Authors: Beverly Barton
this way."
Bobby Joe stor-med out of the of-fi-ce, slam-ming the do-or be-hind him af-ter he mar-c-hed in-to the hall. Jacob glan-ced from Mo-ody to Dal-las and then back at Mo-ody.
"Who's the girl?"
Moody grin-ned. With tho-se big blue eyes and curly blond ha-ir, he lo-oked li-ke an over-g-rown kid. "It's that Wil-lis girl."
Laura Wil-lis?" Dal-las and Jacob sa-id si-mul-ta-ne-o-usly. "Nah, the ot-her one." 'The te-ena-ger?"
Jacob as-ked.
"Yeah. Her na-me is She-ri-dan and she's only ni-ne-te-en, but from what Bobby Joe says, she su-re do-esn't act li-ke a kid, if you know what I me-an."
Jacob nod-ded. So Bobby Joe was scre-wing the yo-un-ger Wil-lis girl. Con-si-de-ring that Bobby Joe wasn't exactly a la-di-es' man and not known for ma-king the first mo-ve, She-ri-dan Wil-lis must ha-ve put the mo-ves on him. But why was he ac-ting as if he'd com-mit-ted a cri-me? If she was ni-ne-te-en, she was le-gal.
"Maybe he's em-bar-ras-sed abo-ut da-ting so-me-body that yo-ung," Dal-las sa-id.
Jacob sho-ok his he-ad. "I don't think that's it. The-re's so-met-hing mo-re. So-met-hing to do with the-se mur-ders."
"You think Bobby Joe knows so-met-hing we don't know?" Dal-las as-ked.
"How's that pos-sib-le?" Mo-ody's smo-oth brow wrin-k-led.
"I'm not su-re, but I'm go-ing to find out," Jacob told them.
When he exi-ted the of-fi-ce, he lo-oked up and down the hall. He spot-ted Bobby Joe at the end of the cor-ri-dor by the co-la mac-hi-ne. As if sen-sing Jacob's pre-sen-ce, his de-puty glan-ced up from whe-re he'd just de-po-si-ted co-ins in-to the slot. The-ir ga-zes met for an in-s-tant. Then Bobby Joe lo-oked down to whe-re the mac-hi-ne had de-po-si-ted an ice-cold can of ro-ot be-er in-to the me-tal bed. Jacob to-ok so-me qu-ar-ters out of his poc-ket so that when he re-ac-hed the co-la mac-hi-ne, he drop-ped the co-ins in the slot and hit the Oran-ge Crush but-ton. Af-ter ret-ri-eving his drink and snap-ping the tab, he lif-ted the can t his lips and to-ok a long swig.
"I gu-ess Mo-ody told you who I've be-en sne-aking aro-und se-e-ing." Bobby Joe de-li-be-ra-tely didn't lo-ok at Jacob.
"Sheridan Wil-lis." Jacob wi-ped his mo-uth with the back of his free hand, then tur-ned and put his hand on Bobby Joe's sho-ul-der. "Is the-re so-met-hing you want to tell me?" ^ Bobby Joe har-rum-p-hed. "Want to tell you-no. Ne-ed to tell you-yes."
"Just spit it out. Wha-te-ver it is, it can't be as bad you're ma-king it out to be."
"It's not that. It's just I sho-uld ha-ve al-re-ady sa-id so-met-hing to you abo-ut it, es-pe-ci-al-ly con-si-de-ring it might be so-met-hing that co-uld help Miss Jaz-zy."
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"Tell me now."
"Well…" Bobby Joe shuf-fled, then mo-ti-oned for Jacob to fol-low him. "Let's talk out-si-de. Okay?
I don't want no-body over-he-aring us."
When they wal-ked out the back do-or of the co-ur-t-ho-use, Bobby Joe lo-oked aro-und. Af-ter he saw that they we-re com-p-le-tely alo-ne, he sa-id, "Right af-ter Jamie was kil-led, She-ri-dan sa-id she tho-ught may-be her sis-ter had kil-led him."
"Laura Wil-lis?" 'Ye-ah."
"What ma-de her think that?"
"She sa-id her sis-ter had prob-lems. You know, men-tal prob-lems. It se-ems La-ura had a ner-vo-us bre-ak-down when she was six-te-en."
"Any his-tory of vi-olen-ce?"
''I don't know. She-ri-dan didn't say much mo-re, but… she cal-led me just a few mi-nu-tes ago. You know… that per-so-nal call I to-ok."
Jacob for-ced him-self not to jump to any con-c-lu-si-ons abo-ut La-ura Wil-lis. Not yet. Just be-ca-use he knew Jaz-zy was in-no-cent didn't auto-ma-ti-cal-ly ma-ke La-ura gu-ilty. ut if an-yo-ne ot-her than Jaz-zy had a re-ason to ha-te Jamie, to wish him de-ad, it was pro-bably La-ura.
"So what abo-ut that call?" Jacob as-ked.
"It was She-ri-dan. She'd he-ard abo-ut the se-cond mur-der. Se-ems it's al-re-ady all over the TV
and ra-dio."
Jacob gro-aned. Ye-ah, Bri-an Mac-Kin-non wo-uld see to it that the she-rif-fs de-par-t-ment and the lo-cal po-li-ce we-re held up to ri-di-cu-le. That guy had it in for both Dal-las and him.
"Go on. What did she ha-ve to say?" Jacob sip-ped on his Oran-ge Crush.
Mimicking his boss, Bobby Joe to-ok a co-up-le of swal-lows from his ro-ot be-er. "She sa-id La-ura co-uld ha-ve kil-led this guy, too… that when I drop-ped her off last night and she was he-ading up the back sta-irs at the Up-ton ho-use, she ca-ught La-ura sne-aking up the sta-irs, too. La-ura had be-en out so-mew-he-re for ho-urs and ho-urs and no-body knew whe-re."
"Sheridan must re-al-ly ha-te her sis-ter to sha-re this type of in-for-ma-ti-on with a she-rif-fs de-puty, "Jacob sa-id. "Even if he is a de-puty she's scre-wing."
Bobby Joe's fa-ce flus-hed. "What do you think?"
"I think we sho-uld ask La-ura Wil-lis to co-me in and talk to us," Jacob sa-id. "And I want Wa-de Tru-man he-re when we qu-es-ti-on her. If he se-es the-re's so-me-one el-se with mo-ti-ve and op-por-tu-nity, he might be per-su-aded to drop the char-ges aga-inst Jaz-zy."
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Caleb pul-led his T-bird in at a Da-iry Bar, got out, or-de-red cof-fee, and got back in his car. When he'd left Che-ro-kee Po-in-te this mor-ning, he'd just star-ted dri-ving, and had en-ded up on Hig-h-way 321 and kept go-ing all the way to Gre-en-vil-le be-fo-re he re-ali-zed whe-re he was. Ori-gi-nal-ly he had plan-ned on me-eting up with Dal-las and Jacob to get all the in-fo he co-uld abo-ut the most re-cent mur-der in Che-ro-kee Co-unty. His go-al had be-en to help Jaz-zy.
I want to pro-tect you and ta-ke ca-re of you and ma-ke you happy
, he'd told her. And he'd me-ant every word.
Why the hell had he go-ne back in-to the bed-ro-om for one last lo-ok at her this mor-ning? Why hadn't he just left as so-on as Sally got the-re? If he hadn't to-uc-hed her, kis-sed her, hadn't felt the over-w-hel-ming ne-ed to whis-per that he lo-ved her whi-le she slept, he ne-ver wo-uld ha-ve he-ard her mur-mur Jamie's na-me.
God, it had be-en li-ke a kni-fe in his he-art. He had just spent the most in-c-re-dib-le ho-urs of his li-fe ma-king lo-ve with a wo-man who had co-me to me-an ever-y-t-hing to him. He'd be-en stu-pid eno-ugh to think she felt the sa-me way. But it wasn't his na-me she mur-mu-red in her sle-ep. He wasn't the man in her mind and in her he-art. That sac-red spot was re-ser-ved for a man who had ne-ver be-en worthy of her.
Maybe if Jamie we-re still ali-ve, he'd ha-ve a chan-ce to win Jaz-zy away from him. But how did he fight a ghost? Had he re-al-ly tho-ught he was such a stud that one night in bed with him and Jaz-zy wo-uld for-get abo-ut all tho-se ye-ars she'd be-en in lo-ve with Jamie?
Caleb squ-e-ezed the half-full fo-am cup so hard that the con-tents slos-hed out over the top and spil-led on-to his hand. He cur-sed lo-udly. The cof-fee was still hot. Hot eno-ugh to ma-ke him crin-ge, but not hot eno-ugh to burn.
What are you go-ing to do, McCord, just ke-ep go-ing. Don't lo-ok back
. But what abo-ut his things back the-re at the ca-bin?
Okay, so go back long eno-ugh to get yo-ur stuff, then hit the ro-ad.
You can't le-ave -wit-ho-ut chec-king on Miss Re-ba, wit-ho-ut tal-king to Big Jim Up-ton and
tel-ling him who you are. Af-ter all, that's why you ca-me to Che-ro-kee Co-unty. To find out
abo-ut yo-ur mot-her's fa-mily.
If he went to Big Jim with the truth, the odds we-re le man wo-uldn't be-li-eve him.
So show him
yo-ur birth cer-ti-fi-ca-te. Show him the pic-tu-res of you and yo-ur mot-her when you we-re a kid.
Tell him you'll ta-ke a DNA test.
Is that what he wan-ted? Did he want to be Big Jim, Up-ton's gran-d-son-the he-ir to the Up-ton for-tu-ne? If he was filthy, stin-king rich wo-uld Jaz-zy want him? Wo-uld she lo-ve him?
Caleb la-ug-hed at him-self, at his own fo-olis-h-ness. He had known and pi-ti-ed lo-ve-sick fo-ols, ne-ver dre-aming that so-me-day he'd jo-in the-ir ranks.
If you lo-ve Jaz-zy so damn much, how can you de-sert her? How can you let yo-ur stu-pid
pri-de ke-ep you from be-ing the-re to ta-ke ca-re of her? You ma-de her pro-mi-ses. You 're a man
of yo-ur word, aren't you
?
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He had un-fi-nis-hed bu-si-ness back in Che-ro-kee Co-un-ty-with Big Jim Up-ton and Miss Re-ba.
And with Jaz-zy.
Caleb got out of the car, dum-ped his smas-hed fo-am cup in the trash bin out-si-de the Da-iry Bar, and ma-de a de-ci-si-on. If he went back and pro-ved his iden-tity to his gran-d-pa-rents and pur-su-ed a re-la-ti-on-s-hip with Jaz-zy, so-me pe-op-le wo-uld say that he'd step-ped in-to Jamie Up-ton's sho-es and ta-ken over the man's li-fe. Hell, a lot of pe-op-le wo-uld say it. But they'd be wrong. He didn't want any part of Jamie's li-fe. But you do want ever-y-t-hing that had on-ce be-en Jamie's, an in-ner vo-ice told him.
Jim and Re-ba Up-ton we-re his gran-d-pa-rents, too. He had a right to know them, didn't he?
Pe-op-le might not un-der-s-tand that the Up-ton for-tu-ne didn't me-an that much to him, but ha-ving a fa-mily did. And as far as Jaz-zy was con-cer-ned, he didn't want her to lo-ve him the way she'd lo-ved Jamie. He wan-ted mo-re from her be-, ca-use he was wil-ling to of-fer her mo-re.
To hell with Jamie. To hell with what pe-op-le wo-uld think and say. He was not go-ing to let one word-one na-me-that Jaz-zy had spo-ken in her sle-ep run him off and stop him from la-ying cla-im to ever-y-t-hing he wan-ted. Ever-y-t-hing that was rig-h-t-ful-ly his.
Caleb slid be-hind the whe-el and star-ted his Thun-der-bird. Af-ter bac-king out of the par-king area, he tur-ned the car so-ut-h-west. He was he-ading ho-me.
Mid af-ter-no-on, Dal-las fi-nis-hed up a la-te lunch with Jacob, the two of them sip-ping cof-fee and enj-oying Lu-die's ho-me-ma-de pe-can pie. As so-on as Genny had fi-nis-hed eating, she'd go-ne to Jaz-zy's apar-t-ment to re-li-eve Sally, who'd cal-led to say that Jaz-zy was wor-ri-ed abo-ut Ca-leb.
He'd left aro-und six this mor-ning and they hadn't he-ard a word from him. Dal-las fi-gu-red his Genny wo-uld be ab-le to so-ot-he Jaz-zy's con-cerns. He just ho-ped she didn't over-do. Genny had a way of put-ting ever-yo-ne el-se first and her-self last. As hard as he tri-ed to lo-ok af-ter her, to ma-ke her con-si-der her own ne-eds, she co-uldn't chan-ge who she was. By na-tu-re she was a ca-re-ta-ker.
That lo-ving, gi-ving spi-rit was as much a part of her as tho-se lu-mi-no-us black eyes and her re-mar-kab-le gift of sight, all three in-he-ri-ted from her Granny But-ler, a half-bre-ed Che-ro-kee.
Dallas's cell pho-ne rang, pul-ling him from his tho-ughts of Genny. He re-mo-ved the pho-ne from its hol-der, pun-c-hed the on but-ton and sa-id, "Ye-ah, Slo-an he-re."
Dallas, it's Te-ri. I've got a pre-li-mi-nary on La-ura Wil-lis and I'm still dig-ging. It co-uld ta-ke anot-her day, may-be two, to get ever-y-t-hing on her, her pa-rents, and her sis-ter."
Keep dig-ging," Dal-las sa-id. "Now go ahe-ad and tell me what you've got."
She did ha-ve so-me sort of men-tal col-lap-se when she was fif-te-en. She spent ne-arly three months in a pri-va-te hos-pi-tal and was un-der psychi-at-ric ca-re for a co-up-le of ye-ars."
"Any de-ta-ils on what ca-used the bre-ak-down?"
"Haven't be-en ab-le to find that out yet."
When Te-ri pa-used and didn't say an-y-t-hing for a co-up-le of mi-nu-tes, Dal-las re-mem-be-red how she'd al-ways li-ked to bu-ild up to a big re-ve-la-ti-on with a long, si-lent pa-use.
"What is it?" he as-ked.
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She chuc-k-led. "Just an in-te-res-ting lit-tle tid-bit It was easy eno-ugh to tra-ce da-tes. You know, things li-ke da-te of birth, da-te of mar-ri-age, and so on. La-ura Wil-lis is twen-ty-fo-ur, ac-cor-ding to the re-cords I was ab-le to ac-cess-her dri-ver's li-cen-se in-fo be-ing one."
"So?"
"Andrea and Ce-cil Wil-lis ha-ve be-en mar-ri-ed only twen-ty-th-ree ye-ars."
Dallas mul-led the in-for-ma-ti-on over in his mind. "Did you do-ub-le-check the dates?"
''Yes, I did. You sho-uld know that we FBI types al-ways do-ub-le-check."
"All that me-ans is that La-ura was born be-fo-re her pa-rents we-re mar-ri-ed."
"Maybe."
"What are you dying to tell me?"
"Andrea Wil-lis is not the first Mrs. Ce-cil Wil-lis. His first mar-ri-age was an-nul-led twen-ty-fo-ur ye-ars ago, so that me-ans he was mar-ri-ed to so-me-one el-se when he fat-he-red La-ura."
"Interesting, but I don't see how it's per-ti-nent to our ca-se."
"I think the-re's mo-re to it," Te-ri sa-id. "Call it gut in-s-tinct, but-hey, why don't you ask Genny to do a…’’ "No way."
"Not even if it wo-uld help her fri-end Jaz-zy?" 'You ke-ep dig-ging, find out all you can and if you don't co-me up with so-met-hing, then may-be I'll in-vol-ve Genny."
"Whatever you say. I'll be in to-uch."
When Dal-las rep-la-ced his pho-ne in its hol-s-ter, Jacob as-ked, "Anything?"
"Not re-al-ly, but Te-ri's got a hunch and her hun-c-hes usu-al-ly pay off," Dal-las sa-id. "She'll be back in to-uch with me so-on."
"Well, I ho-pe you're right abo-ut her hun-c-hes. We've got two un-sol-ved mur-ders and un-less we can gi-ve the DA anot-her vi-ab-le sus-pect, Jaz-zy will mo-re than li-kely be put on tri-al for Jamie's mur-der."
Chapter 24
Cherokee Co-unty Hos-pi-tal se-emed the most lo-gi-cal' first stop for Ca-leb when he re-tur-ned to town. He wasn't qu-ite re-ady to fa-ce Jaz-zy, to con-f-ront her with his wo-un-ded! mas-cu-li-ne pri-de. If she told him that she still lo-ved Jamie, he wasn't su-re how he'd re-act. Was he wil-ling to spend the rest of his li-fe pla-ying se-cond fid-dle to his de-ad co-usin? Or if when she fo-und out the truth abo-ut Ca-leb ac-tu-al-ly be-ing an Up-ton he-ir, wo-uld she want him and put him in the
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