Wasn't it possible, even probable, that Laura was in Jamie's room, in his bed? Yes, of course, where else would she be? And Sheridan? God only knew where that wild young thing was. She was probably in some man's bed, too. Some fellow she'd met in town, some stranger. Andrea shivered. Sheridan had the morals of an alley cat, but she could hardly condemn her. After all, she'd had an adventurous streak when she'd been that age. Andrea left the room and made her way back to her own bedroom. Cecil was still snoring. She went into the bathroom, closed the door, and turned on the light. After rummaging through her cosmetic bag, she found her prescription of sleeping pills. She averaged taking the medicine a couple of times a week lately. Not exactly addicted, but she was on the verge of becoming dependent on them. She popped the pill into her mouth, downed it with a small cup of water, then went back to bed. In about an hour, the medication would take effect and she would rest. Only when she slept could she stop worrying about Laura.
Jim Upton made his way down the backstairs at five o'clock. He had slept fairly well the first part of the night, but when he awoke around four, he'd started thinking about Erin. About how much he wished he was in bed with her. About how much he loved her. About how desperately he wished he could ask Reba for a divorce. But how did you ask a decent, caring woman who'd been your wife for over fifty years to give you a divorce? Reba had turned a blind eye to his indiscretions over the years, and God knew there had been quite a few. But he hadn't been in love before-not since he'd been a green boy and madly in love with Melva Mae Nelson, who had broken his heart when she'd married another man. He'd taken his parents' advice and married a suitable young woman from a good family, and although they'd shared a reasonably good life, Jim had never been truly happy. Not until this past year when a woman twenty-five years his junior had come into his life.
What the hell a gorgeous woman like Erin Mercer saw in him he'd never know. She didn't need his money, because she was rich in her own right. She had brought joy and excitement and sex back into his life. She had become everything to him, and he knew he couldn't go on this way, living a lie with Reba, when he wanted a life with Erin. At his age, he might not have more than a few good years left, and he wanted to spend that time with a woman who made him feel like a man.
When Jim entered his study, he left the overhead lights off and felt his way across the dark room until he reached his desk. He flipped on the banker's lamp and lifted the telephone receiver. He dialed her number and waited. The phone rang and rang and rang. Then the answering machine picked up.
"Erin, please answer the phone, sweetheart," Jim said. 'We need to talk." He had come to a decision that would greatly affect both their lives. He waited, but she didn't answer.
He hung up, then dialed again and found himself repeating the procedure. He left a second message.
Why won't she answer? Maybe she's sick. Maybe something's wrong. Or maybe she isn 't at home. But if she's not there, where is she? Could she be with another man? Damn! Don't think like that. She's not with another man. Erin loves you. Only you.
Jim all but ran back upstairs and into his room. He and Reba hadn't shared a room in years, so he didn't have to worry about disturbing her as he removed his robe and pajamas and dressed hurriedly. It had taken him months to come to this decision, and he couldn't wait another minute to tell Erin that he was going to ask Reba for a divorce. More than anything, he wanted to marry Erin.
Twenty minutes later, he pulled up outside Erin's cabin. The porch light was on, but the house was dark. Then he noticed that her car wasn't parked at the side of the cabin. She wasn’t here. Where the hell was she? He could try her cell phone, but since she seldom kept the damn thing on, he doubted he could reach her that way.
Should he stay and wait on her or just go home and try calling her later? Go home, you old fool. Go home to your wife and wait for your mistress to explain why she was out all night. Cursing loudly, Jim stomped across the yard and got back in his car.
Blood. Blood everywhere. Bright red. Fresh. It coated the wooden floor and dripped into the cracks. His body had been mutilated, sliced and diced and burned. His eyes rolled back in his head as he wept in agony. His throat was hoarse from screaming and begging. She brandished the hot poker over him. And then when he opened his mouth to plead, she rammed the fiery metal stick into his mouth. As indescribable pain silenced him, he passed out.
Genny screamed and screamed and screamed.
"Wake up, honey," Dallas pleaded with her as he held her securely in his arms.
Although he'd seen this happen to her before-too many times to suit him-he didn't think he'd ever get used to it. When they first met, he'd been a skeptic, the biggest skeptic of all time. But Genny had made a believer out of him. He figured it was fate's way of getting a good laugh at his expense. What could be more ironic than to have a guy who believed in nothing beyond his five senses to fall head over heels in love with a genuine psychic?
Genny's eyelids fluttered as Dallas rubbed her back tenderly and kissed her temple. "That's it, Genny, come back to me. Come out of the dark fog. You're safe. I won't ever let anything bad happen to you."
She moaned deeply. Her eyes opened, then closed, then opened again. She gazed at Dallas. He could tell her mind was fuzzy, that a part of her consciousness hadn't returned from the other world she'd visited, from the mystical place that more than once had threatened to trap her and keep her there.
"It was bad, wasn't it?" he said in a matter-of-fact way. She nodded. "It was horrible."
"Tell me about it." He had learned that it was essential for Genny to share her visions, that she never had a vision they dared ignore.
She cuddled closer, burrowing her small body against him. "The vision was about Jamie again. Very similar to the first one, but… but more graphic." Reaching up to clutch Dallas's naked shoulders, she looked him in the eyes. "I can't be certain, but I believe either he's being tortured right now or he will be very soon. Within the hour." "What did you see?"
"I saw him naked. His body mutilated. She-she… oh, God, Dallas, she rammed a hot poker into his mouth!" Genny fell apart then, tears filling her eyes as she trembled uncontrollably.
He hated it when these damn visions ripped her apart Despite loving her and being there for her, there was only so much he could do. Sometimes he wished he could take away her powers so that she'd never have another vision, but he realized how selfish that would be and that without her special gift of sight, she wouldn't be his Genny.
He held her tight and let her cry. Often simply holding her was all he could do.
Several minutes later, she lifted her tear-stained face.
"We have to do something-you and Jacob and I," she said. 'Jamie is in a house, an old and deserted house. I sensed that he and the woman were alone and they're here in the mountains somewhere, so that me�
�ans it's Jacob's jurisdiction. Call him. Call him now!"
"I'll call him, if you promise to lie down and rest."
"I will… later. After we've made the phone calls and then found Jamie." 'The phone calls? Who else are we calling, other than Jacob?" 'Jazzy."
"Genny, you don't think that she-"
"No, of course Jazzy isn't the one torturing Jamie. But somehow this is going to hurt her. It's going to cause her great pain and threaten her life. Don't ask me how I know, I just know."
"That's good enough for me. And it'll be good enough for Jacob and for Jazzy." He scooted across to the edge of the bed and sat there, then glanced back at her. "I'll get the phone, call Jacob, and then let you talk to him. That is what you want, isn't it?"
"Yes, thank you."
Dallas reached over onto the nightstand and picked up the telephone receiver. He dialed Jacob's home number, then waited for the sheriff to pick up.
"Butler here," Jacob growled in a sleepy voice.
"Sorry to wake you," Dallas said.
"It's okay. I was half awake anyway. What's wrong?"
"Genny had another vision about Jamie Upton. This time she's certain that this mystery woman is torturing Jamie, either right at this very minute or within the hour."
"Let me talk to her."
Genny wriggled her fingers in a give-me-the-phone gesture.
"Yeah, sure. She wants to talk to you." Dallas handed her the phone.
''Jacob, she's insane. Totally insane. But she's clever. Devious. And she hates Jamie passionately. I can feel her hatred. It's thick and smothering and totally black. She doesn't just want to kill him, she wants him to suffer unmercifully before he dies."
"You have any idea where they are?"
"They're on the mountain, but not near. You need to call Sally and get the bloodhounds. Bring them here and Dallas and I will go with you. I'm almost certain that I can lead them in the right direction."
"We'll have to contact the Uptons in order to get a piece of Jamie's clothing, "Jacob told her. "How the hell do I explain this to Big Jim?"
"It doesn't matter. Just do it and do it quickly. We don't have any time to waste."
"I'll be there in twenty minutes, twenty-five at most. Have Dallas call Sally and tell her to meet us at the Upton Farm. That'll save us some time."
"All right. We'll take care of the phone calls. I'll even have Dallas phone Big Jim." Genny paused, then looked at Dallas before she finished her telephone conversation with a startling revelation. "Jacob, she's done this sort of thing before. Jamie isn't the first person she's tortured to death. And-and he won't be the last one."
"My God!"
"Hurry. Please, hurry."
Dallas saw how weak Genny was when the phone slipped from her fingers and landed on the rumpled covers. He lifted the receiver and replaced it on the stand.
"I have to call Jazzy," Genny told him. "Use your cell phone to call Sally and tell her to meet us with Peter and Paul over at the Uptons as soon as possible. Then call the Upton Farm and ask to speak to Big Jim. Tell him we suspect Jamie's been kidnapped and we're putting Sally's bloodhounds on the trail. If he doesn't want to cooperate, tell him exactly what I saw in my vision."
* * *
Chapter 10
She stood over her handiwork and smiled with great satisfaction. Jamie's eyelids had been fluttering and he'd even tried to open his eyes, so it was only a matter of time before he awoke and realized his predicament. She walked around him, from his head along his body to his feet. He was heavier than he looked, and it had required all her strength to maneuver him into position. It hadn't taken the drug in the wine very long to render him helpless. His limp body had been as pliable as putty, cooperating fully as she laid him out on the wooden floor, spread-eagled. While she'd pounded the heavy metal spikes in to the floor alongside each arm and leg, he hadn't even moved.
Kneeling alongside him, she tested the thick leather straps that bound his wrists and ankles to the metal spikes. Then she loosened the gag in his mouth. Sometimes she derived more pleasure from a man realizing he couldn't speak, but with Jamie, she decided that she preferred to hear him beg and plead and scream. And he would scream. She removed the cloth gag.
Her hand skimmed his body from neck to navel. A perfect male specimen, a young man in his prime. But beneath all that exterior perfection existed a vile, cruel monster who preyed on women, making them promises he never intended to keep, breaking their hearts and destroying their lives. She intended to make him pay for his many sins-unforgivable sins. Everyone who knew Jamie Upton realized he didn't deserve to live. The world would certainly be a better place without him.
And her baby would be safe.
Jamie groaned. She rose from her knees, adjusted the plastic gloves she wore and picked up the curve-tipped iron poker. Jamie opened his eyes and closed them several times. He's coming around, she told herself. Get ready to greet him in a special way. She walked to the fireplace, where she'd kept the blaze burning for the past few hours. As she stuck the poker into the fire to heat it, she heard Jamie grunt and call out to her.
"Hey, what the hell's going on?"
She glanced over her shoulder and smiled at him. "I thought you'd never wake up, darling. I've been waiting for you to open your eyes so we could have a lot more fun."
"What?" He struggled against his bondage. "Hey, I didn't agree to anything quite this kinky. What did you do, drug me?"
"Yes, something like that," she told him, as she removed the poker from the fireplace and walked toward him, naked as the day she was born. Except for the protective gloves of course. She didn't want to leave behind any fingerprints.
Jamie's hazel eyes widened when she stood over him, the red-hot poker in her hand. "Hey, baby doll, I'm not into the slave part of rough S and M. This isn't my tiling at all. I like to occasionally give a little pain, but, heck"- he laughed nervously-"what you've got in mind could scar a guy for life."
She loved the fact that he still wasn't quite certain about her motives. He probably thought she was teasing him, titillating him, yet a part of him was just a little scared at the prospect of her branding him. She lowered the poker until it was almost touching the center of his chest. He looked up at her, real fear in his eyes. She let the tip of the poker barely touch him. He yelped in pain.
"Damn it, that hurt." He struggled against the leather ties that bound him. "Come on. Enough of this shit Get on top and fuck me or untie me. I told you I'm not-"
She let the poker reply for her as she slid the hot edge down his body, from his chest to just below his navel. He screamed as the heat seared his flesh with third-degree burns.
With tears filling his eyes as the pain radiated through him, Jamie cried out, "What the hell's the matter with you? Are you crazy?" He tried his best to break free, but quickly realized struggling was useless.
"What's the matter? Don't you like the way I play, lover boy?"
Before he
could respond, she carried the poker back to the fireplace to reheat it, then bent over the hearth and picked up a large, sharp butcher knife. When she turned and snowed Jamie what she held in her hand, he cringed, every muscle in his body stiffening with fear.
"You're fucking insane, you bitch! If you know what's good for you, you'll let me go now. Otherwise you're going to regret the day you were born."
She knelt beside him and brushed his damp hair away from his face. "Oh, such a bad, bad boy. And so spoiled. Do you think your silly threat scares me? You're the one who should be afraid." She ran the tip of the butcher knife down his right cheek, just barely opening the skin. Blood oozed from the fresh wound. Jamie whimpered. "Such a pretty boy. The girls just love that handsome face, don't they?" While he continued struggling uselessly, she slid the knife down his left cheek so that he'd have matching scars.
The Last To Die Page 14
