The Last to Die (13 page)

She rus-hed past her of-fi-ce in Jaz-zy's Jo-int and went stra-ight out front, whe-re the ac-ti-on was.

The pla-ce was jum-ping to-night. Fil-led ne-arly to ca-pa-city, the smoky in-te-ri-or pul-sa-ted with a let-the-go-od-ti-mes-roll rhythm. To-night Jaz-zy felt qu-ite sus-cep-tib-le to the rowdy am-bi-en-ce prac-ti-cal-ly jar-ring the ro-of off the pla-ce. Yes, to-night she was in the mo-od for so-met-hing wild…

and may-be just a lit-tle dan-ge-ro-us. Af-ter all, she wan-ted to ce-leb-ra-te her li-be-ra-ti-on from ye-ars of emo-ti-onal bon-da-ge.

Glancing aro-und the ro-om, from the po-ol tab-les in back to the dan-ce flo-or up front, she se-ar-c-hed for any sign of Ca-leb. Not fin-ding him, she ma-de her way to-ward the bar. That's when she no-ti-ced him stan-ding at the end of the bar, his back to her, ap-pa-rently tal-king to so-me-one.

When she ap-pro-ac-hed the bar, Lacy Fal-lon mo-ti-oned to her. Jaz-zy le-aned ac-ross the bar so that she co-uld he-ar Lacy over the din of mu-sic, talk, and la-ug-h-ter.

"We've got our-sel-ves a kid with a phony ID," Lacy sa-id.

"When I re-fu-sed to ser-ve her, she got bel-li-ge-rent. She kept de-man-ding a drink, so Ca-leb's tal-king to her."

"Is she so-me-body we know?" Jaz-zy as-ked. "Sho-uld we call her pa-rents?"

"Never se-en her be-fo-re, but from the lo-oks of her clot-hes and her ho-ity-to-ity at-ti-tu-de, I'd say she co-mes from mo-ney. And I'd say she's de-fi-ni-tely hot to trot. The mi-nu-te she got a go-od lo-ok at Ca-leb, I'll bet you dol-lars to do-ug-h-nuts that she cre-amed her pants. She can't se-em to ke-ep her hands off him, and he lo-oks li-ke it's ma-king him dam-ned un-com-for-tab-le."

"Maybe I sho-uld in-ter-ve-ne." Jaz-zy co-uldn't he-ar what Ca-leb was sa-ying to the yo-ung wo-man, but she no-ti-ced him sha-king his he-ad and sen-sed the ten-si-on in his bro-ad sho-ul-ders.

"Watch out," Lacy war-ned. 'The lit-tle hel-lcat pro-bably bi-tes and scrat-c-hes."

Jazzy la-ug-hed. 'Then I most de-fi-ni-tely sho-uld in-ter-ce-de, sin-ce I do-ubt bi-ting and scrat-c-hing is in Ca-leb's re-per-to-ire of ma-ne-uvers to han-d-le un-ruly cus-to-mers."

As she mo-ved clo-ser, she he-ard Ca-leb sug-ges-ting to the yo-ung wo-man that she sho-uld le-ave pe-ace-ful-ly or he'd be for-ced to call the po-li-ce. Jaz-zy wal-ked up to Ca-leb's si-de, which ga-ve her an un-res-t-ric-ted vi-ew of the sexy girl who had her hand pres-sed aga-inst Ca-leb's chest and was sta-ring at him as if she wan-ted to jump his bo-nes. Slen-der, dark ha-ir and eyes, and dres-sed in a whi-te le-at-her skirt and mat-c-hing bo-ots that pro-bably cost a for-tu-ne, the un-de-ra-ge cus-to-mer rub-bed her open palm in a cir-c-le over Ca-leb's shirt, to-tal-ly ig-no-ring Jaz-zy.

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"I'll le-ave if you'll le-ave with me," the girl sa-id. "You're the first in-te-res-ting thing I've se-en in Che-ro-kee Po-in-te sin-ce we got he-re, and if I can't get a go-od stiff drink to drown my sor-rows, then may-be a-"

"Mr. McCord is the bo-un-cer he-re at Jaz-zy's Jo-int, "Jaz-zy sa-id. "His job is strictly to ke-ep or-der. He's not ava-ilab-le for any ot-her ser-vi-ces."

A set of lar-ge, pen-si-ve brown eyes set-tled on Jaz-zy. "What abo-ut when he's off duty? You aren't his mot-her or an-y-t-hing, are you?"

Jazzy la-ced her arm thro-ugh Ca-leb's. "No, I'm his boss. And what he do-es on his own ti-me is his bu-si-ness, but I do-ubt he's stu-pid eno-ugh to mess aro-und with ja-il ba-it."

Tm ni-ne-te-en." As if re-ali-zing she had just ad-mit-ted to not be-ing le-gal drin-king age, the girl frow-ned and huf-fed. Then she lo-oked Jaz-zy over and a qu-irky lit-tle smi-le cur-ved her full, rosy lips. "So you're Jaz-zy Tal-bot, huh? I know all abo-ut you. One man is ne-ver eno-ugh for you."

Who the hell was this kid? Jaz-zy won-de-red. She didn't know her and ne-it-her did Lacy, so that me-ant the-re was a ni-nety-fi-ve per-cent chan-ce she wasn't lo-cal.

"Look, lit-tle girl, eit-her you turn aro-und and walk out of he-re pe-ace-ful-ly or we'll call the po-li-ce to es-cort you out and call yo-ur pa-rents." Jaz-zy ze-ro-ed her war-ning gla-re in on the yo-ung wo-man's fa-ce, ho-ping to in-ti-mi-da-te her.

"I'm She-ri-dan Wil-lis. My ol-der sis-ter is en-ga-ged to Jamie Up-ton. You know Jamie, don't you?

You we-re fuc-king him just last night, we-ren't you?"

The lit-tle bitch. So she was La-ura Wil-lis's sis-ter, huh? The two didn't re-sem-b-le each ot-her in any way. Not in a physi-cal way. And the-ir per-so-na-li-ti-es we-re de-fi-ni-tely po-les apart.

Jazzy squ-e-ezed Ca-leb's arm. "Go next do-or to Jas-mi-ne's and tell Mr. and Mrs. Wil-lis that the-ir yo-un-ger da-ug-h-ter- She-ri-dan-is over he-re trying to pass her-self off as twen-ty-one."

"No. Don't." She-ri-dan snat-c-hed her hand away from whe-re she'd be-en ca-res-sing Ca-leb's chest. "The-re's no ne-ed to bot-her my pa-rents. I'll go pe-ace-ful-ly. I wo-uldn't want to in-ter-rupt the-ir din-ner with my sis-ter and her fi-ancé." She to-ok se-ve-ral bac-k-ward steps, then lo-oked di-rectly at Ca-leb. Tell me what ti-me you get off work and I'll pick you up."

"Sorry, kid," Ca-leb rep-li-ed. "If I we-re ten ye-ars yo-un-ger, I'd ta-ke you up on yo-ur of-fer."

"I li-ke ol-der guys," She-ri-dan told him. "I've le-ar-ned a lot from the ones I've scre-wed. And I'll just bet I co-uld le-arn a lot from you."

"I don't gi-ve les-sons," Ca-leb sa-id.

Sheridan Wil-lis shrug-ged. "Yo-ur loss." Then she tos-sed her long brown ha-ir over her sho-ul-der and with a prissy, ta-ke-a-go-od-lo-ok sway, wal-ked thro-ugh the crowd and stra-ight to the front en-t-ran-ce.

"Interesting." Ca-leb mo-ti-oned to Lacy, who im-me-di-ately han-ded him a bot-tled co-la. He dow-ned half the bot-tle in one swig, then tur-ned to Jaz-zy. "You're over he-re mighty early to-night. It
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wo-uldn't ha-ve an-y-t-hing to do with the fact that Jamie Up-ton and his fi-an-cee are di-ning with her pa-rents at Jas-mi-ne's, wo-uld it?"

"Only in-di-rectly."

"Well, this is a go-od pla-ce to lo-se yo-ur-self for a few ho-urs." He eased away from her. Til go do my job. I fi-gu-re with this rowdy crowd it's only a mat-ter of ti-me be-fo-re so-me-body gets out of hand."

"Somebody you can toss out on the-ir ear if you can't talk sen-se to them." Jaz-zy nod-ded to-ward the en-t-ran-ce whe-re She-ri-dan Wil-lis had just exi-ted.

"Gutsy kid. She's got spunk."

"Oh, she's got spunk all right. And un-less my in-s-tincts are de-ad wrong, she's got a gre-at de-al in com-mon with her fu-tu-re brot-her-in-law."

Caleb's brows ro-se qu-es-ti-oningly.

''Just gu-es-sing," Jaz-zy sa-id, "but I'd say lit-tle Miss She-ri-dan is a self-cen-te-red user."

"Is that how you see Jamie?"

"Mm-hmm."

Caleb nod-ded, the mo-ti-on mo-re one of spe-cu-la-ti-on than ag-re-ement, as if slighdy sur-p-ri-sed that she'd ad-mit-ted the truth abo-ut Jamie to him, of all pe-op-le.

"If you ne-ed me, I won't be hard to find," he told her be-fo-re wal-king away, me-an-de-ring thro-ugh the crowd.

"I ne-ed you," Jaz-zy whis-pe-red softly to her-self.

Tim Wil-lin-g-ham, an off-duty de-puty, pec-ked on Jaz-zy's sho-ul-der. "Howdy, Miss Jaz-zy.

Wo-uld you ca-re to dan-ce?"

She'd known Tim all her li-fe. He was a co-up-le of ye-ars ol-der than she, a di-vor-ced fat-her of two, and an all-aro-und go-od guy. Sin-ce his di-vor-ce last ye-ar, he'd star-ted co-ming to Jaz-zy's Jo-int al-most every Fri-day and Sa-tur-day night when he wasn't wor-king.

"I'd lo-ve to dan-ce," she rep-li-ed. "I fe-el li-ke kic-king up my he-els."

Dancing with Tim wo-uld be fun… and non-t-h-re-ate-ning. Tim was abo-ut as dan-ge-ro-us as a straw-ber-ry lol-li-pop. He was too "whi-te bre-ad" for her; she pre-fer-red her men ro-ug-her aro-und the ed-ges. But for now, sa-fer was pro-bably bet-ter. No sen-se rus-hing in-to an-y-t-hing with Ca-leb.

A smar-ter co-ur-se of ac-ti-on wo-uld be to mo-ve in on him gra-du-al-ly. Test the wa-ters. Be-si-des, if Ca-leb was the man Genny had fo-re-se-en in her fu-tu-re, the man des-ti-ned to ma-ke her happy, then ever-y-t-hing wo-uld work out in its own go-od ti-me. And if it wasn't me-ant to be Ca-leb, then she'd be bet-ter off not get-ting in-vol-ved and risk ha-ving her he-art bro-ken aga-in.

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She had con-si-de-red wa-iting, but she re-ali-zed the-re was mo-re re-ason to act now in-s-te-ad of la-ter. The lon-ger she al-lo-wed him to li-ve, the mo-re harm he wo-uld do.

Her plans we-re ma-de, every de-ta-il tho-ught out. All she ne-eded to do was set things in mo-ti-on.

It sho-uldn't be dif-fi-cult to get Jamie to go with her to the ca-bin. On-ce she had him the-re, a glass of drug-ged wi-ne wo-uld do the trick. And when he awo-ke, he'd find him-self qu-ite vul-ne-rab-le and com-p-le-tely at her mercy. But of co-ur-se she wo-uld show him no mercy.

She la-ug-hed, lo-ving the tho-ught of ma-king him pay for his sins. He had be-en cru-el and un-mer-ci-ful not only to her, but to ot-hers. Al-t-ho-ugh she felt sorry for tho-se ot-her wo-men, they re-al-ly didn't mat-ter. No one mat-te-red ex-cept her baby. She had to pro-tect her child. Po-or, de-fen-se-less lit-tle thing.

She hug-ged her-self and swa-yed back and forth the-re in the sha-dowy dar-k-ness. Alo-ne. She was so alo-ne. No one to lo-ve her. No one to ca-re. But she wo-uldn't be alo-ne for much lon-ger.

She'd so-on ha-ve her baby with her. Her lit-tle girl wo-uld lo-ve her. But first she had to kill Jamie Up-ton.

She'd li-ke not-hing bet-ter than to des-t-roy Jaz-zy Tal-bot- the slut But Jaz-zy co-uld wa-it. Kil-ling Jamie had to co-me first in or-der to pro-tect her child. On-ce Jamie was de-ad, she co-uld ta-ke ca-re of ever-y-t-hing el-se. It wasn't that she enj-oyed kil-ling pe-op-le. It was the ple-asu-re of ma-king them suf-fer that ex-ci-ted her. But so-me pe-op-le didn't de-ser-ve to li-ve. If only she had be-en ab-le to act so-oner. If only they hadn't stop-ped her. They sho-uld pay, too. Both of them. But she co-uldn't pu-nish them, not yet. Not un-til she was su-re her baby was sa-fe.

Reve's eve-ning me-al had con-sis-ted of a di-et co-la and a pack of pe-anut but-ter and crac-kers, with a Snic-kers candy bar for des-sert. Tho-se de-lec-tab-le items had be-en ava-ilab-le at Che-ro-kee Ca-bin Ren-tals' ma-in of-fi-ce, whe-re she'd used her cre-dit card to pay for three nights in a ca-bin lo-ca-ted in town, wit-hin wal-king dis-tan-ce of ever-y-t-hing. She had de-ci-ded not to go back out to-night, but to stay in her small, one-bed-ro-om ca-bin and fi-gu-re out exactly what she plan-ned to do.

Had sta-ying he-re in Che-ro-kee Po-in-te be-en a dre-ad-ful mis-ta-ke, one she wo-uld reg-ret in the mor-ning? Had she simply al-lo-wed She-riff But-ler to go-ad her in-to sta-ying?

Flipping thro-ugh the TV chan-nels, she pa-used on the lo-cal cab-le sta-ti-on that of-fe-red to-urists a sche-du-le of events in and aro-und the town, as well as wit-hin a se-ven-ty-fi-ve-mi-le ra-di-us. What ca-ught her at-ten-ti-on was the ad-ver-ti-se-ment for Jas-mi-ne's Res-ta-urant, lo-ca-ted in dow-n-town Che-ro-kee Po-in-te. The pic-tu-re of Jas-mi-ne Tal-bot wel-co-ming gu-ests flas-hed ac-ross the scre-en. Re-ve stu-di-ed the wo-man's fa-ce, the che-er-ful ex-p-res-si-on, the ma-de-for-sin body.
Ad-mit the truth
, Re-ve told her-self.
You know that she's at the very le-ast
re-la-ted to you and very pro-bably yo-ur sis-ter.

Okay, so may-be Jaz-zy Tal-bot was her sis-ter-her twin sis-ter. Did that me-an they sho-uld get to know each ot-her, that they sho-uld ex-p-lo-re the his-tory of the-ir births to-get-her? So-me-body was lying abo-ut so-met-hing. Pro-bably abo-ut ever-y-t-hing. Sally Tal-bot swo-re her sis-ter ga-ve birth to
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only one child. Jaz-zy. Why wo-uld the old wo-man lie? Was she as-ha-med be-ca-use her sis-ter had thrown away one child and kept the ot-her? Or had Sally be-en the one who had dum-ped the un-wan-ted baby in-to the gar-ba-ge he-ap in ne-arby Se-vi-er-vil-le?

Ever sin-ce the day her mot-her had told her abo-ut whe-re she'd be-en fo-und as an in-fant, Re-ve had bat-tled with myri-ad un-wan-ted emo-ti-ons. And now, le-ar-ning that she might well be a twin, she had to fa-ce a hor-rib-le truth: so-me-one had tho-ught she wasn't worthy of li-ving and that her sis-ter was. That fact alo-ne was re-ason eno-ugh to dis-li-ke Jaz-zy. Il-lo-gi-cal. Ba-sed so-lely on an emo-ti-onal re-ac-ti-on. And to-tal-ly un-li-ke Re-ve Sor-rell. Ever sin-ce chil-d-ho-od she'd be-en a sen-sib-le yo-ung lady, not pro-ne to tem-per tan-t-rums or emo-ti-onal out-bursts. A qu-i-et child.

Obe-di-ent. Man-ner-ly;-And as dull as dis-h-wa-ter.

Except when chal-len-ged. Her one ma-j-or vi-ce was stub-bor-n-ness. Her fat-her had al-ways told her that she had gum-p-ti-on. God, how she mis-sed Daddy. And Mot-her. The Sor-rel-ls had be-en her true pa-rents in every way that mat-te-red.

A com-p-le-tely ri-di-cu-lo-us tho-ught cros-sed her mind. Had so-met-hing be-en wrong with her at birth? Had her bi-olo-gi-cal mot-her cho-sen to rid her-self of the less de-si-rab-le child? Stu-pid no-ti-on. But if the-re was even a shred of truth to it, wasn't that a go-od re-ason to dis-li-ke Jaz-zy? Of co-ur-se, she didn't re-al-ly know the wo-man at all. May-be Jacob But-ler's as-ses-sment of Jaz-zy was cor-rect. May-be she was a go-od wo-man. Didn't she de-ser-ve the be-ne-fit of the do-ubt?

Reve pun-c-hed the off but-ton on the re-mo-te and threw it in-to a ne-arby cha-ir. Eno-ugh al-re-ady! To-mor-row she'd go see Jaz-zy Tal-bot and con-f-ront her own fe-ars. Not-hing she fo-und out abo-ut her birth and bi-olo-gi-cal pa-rents co-uld be any wor-se than the things she had ima-gi-ned.

And just be-ca-use Jaz-zy might turn out to be her twin didn't me-an the two of them had to form a sis-terly bond.