"Believe me, answering to those two would be a fate worse than death," Jazzy told him and realized despite everything she hadn't lost her sense of humor.
"Don't I know it." Caleb grasped her chin and ran the pad of his thumb over it in a lingering caress. "Try to put all of it out of your mind. At least for now."
Jazzy nodded, knowing it was the response he wanted even if it was a lie. She watched him until he disappeared into her small efficiency kitchen, then she closed her eyes and hugged herself. Although she hadn't cried a drop since being arrested, she felt drained. The numbness was wearing off and exhaustion was taking its-place. She burrowed her head into the pillows and cuddled her body against the back of the couch.
Even with the doors and windows closed, she could still hear the rumble of reporters outside being kept at bay by the deputies. In the days and weeks ahead, they would hound her. Brian MacKinnon would see to that. Every aspect of her life would be put under a magnifying glass and written about in detail for the whole county, to see. If-God forbid-the grand jury decided to bring down a ruling in favor of indicting her for Jamie's murder, she could lose her freedom. But she had already lost something as precious as freedom, actually a part of true freedom. She had lost her privacy. Everyone had secrets, things they would prefer the world never know. She supposed she had more skeletons in her closet than most. Yeah, sure, a lot of folks knew a little about her past history, but a great deal of what they thought they knew was nothing more than supposition. If you took a poll of the locals, sixty percent would tell you that Jazzy Talbot was the illegitimate daughter of Sally Talbot's baby sister. The other forty percent would swear Jazzy was Sally's child. Jazzy had a birth certificate that proved she was Sally's niece, born to Corrine Talbot on July twenty-first.
A local poll on what happened to Jazzy and Jamie's baby would end up pretty much a ninety-five percent agreement that Jazzy had gotten an abortion when she was sixteen. But a handful of folks knew the truth-she had this carried in the first trimester. And everyone who knew her, except the ones closest to her, would swear that Jazzy Talbot was a good-time girl who had spread her legs for half the men in town. That was most definitely false. But no one would ever believe that she could count all her lovers on her fingers. Less than ten. Not lily-white by any means, but not exactly the harlot of the century, either.
Yeah, she liked to flirt. And when a woman looked like she did, men just naturally drooled over her. Was that her fault? Maybe. She had never done anything to dispel her bad reputation. Actually, she had done the exact opposite and fostered her town whore image. Just like Aunt Sally had often said, Jazzy sometimes cut off her nose to spite her face. It was that damn, mile-wide stubborn streak in her.
Sighing, she rubbed the back of her neck. Damn, she was tired. She closed her eyes. Weariness overcame her. Not just a physical and mental weariness. No, it wad more than that. Jazzy was heart weary. Soul weary.
Dallas Sloan hung up the phone and turned to Jacob. "You are not going to believe this."
"Was that Teri?" Jacob asked. "Did she come up with something on McCord?"
"Indeed she did." Dallas mulled over the information his friend and old lover, who still worked for the FBI, had complied on Caleb McCord. The man was a real surprise on more than one count.
"Well, are you going to tell me or make me guess?" Jacob leaned back in his swivel chair and propped his big feet up on his desk. "It's been a long day and I'm! really not in the mood for twenty questions."
"Sorry." Dallas shrugged. He couldn't help stretching out the suspense just a little, despite knowing what a short fuse Jacob had. In the few months they'd known each other, they had become friends. Good friends. And when Dallas married Genny, Jacob would practically be' his brother-in-law. 'We knew McCord was from Memphis and that he was a detective on the Memphis police force. But we didn't know he was one of the youngest men to ever make detective or that he was a well-respected, well-liked, multidecorated cop." 'What do you know." Jacob grinned as he lifted his coffee mug to his lips and downed the last sip.
"I know that wasn't a question, but I do just happen to have a lot more information." Dallas wondered if' Jacob's take on this startling new info would be the same as his. He'd bet his last nickel that it would be.
"You're enjoying this too damn much. Whatever it is, it must be good. "Jacob eased his feet off his desk, shoved back his chair and stood. "Don't tell me. McCord turned out to be a dirty cop." Dallas shook his head. "He screwed up and got kicked off the force?" Dallas shook his head again. "Whatever this other information is, it has nothing to do with him being a policeman, does it?"
"Bingo!" Dallas walked over to the coffeemaker on the corner table, picked up a clean mug, and poured himself a cup. "Just to set the record straight, McCord was a topnotch cop."
"Just spit it out, will you?" 'Teri had no idea that just by checking simple things like McCord's birth records, his school records, and so on, that she'd blow McCord's cover here in Cherokee County," Dallas said. 'You know what McCord's name is?"
"It's not Caleb McCord?"
"Yeah, but it's his middle name you might find interesting." Dallas paused for effect, then said, "The name on his birth certificate is Caleb Upton McCord. His father is listed as deceased. A guy named Franky Joe McCord."
"And the mother's name?"
"Melanie Upton McCord. Does that ring a bell? Is she related to Big Jim Upton?"
"Melanie Upton was Big Jim's daughter," Jacob said. "My God, that means-"
"Caleb McCord is Jamie's first cousin."
"And the sole heir to the Upton fortune now that Jamie is dead."
Caleb placed the tray on the coffee table in front of the sofa. When he turned to tell Jazzy that supper was served, he realized she was fast asleep. Worn to a fraz zle. She lay there cuddled in the fetal position as if protecting herself. Let me protect you, he wanted to say. Let me take care of you.
There had been other women in his life, but not that many. He'd always been the type who preferred quality over quantity. And he'd never actually been in love. In lust several times, but never in love. And maybe he wasn't! in love with Jazzy. He was smart enough to know that! desperately wanting a woman and loving one wasn't the; same thing. But damn it all, from the night they met at Jazzy's Joint-the first time he rescued her from Jamie- he'd realized that Jasmine Talbot was different from all' the other women he'd known. It had been a gut-level reaction. A recognition. And despite the fact that she'd still been partly hung up on Jamie, Jazzy had felt it, too. He knew she had. The sexual tension between them had; been electric. If he had just pushed a little harder that night when he walked her to her door, she'd have invited him in. He'd gone over that night a thousand times, and every time he mentally kicked himself for being such a I damn gentleman. If only he had taken her to bed and1 fucked her like crazy, things would be
different now. They'd be a couple, and she might not be the prime suspect in Jamie's murder.
Hell, maybe it was just his ego-or maybe it was part of that recognition thing between Jazzy and him-but he believed that once they made love, she would be his. Heart and soul. And that's what he wanted. Other men had possessed her body. And yeah, he sure as hell wanted that. But he wanted more. Only Jamie Upton had possessed her heart-ever since she was sixteen. He wanted her to love him like that, with all her heart. But what he wanted most, what he figured no other man had ever had, was a connection that went a lot deeper. Soul deep.
Just looking at her made his body hard and his mind soft as mush. She was gorgeous. Classic features like an old movie star, like that sexy redheaded bombshell from the forties-Rita Hayworth. He knew she dyed her hair that shocking shade of bright red, but he figured that she was a real redhead, just a more subdued shade. And subdued was never a word anyone would associate with Jazzy. God, how that name suited her. She was sultry and sexy and seductive. And her sexuality and beauty was right out there, right in your face. During the three months he'd known her, he'd figured out that she wasn't the hot-to-trot little number most people thought she was. Unless she'd slept with Jamie-and he tended to believe her when she said she hadn't-there hadn't been a man in her bed since Caleb had known her. He suspected that her reputation as a tramp was grossly exaggerated.
Caleb lifted the afghan higher, enough to cover her to her shoulders. Then he leaned down and kissed her forehead. Leaving her to rest, he walked quietly over to the portable phone, picked it up, and carried it into the kitchen. He figured he'd try finding out what he could about Reve Sorrell on his own, and if his Memphis contact didn't come through for him, he'd go to Dallas Sloan. Although he liked Sloan and Butler well enough, he didn't know them any better than they knew him. He figured he could trust them where Jazzy was concerned, but he had a few secrets he'd rather keep hidden for the time being. If he got too chummy with them, they just might ask him too many personal questions.
Knowing Lieutenant Joe Donovan's cell number by heart, Caleb quickly punched the touch-tone keys and waited while the phone rang.
"Donovan here."
"Hey Joe, how are things in the River City?"
"Who the-McCord, is that you?"
"Yep."
"Where the hell are you, man? You just up and disappeared after you got out of the hospital."
"I'm in a picturesque little mountain town called Cherokee Pointe, Tennessee."
"Getting some R and R? Doing a little fishing?"
"Working as a bouncer in a juke joint."
Donovan laughed. "You're kidding me."
''The owner is a friend."
"A new friend?"
"Yeah."
"A lady friend?" Donovan asked.
"Yeah."
"You old dog, you."
"Think what you will," Caleb told him. "But I haven't called you to discuss my love life or lack thereof. I need a favor."
"Name it and it's yours."
"I want some information on a lady."
"Your lady?"
"No, not my lady. On a very rich, very stuck-up gal named Reve Sorrell."
"Sorrell… Sorrell. For some reason it rings a bell."
"How much do you think you can find out about her before morning?"
"Why the rush?"
"Because I figure the lady will be leaving town soon, probably tomorrow sometime, and I need that info fast."
"I'll see what I can do."
"I'd appreciate it."
"Hey, McCord… you all right?"
"Yeah, I'm all right."
"Glad to hear it. Some of us were… concerned, when you just up and left without a word."
"Call me as soon as you get anything on Reve Sorrel, okay?"
"Sure thing."
Jasmine Talbot had been arrested. The district attorney would present his case to a grand jury and then Jazzy would be turned over for trial. And she'd be found guilty. What a delicious thought: Jazzy suffering, paying for her sins. If mere was any true justice, she would be sentenced to death. But if the charge was second degree murder, then imprisonment would be Jazzy's only punishment. If that happened, she knew what she had to do. But she wouldn't kill Jazzy, not until after she had suffered a great deal more. Not until after the trial. The way she had things planned, Jazzy would be.
Now that Jamie was dead and her plans for Jazzy were falling into place, she needed to do what she had originally come to Cherokee Pointe to do-take care of her baby and exact revenge on the others who had wronged her and her child.
It wasn't her fault that she had been separated from her baby. It was their fault. She would never have willingly let them take her away. How could anyone be so cruel as to separate a mother and child? But he hadn't cared-not about her and not about their little girl. If he had loved their daughter the way he said he did, he wouldn't have taken her away from a mother who loved her.
Tears moistened her cheeks. Was she crying? She didn't cry. Not anymore. There was no reason to cry. Everything was all right. Jamie was dead. Jazzy would be Punished severely before she died. The others would Pay for their sins. And her sweet baby was safe.
"You're safe, precious darling." She hurried across the room to where the baby lay sleeping in the middle of the bed. Beautiful baby girl. Safe. Safe with the mother who loved her. "You want Mommy to hold you and rock you and sing to you, don't you? That's what I want, too."
She lifted the child into her arms and kissed her sweet, pink cheeks as she carried her to the rocking chair. She sat down and began to rock and hum, the same lullaby she had sung to her other baby.
No, no, there was no other baby. Only this one. Only my little girl.
She stopped rocking and looked down at the child in her arms. "It's all right. Mommy's just a little confused. I thought you were my only baby girl, but… but she's my little girl, too. I killed Jamie to protect her. No, that's not right. I killed Jamie to protect you."
Sighing contentedly, she hugged her child to her breast as she began rocking and humming again.
Jazzy woke with a start, a scream frozen on her lips. She'd been dreaming. Crazy, mixed up things. Jamie's bloody hands reaching out for her, strangling her. Don't panic, she told herself. It was only your subconscious mind telling you that Jamie is reaching out from the grave to destroy your life. As if he hadn't done enough while he was alive!
Only a lamp in the corner of the living room gave off any light. A forty-watt bulb. She lifted her head and glanced around at the dimly lit area. Caleb sat in the chair across from her, his head bent, his breathing soft and even. He was asleep.
What time is it?
She threw off the afghan and swung her legs around so that her feet touched the floor. That's when she noticed the tray on the coffee table. Caleb had fixed her a sandwich and a cup of tea. Lifting her left wrist, she checked her watch. Eleven-eighteen. Jazzy's Joint would be closing s
oon and the rumble of jukebox music would fade away, as would the muffled sound of talk and laughter. One of the drawbacks of having an apartment over a bar was the noise at night. But since she was usually at Jazzy's Joint until it closed, the noise had never bothered her.
Jazzy's stomach rumbled, reminding her she hadn't eaten since breakfast. Wonder what kind of sandwich Caleb fixed? She leaned over and reached toward the tray. When she picked up the sandwich and discovered it was bologna and cheese on wheat bread, she smiled. He'd remembered her favorite.
She studied him as he slept, and everything female in her reacted to all that was so very male in him. For months now she had fought her attraction to Caleb, giving herself a hundred and one reasons not to have an affair with him.
The Last To Die Page 25
