She lifted a shoulder, let it drop. “Sunday morning penance for a drunk Saturday night. I think she always wanted to be a better person and when she listened to him, it made her realize how . . . well, how far she was from the person she wanted to be. I even remember that once, she took me with her to one of his tent revivals.”
Janey laughed, but there was no humor in it. “She even tried to get backstage to see him. Funny, huh? That she was a follower—and he considers me evil.”
She was beyond anger. Beyond reaction. Or at least she thought she was.
Shawna’s voice cut into her thoughts. “And now to a breaking story that’s just come across the wire. Ironically, it’s about Sweet Baby Jane’s drummer, Derek McCoy.”
Janey froze, her attention drawn back to the TV at the mention of Derek’s name.
“Word out of New York is that McCoy was found with his throat cut in a Times Square hotel earlier tonight. Christine Ramsey, another intended victim of McCoy’s murderer, discovered the body and was herself stabbed in the process.”
Janey couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Beside her, Baby Blue swore.
“Ms. Ramsey is resting in satisfactory condition in the hospital after identifying her attacker and McCoy’s killer as one Edwin Grimm, an ex-convict who had been recently released from prison where he’d served time for stalking rocker Sweet Baby Jane.
“We have it from a source on the NYPD that Grimm has been apprehended and freely confessed to not only the murder of Derek McCoy and his attempted murder of Chris Ramsey but also the murder earlier this week of Neal Sanders, another member of Ms. Perkins’s entourage. In addition, Grimm produced a list of individuals he had targeted for murder, stating that they all stood in the way of a relationship with Ms. Perkins—a relationship that Grimm maintains Jesus had ordained.
“One wonders what the Reverend Black might have to say on this turn of events,” Shawna added with a veiled smile. “And now, on to other news . . .”
Jase was worried about her. Since the news report had aired on Derek McCoy’s death, Janey had been quiet. Too quiet except for several guilt-ridden statements.
“Derek . . . he was a bastard sometimes, but he didn’t deserve to die. Not on my account.”
Jase understood why she was blaming herself. What he couldn’t comprehend was how to convince her that she was blameless. It was a hard sell.
“Not my fault? Both Neal and Derek are dead,” she’d countered when he tried. “Chris Ramsey is in serious condition.”
“And as I’ve told you before, you have no control over the workings of a madman’s mind.”
She’d just curled into herself on the sofa and closed her eyes. That had been an hour ago. Even the news from the hospital that Max was rallying and they were very encouraged hadn’t roused her.
Time, Jase thought. She just needed some time. To rest. To heal. To accept that her nightmare was officially over.
And then his phone rang—and the news Dallas Garrett fed him jarred him right out of that little fantasy with the impact of a gut punch. If Dallas was right about his conclusions, not only wasn’t the nightmare over, but it had just begun.
Five minutes later, Jase ripped the fax that Dallas had sent free of the machine.
“Jesus,” he muttered, dragged a hand over his face and walked toward the living room, where Janey was still curled up on the sofa with her cat.
“Who called?”
He looked up. Breathed deep. “It was a fax. From Dallas.”
Jase watched as she slowly sat up. Watched her stretch and shake the sleep from her stiff limbs.
“More news of madness and mayhem?”
He looked at her long and hard. Long enough and hard enough that she slowly shook her head. “God,” she said, comprehending. “That was supposed to be a joke.”
Jase folded the faxed page in his hand, walked around the sofa, and sat down beside her.
“I need you to bounce one more time, babe,” he told her.
“Nope.” She shook her head. “I’m all bounced out.”
“Wish I could give you that, but you need to hear this.”
She leaned back against the cushions, drew her knees to her chest, and hugged them. “I reserve the right to tune out whenever I want to.”
He’d give anything to spare her this. “Dallas called while you were asleep. He finally connected the dots on the list. Long story short, he talked to the daughter of one of the victims and found some links.”
“Such as,” she said, lifting her head.
“Such as, he’d already figured out that all of the women had children. All of them about your age. All of them spread across the country. But the mothers all lived in Mississippi at the time of conception.”
When she frowned, he continued. “When he dug deeper, Dallas found that all of these children were illegitimate, fathers unknown.”
“And now all of their mothers are dead. Which leads you to what conclusion?” she asked warily.
“That they shared the same father.”
He waited for that to settle.
“A father,” he continued when she’d latched on, “who has apparently gone to great lengths to ensure his ID wasn’t discovered.”
“By having the mothers all killed,” she concluded. “Jesus. What kind of a monster would do that?”
“Someone who has a lot to lose if he’s identified. Someone your mother may have been blackmailing to guarantee her silence.”
Janey stared into space. Sifting, digesting. “So . . . the money in her lockbox? And Lemans?”
“I have to eat a few words, but it’s looking like that was coincidental. The real target wasn’t the money, but the list.”
She shook her head. “To what end? He obviously knew who they were? He killed them.”
“Maybe the list was your mother’s bargaining chip. Maybe she was threatening to make it public. After he had her killed, he might have decided to make certain that the list never saw the light of day. I mean—think about it. Every single one of those deaths was made to look like an accident—including your mother’s.”
“So . . . it wasn’t the loan sharks after all? I became a target because . . . because my own father was willing to kill me for a list of names?”
He couldn’t imagine the pain she was going through. “Yeah,” he said gently. “Yeah, it looks that way.”
She dragged both hands through her hair. “Who is he? God or something? A senator?” she speculated, glancing his way for answers. “The governor?”
Jase exhaled, unfolded the fax. “You were closer the first time. This is a picture one of the children remembered her mother kept. A picture her mother had always told her was her father.” He held it out to her.
She took it with a trembling hand. Stared, then went pale.
It wasn’t as old as the photo they’d found in Alice Perkins’s lockbox. In fact, it was fairly recent, but the resemblance was there. Unmistakable, at least to Jase.
He saw the moment recognition dawned on Janey, too.
“Oh, God.” She looked up from the photo, disbelief warring with the heartbreaking acceptance in her eyes. “It’s Black.”
Yeah. The Reverend Samuel Black.
“He’s my father?”
“So it would seem.” Just as it seemed Black wanted her dead.
A single tear trickled down her cheek as Jase pulled her into his arms. “Guess it wouldn’t be too good for a man of God’s public image if the world found out that the rocker he’s been touting as the spawn of Satan turned out to be his daughter, would it?”
“I’m so sorry, babe,” he murmured against the top of her head.
He was still holding her when the hair on the back of his neck stood at attention and he realized they were no longer alone.
24
I’m touched.”
Jase whipped his head around—expecting to see Black standing there.
But it wasn’t Black. It was his devoted, devout wife, Tonya, who s
tood just inside the sliders, the business end of a revolver pointed directly at Janey’s head.
“Don’t try to save her,” Tonya cautioned when Jase moved to shove Janey behind him and the “guard” dogs lifted their heads and wagged their tails in welcome. “It’s preordained, you know. She must die.”
Jase froze as Tonya Black stepped fully into the room and without turning around closed the slider behind her.
The gun never wavered. Tonya Black’s lacquered blond hair never moved. And the look of undiluted madness in her heavily made-up eyes told him she’d shoot them both without provocation if he made the wrong move.
“Preordained?” Jase asked carefully, all the while inching slightly forward, easing Janey back behind him.
“It truly is touching,” Tonya repeated with a sad shake of her head. “But your loyalty is misplaced, young man. God’s will must be done.”
“I understand,” Jase said, working to keep his voice supplicating, non-confrontational. “I understand why God might want Alice Perkins dead—”
“Who wouldn’t understand?” Tonya interrupted, her face flaming the brilliant red of righteousness. “She was a fornicator and a whore. She was the devil’s instrument. She lured and tempted and dragged Samuel down in the slime with her.”
Jase felt Janey coil as tight as a spring beside him. He squeezed her leg. A caution. A plea to be quiet. To not do something stupid.
“So you hired Alex Marshall to kill her,” he concluded with what he hoped passed for an appreciative nod of his head. “And to kill the others, too.”
Tonya smiled. “I knew you’d figure it out eventually. You’re a smart young man.”
“Not smart enough to figure out why you would hire a murderer to do God’s will.” Chew on that one, sister.
As he’d hoped, his conclusion shook her. At least momentarily. “Alex Marshall was my instrument. My instrument through which I dealt the Lord’s will.”
“God’s will?” Jase shook his head. “I’ve always thought God was benevolent.”
She didn’t much like that. The narrowing of her eyes on him told him so.
Yeah, that’s the ticket. Get pissed at me, you sick old bitch. Point that gun at me.
“The Lord works in mysterious ways. Presents Himself to us mortals in varying forms—takes various forms of retribution. Alice Perkins needed to die because she had been making noises about revealing Janey’s paternity. She’d been demanding more money of my husband.”
“Ah. So your husband had been paying her bills.”
Her face grew dark. Hatred spewed with each word. “For too long. Ever since she approached him at the revival in Tupelo years ago, he’d been depositing money in her account. You were so spoiled, child.”
She glared at Janey, her attention once again devoted to her. “But you probably didn’t appreciate how much better your life became once your whore of a mother started blackmailing Samuel.
“For that alone, your mother deserved to die. But when she started hinting that she knew about the other children my husband, the great prophet, had sired—well. I simply could not let that happen.”
Jase had to divert Tonya’s attention back his way somehow. When that gun went off, he didn’t want it aimed in Janey’s direction. “So where’s your husband’s blame here, Tonya? Why isn’t the great Samuel Black on the block? Why does all the blame fall on the women?”
She cut a murderous gaze back to Jase.
That’s it. That’s a good old bitch. Stay pissed at me.
“My husband is subjected to horrific temptation on a daily basis. Legions of devils work on him relentlessly. They seduced him into fornicating with those pitiful, hope-starved women and producing the devil’s children.”
“That’s why they were all killed?” Janey said, disbelieving. “Because your husband slept with them?”
“Because I could not take the chance that they would decide to talk.”
“Ah,” Jase nodded, “and that’s because if anyone found out that your husband is a womanizer who abandons his own children, the money might quit flowing into the ministry, right?”
Murderous transitioned to snide in the blink of an eye. “Why, yes, there is that,” Tonya agreed.
“Well, you had us all fooled,” Jase said, drawing her attention back to him again. “We thought it was Edwin Grimm. But you had the hearts planted, didn’t you? And the note—‘We’re both orphans now.’ The Lord must truly be on your side.”
“Because I am on the side of right. And because I was smart enough to hire someone to plant those horrible bloody hearts. And yes. The note was clever.”
“Very clever. But answer me something. Why didn’t you just have Marshall kill Janey right away? Why the elaborate production? And why the nineteen-seventy-nine Pontiac Lemans?”
“Ah. The Lemans. It was only fitting. You were conceived in the backseat of a Pontiac Lemans; did you know that?” She averted her gaze to Janey again. “It wasn’t supposed to be found. That was to be my little secret. My little private revenge.”
“And Janey?” Jase asked, and repeated his question to regain Tonya’s attention. “Why not kill her right away?”
“Because, young man, I didn’t know where Alice Perkins’s list was. And yes, she threatened my husband that she’d make it public. Until I knew whether Janey had recovered it, I had to keep her alive.”
“So that was your man again in Tupelo.”
“Marshall? No. Just someone I hired to do some investigating.”
“And when he didn’t find the list for you,” Jase speculated, “you decided the path of least resistance was to kill the other women. They were, after all, expendable.”
“One must do what one has to do in the cause of right.”
“How is Janey on the side of wrong? She’s an innocent in all of this.”
“Innocent? How can the devil’s spawn be innocent? Her evil comes out in her blasphemous music. Even Samuel recognizes that. He’s watched Satan’s words spew out of her mouth over the years. And he’s known that eventually she’d have to be sent to hell, where she belongs.”
“So why isn’t my father here?” Janey asked defiantly.
Jase swore under his breath, and shot Janey a Be quiet look.
She ignored him. “Why isn’t Samuel Black holding the gun? Why did he send you to do his dirty work?”
“There is nothing dirty about my work. My work is the Lord’s work. In this mission, I am His instrument. And I grow weary of all this talk.
“You must die, too, of course,” she said, glancing at Jase. “Pity. You’re such a pretty young man.”
“It will hurt my mother,” he said, grasping at straws to buy some more time. “To see me die. As a mother yourself, you must know that. Must sympathize.”
She drew back her shoulders, lifted her chin. “I have no children.”
“No? How sad. A God-fearing woman like you. Why would the Lord deprive you of children?”
“I was . . . I was barren.”
Liar. Oh yeah, I have her number now.
“Barren? Or frigid?”
Pay dirt. She glared at him, all of her attention focused in a mad, intent stare.
“Yeah, I think I’m getting the full picture here now,” Jase goaded. “Couldn’t be a real wife to Samuel, could you? So he had to go to other women because you wouldn’t let him in your bed.”
“I . . . I was not . . . frigid. I have been a good wife. A good wife.”
A tear streamed down her face, leaving a macabre black track of mascara in its wake.
She lifted a hand to wipe it away—and that was when Jase made his move.
He leaped off the couch, used the coffee table for a springboard, and launched himself at Tonya. They both went down in with a crash. He heard more than felt the gun go off against his side before he reared back and did something he’d promised his mother he’d never do: He hit a woman. Hauled back and delivered a solid right hook to Tonya Black’s glass jaw.
She
went out like a light.
And when he rolled to his back, heard his breath whistle through the hole in his lung, it was lights-out for him, too.
The next time Jase opened his eyes, it was two days later.
“Hey,” an angel said softly. An angel with brimming brown eyes and long blond hair.
“Hey,” he whispered, swallowed what felt like a bucket of sand, and tried again. “Hi.”
“I’m getting tired of you making me cry, Iowa.”
“Not . . . worth . . . the . . . effort,” he managed.
“You’re going to be all right,” he heard her whisper, and felt the moisture from her tears on his face before he let the darkness take him under again.
Two weeks later
“She what?”
Jase shoved aside the hospital sheet and was halfway out of bed before he realized he was wearing one of those ego-deflating hospital gowns that left his ass bare for the world to see.
“She canceled the rest of the tour,” Max said, grinning at the sight of this burly, albeit beat-up, bodyguard grumbling about Janey’s decision.
“She can’t cancel. She never cancels. Not for anything.”
“Never had a good reason to cancel before.”
Jase looked up, saw her standing in the hospital doorway, grinning, her arms full of flowers.
“And don’t you look yummy, with that incredible tush just . . . out there for the nurses to see.”
“I’ve seen better.” The day nurse—a sixty-something matron with a big laugh and a wicked gleam in her eye—followed Janey into the room. “ ’Course, it’s been a while.”
“Why did you cancel the tour?” Jase blustered after the nurse had made certain he’d swallowed his pills, and left the room.
“I thought we’d established it was because I had a good reason.”
“Me?”
“You.”
He fell back onto the bed with a huff. “Janey. We’re talking about your career.”
“My career can hold. You can’t.”
Cindy Gerard - [Bodyguards 04] Page 27