If Looks Could Kill

by Beverly Barton

  Brian grunted. “She probably came out here to meet some man and they’re in his car fucking their brains out.”

  “Humor me again,” Farlan said. “I can’t say exactly why, but I think the woman’s in trouble. Let’s just look around and make sure. You take the right side of the road, and I’ll take the left. We’ll cross the bridge and then backtrack. If we don’t find anything, we’ll call the police and let them find out why she abandoned her Jeep.”

  “I think we should call the police now and just go on home.”

  Disregarding his son’s comment, Farlan walked up the road. Brian huffed loudly, then followed. Keeping to the edge of the bridge, Farlan ran his flashlight down into the murky water below. A series of large boulders rested directly underneath the bridge. These huge rocks, formations that had been rounded and smoothed by eons of flowing water, were scattered throughout the shallow areas of the creek.

  “See anything?” Farlan asked.

  “Not a damn thing.”

  When he was about a third of the way across the bridge, his foot hit something. Glancing down, he saw what looked like a small handgun. Don’t touch it, he told himself.

  “What’s the matter?” Brian asked.

  “There’s a gun on the bridge.” Farlan toed it with the tip of his shoe. “Right there.”

  “Whatever you do, don’t touch the damn thing.”

  “Hell, boy, I’ve got better sense than to do something that stupid.” Farlan moved his flashlight over the bridge railing, scanning back and forth as far as he could see. Suddenly, he noticed something red smeared across the railing several feet down from where he stood. With Brian right behind him, he made his way to the spot, then reached out toward the red stain. Brian caught his hand only seconds before he touched the still damp liquid.

  “It’s blood,” Farlan said.

  “Yes, I believe it is.”

  Farlan shot the flashlight over the bridge, right below where the railing bore the bloody marks. Good God! He blinked several times, wondering if he was actually seeing part of a body on top of one of the boulders. He refocused and looked again. It was no hallucination. She was real. The lower half of her body lay submerged in the water, while the upper half lay sprawled on the boulder.

  “Brian, I think I’ve found her.”

  Brian rushed to Farlan’s side and looked over the rail.

  “Damn!”

  “Is that Jazzy Talbot?” Farlan asked. “I’m not sure, but it’s definitely a woman’s body.” He shined his flashlight on the spot where Farlan had his flashlight focused. “She’s a redhead, so since that’s Jazzy’s Jeep back there, I’d say the odds are that—”

  “Lord, do you suppose the man who killed those two prostitutes, killed Jazzy? The rumor is that both that Olmstead girl and the one found up around Loudon Dam were red-heads.”

  “This can’t have anything to do with those murders,” Brian said rather emphatically, then quickly added, “At least I doubt it.”

  “I’d better call the police.” Farlan shook his head. “Poor girl.”

  “Wait!” Brian grabbed Farlan’s arm. “Look—did she just move? I think she’s still breathing.”

  “What?” Farlan narrowed his gaze and peered over the wooden railing. Sure enough, the woman moved, ever so slightly, as if struggling to breathe.

  “You call the police and tell them to send an ambulance,” Brian said. “I’ll go down there and get her out of that cold water. If she’s been down there for a while, hypothermia could have already set in. Besides, her body could wash loose from the boulder at any time and be swept away down the creek.”

  Farlan patted Brian on the back. “You go on, son, and see if you can help her. I’ll call 911 for the police and an ambulance.”

  Caleb brought his T-Bird to a screeching halt behind the Porsche blocking the road. Parked just off the road in the grass, Jazzy’s red Jeep glistened in the moonlight like fresh blood. Off in the distance he heard the wail of sirens. His heartbeat went wild. Adrenaline pumped through his body at an alarming rate. Even before he jumped out of his car, he saw Farlan MacKinnon pacing back and forth on the old covered bridge.

  Where’s Jazzy? His mind screamed. Where’s my Jazzy!

  “What the hell’s going on here?” Caleb ran toward Farlan MacKinnon.

  The old man, his face pale, his eyes round with shock, whirled around and stared at Caleb. “He’s gone down to get her.”

  “Who’s gone down where to get who?” Caleb asked as he ran toward MacKinnon. “Answer me, damn it!”

  “We saw her Jeep, and I got this crazy notion something was wrong,” the old man rattled. “I told him we’d better check and see if something had happened to her.”

  Caleb grabbed MacKinnon by the lapels of his overcoat and shook him several times. “Is it Jazzy? Has something happened to her?”

  “Jazzy? Yes, Jazzy Talbot. I don’t know the girl well. I’ve seen her around—”

  Caleb shook the old man again. “Where is she? What happened to her? Who’s gone to get her?”

  “She was down in the creek,” MacKinnon replied. “At first we thought she was dead, but then we saw her move. She was just barely breathing. He went down to get her, to see if she’s still alive. I—I called 911.”

  Caleb released his firm hold on MacKinnon’s lapels and turned to search for Jazzy and for whomever MacKinnon had sent to help her. The sirens grew louder. Closer.

  Whatever’s happened, Jazzy, honey, hang in there.

  Suddenly, coming from the other side of the bridge, a man appeared. Caleb felt as if there were lead weights on his ankles as he moved forward, trying to gain a better look at the dark figure moving toward him. Instinctively, he reached out and grabbed the flashlight from MacKinnon’s hand and held it up to spotlight the figure moving steadily toward them.

  “Give me a hand, will you?” the man called.

  Caleb realized two things simultaneously. The man was Brian MacKinnon. And he was holding a wet, bloody body in his arms. Jazzy’s body!

  Chapter 21

  Reve sat beside Jacob in the cab of his truck as he raced along the road from her cabin to County General Hospital, the siren blasting and the blue light atop the truck flashing. The minute Dallas had called him and told him about Jazzy, he’d come straight to Reve.

  “I didn’t think this was something you needed to hear over the phone,” he’d told her as he stood at her front door. “Dallas just called me. He and Genny are on their way to the hospital. Jazzy’s been hurt. Hurt real bad. They don’t know if she’s going to make it.”

  Reve had grabbed her coat and purse, and with Jacob’s arm around her for support, she’d hurried with him to his truck. When she’d stumbled in her attempt to climb into the cab, he had gripped her by the waist, hoisted her up off the ground and placed her on the seat.

  “Jacob?”

  “Huh?” He kept his eyes on the road.

  “Did Dallas say what happened?”

  “Apparently somebody called Jazzy and told her they had information about her birth parents and set up a meeting out by the old covered bridge near the country club.”

  “Tell me she didn’t go out there alone.”

  “Hell, yes. You know Jazzy. Bull-headed and determined.” Jacob swallowed hard.

  Without thinking, acting purely on instinct when she realized how worried Jacob was, Reve reached over and squeezed his arm. He tensed.

  “She’s tough,” he said. “She’ll make it.”

  “Do they know exactly what happened to her and how it happened?”

  “Dallas knew only what the officers who were at the site told him. It appears someone knocked Jazzy in the head hard enough to render her unconscious and then threw her off the bridge and into the creek. She landed halfway in the creek and partly on the rocks below.”

  Reve’s hand rose from Jacob’s arm and flew up to cover her mouth. “Oh, dear God.” How could this have happened? What had prompted Jazzy to take such a risk? “Caleb?
” She suddenly wondered about Jazzy’s fiancé. “Does he know?”

  “He was on his way there to meet her when it happened. He got there a few minutes before the police and the ambulance.”

  “Who would possibly want to hurt Jazzy?” The question was no sooner uttered than Reve remembered that Jacob and Dallas had warned them that a possible serial killer was on the loose in northeast Tennessee. A man who was murdering redheads. “You don’t think the man who killed those prostitutes tried to kill Jazzy, do you?”

  “I have no idea. I don’t know all the facts yet. The only two things Jazzy’s attack has in common with the two murder cases are the facts that Jazzy is a redhead and her body was thrown into the creek. Other than that, there don’t seem to be any similarities.”

  “Does that mean you’ve ruled out—”

  “It means I don’t know.”

  “But there could be a connection to the murders of those two redheaded prostitutes, couldn’t there?”

  Jacob grunted. “I didn’t ask Dallas what he thought, but I will. And I figure he’ll agree with me. I’d say if there is a connection, we’re probably dealing with a copycat killer.”

  “What makes you think that?”

  “Look, Reve, I know you’re as confused and concerned as I am, but asking me a bunch of questions I don’t know the answers to isn’t helping anybody, least of all Jazzy.”

  Reve felt as if he’d slapped her. “I—I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to . . .” Her voice trailed off as she struggled not to cry.

  He cut his eyes toward her quickly, then refocused immediately on the road. “No, I’m the one who’s sorry. I didn’t mean to bite your head off that way.”

  “We’re both worried about Jazzy.”

  “Yeah.”

  Neither of them said another word until Jacob parked at the ER entrance. By the time he came around to the passenger’s side, Reve had opened the door and was getting out by herself. He grasped her around the waist, lifted her down and set her on her feet, then took her hand in his. Together, their long-legged strides in unison, they rushed toward the hospital. Once they reached the waiting area, Jacob released her hand.

  Dallas Sloan, who hovered over Genny as she paced restlessly back and forth, noticed them and threw up his hand to motion them over.

  Jacob punched Reve gently in the center of her back, urging her into movement. When they walked over to the other couple, Reve saw Sally and Ludie sitting side by side in the corner. Lacy Fallon, the bartender at Jazzy’s Joint and one of Jazzy’s friends, stood by the bank of telephones along the back wall. She was talking to someone. Reve figured she was calling other friends who’d want to know what had happened to Jazzy.

  “Any word?” Jacob asked Dallas.

  “We’re waiting to hear something. Caleb’s back there. They tried to make him come out here with us, but he refused,” Dallas said. “When the receptionist threatened to call security, I stepped in and told her that only if Caleb caused a problem would anyone forcibly remove him. Caleb swore he’d stay out of the way.”

  “You did the right thing.”

  “Hell, all I could think about was how I felt when Genny got shot. I should have done what Caleb did and demanded to stay with her as long as I could.”

  The ER waiting area was crowded, filled with an assortment of people, none of whom Reve knew, other than Jazzy’s friends. As she surveyed the room, two men entered, each carrying a cardboard caddy of Styrofoam cups. She recognized the younger man as Brian MacKinnon, someone Jazzy intensely disliked. Noting the vague resemblance between Brian and the older man, she assumed he must be Brian’s father, Farlan MacKinnon.

  The two men approached and held out their cardboard caddies.

  “Here’s coffee for everyone,” the elder MacKinnon said.

  “Thank you.” Genny stood and offered Mr. MacKinnon a gracious smile, then she turned to Brian. “How can we ever repay you for rescuing Jazzy? You might have saved her life.”

  Brian flushed. “I didn’t do anything. Not really.”

  “Any word?” Farlan asked.

  “Not yet.” Genny lifted a cup from the caddy. She spread her glance around to the others, her look inviting them to accept the coffee that was being offered.

  Dallas lifted a cup and so did Reve. Jacob declined.

  “Go see if Sally and her friend want coffee,” Farlan told his son, who immediately walked over to the two old ladies.

  “We won’t get in the way,” Farlan said. “I told Brian I wanted to stay until we knew something. It was quite a shock finding her the way we did. Poor little thing.”

  “You and Brian found her?” Reve asked.

  Farlan MacKinnon turned to Reve, his mouth open to speak, but suddenly he went dead still and stared at Reve. For a minute there, she thought the old man was going to faint.

  “Who are you?” he asked.

  “I’m Reve Sorrell,” she replied. “I’m Jazzy Talbot’s—”

  “Twin sister,” he finished for her.

  His hands shook so badly that Genny took the cardboard caddy from him and placed it in a nearby chair. “Are you all right, Mr. MacKinnon? Do you need to sit down?”

  He kept staring at Reve. “Identical twins. Redheaded identical twins. How old are you, Ms. Sorrell?”

  “I’m thirty.”

  “Yes, you would be.”

  Brian came up to his father and put his hand under the old man’s elbow. “Come on over here and sit down. And just as soon as we get word on Jazzy, I’m taking you home.”

  Farlan MacKinnon allowed his son to escort him across the room to where a couple of seats remained empty. But once seated, he looked back across the room at Reve, seeming unable to take his eyes off her. He sure is acting odd, she thought. But then, he was probably partly in shock after what happened.

  “Are you telling me that Brian MacKinnon rescued Jazzy?” Jacob asked.

  “It seems he and old man MacKinnon were on their way home from the country club when they spotted Jazzy’s Jeep parked on the side of the road,” Dallas said. “They stopped to investigate, and Mr. Farlan saw Jazzy’s body in the creek. Brian went down and got her. He was bringing her up out of the creek when Caleb arrived.”

  Jacob snorted. “I can see the headlines in tomorrow’s Cherokee Pointe Herald. ‘Brian MacKinnon, Hero!’ is what it’ll say.”

  “I take it that you don’t like Brian MacKinnon,” Reve said.

  “He’s a pompous jackass who throws his daddy’s money around and thinks that because he’s a MacKinnon he can do whatever the hell he pleases.” Jacob shot a disapproving look in Brian’s direction. “Be forewarned, Ms. Sorrell, that despite his prestigious pedigree, Brian MacKinnon is not a very nice man.”

  “Keep your voice down.” Genny whispered the warning. “And despite what you think of him, Brian did try to help Jazzy tonight and we mustn’t forget that fact.”

  “Yeah, yeah. We’re all very grateful,” Jacob said, his voice a low growl. “I just wanted to make sure Reve understood that just because MacKinnon is on a social level with her kind, he’s no gentleman.”

  Reve stood there staring at Jacob, uncertain how to reply or if she should bother to comment at all on what he’d said. But before she could decide, Caleb came hurtling through the door leading to the private cubicles inside the heart of the emergency room. He rushed straight to Reve and Genny.

  “They’re taking her up to surgery. She sustained some internal injuries from the fall and they’re certain she has some internal bleeding,” Caleb said. “But—” He swallowed. “It’s more than just her body. The son of a bitch who hit her cracked her skull. Dr. Meadows ordered an emergency CT scan. He said that there’s evidence of bleeding from torn veins.” Caleb’s voice trembled. Tears glistened in his eyes. “He said something about a growing subdural hematoma.” Caleb sucked in a deep breath. “That’s a blood clot. Bottom line—if they don’t do surgery immediately, she’ll die. He’s called in a neurological surgeon.”

 
; Dallas curled his arm around Genny’s waist and pulled her close. She rested her head on his chest and wrapped her arms around him. Jacob clamped his big hand down on Reve’s shoulder. She looked up at him and saw her own fears reflected in his eyes.

  Reve walked over and put her arms around Caleb. When he hugged her for dear life, she stroked his back as tears streamed down her face.

  “She’s going to make it,” Caleb said.

  “Yes, of course she is,” Reve replied, swallowing her tears.

  “And we’re going to find the bastard who tried to kill her.” Caleb spoke through clenched teeth, anger evident in his voice. When he pulled away from Reve, there was an expression of pure rage on his face. “And when we do—”

  “You let us take care of finding the person who did this to Jazzy,” Dallas said.

  Caleb looked at Reve. “You probably aren’t safe either. He might come after you next.”

  Startled by Caleb’s dire warning, Reve gasped. Undoubtedly Caleb believed Jazzy had been the serial killer’s latest victim.

  Jacob draped his arm around Reve’s shoulders. “I’ll take care of Reve.”

  Instinctively, desperately needing comfort and longing for strong arms to hold her, Reve laid her head on Jacob’s shoulder.

  Still resting against Dallas, Genny turned and stared at Jacob. The two exchanged rather odd looks that made Reve curious about what they had silently said to each other.

  “Yeah, I know I need to let the law handle this,” Caleb said to Dallas. “But you’ve got to understand how I feel.”

  “We all understand,” Dallas replied. Then, after a slight hesitation, he said point-blank, “I hate to ask this, but we need to know—did Dr. Meadows say if there was any evidence of sexual assault?”

  A collective hush settled over Jazzy’s friends and family.

  “No.” Caleb sighed heavily. “I asked. He said no, there was no sign of sexual assault.”

  Dallas nodded.

  “Surgery could take hours,” Caleb told the others. “They said we can wait upstairs and the surgeon, a Dr. Behel, will come out and talk to us . . . afterward.”