The Fifth Victim

by Beverly Barton

  The noon news anchor commented, “We’ve heard that our sheriff has been accused of having a short fuse. I’d say after witnessing this incident, we can all verify that Jacob Butler’s temper has, in all likelihood, gained him and the Sheriff’s Department a lawsuit. And in my opinion, Butler should be brought up on charges.”

  “Butler should receive an award for not killing that idiot reporter,” Caleb McCord said.

  Not having heard Caleb approaching, Jazzy gasped and jumped when he spoke. “Damn, you should have let me know you were there. You scared the shit out of me.”

  “Ooh…just what I like—a woman who talks dirty.”

  “Put a sock in it, McCord.”

  “You seemed mesmerized by the noon news.”

  “The whole town is mesmerized,” Jazzy said as she finished cleaning the tabletop, then lifted the square metal pail that held the dirty dishes. “There have been three murders in only a few days. People are scared and confused. And having our local TV, radio, and newspaper all ridiculing Jacob isn’t helping any. He’s doing his very best. Nobody is more determined to find and stop this killer.”

  “Sounds like you and Sheriff Butler are good friends.”

  Jazzy lifted the metal pail onto her hip. “We’re damn good friends. You won’t find a more honorable man anywhere.”

  “Lovers?” Caleb asked.

  “That’s none of your business.” Jazzy shoved past him and headed toward the kitchen.

  When she thumped the swinging door open with her hip, then moved into the kitchen, the door stayed open. She glanced over her shoulder and saw Caleb following her. She set the pail of dirty dishes down on a countertop, turned, put her hand on her hip and glared at him.

  “What?” she asked.

  “We had a date for noon today, didn’t we?”

  “A date? No, I don’t think so.” She jerked a paper towel from an overhead rack, wiped her hands, and tossed the crumpled towel into the garbage. “I offered you a job and gave you until noon today to accept it.”

  “Ah, so we’re keeping this all business, huh?”

  “Strictly business.” She wasn’t going to fall for this man’s easy charm. She’d learned her lesson—the hard way—with Jamie Upton.

  “I’ll take the job,” he said.

  “Before you know any details? Like hours, salary, benefits—”

  “I don’t have a job. I need one to pay my bills. You’re offering me what I need. Hours don’t matter to me. I figure you have to pay at least minimum wage, and any benefits will be a bonus.”

  “How long can I count on you staying in Cherokee Pointe?”

  “Depends.”

  “Depends on what?”

  “On how well I like it here.”

  “Then I suppose we should both consider this a temporary arrangement. Right?”

  He nodded. “So, boss lady, do I have the job?”

  “I’ll give you a trial run, starting tonight. Come by here around five and fill out the paperwork. And free supper comes with the job. You’ll work from six till midnight weeknights and from six till two on Friday and Saturday nights. You’re off on Sundays.”

  “I take it that the “blue law” is still alive and well in Cherokee County?”

  “That’s right. No liquor served on Sundays.”

  “Anything else I need to know?” Caleb asked.

  “Not that I can think of, but if you have any questions, just ask Lacy tonight.”

  “Lacy’s the bartender, right?”

  Jazzy nodded.

  Caleb grinned.

  “That’s it. You can go now,” Jazzy told him. “We’re finished.”

  Caleb’s grin broadened. “That’s where you’re wrong.” Leaning into her, but not close enough for their bodies to actually touch, he placed both palms flat on the wall, flanking Jazzy’s head. “You and I, Miss Jasmine, are just getting started.”

  His nearness took her breath away. Before she was able to actually speak, Caleb winked at her, then turned around and walked out of the kitchen.

  Jazzy released a relieved breath. Damn, that guy was lethal, even in small doses. She started to run after him and tell him she’d changed her mind about giving him the bouncer’s job at Jazzy’s. But she didn’t. She needed a bouncer. Caleb needed a job. He’d certainly handled Jamie Upton with expert ease last night. Obviously Caleb wasn’t easily intimidated, a quality that came in handy if you were a bouncer at a juke joint. So, she’d give him his trial run and see what happened.

  Who knows, maybe he was right. Maybe things were just getting started between them.

  Dillon Carson arrived at the Congregational Church at precisely two-thirty, the time Esther Stowe had set for them to meet.

  “Come to the side door,” she’d told him. “I’ll leave it open for you. Be sure to lock it from the inside after you come in. I’ll be waiting for you in the sanctuary.”

  Dillon had been interested in the minister’s wife for quite some time, and from the sidelong glances she’d given him for the past month or so whenever they happened to meet, he’d figured it was only a matter of time before he had the woman flat on her back. So he hadn’t been all that surprised when she’d telephoned yesterday to set up this afternoon’s little rendezvous. What he hadn’t expected was that she’d want them to meet at the church.

  He was glad he’d gotten a chance for a nap. He’d been up most of the night. After returning to his apartment at ten this morning, he’d showered, shaved, and dropped onto his bed, dead on his feet. He’d wakened at one, in time to eat a bite before getting ready for his rendezvous with Esther. The lovely, fascinating Esther.

  As he walked down the hallway toward the sanctuary, he wondered if she would actually want them to do it right there on one of the red velvet pews or maybe even on the pulpit floor where her husband bellowed out hellfire-and-brimstone sermons every Sunday. Just the thought aroused him. He liked kinky. Actually he liked sex in any form. He’d been into S&M for a while and found it satisfying, as long as he was on the master’s side of the whip. But if Esther was into the rough stuff, his bet would be that she’d want to be the one inflicting the pain.

  When he arrived at the sanctuary, he found it empty. What the hell? Where was she?

  “Esther?”

  The lights dimmed suddenly, throwing the room into semi-darkness. Dillon swallowed hard. What sort of game was she playing?

  The lights above the baptismal flashed on, and the velvet curtains swung open simultaneously. Water splashed upward and outward as a body rose from the depths. With arms spreading wide, Esther Stowe emerged from the baptismal like Aphrodite rising from the ocean. Dillon’s mouth gaped as he watched the naked woman step out and onto the red carpeted area behind the pulpit. She laughed bawdily and shook her head, whipping the long, wet strands of her white-blond hair about her face and sending a shower of moisture whirling all around her.

  Good God, she was beautiful. Voluptuous. Large, round breasts with tight nipples. Long, slender legs. Tiny waist. He watched her every movement, stirred to excitement by her sensuality. She opened her arms and beckoned him to come to her. His sex swelled and throbbed.

  “Oh, baby, am I going to give you what you’re asking for.” As he approached her, he noticed that her pubic area was shaved clean, and just above the pubic bone a black tattoo glistened. He couldn’t seem to take his eyes off the emblem.

  Following his line of vision, she glanced down at the tattoo. “Don’t you recognize the Seal of Zepar?” She fondled herself with the tip of her middle finger. “Zepar, one of the great Spirits of the Firmament, inflames women with love for men. He has the power to transform a woman into any shape for the pleasure of her lover.”

  “The shape you’re in right now pleases me just fine,” Dillon said, still transfixed by the small tattoo.

  Within seconds he reached out and dragged her up against him. Her wide mouth opened and she licked him from chin to ear, then she delved between them, grabbed his hand and shoved it
between her legs.

  “I want the first time to be very fast and very hard,” she told him. “And I want it now!”

  He stuck a couple of fingers up inside her and found her gushing with moisture. She was ready; more than ready. She was hot and wet and panting.

  When she unbuttoned his slacks and undid the zipper, he stood still and let her handle everything. Within minutes she had his penis free from his briefs and was leading him toward one of the large golden chairs on the pulpit podium. She shoved him down onto the red velvet seat, then straddled him. Positioning herself just right, she slid down over him in one quick fluid move that implanted his sex to the hilt within her.

  Damn, she was so hot and so tight and…She bit his neck, then raked her fingers over his shirt, popping a couple of buttons in the process.

  Dillon grasped her hips and pumped her up and down. The friction of her tight, milking body brought him closer and closer to the edge. He was more than half gone already and hadn’t been inside more than a couple of minutes.

  Panting and gasping, she tossed back her head as she rode him. The world closed in around them. He couldn’t see. Couldn’t think. All he could do was feel.

  His climax hit him hard. The minute he groaned with release, Esther went wild. She grabbed his shoulders and rode him like a madwoman. She screamed when she came, then fell limp against him. Sitting beneath her, his heartbeat drumming in his ears, he lifted her head from his shoulder, grabbed her face with one hand, and gave her a tongue-thrusting kiss.

  When she came up for air, she smiled wickedly. “I knew you’d be good at this. I can always tell by just looking at a man.”

  “He was good, wasn’t he, my dear,” the Reverend Mr. Stowe said.

  Dillon gulped. God damn it, when had Esther’s husband walked in? Hell, he should have known fucking in the church was bound to get them into trouble.

  When Dillon started to shove Esther off him, she wrapped her arms around his neck and laughed. “Don’t get upset. Everything’s all right.”

  “How is that possible? Your husband just walked in and caught us—”

  “He didn’t just walk in,” Esther said. “Haden’s been watching us the whole time.” She sneaked a glance over her shoulder, then held out a hand and wriggled her fingers. “Come here, darling, and tell Dillon how much you enjoy watching other men fuck your wife.”

  Chapter 18

  Genny roused from her semi-asleep state, stretched languidly, and sat up in bed. The room lay in cool, gray shadows, a minimum of sunlight penetrating the windows. Before even glancing at the bedside clock, she surmised it was quite late in the day, probably after four in the afternoon. Undoubtedly she had slept the day away; but the rest had revived her. The last thing she remembered was a sleepy glance at Dallas sitting across the room in the corner chair. He’d been watching her—watching over her. But he was no longer here. The room was empty. Not even Drudwyn was anywhere to be seen. Only when she rose from the bed and placed her feet on the cold floor did she realize she was in her sock feet. Her boots had been placed neatly at the foot of the bed. She picked up the boots and put them on.

  Wonder where Dallas is? She knew he hadn’t left her alone. His protective instincts toward her had become too strong for him to leave her unguarded. When she opened her bedroom door and went out into the hall, she heard voices coming from the kitchen. Female voices. Arguing voices. Mercy, it was Sally and Ludie.

  Genny hurried into the kitchen, then paused just inside the doorway, realizing that neither old lady was aware of her presence.

  “I say we wake her if she’s not up by five,” Sally said. “The gal needs to eat. Dallas said she barely touched her breakfast. She’s skinny enough as it is. A strong wind would blow her away.”

  “Let her sleep. She’ll wake up when she’s good and ready. Dallas said the poor little thing was totally exhausted.”

  “You know she always gets like that whenever she uses her witchy ways. Melva Mae was the same.” Sally went about setting the kitchen table, paying no heed to Ludie. “I’m waking her at five and we can all eat together before Dallas goes back into town.”

  “Genny’s talents aren’t witchy ways and you damn well know it,” Ludie corrected. “Ain’t nothing but pure goodness in that child.”

  “You think I don’t know that.” Sally’s face hardened as she glared at her best friend. “Genny practices white magic, same as Melva Mae did.”

  “You’re a crazy old woman,” Ludie said quietly, but loud enough to be easily heard.

  “Who’re you calling crazy?”

  “You,” Ludie replied. “Melva Mae had the sight, same as both her grandmas. She knew what was going to happen before it happened, and she had visions. She could find things that were lost, and she could talk to all them animals in the woods, as well as cats and dogs.”

  “Yeah, and she could talk to folks, too, without saying a word. She could sneak right into a person’s mind.” Sally planted her big, bony hands on her hips. “I call that magic. And ’cause Melva Mae never used her magic against nobody, then it was white magic.”

  “It weren’t magic at all. It was a gift from the Good Lord. You know Melva Mae was a God-fearing woman.”

  “Did I say she wasn’t?”

  “You said—”

  Genny cleared her throat. Startled, Sally and Ludie hushed immediately and turned to face Genny.

  “What are you doing up?” Ludie asked.

  “She’s up because she’s had plenty of rest,” Sally said. “Can’t you see that? Now, who’s the crazy old woman?”

  “I’m feeling much better,” Genny told them. “I guess I’ve slept all day, haven’t I?”

  “Purt’ near all day,” Sally said.

  “How long have y’all been here?” Genny asked.

  “Since noon,” Sally replied. “Doc Swain’s keeping the boys overnight. He says they’ll be right as rain in no time, that they didn’t breathe enough of that damn gas to do any permanent damage. So, when Jacob stopped by to check on us and he said he was headed up here to see about you, I caught a ride with him.”

  “I came by to check on you when I heard on the TV what had happened this morning, that the killer had murdered Misty and that you were helping the law,” Ludie said. “I got here about an hour before Sally.” Ludie glanced at the stove. “I been fixing us a real good supper. Fried chicken, green beans, mashed potatoes, deviled eggs, cornbread, and a sweet potato pie for dessert.”

  “Smells delicious.” Genny eyed the table set for four. “Where’s Dallas?”

  When Ludie smiled, her cheeks rounded and the fine lines in her soft face deepened. “He went for a walk. Said he needed to clear his head.”

  “That man’s been hovering around you like a drone buzzing around a queen bee,” Sally said. “He’s worried himself sick about you, child.”

  “Do you know which way he went?” Genny headed toward the back door.

  “Just down the road a piece.” Sally came over and placed her hand on Genny’s shoulder. “Don’t you go running off after him. He’ll be back soon enough.”

  Ludie lifted the lid on the pot of boiling potatoes, then slammed it down hard, making a crashing noise. “A little fresh air and exercise might do you good. Drudwyn’s outside. Take him with you and go for a little walk. Dallas headed west. Tell him that supper’s not quite ready.”

  Sally huffed, then glared at Ludie.

  Genny opened the back door. “I won’t be gone long. And I’ll take Drudwyn as my bodyguard.”

  As she slipped on her coat and headed off the porch and into the backyard, she heard Sally and Ludie resuming their never-ending quarrel. Jazzy and she had laughed many times about the peculiar friendship between the old women. Anybody who didn’t know them would swear they didn’t even like each other.

  Drudwyn came running the moment he sensed Genny’s presence. She knelt to give him a loving hug, then silently ordered Drudwyn to follow her.

  After descending the steps co
ming down off the hill, Genny headed west. A fairly straight, even road lay ahead of her for at least a mile. With the sun quickly descending, the evening air had turned cold. Genny retrieved her hat and gloves from her coat pockets and put them on. She and Drudwyn traipsed along for about a fourth of a mile before they came upon Dallas, who was headed back toward the house. With a good twenty-five feet between them, he stopped and stared at her. She lifted her hand and waved. He returned her wave. They walked toward each other at an average pace at first, then each increased speed until, when they came together, they practically ran into each other. Dallas reached out and grabbed her by the shoulders. Breathing hard, her warm breath vaporizing as it rushed from her mouth, she looked up at Dallas and smiled.

  “What are you doing out here?” he asked.

  “I came to tell you that supper will be ready soon.”

  “How do you feel?”

  “I feel just fine.”

  “No lingering aftereffects?”

  She shook her head.

  Dallas’s left hand slid down her shoulder, over her arm, and grasped her wrist. His right hand lifted to her head; his fingers speared into her hair, knocking her knit hat lopsided.

  “You have no idea how worried I’ve been.”

  “I’m sorry you worried.”

  “I’m sorry you had to go through—”

  She placed her fingers over his mouth. “Thank you for taking such good care of me.”

  “Genny…”

  She saw an odd look in his eyes. Primitive. Proprietary. A primeval craving. He wanted her—in the most basic, fundamental way a man can want a woman. That kind of need he understood. But she realized he knew nothing about the greater need that was overwhelming his senses. A passion of the spirit. A desire for eternal bonding.

  She waited, knowing what was to come. Wanting it. Needing it. As much as he did.

  His mouth came down on hers as he enveloped her in his strong embrace. A hungry, devouring possession, and yet gentled by the tenderness he felt toward her. She responded with equal abandon.