maybe she wasn’t thinking straight. Maybe a combination of the liquor she’d consumed and the pain and loss of blood from the gunshot wound had made her delirious. Maybe she was hallucinating. Maybe Cecil Willis wasn’t really manacled to the floor, buck naked and gagged. And maybe Laura wasn’t really here.

  A shadow passed by the sofa. Jazzy closed her eyes and pretended to still be unconscious.

  “I think your father should explain to you who I am and why I care so much about your happiness,” the woman said.

  Jazzy eased one eye open. When she saw that the woman had her back to her, Jazzy opened her other eye. The woman’s hair was blond. Jazzy tried to put the face she’d seen in shadows in the alley behind Jazzy’s Joint with blond hair. Think. Try to remember where you’ve seen her before.

  As Jazzy watched, helpless to do anything else, she saw the woman drag an unbound Laura Willis with her toward the pitiful man lying on the floor. When the woman released Laura’s hand and dropped to her knees alongside Cecil Willis, Laura stood there shivering and whimpering.

  Run, you damn fool, run. Get away now, while you’ve got the chance, Jazzy screamed silently. What the hell was wrong with Laura? Didn’t she understand this might be their only chance to survive?

  The woman removed the gag from Cecil’s mouth, letting the cloth rag nestle around his throat. Smiling cruelly, she caressed his cheek. “Tell her who I am.”

  With terror in his eyes, he looked up at his daughter. “This is Margaret. My—my first wife.”

  She stroked his cheek again. “That’s a good boy. Now tell her why I love her and why I’ve come for her.”

  “Laura, darling…” Cecil looked pleadingly at his daughter.

  The woman kicked him in the ribs. Hard. He groaned in pain.

  “Daddy!”

  When Laura started to go to her father, the woman flung a restraining arm out in front of her. “Tell her, Cecil.” She whirled around and caught Jazzy staring at her. “Or had you rather your whore tell our daughter the truth—that she seduced you, that she took you away from me, that she stole my baby!”

  “Margaret, please—”

  She kicked Cecil again to silence him.

  “Lady, you’re fucking nuts,” Jazzy said. “I told you before that I’ve never seduced a married man”—least of all Cecil Willis—“and I’ve never stolen a baby. Certainly not yours.”

  “Lying whore!” She propelled herself across the room in a flash and slapped Jazzy soundly. “He was my husband. Mine! And Laura was mine, too. My baby.”

  “Margaret, for pity’s sake,” Cecil called. “This woman didn’t take Laura away from you. Look at her. She’s only a few years older than Laura. You’ve confused her with—” Cecil gulped. “Please, let Laura and Jazzy go. Do whatever you want to me, but don’t hurt Laura.”

  The woman looked at Jazzy and smiled. A cold shiver shocked Jazzy’s body as she suddenly realized who this woman was. She was the small blonde woman who had eaten dinner at Jasmine’s often during the past month or so. What was her name? Not Margaret. No, but something similar. Margie. Marj. Margo! Margo Kenley!

  “Margo, I’m Jazzy Talbot. Don’t you remember me? You’ve eaten at my restaurant several times. I’m not the person who stole your baby.” Jazzy looked to Laura for help. Snap out of it, girl, and do something—anything. And do it now.

  “I know who you are. You’re the slut that Jamie Upton couldn’t leave alone,” Margo/Margaret said. “I had to kill him, to punish him for hurting my baby.”

  “You—you killed Jamie?” Laura’s blue eyes widened in shock, as if she’d only now realized that this woman was a deadly viper, a murderess who enjoyed torturing her victims.

  “I did it for you, Laura,” Margo said. “He betrayed you, just as your father betrayed me. Men are weak creatures, really. They put their filthy hands all over you and make you feel like nothing. They fuck you and hurt you and…but I made them pay. My father. He raped me the first time when I was eleven. But I cut off his pecker and rammed it down his throat. And then there was my first boyfriend, who cheated on me with a perky little cheerleader. I killed him, too. Killed them both when I found them together.”

  “Daddy…why does she…keep saying…I’m her baby?” Laura gasped the words between frightened, confused sobs.

  “You are my baby.” Margo turned and reached for Laura, who shrank away from her. “Don’t be afraid. I’d never hurt you. I love you. I always loved you.”

  “Daddy!”

  “Let her go. Please.” Cecil struggled fruitlessly against his restraints.

  Margo looked at Laura, who stood frozen to the spot. Then she patted Laura’s cheek. “See how he begs me to let his whore go free? He doesn’t love me. He never did. And he doesn’t love you. He only gave you to that slut of his because he wanted to punish me.”

  “Daddy, please tell me the truth—is she my mother?” Laura dropped to her knees beside her father.

  “Yes. Your biological mother.” Sweat coated Cecil’s pale face and body. “But you’re nothing like her, Laura. I swear. You’re gentle and kind and loving.”

  As if in a trance, Laura rose to her feet and stared at Margo. “If you love me the way you say you do, you won’t hurt my daddy.”

  Laura glanced at Jazzy, who knew she was on the verge of passing out again. God only knew how much blood she’d lost. Jazzy figured that if she didn’t get to the hospital soon, she’d die long before this crazy bitch sliced her to ribbons. And she was pretty sure that’s what this Margo broad had in mind. Doing some slicing and chopping on Cecil Willis and her, the same as she’d done on Jamie and Stan Watson.

  “Please, let Daddy and Jazzy go. And if you want me to, I’ll stay with you.”

  “No, Laura, no!” Cecil cried.

  Amazing, Jazzy thought. What had happened to that pitiful, helpless little girl who’d kept whimpering and calling for her daddy? It was as if Laura Willis had turned into a mature, capable woman in the blink of an eye.

  Wooziness suddenly overcame Jazzy. Her head spun around and around. The pain wasn’t so bad anymore. Sort of a dull ache now. That’s a bad sign, isn’t it?

  And that was the last coherent thought Jazzy had before she passed out again.

  Jacob and Dallas had taken every precaution to make sure the search party stayed under their control, and that meant bringing along Jim Upton and Andrea Willis. Mrs. Willis had threatened to call everyone from the local TV station to the governor. Jacob had told Big Jim that it was his job to keep Mrs. Willis calm, which he’d been doing—up to this point. But the real problem wasn’t Andrea Willis, it was the wild card in the deck, a man Jacob figured nobody could control. Caleb McCord had been with Jim when Mrs. Willis had called him to tell him about Cecil and Laura’s disappearance. And when Jacob had confided in Jim that Jazzy, too, was missing, he’d shared the news with his
newfound grandson.

  Living closer to the Uptons, Dallas had gone there, with Genny in tow, to speak to Mrs. Willis and search the house and grounds for clues. He’d found nothing of any significance, other than Laura’s bedroom slipper and a broken teacup. Except one other peculiar item—a remote control to the Uptons’ massive front gates. Big Jim had identified it as Jamie’s.

  “Each of us has a different color remote,” Jim had explained to Dallas, who had later told Jacob when they’d been trying to put all the pieces of this missing persons’ puzzle together. “Reba’s is white. Mine is dark green. Dora’s is purple. Laura’s is red. Jamie’s was blue.”

  It didn’t take a rocket scientist to put two and two together and come up with the inevitable four. The woman who had killed Jamie Upton had somehow managed to kidnap Cecil and Laura. And probably Jazzy, too, if Genny’s sixth sense was correct. And it was, a good ninety-eight percent of the time.

  While Dallas had taken charge of the investigation at the Upton mansion, Jacob had gone in search of clues in and around Jazzy’s Joint—the last place anyone had seen Jazzy. He’d found Lacy in tears, and while he’d been questioning her, Sally had stormed in, along with Ludie.

  “I’m heading home to get Peter and Paul,” Sally had told him. “I’m gonna find that gal, and when I do, whoever’s got her had better run like hell.”

  Jacob had managed to rein Sally in by explaining the entire situation to her and promising her that she and, if necessary, her bloodhounds, would play a significant part in searching for Jazzy and Laura and Cecil.

  “I don’t give a shit about that Willis fellow and his daughter,” Sally had said.

  He’d sent her off to pick up her dogs and told her to meet him at the Uptons. In the meantime, he and his deputies had scoured the alley behind Jazzy’s Joint. What they’d found had chilled him to the bone. Blood. Probably Jazzy’s blood. That meant she had been shot, just as Genny had seen in her vision.

  “Look here, Sheriff,” Moody Ryan had called after he’d picked something up off the ground. After holding it up in his gloved hand so that the glow from the nearby streetlight illuminated the object, the deputy had bagged the evidence. “It’s a set of keys. Got blood on them.”