Beg to Die

by Beverly Barton

  “Jazzy’s case will go before a grand jury, if we can’t find the real murderer,” Jacob said. “You see, Jazzy has an ironclad alibi for the time Stan Watson was killed, so there’s no way she could have committed the second murder.”

  Andrea swallowed. Don’t think about it, she told herself. If you think about it, something might show on your face that would make the sheriff suspicious.

  “We need to know exactly where each of you was between six yesterday evening and midnight last night.”

  “We were at the Upton home,” Andrea replied.

  “All four of you?” Jacob Butler asked.

  “Yes—”

  “Don’t lie for me, Mother.” Sheridan boldly stared at the sheriff. “I had a date that lasted for hours and hours. I was with this gentleman from about six-thirty until sometime after midnight.”

  Jacob cleared his throat. “We can verify your whereabouts, Ms. Willis.”

  Andrea snapped her head around and glared at her younger daughter. Good God, surely she hadn’t been with the sheriff. No, not the sheriff, but certainly someone he knew. She scanned the room, studying each man, wondering if Sheridan had been with the chief of police or even the district attorney.

  “Cecil and I were together during that time and Laura was either with us or with her nurse,” Andrea said, wanting to protect Laura. The sheriff must never know that Laura had drugged Mrs. Conley and disappeared for hours yesterday evening. If necessary, she would pay off the nurse, give her an enormous bonus for keeping quiet.

  Jacob walked over to Laura, squatted down in front of her and asked in a kind, gentle voice, “Laura, is there anything you can tell us that might help us solve Jamie’s murder…and Stan Watson’s murder?”

  Laura looked to her mother, her blue eyes wide with fear and pleading for help. “I—I don’t know…sometimes I can’t remember things. I want to help, but…”

  “Please, don’t do this,” Andrea said to the sheriff. “Laura is by nature very delicate and Jamie’s death has unsettled her, not to mention the unfortunate miscarriage. She’s under a doctor’s care.” Andrea looked at Cecil. “We should have Dr. MacNair here. He can explain how easily the least little thing might—” She cleared her throat. “Please…Laura can’t help you. Believe me, she can’t.”

  The sheriff eyed Andrea suspiciously and for a split second, she couldn’t breathe. Fear smothered her. Butler rose to his full, impressive height. Andrea imagined that this man’s size and savage features often frightened criminals into making a full confession. But she wasn’t a criminal and she wasn’t easily intimidated, especially by someone as inferior as this backwoods Indian sheriff.

  Butler opened the office door and called to one of his deputies, “Contact Dr. MacNair and ask him if he can come over here as soon as possible. Tell him we’re questioning the Willis family and that I have some questions for Laura, but her mother feels questioning her any further might jeopardize her health.”

  Andrea felt the blood rush to her face, heard it pounding through her head. She stood, walked over to Cecil and said quietly, “Do something!”

  “What would you have me do?” Cecil sighed. His shoulders sagged.

  “Laura shouldn’t be questioned.” Andrea laid her hand on her husband’s arm and squeezed tightly. “Do you understand?”

  His eyes opened wide with realization. He nodded. “I’ll call Phillip.”

  Just as Andrea started to respond, to tell Cecil they needed more immediate help than Phillip could give them since he was hundreds of miles away in Lexington, a telephone rang. She glanced around inside the sheriff’s office and through the open door into the outer office and noted one of the deputies on the phone calling Dr. MacNair, as he’d been instructed to do. Then she saw the chief of police remove his cell phone from its belt clip and flip the phone open. She watched him as he hurriedly walked into the outer office area.

  Andrea had an uncanny feeling that Chief Sloan’s phone call had something to do with them, with Laura in particular. When he quickly came back to the open door and motioned for the sheriff to step outside, Andrea’s nails bit into her husband’s arm.

  “Get on the phone and contact Jim Upton,” Andrea said. “Tell him we’re going to need a local lawyer as soon as possible.”

  “Why?” Cecil asked. “What haven’t you told me?”

  “It’s about Laura—”

  Before she could explain to her husband, the sheriff and police chief returned. Cecil rose to stand at Andrea’s side. The two of them walked over and flanked their eldest child.

  “We’ve just received some rather interesting information,” the sheriff said.

  Andrea held her breath.

  When Sheriff Butler spoke again, he looked directly at her. “Why didn’t y’all tell us that when Laura was sixteen, she tried to kill her boyfriend?”

  Chapter 25

  Caleb parked his T-bird in front of his rental cabin, alongside Genny’s Trailblazer. He knew before he emerged from his car that if Genny was here, that probably meant one of two things: either Jazzy had sent her or Jazzy was with her. Okay, so what did you expect? he asked himself. He’d left Jazzy before she woke this morning and here it was late afternoon and he hadn’t gotten in touch with her all day. She was bound to be wondering what the hell was wrong with him. After all, the two of them had shared an incredible night together. A lady had a right to expect certain things from a man after such an intimate experience.

  If he was lucky, Genny was alone and he wouldn’t have to face Jazzy. But when he approached the cabin and saw Genny and Jazzy sitting on the porch, he knew his luck had run out. Whether he wanted to or not, he was going to have to face Jazzy and explain his actions. He’d been having second thoughts about total honesty. He didn’t think he was ready to come right out and ask her if she was still in love with Jamie. Actually, he wasn’t sure he’d ever have the guts to confront her about that goddamn horrible moment he’d heard her whisper Jamie’s name. And he certainly wasn’t prepared to tell her that he was Jim and Reba Upton’s grandson—that he was, as Jamie had been, an Upton heir. Only now that Jamie was dead, he was the only heir.

  Just what was he going to say? What could he tell her?

  “Afternoon, ladies.” Caleb climbed the wooden steps leading to the porch that spanned the length of the house. He’d been renting this place from Cherokee Cabin Rentals since he’d gone to work as the bouncer at Jazzy’s Joint back in January.

  Not being one for subtleties, Jazzy hopped out of the swing and came charging toward him. “Just where the hell have you been?” Her bright green eyes squinted disapprovingly.

  Caleb crammed his hands into his pockets and shuffled his feet. Now what? he asked himself. “I took a ride out of town.” Great response, McCord. Do you think she’s going to accept that without any other questions?

  Jazzy crossed her arms over her chest and cocked her head to one side. “Wrong answer. Want to tell me what’s going on?”

  Genny rose from the rocking chair where she’d been sitting. “I think you two need to talk privately, without an audience.”

  When Genny walked past Jazzy on her way toward the steps, Jazzy grabbed her arm. “Don’t go. Depending on Caleb’s answers, I might need a ride back into town.”

  Genny glanced from Jazzy to Caleb, but didn’t say anything. The intense expression in her black eyes spoke volumes. If Caleb had learned anything about Genny Madoc these past few months, it was that, by nature, the woman was a peacemaker.

  “I’ll drive you to town whenever you get ready to go,” Caleb told Jazzy. “There’s no need for Genny to hang around and listen to our argument.”

  Jazzy gave him an aha look. “So we’re going to argue, are we?”

  “Maybe. I don’t know.”

  Jazzy released Genny. “Go ahead. And thanks for coming with me and sitting out here for two hours waiting on Caleb to finally come home.”

  “No problem.” Genny hugged Jazzy. “Give me a call later. Okay?”r />
  Jazzy nodded.

  Two hours? They’d been waiting here for him for two hours, and that had given Jazzy more than enough time to work herself into a powerful hissy fit.

  When Genny walked past Caleb, she patted his arm and smiled at him, then hurried on out to her SUV. Jazzy stood there on the porch, glaring at him. From several feet away, he could feel the pulsating anger inside her. She was pissed as hell. And he didn’t blame her.

  “Want to come inside and—” He didn’t get the sentence finished before Jazzy barreled forward, reached out, and pounded on his chest.

  “Damn you, Caleb McCord.” She continued drumming her tight fists against his chest. “I thought last night meant something special to you. I thought we—” She gasped when he grabbed her wrists and drew her hands up between them.

  “I just took a drive to clear my head this morning,” he told her. When she struggled against him, he increased the pressure, holding her wrists securely. “I had some things to think about and I needed to be alone—somewhere away from Cherokee Pointe.” What he told her wasn’t a lie, at least not completely.

  She calmed enough so that he felt safe to release her. She stood only inches from him and looked up at him, their gazes clashing as she searched his eyes for the truth.

  How the hell did you admit to a woman that you were jealous of her dead lover?

  “What did you need to think about—you and me?” she asked, hugging herself as if she’d suddenly gotten a chill.

  “Come on inside and—”

  “Did I get it wrong?” she asked. “Did I read more into what happened between us than was actually there?”

  “If you thought something special happened, it did,” he told her. “If you think it was the most incredible experience of my life, you’re right. It was.”

  “Then I don’t understand—”

  Caleb walked away from her, pulled his key chain from his pocket, inserted the house key in the lock, then turned the knob and opened the door. When he glanced back at her, he said, “Let’s talk inside. I need a drink. How about you?”

  “Is what you have to tell me that bad?”

  Her voice held a touch of humor, which he thought was a good sign. They’d both need a sense of humor and a whole heap of understanding and forgiveness if they were going to weather this storm. Just how honest should he be? Diplomatically honest? Brutally honest?

  “I’m not sure how to answer that question,” he told her truthfully as he headed for the kitchen and the bottle of whiskey he kept in the cupboard above the sink.

  After closing the door, she followed him through the living room and into the small kitchen area. He set two glasses on the table, then filled each with a shot of Crown Royal. He picked up one glass and held it out to her. She looked at him and then at the glass. As soon as she accepted her drink, he picked up his.

  “What are we drinking to?” she asked.

  “How about to happiness in the future,” he said. “And to burying the unhappy past.”

  She examined his face, his expression. “I thought that’s what we did last night. You helped me bury my past and gave me a reason to think I had a chance to be happy in the future.”

  “Did we bury your past last night?” Caleb gulped down the liquor, slung back his head and let the whiskey sizzle down his throat. One drink wouldn’t be enough to erase the memory of Jazzy whispering Jamie’s name. Hell, a hundred drinks wouldn’t be enough.

  Jazzy set her glass down on the kitchen table, the liquor untouched. “I don’t know what’s going on. Stop avoiding giving me a direct answer. Cut to the chase.”

  Caleb finished off his drink and poured himself another. “How do you feel about Jamie Upton? And I want the truth.”

  She stared at him, a puzzled look in her eyes. “Where is this coming from? I thought I made myself perfectly clear last night. Jamie is my past. Before he died, I’d set myself free from him. I knew that I didn’t love him, that whatever fragments of caring were left in my heart I could deal with and move on.”

  Caleb took a sip of whiskey. “Was last night about Jamie? Or was it about me?”

  She stared at him, her gaze transfixed, as if his question stumped her. After a long, torturous silence, she finally said, “Both, I guess.”

  Caleb nodded, then downed the second shot of whiskey.

  She reached out and took the glass from his hand, then recapped the liquor bottle and set it aside. “Being with you was unlike anything I’d ever experienced. Better than anything.”

  God, how he wanted to believe her. Not just for his masculine pride. He loved Jazzy. He wanted her to love him. Love him best. Love him more.

  She put her arms around his neck. His body stiffened, and he knew he couldn’t resist her. “After being with you last night…” When he continued looking away from her, she kept one arm around his neck and, with her free hand, grasped his chin and forced him to look right at her. “Even if Jamie were alive, you’d have no reason to be jealous. If he were here right this minute, I’d choose you.”

  Caleb cupped the back of her head and brought her face up to his. And while he kissed her, he tried to forget about Jamie Upton. What difference did it make whose name she whispered in her sleep? It didn’t mean she loved Jamie.

  Keep telling yourself that and maybe one of these days you’ll believe it!

  While the Willis family met with Dr. MacNair and the young hotshot lawyer Jim Upton had supplied them, Jacob and Dallas waited in Jacob’s office. Despite Andrea’s cool, uppity attitude, Jacob had seen below the surface and figured Andrea Willis had something to hide. His first guess was that she was trying to protect her elder daughter, that she either knew Laura had killed Jamie or suspected she had. His second supposition was that Mrs. Willis was the one who’d killed Jamie.

  “So who’s this lawyer?” Dallas asked.

  “Trent Langley,” Jacob told him. “He’s young and eager. And from what I hear, pretty darn sharp. He’s from Jefferson City and was recommended by the most prestigious law firm in Knoxville. Hobart, Richards and English.”

  “Mm-hmm.”

  “Big Jim would have sent Maxie, if we hadn’t already hired him for Jazzy. Maxie’s the best lawyer in Cherokee Pointe.”

  “But not Big Jim’s business attorney?”

  “Nope. That would be Hobart, Richards and English.”

  “Out of Knoxville.”

  Jacob grinned. “Yeah.”

  Dallas walked over to the open door and glanced across the outer office to a quiet corner where Dr. MacNair sat holding Laura Willis’s hand and talking to her, soothing her. The young lawyer, Langley, stood several feet away, deep in conversation with Mr. and Mrs. Willis. Dallas’s gaze scanned the room and found the younger Willis daughter perched on the edge of Deputy Bobby Joe Harte’s desk. Bobby Joe looked downright mortified.

  Glancing over his shoulder at Jacob, Dallas said, “What about Sheridan Willis? Think there’s any chance she might actually know something? She told Bobby Joe she believes her sister might have killed Jamie, but that could be conjecture on her part.”

  “She might know something. But my guess is that Mrs. Willis told her to keep her mouth shut. And I’d say Mama rules the roost.”

  “I agree.” Just as Dallas started to close the door, his cell phone rang again. His gaze met Jacob’s. He retrieved the phone and hit the on button. “Sloan here.”

  Jacob waited patiently, something not easy for him. Dallas didn’t say much, just “uh-huh” a few times and “interesting” twice. Then Dallas’s eyes widened in surprise and he looked at Jacob. Something was up. Something more important than the fact Laura Willis had attempted to run down her high school boyfriend with her sixteenth birthday present—a Mustang convertible.

  “Thanks, Teri,” Dallas said. “I can’t tell you how much Jacob and I appreciate your unearthing this information so quickly.” After he replaced his cell phone on its belt clip, he faced Jacob. “You might want to ask Mr. and Mrs. Willis to come i
n here alone.”

  “What’s up? What did Teri find out?”

  “She found out why Laura was born a year before her parents married.”

  Jacob frowned. “I don’t see how that information could affect Jamie’s murder case, not the way knowing Laura tried to run down her teenage boyfriend could go to prove she might be unstable enough to kill someone.”

  “What if I told you that Laura’s mother was declared legally insane when Laura was an infant and it’s possible Laura inherited her mother’s mental illness?”

  Andrea hesitated when the sheriff asked to speak to Cecil and her. She didn’t want to leave Laura. But seeing how calm Laura was, what a soothing effect Dr. MacNair seemed to have on her, Andrea agreed. However, she insisted Trent Langley accompany them. She didn’t trust Sheriff Butler. He suspected Laura had killed Jamie and since he was Jazzy Talbot’s friend, he would no doubt do everything possible to lay the blame elsewhere.

  “Have a seat.” The sheriff indicated the two chairs in front of his desk.

  Cecil looked to her before doing anything. When she sat, he sat. Their lawyer stood directly behind the two of them.

  “What’s this all about, Sheriff?” Mr. Langley asked.

  “First, I need to preface what I’m about to say by telling y’all that Laura is a suspect in both murders,” Jacob told them.

  “See here, Sheriff Butler, you can’t really believe that my Laura”—Cecil’s voice broke. “She is the sweetest, dearest child. She loved Jamie. She wouldn’t have…she’s not capable of such a heinous crime.”

  “Maybe not, but her mother was capable of it, wasn’t she?” Jacob Butler made the profound comment and waited for a reaction.

  All color drained from Cecil’s face. Andrea tried her best not to gasp or cry out a denial. She laid her hand over her husband’s, then looked from the sheriff to the police chief. “Exactly what do y’all know?”

  “We know that Cecil Willis was married to a woman named Margaret Bentley and that she gave birth to a daughter named Laura,” Dallas said. “And we know that Margaret Bentley was found guilty of attempted murder, but instead of going to jail, she was placed in a private sanitarium when the judge ruled her legally insane.”