On the way home, she'd wondered what she would tell Jim, if he happened to be at ho-me. He hadn't been. More and more lately, he stayed gone all night. She knew where he was; he was with Erin Mercer. If Jim had been at home, would she have told him the truth-that she'd been with Dodd Keefer, that she was in love with Dodd?
Reba eased away from Jim and moved about the room, pretending to inspect the table, something she'd already done. "You were missed at church this morning."
Jim hadn't been the only one missed this morning-Dodd, too, hadn't attended services.
He'd been raised a Presbyterian, but his late wife had been a Congregationalist and he'd converted early in their marriage. She hoped Dodd would call her later today to set up a time when they could meet again. Odd how, at her age, to experience anticipation and giddiness as if she were a young girl with her first boyfriend.
"I apologize for not making it to services today," Jim said.
No further explanation. Not one word of where he'd been all night or with whom he'd spent his time. Perhaps after all these years, all the mistresses, all the nights spent away from home, there really was no need for little white lies between them.
Tilting her head proudly and looking him square in the eyes, she said, "That's all right.
No need for apologies. Not between us. Not any longer."
He eyed her speculatively. She smiled secretively. Let him make of that whatever he wanted to. Let him wonder.
Farlan had allowed Veda to fuss and fume and oddly enough actually enjoyed her discomfort. Had it reached the point that he not only no longer loved his wife, but he could derive pleasure from her unhappiness? No, not really. He didn't want Veda miserable, although little he did seemed to make her happy. But in this one instance, he felt justified in turning the screws just a little. After all, she had held the threat of suicide over his head li-ke the proverbial sword of Damocles for thirty years now. He had toed the line out of fear he'd do something to push Veda over the edge. And partly out of guilt. He had betrayed his marriage vows, had not only taken a mistress, but had dared to love the woman.
If only he could turn back the clock three decades. But he couldn't do that; and even if he could find her now, it would be too late for them. She was probably married, with children and possibly grandchildren.
Weeping quietly, her body quivering every so slightly, Veda gazed up at him from where she sat in the leather chair. She looked rather pitiful, like a fat, withered rose, ready to fall apart. Poor old thing. He shouldn't have been so unkind to her, but damn it all, he was seventy-five and didn't have much time left. With little to look forward to, he'd become depressed lately. Paying that girl last night to spend time with him had been like a breath of fresh air in his stale life. Once he'd gotten it through her cute little head that he didn't want sex, she'd relaxed and opened up to him about herself. And he had told her about another young woman who'd been in her line of business, a girl he'd loved and lost.
They had talked and laughed and even cried together. And around midnight, they’d ordered room service. After eating, he'd stretched out on the bed and she'd curled up next to him, the way a man's daughter might do. Innocently. That was how he'd thought of her-as if she were his daughter.
"I don't see how you could have done this to me," Veda said, then sobbed loudly.
"I didn't have sex with her," he explained.
Veda's head popped up. "What?"
"I needed someone to talk to."
"I don't understand. You and I talk every day."
"You're right," he said. "Maybe what I needed was to spend time with someone young and fun and nonjudgmental."
Eyes dry, face scrunched with disapproval and a hint of anger, Veda glared at him.
"What you mean is mat you wanted to spend time with someone who reminded you of her. That's it, isn't it? You've found yourself another whore to love."
Farlan snorted. "Damn it, woman, I'm not in love with the girl. I spent a few hours with her. We didn't have sex, and I probably won't ever see her again."
"Probably?"
"No probably about it. I won't see her again."
"Do you think about her?" Veda asked.
"I just met the girl last night. Why would I-"
"You know who I mean. Her."
He could lie and swear he'd never given her a thought, not once in all these years. But Veda would know he was lying. "Yes, I think about her sometimes. I wonder where she is. I hope she's happy. I hope she found a nice man, got married and"-he swallowed hard-"had children."
"Other children, you mean."
"Yes, Veda, other children."
"Do you ever think about-"
"Damn it, woman, leave it alone, will you? I've tried my best to give you what you wanted. I stayed with you, didn't I? We made things work for Brian's sake. The past is de-ad and buried. Let's leave it at that."
Veda's eyes widened; her face went ashen. What the hell was wrong with her? But before he could ask her what had shaken her so badly, she snapped out of it, rose from the chair and walked toward him. "You're right. I shouldn't bring up the past. I-I won't do it again."
He patted her on the shoulder. "I apologize for being so cruel to you. You know I didn't mean what I said about your killing yourself."
She sighed dramatically. "Yes, dear, I know."
Veda smiled. Triumphantly. Wickedly? She left the study, closing the door behind her.
Farlan heaved a deep sigh. He crossed the room, reached up over the fireplace and pulled on the hinges connected to the frame of the painting hanging over the mantel. His personal wall safe appeared. He and he alone knew the combination. Rarely did he open this safe. It contained personal items. With speed and accuracy, he rotated the knob, letting the numbers click into place. The door swung open. He reached inside and removed one item. The photograph of a young woman. A pair of vivid hazel-green eyes stared up at him, and for a moment he drowned in memories of a forbidden love.
Dodd felt as if he had a hangover. Perhaps he'd drunk too much last night, after he'd left Reba. He wasn't sure, couldn't exactly remember. He'd wanted to make love to Reba, to consummate their affair in a physical way, but he realized she wasn't ready for anything that intimate. And he loved her enough to wait until she was ready. If only she weren't married, if only they could build a life together. Neither of them was getting any younger. But would she ever leave Big Jim? Would she ever willingly give up the prestige and privileges
associated with being Mrs. James Upton? Could she be content as the wife of a circuit court judge?
If she loved him, truly loved him, she could be.
But that was the question-did she truly love him?
Dodd sat there in Jasmine's Restaurant as he did every Sunday, after church. And he always ordered the same thing-fried chicken. He'd missed church this morning, something he seldom did, but since he hadn't gotten to sleep until dawn, he had slept until nearly eleven. His sleep had been fitful, filled with crazy dreams. No, not dreams. More like nightmares.
What would Reba think of him if she ever learned about what he'd done? Would she understand and forgive him as his wife had? His Beth Ellen had been an extraordinary woman, kind and gentle beyond belief. Until he'd become smitten with Reba, he had thought he'd never love another woman. Most women wouldn't forgive a man for straying.
Veda sure hadn't forgiven Farlan. Quite the opposite-she'd made his life a living hell. To this day, Dodd felt guilty. After all, he'd been the one who'd persuaded his brother-in-law to go with him to Knoxville that first time, and it had been Farlan who had paid the hig-hest price for both their sins.
"Afternoon," Max Fennel said as he and his wife approached Dodd's table. "You look as bad as I feel. We really tied one on last night, didn't we?"
Claudia Fennel inspected Dodd as if he was a product she was considering buying.
Max stood right behind her, an odd expression on his face. Dodd almost missed the shy wink Max gave him, but quickly realized that his old friend was giving him some sort of signal. No doubt Max wanted to use him as an alibi once again. There was no telling where Max had been last night or who he'd been with or what he'd done. The man was a charming scoundrel, but they'd been buddies for years and this wouldn't be the first time Dodd had covered for him.
"I told Maxwell that I was thoroughly disappointed in him." Claudia's cheeks flushed; her voice held a hint of censure. "I'd think you would be a better influence on him, Dodd.
Whoever heard of a judge and a respected lawyer whooping it up together and getting so drunk that they didn't sober up and come home until morning. You're both entirely too old for such shenanigans."
"Now, sweetheart, don't embarrass Dodd." Max hugged Claudia, who cringed at his touch, apparently more than a little upset with him. "We learned our lesson last night, didn't we?" Max's gaze pleaded with Dodd to back him up.
"We most certainly did." Dodd tried his best to smile at Claudia, but all he could mana-ge was not to frown.
Although she was a bit of prude, Claudia was a nice lady and Dodd hated lying to her.
But he consoled himself by halfway believing he was sparing her feelings by keeping the truth from her. If he had a wife like Claudia, you wouldn't catch him fooling around. He'd learned infidelity came at too high a price. For everyone involved. There were always consequences. His careless actions years ago had almost cost him the thing he'd treasured most-his sweet Beth Ellen. How men could repeatedly cheat on their good wives, he didn't know. Big Jim Upton was every bit as bad as Max. Both of them were philandering bastards. Reba's husband had gone through a succession of mistresses, and just about everyone in town knew it. How did Reba endure the shame?
"Well, you two have been mighty naughty," Claudia said jokingly. "But I trust y'all to behave in a more gentlemanly manner in the future."
"Come along, sweetie." Max tugged on his wife's arm. "I'm sure Dodd would like to finish his lunch in peace." Max cast Dodd a grateful glance.
Carrying a coffee pot in her hand, Tiffany Reid came over to his table just as Max dragged Claudia away. "Care for another refill, Judge?"
"Yes, thank you. And I'd like a piece of apple pie. I think Sharon forgot that I always have apple pie on Sunday."
"I'll get your pie right away. Sharon got waylaid by a take-out order." Tiffany leaned in closer and said in a quiet voice so she wouldn't be overheard, "Jacob and Dallas have ordered lunch for their people since they had to call a bunch in to work who were supposed to be off today."
"Is mere some crisis I haven't heard about?"
Lowering her voice to a whisper, Tiffany said, "Just between us-and I overheard two of the deputies talking so I can't swear it's gospel-it seems we might have us another serial killer in Cherokee County."
Cold, deadly fear slugged Dodd in the pit of his stomach.
"It seems they think a local prostituted been murdered by some guy hung up on killing whores and dumping them in the river. He dumped this one in Douglas Lake over in Jefferson County."
"How horrible." Suddenly losing his appetite, Dodd laid his napkin on the table and stood. "I think I'll forgo the apple pie today. My stomach's not quite right"
Tiffany gave him a questioning look. "I sure hope you get to feeling better."
He nodded, then headed for the door where he picked up his coat and hat from the long wall rack stationed in the entryway. Once outside, he sucked in a deep breath of cool autumn air. Another serial killer? One who killed prostitutes? He doubted anybody else had been keeping track, as he had, of the reported deaths of prostitutes in northeastern Tennessee. He'd noted the first kill in the Elizabethton Star over ten years ago, when he and Beth Ellen had been visiting her family there. The victim had been a young woman from Johnson City. Not a prostitute, but a waitress with a reputation for sleeping around.
They had run her photograph on the front page. Pretty. Sweet smile. Auburn-red hair. The reason he'd Paid particular attention and had never forgotten was because she had reminded him of another young redheaded girl, someone he and Farlan had known long ago.
After that, he'd started a scrapbook of similar cases. He subscribed to over a dozen northeast Tennessee and neighboring North Carolina newspapers. Whenever an article appeared about such a crime, he cut it out and pasted it into his secret book. Someday he just might write a novel based on these murders. There had been well over a dozen similar crimes in the past decade. Three women had been from the Johnson City area. And each time Dodd read about another "fallen angel," he was forced to face an ugly truth about himself. He wasn't especially sorry that these women had been killed.
Reve felt right at home when she entered the Uptons' antebellum-style mansion, which reminded her a little of her parents' home in Chattanooga. The moment Miss Reba came forward to greet her, she sensed a kindred spirit. A woman of taste and good breeding.
Caleb's grandmother was dressed in a camel tan suit, her blond hair was styled to perfec-tion, her makeup was flawless and a strand of pearls around her neck was similar to the one Reve had chosen to wear today with her navy blue dress.
"We're simply delighted that you could join us for Sunday dinner." Reba Upton reached out and grasped Reve's hands. "And before another moment passes, I want to issue you an invitation to stay here with us while you're in Cherokee Pointe. We have loads of room"- she gestured with her hand in a sweeping motion-"and could make you quite comfortable. I'm afraid local accommodations aren't up to your standards."
Realizing that in showering her with attention, Reba was UJnoring Jazzy, Reve suddenly felt rather awkward. "I appreciate the invitation, Mrs. Upton, but-"
"Please, call me Reba, my dear girl. You do know that your late mother and I worked on several Republican statewide committees together, and if that isn't reason enough for me to feel kindly toward you, there is the fact that you were a friend of Jamie's."