The Last to Die (5 page)

As she dro-ve slowly along Ma-in Stre-et, she se-ar-c-hed the fa-ces of the ci-ti-zens scur-rying to and fro in the small dow-n-town area. She had grown up in Chat-ta-no-oga, a mid-si-ze city, with just the right amo-unt of hus-t-le and bus-t-le not to ha-ve re-ma-ined a sle-epy So-ut-hern town and yet not so lar-ge as to ha-ve lost its old-fas-hi-oned charm. She still li-ved in her pa-rents' ho-me on Lo-oko-ut Mo-un-ta-in, in an old and pres-ti-gi-o-us ne-ig-h-bor-ho-od. Al-t-ho-ugh not the Sor-rel-ls'

bi-olo-gi-cal child, she'd still be-en ra-ised with the-ir be-li-efs, tra-di-ti-ons, and so-ci-al snob-bery. She was, in all but blo-od, a true Sor-rell. And the-re wasn't a day that went by she didn't thank God for her go-od for-tu-ne.

As an in-fant of only we-eks, she'd be-en bles-sed the day she was pla-ced with the Sor-rel-ls. Her pa-rents hadn't told her she was adop-ted un-til she was six, and in the tel-ling, they'd ma-de her fe-el very spe-ci-al and gre-atly lo-ved. When at fo-ur-te-en she'd as-ked them a lot of qu-es-ti-ons abo-ut her true pa-ren-ta-ge, they swo-re they knew not-hing abo-ut her birth pa-rents. It wasn't un-til she'd be-en awar-ded her bac-he-lor's deg-ree from UT that her then wi-do-wed mot-her told her she'd be-en fo-und in a Dum-p-s-ter in Se-vi-er-vil-le, thrown away li-ke trash when she was lit-tle mo-re than a new-born.

It wasn't as if she had co-me to Che-ro-kee Po-in-te to-day on a whim or that she'd simply ta-ken Jamie Up-ton's word that she had a lo-ok-ali-ke in this small mo-un-ta-in town. She'd met Jamie at a Chris-t-mas party la-te last ye-ar when he'd be-en vi-si-ting fri-ends in Chat-ta-no-oga. He'd do-ne his best to charm her, and he had al-most suc-ce-eded. She'd fo-und the man ut-terly ir-re-sis-tib-le.

But on-ce she'd dis-co-ve-red that he'd be-en fas-ci-na-ted by her be-ca-use she re-sem-b-led his te-ena-ge swe-et-he-art, her com-mon sen-se kic-ked in-to play. And if the-re was one thing Re-ve Sor-rell was known for, it was her com-mon sen-se. Ne-ver a play-girl, al-ways a se-ri-o-us stu-dent as well as an obe-di-ent da-ug-h-ter and a lady who had be-en ac-cu-sed by many men of be-ing an ice qu-e-en, Re-ve pri-ded her-self on not al-lo-wing emo-ti-ons to ru-le her. She was an ad-mit-ted con-t-rol fre-ak. Of co-ur-se, kno-wing Jamie Up-ton for the char-ming sco-un-d-rel he was didn't me-an she might not lo-ok him up whi-le she was in the area. Af-ter all, hadn't he in-vi-ted her to co-me for a vi-sit and stay with his fa-mily on the-ir es-ta-te out-si-de town?

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"I know a girl who co-uld be yo-ur twin," Jamie had told her. "You sho-uld co-me to Che-ro-kee Po-in-te and me-et Jas-mi-ne. She'd get a kick of me-eting her lo-ok-ali-ke."

Reve had hi-red a pri-va-te in-ves-ti-ga-ti-on agency to com-pi-le a re-port on Jas-mi-ne Tal-bot.

She and the wo-man we-re the sa-me age, al-t-ho-ugh the-ir bir-t-h-days we-re al-most a we-ek apart; but then her pa-rents hadn't known her exact birth da-te. And Jaz-zy, as her fri-ends cal-led her, had be-en ra-ised by an aunt, an old wo-man known as the town ko-ok.

Would a mot-her ha-ve gi-ven her sis-ter one child and thrown the ot-her in-to the gar-ba-ge?

So-me-how it didn't se-em li-kely. The pri-va-te de-tec-ti-ve had in-c-lu-ded a do-zen pho-tog-raphs of Jas-mi-ne Tal-bot when he'd han-ded in his re-port, and Re-ve had to ad-mit that the-re was a stri-king re-sem-b-lan-ce bet-we-en the two of them. Eno-ugh so that they co-uld easily be sis-ters, per-haps even twins. She had put off me-eting the wo-man fa-ce-to-fa-ce, un-su-re how she wo-uld re-act when she met Jaz-zy. If they we-re sis-ters, wo-uld she fe-el an in-s-tant bond, an im-me-di-ate fa-mi-li-al con-nec-ti-on?

Re-ve par-ked half a block down from Jas-mi-ne's, got out of the Jag, loc-ked it se-cu-rely, and step-ped up on the si-de-walk. The air was crisp, fresh and co-ol, sprin-g-ti-me mor-ning co-ol. She chec-ked her watch. Eig-ht-fif-te-en. Still early eno-ugh to or-der bre-ak-fast at the res-ta-urant. Just go in-si-de, she told her-self.
Or-der bre-ak-fast and see how the pe-op-le who work for Jas-mi-ne
re-act to you. If they don't go run-ning to her with news that they’ve se-en her twin and she
do-esn’t co-me out to see for her-self, then you '11 ha-ve to ask to spe-ak with her.

When she ar-ri-ved at the en-t-ran-ce to the res-ta-urant, she pa-used, to-ok a de-ep bre-ath, then stif-fe-ned her spi-ne and re-ac-hed for the do-or han-d-le. A lar-ge mas-cu-li-ne hand shot out aro-und her and grab-bed the han-d-le. Star-t-led by the unex-pec-ted mo-ve, she gas-ped and glan-ced over her sho-ul-der. A tall, lanky man with overly long brown ha-ir and sexy gol-den eyes smi-led at her. Her sto-mach did an in-vo-lun-tary flip-flop when he sta-red at her as if he wan-ted to kiss her. It wasn't that she didn't ha-ve a long li-ne of eli-gib-le men knoc-king on her do-or. She did. But every sin-g-le one of them knew she was a mul-ti-mil-li-ona-ire. This man didn't know her, had no idea she was the he-ir to the Sor-rell for-tu-ne. And he ac-ted as if he was in-s-tantly in-te-res-ted in her.

His smi-le wa-ve-red. He sho-ok his he-ad. "Lady, has an-yo-ne ever told you that you've got a twin?"

"I beg yo-ur par-don?"

"Different ha-ir style and yo-ur co-lor is dar-ker. Mo-re auburn. And yo-ur eyes are brown, not gre-en, but then I'm pretty su-re she we-ars co-lo-red con-tacts." He sur-ve-yed her from he-ad to toe.

"You're a few po-unds he-avi-er, may-be an inch tal-ler. And yo-ur clot-hes are clas-si-er. But I'll be dam-ned if you don't lo-ok eno-ugh li-ke her to be-"

"And just who are you?" Re-ve as-ked, her to-ne de-li-be-ra-tely stern.

"Sorry." He step-ped back as she tur-ned to fa-ce him. "I'm Ca-leb McCord." He held out his hand.

"Mr. McCord." She sho-ok hands with him. "I'm Re-ve Sor-rell. Do-es that na-me me-an an-y-t-hing
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to you?"

He sho-ok his he-ad. "No-pe. Sho-uld it?"

"No, I sup-po-se not"

"Does the na-me Jas-mi-ne Tal-bot me-an an-y-t-hing to you?" he as-ked. "You wo-uldn't by any chan-ce be a re-la-ti-ve I don't know abo-ut, wo-uld you?"

"Do you know Ms. Tal-bot well?"

"Well eno-ugh to know she do-esn't ha-ve a sis-ter, at le-ast not one she knows an-y-t-hing abo-ut."

"That cer-ta-inly ma-kes two of us. As far as I know, I don't ha-ve a sis-ter. But a re-si-dent of Che-ro-kee Co-unty I met at a party a few months ago men-ti-oned I had a lo-ok-ali-ke he-re in Che-ro-kee Po-in-te, and sin-ce I was in the area an-y-way… well, I re-mem-be-red his com-ments and I'm cu-ri-o-us eno-ugh to want to me-et her."

"And who wo-uld that be-the per-son who told you that you lo-oked li-ke Jaz-zy?"

"Jamie Up-ton. Do you know him?"

A dark frown era-sed all warmth from Ca-leb McCord's rug-gedly han-d-so-me fa-ce. "So you're one of Jamie's wo-men, huh? So-met-hing el-se you and Jaz-zy ha-ve in com-mon."

"I ta-ke it that you don't es-pe-ci-al-ly li-ke Jamie."

"Hate the guy's guts."

"Because?"

"Because be-ing a man in-s-te-ad of a wo-man, I ha-ve the go-od for-tu-ne to see the son of a bitch for what he is."

"Which is?"

"He's a sorry, go-od-for-not-hing lo-use who-se hobby is bre-aking he-arts and des-t-ro-ying li-ves."

Apparently this man ca-red for Jas-mi-ne Tal-bot and re-sen-ted Jamie's con-nec-ti-on to the lady.

"You're je-alo-us be-ca-use Jas-mi-ne was his te-ena-ge swe-et-he-art and she still lo-ves him."

Caleb chuc-k-led. "The guy did a num-ber on you, too, didn't he? Is that the re-al re-ason you're in town? Jamie ro-man-ced you, scre-wed you, then left you to co-me back to Jaz-zy. And you're he-re in town to see what Jaz-zy's got that you don't ha-ve?"

"Mr. McCord, you ha-ve a very vi-vid ima-gi-na-ti-on. Jamie didn't use and abu-se me, al-t-ho-ugh he wo-uld ha-ve if I'd gi-ven him a chan-ce. I'm he-re stricdy out of cu-ri-osity. I want to me-et Jas-mi-ne Tal-bot."

"Then co-me right on in with me and I'll in-t-ro-du-ce you to her." Ca-leb held open the do-or, then fol-lo-wed Re-ve in-to the res-ta-urant.

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The hos-tess, who-se -na-me tag re-ad Tif-fany, rus-hed for-ward, then stop-ped de-ad in her tracks. Her pink lips for-med an oval as she gas-ped in sur-p-ri-se when he lo-oked at Re-ve.

"We want a bo-oth," Ca-leb sa-id. 'Two cups of cof-fee. Black?" he as-ked Re-ve.

"Cream, no su-gar," she rep-li-ed.

"And ask Jaz-zy to jo-in us. Tell her I've got a lit-tle sur-p-ri-se for her."

"I'll say you do. Who is she?" Tif-fany lo-oked at Re-ve. "I me-an, who are you, ma'am? I can't get over how much you lo-ok li-ke Jaz-zy."

"So ever-yo-ne ke-eps tel-ling me."

"Second bo-oth on the left, by the win-dows," Tif-fany sa-id. "I'll tell Jaz-zy and then get the cof-fee."

As they he-aded for the bo-oth, se-ve-ral he-ads tur-ned and mo-re than one set of eyes sta-red una-bas-hedly at Re-ve as she wal-ked by. All of a sud-den she wasn't so su-re co-ming he-re li-ke this had be-en such a go-od idea. May-be she sho-uld ha-ve cal-led Jas-mi-ne Tal-bot first and as-ked her a few qu-es-ti-ons. May-be she sho-uld ha-ve te-lep-ho-ned Jamie and as-ked him to set up a me-eting bet-we-en her and her so-cal-led twin.

By the ti-me they sat down and Re-ve be-gan to re-lax, whis-pers and mur-murs sur-ro-un-ded them. Tif-fany ca-me rus-hing back to the-ir bo-oth, a cof-fe-epot in hand. She flip-ped over the cups al-re-ady on the tab-le and po-ured the ste-aming brew, then re-ac-hed in her ap-ron and pro-du-ced se-ve-ral small con-ta-iners of half-and-half, which she pla-ced by Re-ve's cup.

''Jazzy will be right out. She's just fi-nis-hing up bre-ak-fast in her of-fi-ce with her aunt Sally and Lu-die. Ludie brought in so-me pi-es she'd ba-ked yes-ter-day, so we'd ha-ve them for to-day's lunch crowd."

"Did you men-ti-on that I had a lady with me who just hap-pens to be Jaz-zy's spit-ting ima-ge?"

Ca-leb as-ked.

"I just told her that you wan-ted her to co-me out and me-et a lady you had with you and that she was in for qu-ite a sur-p-ri-se when she saw the lady."

No so-oner had Tif-fany wal-ked away than Ca-leb sto-od up be-si-de the bo-oth, an odd grin on his fa-ce. Re-ve tur-ned just eno-ugh to glan-ce over her sho-ul-der. The bot-tom drop-ped out of her sto-mach. The wo-man wal-king to-ward them wo-re skin-tight je-ans, a bright yel-low T-shirt that ac-cen-tu-ated her lar-ge bre-asts, and spor-ted a short, flya-way ha-ir-cut that proc-la-imed her stylish and hip. Jas-mi-ne Tal-bot was stri-kingly at-trac-ti-ve. And very sexy. Two things Re-ve Sor-rell wasn't. But the body was si-mi-lar to hers, al-t-ho-ugh hers was well ca-mo-uf-la-ged be-ne-ath clas-si-cal-ly ta-ilo-red pin-s-t-ri-ped black slacks, a black bla-zer, and a whi-te shirt. And the wo-man's every fe-atu-re was a per-fect match to Re-ve's. Sa-me fo-re-he-ad, eyes, no-se, mo-uth, ears, long neck, che-ek-bo-nes, chin.

A cold fe-ar en-com-pas-sed Re-ve as Jaz-zy drew ne-ar. The-re was no way so-me-one co-uld lo-ok that much li-ke anot-her per-son wit-ho-ut them be-ing re-la-ted. That me-ant this wo-man co-uld very well be her sis-ter, may-be her twin sis-ter.

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Jazzy stop-ped se-ve-ral fe-et away as Re-ve tur-ned aro-und fully and the-ir ga-zes loc-ked. She no-ted the sa-me shock, the sa-me un-cer-ta-inty, and the sa-me unan-s-we-red qu-es-ti-ons in Jas-mi-ne Tal-bot's eyes that pla-gu-ed her. Gre-en eyes, not brown, she no-ted. But what had McCord sa-id? So-met-hing abo-ut Jaz-zy we-aring con-tacts.

Caleb wal-ked over to Jaz-zy and ur-ged her in-to mo-ti-on. "Co-me on over and me-et anot-her one of Jamie's lady fri-ends. It se-ems you two ha-ve even mo-re in com-mon than just be-ing Jamie Up-ton's type."

"What is this?" Jaz-zy,as-ked as she ca-me wit-hin a fo-ot of Re-ve and gla-red at her. "Who are you?"

"Reve Sor-rell."

Jazzy lo-oked at Ca-leb. "How do you know this wo-man?"

"I just met her out-si-de a few mi-nu-tes ago. She men-ti-oned that Jamie had sug-ges-ted she co-me to Che-ro-kee Po-in-te and me-et you. It wo-uld se-em that Jamie fo-und an al-most per-fect sub-s-ti-tu-te for you in Chat-ta-no-oga."

While Ca-leb wat-c-hed Jaz-zy spe-cu-la-ti-vely, Re-ve pic-ked up on a wild, angry ten-si-on smol-de-ring in-si-de him. God, what had she got-ten her-self in-to?

"Look," Re-ve sa-id, "the re-ason I'm he-re re-al-ly has not-hing to do with Jamie, it's just that-"

"Why don't you tell the lady that Jamie no lon-ger ne-eds a sub-s-ti-tu-te," Ca-leb sa-id, "that as of last night, he's got the ori-gi-nal back in his bed?"

Jazzy glo-we-red at Ca-leb. Her che-eks flus-hed. "What we-re you do-ing, stan-ding out-si-de my apar-t-ment, wat-c-hing me in the mid-dle of the night?"

Jazzy glan-ced aro-und, ap-pa-rently chec-king to see if an-yo-ne was lis-te-ning to the-ir con-ver-sa-ti-on. Sin-ce all eyes we-re fo-cu-sed on the three of them, it was ob-vi-o-us that an-yo-ne wit-hin he-aring dis-tan-ce was privy to what was be-ing sa-id. Re-ve knew for su-re and cer-ta-in she had inad-ver-tently wal-ked in-to the mid-dle of what se-emed to be a lo-ver's tri-an-g-le: Ca-leb McCord, Jaz-zy Tal-bot, and Jamie Up-ton.

"I just hap-pe-ned to no-ti-ce Up-ton's Mer-ce-des at yo-ur pla-ce last night when I left work. I hel-ped Lacy clo-se up the pla-ce af-ter you left," Ca-leb rep-li-ed. "I don't gi-ve a shit who you screw, but from now on, don't pre-tend you want him out of yo-ur li-fe. You've was-ted my ti-me and energy by get-ting me to throw him out of Jaz-zy's Jo-int ti-me and aga-in, when ap-pa-rently all you we-re do-ing was ti-til-la-ting him, ma-king him want you all the mo-re. You know what that ma-kes you in my bo-ok?"

Jazzy slap-ped Ca-leb McCord. Right the-re in the mid-dle of the res-ta-urant. Re-ve gas-ped, shoc-ked by the wo-man's ac-ti-ons. A lady ne-ver re-ac-ted in such a co-ar-se, cru-de man-ner.