Читать книгу Beg To Die - BEVERLY BARTON, Beverly Barton - Страница 10

“She’s insane even to consider going through with the marriage,” Andrea Willis told her husband in the privacy of their guest quarters at the Upton home.

When Laura had told them at lunch today that Jamie had explained—to her satisfaction—about his sudden absence from the engagement party last night and that the wedding was definitely on, everyone seemed as shocked as the bride’s parents. Although a sweet, sometimes even docile child, Laura had always been difficult to understand. God knew Andrea had tried to bond with their eldest child, but it had proved an impossible task. Of course she loved Laura. Who wouldn’t? But having to deal with the girl’s ongoing emotional and mental problems often proved too much for Andrea.

“Never, ever use the word insane when you refer to Laura!” Cecil Willis glowered menacingly at his wife, his lightly tanned face splotching with color.

Andrea felt herself pale as she realized why he had gotten so upset over her use of the word insane. Most of the time she didn’t think about that reason, preferring to wisely let the past stay buried, but apparently the past seldom left her husband’s mind. Especially not where Laura was concerned.

“Cecil, I did not mean to imply that Laura is actually crazy, the way…Laura’s just emotionally fragile. She’s a true purebred, like her father.” Andrea patted her husband’s shoulder soothingly. “All I meant by my remark is that I find it incomprehensible that she’d actually marry Jamie knowing he went to another woman the very night of their engagement party. Not when the entire town knows where he was.”

“I intend to talk to her, but I doubt it will do much good. I’m afraid if I forbid her to marry him, it will only make matters worse. She’s been doing so well these past few years. I’m afraid if I press the issue, she might have a breakdown again.”

“We’re definitely in a difficult situation,” Andrea agreed. “If we forbid her to marry him, it might push her over the edge. But we both know that if she marries him, sooner or later his philandering ways will destroy her emotionally.”

“If this was another century, I could call the bastard out, challenge him to a duel, and kill him,” Cecil said.

So like her husband to consider a once legal solution to protecting one’s honor and acquiring justice when a family member had been wronged. Cecil was an old-fashioned Southern gentleman to his very core. Generations of good breeding went into making that kind of man, just as generations of good breeding produced the Kentucky Derby-winning thoroughbreds the Willis Farm produced.

“If I thought killing Jamie Upton would solve the problem, then I’d load the gun and hand it to you.” Andrea sighed. “But we know what his death would do to our Laura.”

Something alerted Andrea that they weren’t alone. She wasn’t sure if she’d heard the door open or not, but when she glanced at the threshold, she saw her daughter Sheridan standing there. Beautiful, vivacious Sheridan, with her big brown eyes and chestnut brown hair so like Andrea’s own. Her baby girl was a wild hellion, but as mentally stable as they came. No temper tantrums. No crying jags. No emotional breakdowns. Sheridan was made of tough stuff. And like her mother, when she saw something she wanted, she reached out and grabbed it.

“Whose death are you referring to?” Sheridan asked.

“How long have you been standing there, young lady?” Cecil frowned at his daughter.

“Long enough to know that you two were discussing murdering Jamie Upton.”

“We were doing no such thing,” Andrea told her.

“He is a total bastard, isn’t he?” Sheridan grinned. “And much too much man for our sweet Laura.”

“Despite the fact that we all agree on Upton’s unworthiness, it doesn’t alter the fact that Laura’s in love with him,” Cecil said. “I had so hoped she would find a nice young man, someone who would appreciate her and—”

“And take care of her,” Sheridan finished her father’s sentence.

“Yes,” Cecil replied sadly. “Someone who would take care of her.”

“She doesn’t need a husband for that, Daddy. Not when you do such a great job of it yourself.”

“Sheridan, don’t start with that nonsense,” Andrea warned. Since childhood, Sheridan had been jealous of Cecil’s relationship with Laura, and no matter how much she tried to persuade their younger daughter that her father loved her just as much as he did Laura, she refused to believe it.

Cecil looked pleadingly at Sheridan. “You know full well that Laura needs—”

“Oh, yes, I know. Laura needs more attention. Laura needs more love. Laura needs more praise. Laura needs everything and I need nothing. So that’s what you’ve given me, Daddy, absolutely nothing.”

“That isn’t true and you know it.” Cecil reached out for Sheridan, but she easily sidestepped him. “Sweetheart, I’ve adored you since the day you were born. I’ve always been proud of you for being such a bright, strong, competent young lady.”

“That’s me all right. Strong and competent. And what has it gotten me? Not your time and attention. If I’d been more like Laura—more emotionally and mentally unstable—maybe you’d have paid attention to me.”

“Don’t ever refer to your sister as mentally unstable!” Cecil bellowed.

“Why not? That’s what she is, and we all know it. She’s had more than one nervous breakdown. My big sister is looney tunes, and that’s a fact.”

Cecil Willis lifted his hand to strike his daughter. Andrea stepped between him and Sheridan just in time to prevent disaster. Realizing what he’d been about to do, Cecil dropped his hand to his side and hung his head.

Andrea turned to Sheridan. “Your father is overwrought. He would never strike you. We’re both very concerned about Laura marrying this terrible young man.”

“Would you be so worried if I were the one marrying him?”

“Yes, of course we would be. What a silly thing to ask.”

“Mm-hmm. Well, don’t worry, Mother. After Laura marries Jamie and has a severe nervous breakdown within six months, you and Daddy can pick up the pieces and try to put Humpty-Laura together again.”

Before Andrea could reply, Sheridan whirled around and left the room.

“We’ve failed both of them,” Cecil said. “And it’s all my fault.”

Andrea put her arm around her husband’s slender waist and hugged him. She loved this man more than anything on earth. There had never been anyone else for her.

“You didn’t fail them. You’re a good father to both of your daughters.”

No, Cecil wasn’t at fault, Andrea thought. All the blame lay elsewhere, with a woman long dead. A woman responsible for all the heartache their family had endured.

“Am I free to go?” Reve asked Sheriff Butler, who had detained her for nearly three hours at the sheriff’s department, located on the first floor of the Cherokee County courthouse. Of course, being a responsible officer of the law, he’d taken her by the local hospital’s ER before dragging her here. Just as a precaution, he’d told her. More to humiliate her, she’d decided. This big moron had taken it upon himself to try to bring “Miss High and Mighty” down a peg or two. While she’d been twiddling her thumbs waiting for him to release her, she’d overheard him say those very words to one of his deputies.

“Why are you in such a big hurry to leave our fair city?” Butler asked her. “You might give us the idea you don’t think much of our town or of us.”

“I don’t think anything one way or the other about you, this town, or the entire citizenry.”

“Citizenry? That’s one of them five-hundred-dollar words that you learn in college, ain’t it?”

The two deputies on duty—Bobby Joe Harte and Tim Willingham—chuckled, but had the decency to look embarrassed when she glared at them. The two men had been staring at her since the moment the sheriff escorted her into the courthouse. With absolutely no tact, they’d asked her right out if she was Jazzy’s long-lost sister. She’d replied, “Does this Jazzy person have a long-lost sister?”

Reve crossed her arms over her chest as she focused her attention on the sheriff. “If you’ve had your fun for the day, then just let me be on my way to the nearest car rental place, and I promise that you will never see me again.”

“Closest car rental is out at the airport,” Deputy Bobby Joe Harte told her.

“Thank you, Deputy Harte.” She rewarded him with a warm smile. “If you’d please call a taxi for me—”

“We don’t have a taxi service in Cherokee Pointe,” Deputy Willingham informed her. “Not since old John Berryman died. Wasn’t never enough business for him, so nobody wanted to take on the job.”

“It’s nearly lunchtime,” the sheriff said. “Why don’t you join me for a bite over at Jasmine’s and afterward I’ll drive you out to the airport?”

She’d rather eat glass than dine with Sheriff Butler, but she did need a ride to the airport. If there was a flight out to Chattanooga later today, she’d forget about renting a car. The sooner she escaped from this ill-advised little trip into the twilight zone, the better she’d like it.

“Isn’t there any other place in town to eat?” she asked, not wanting to run into Jazzy Talbot again, possible biological sister or not.

“You have some reason for not wanting to eat at Jasmine’s?”

Ah, hell, Reve, give up before you wear yourself out fighting a losing battle. It’s destined for you to face your look-alike again, so just bite the bullet and go peacefully with the sheriff. Later, once you’re back in Chattanooga, you can seek revenge. With one phone call to Senator Everett or Governor Neels, she could make Sheriff Jacob Butler rue the day he’d ever screwed with Reve Sorrell.

Damn! Bad choice of words. Putting Jacob Butler’s name in the same sentence with hers and the word screw brought some rather graphic and totally unwanted images to her mind. Totally unwanted, she told herself again. This guy would be the last man on earth she’d ever—

“Ms. Sorrell?”

She snapped around and smiled, ever so sweetly. “I’d be delighted to join you for lunch at Jasmine’s.”

Butler eyed her suspiciously. So the guy was no fool. He knew she couldn’t stand the sight of him, that from the moment he pecked on her car window after the wreck, she had taken an instant dislike to him.

“Okay, so delighted might be an overstatement,” Reve admitted. “Let’s just say I need a ride to the airport, and if eating lunch with you is the price I have to pay—”

“Humph. I just figured you and Jazzy ought to hook up before you rush out of town. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out you two have to be related. My guess is you must be at least a little curious about a woman who looks enough like you to be your twin. And if I know Jazzy—”

“And you do know Jazzy, don’t you, sheriff? Hell, every man in town knows Jazzy.”

The two deputies cleared their throats simultaneously. Reve smiled mockingly.

“You implied that before, back at the accident site,” Butler said. “Want to explain how you’ve jumped to that conclusion about a woman you don’t know?”

Reve sighed loudly. “I met Jazzy, very briefly earlier today. But we didn’t have time to delve into the possibilities of being related. She was too busy arguing with a man named Caleb McCord about her having spent the night with Jamie Upton.”

Reve could swear that Sheriff Butler growled, the sound somewhat like an enraged animal. Good Lord, was this man jealous over Jazzy Talbot, too?

“Was it something I said?” Reve asked sarcastically. “Did finding out that Jazzy’s been two-timing you with more than one man upset you?”

“Come on, Ms. Sorrell.” Butler picked up his Stetson, put it on, and then grabbed her arm. “I’ll take you straight to the airport to pick yourself up a rental car or buy yourself a ticket out of town. I’ve decided that I wouldn’t wish you on my worst enemy, let alone a good friend like Jazzy.”

How dare he speak to her in such a manner! You’d think she wasn’t good enough to kiss Jazzy Talbot’s shoes, when in fact it was the other way around. Ms. Talbot was a white trash slut, reared by a tobacco-chewing bag lady.

“Nothing would suit me better.” Reve jerked away from Butler, but kept pace with his long-legged stride as he escorted her out of the sheriff’s department and into the courthouse corridor.

Just as Butler shoved open the door to the rear entrance, a whoosh of cool, damp air slapped them in the face. A misty drizzle pelted them the minute they walked outside. A loud clap of thunder rattled the windowpanes in the old building. Great, just great, Reve thought. Just what I need—having to drive back to Chattanooga in a rental car during a springtime thunderstorm.

They made a mad dash to Butler’s truck, and much to her surprise the sheriff actually opened the passenger door for her and gave her a hand getting up and into the cab. She glanced over her shoulder to say thanks, but he was already rounding the hood. He jumped in on the driver’s side, closed the door, and took off his Stetson. He shook the rain from his hat and returned it to his head, then stuck the key in the ignition and started the truck. While the engine idled, he turned to Reve.

“What?” she asked when he stared at her.

“Just to set the record straight, Jasmine Talbot is a good woman. She and I are friends. Nothing more. And Caleb McCord works for her at Jazzy’s Joint. He’s the bouncer. And he’s become quite protective of her, just as I am, because Jamie Upton preys on women. He’s hurt Jazzy in the past, and he’ll hurt her again if she gives him the chance.”

This eloquent defense of Jazzy Talbot wasn’t what Reve had expected, and certainly not from a man she thought was a backwoods lout. If what Butler said was true, had she possibly misjudged the woman?

“I know Jamie Upton, and while I found him to be a charming scoundrel, I certainly didn’t think he was—”

“You know Jamie?”

“Yes, we met at a Christmas party this past December.”

“Another victim.” Butler shook his head.

“See here, Sheriff, I am most certainly not a victim. Jamie Upton is an acquaintance. Nothing more.”

“Don’t tell me he didn’t seduce you—or at least try to.”

“Yes, of course he tried. But I’m not some gullible, love-starved female who—”

“Neither is Jazzy. But he got his hooks into her when she was only sixteen.”

“He did mention that they’d been teenage sweethearts.”

“He told you about Jazzy?” Butler’s voice deepened with tension.

“Yes.” Reve huffed. “And yes, that’s why I came to Cherokee Pointe.”

“Because of Jamie Upton. Humph. Just as I guessed.”

“Well, you guessed wrong. I didn’t come here because of Jamie. I came here to meet Jazzy, to see if she and I might be related.”

“Any reason other than the strong resemblance makes you think she could be a cousin or—?”

“I believe it’s possible she’s my sister,” Reve admitted.

“You should talk to Sally, Jazzy’s aunt. She’d know if—”

“I talked to her earlier today. A chance meeting in the street,” Reve explained. “She swears that Jazzy’s mother gave birth to only one child.”

“Why haven’t you asked your own mama? Maybe—”

“I was adopted.”

Butler’s eyes widened.

“You see, I was abandoned when I was only a few days or perhaps few weeks old.”

“Where?”

“Not here in Cherokee Pointe, if that’s what you’re thinking. I was found in Sevierville.” No need to tell him exactly where. Sharing the information that she’d been placed in a Dumpster, disposed of like unwanted rubbish, wasn’t something she’d willingly tell anyone, least of all Sheriff Jacob Butler.

“So why leave town without talking to Jazzy again?”

“Because after meeting her briefly, I realized I’d made a mistake coming here. We’re obviously not sisters. And if we’re cousins or something, it really doesn’t matter. I mean, she and I have nothing in common, so there’s no reason we’d want to become better acquainted.”

“You’re a first-class, blue-blood snob.” Jacob glared at her with those hypnotic green eyes. “You think you’re too good for the likes of Jazzy Talbot, don’t you? Well, lady, the way I see it, it’s definitely the other way around—she’s twice the woman you are. There’s not a selfish, cruel, or unkind bone in her body. You’re as different as night and day. And you’re right, there’s no way on earth the two of you could be sisters. So it’s a good thing for Jazzy’s sake that you don’t have the guts to stick around and find out for sure.”

Reve grabbed the handle and opened the door. Butler clutched her arm.

“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” he asked.

“I’ve changed my mind.” She’d had a knee-jerk reaction to Butler’s goading. This man didn’t know her, couldn’t have possibly realized that by daring her to stay and unearth the truth about her relationship with Jazzy, he had hit her weak spot. She’d been susceptible to dares ever since she’d been a kid. Tell her she couldn’t do something, and she’d do it or die trying. “I’m not leaving Cherokee Pointe. At least not today. I’m going to check into the nearest hotel and—”

“Motels and cabins,” Butler said.

“What?”

“Close the damn door before you get the interior of my truck soaked. I’ll drive you over to Cherokee Cabin Rentals and drop you off. We don’t have a hotel anywhere in Cherokee County, just motels and cabins for rent.”

Reve closed the door. The right side of her body was dripping wet from the blowing rain. “Yes, a cabin will be fine, thank you. Something close to town so I can walk wherever I need to go. And sheriff, once you drop me off, let’s make a point of never seeing each other again.”

“Suits me fine,” he said. “Only problem is that this is a small town, and we’re bound to run into each other if you stay here for a while.”

“Then let’s try to avoid each other, and if by chance we see each other, let’s pretend we didn’t.”

“For once, Ms. Sorrell, you and I are in total agreement.”

Sally sat on the front porch of her small home up in the mountains. Peter and Paul, her bloodhounds, slept peacefully out in the yard, the afternoon sunshine warming their big red bodies. She spit a spray of brown juice off the side of the porch. Ludie had asked her a hundred questions after their talk with Reve Sorrell. Some she couldn’t answer because she didn’t know. She didn’t know there had been another baby. How could she have known?

Hell, Sally old girl, you don’t know for sure that this Sorrell woman is Jazzy’s sister. Could be just a coincidence that they look so much alike. Yeah, sure, and God didn’t make little green apples. She chuckled nervously. Of course, after all this time what difference did it make? Jazzy was a grown woman; she’d soon be thirty years old. Couldn’t nobody take that gal away from her. They were bound together by love, by years of being the only family they each had. There wasn’t nothing she wouldn’t do for her Jasmine, the child of her heart, if not of her body. She’d die to protect Jazzy. She’d even kill to protect her.

But if Jazzy ever learned the truth, what would she think? How would she react? Well, since you don’t know the truth—the whole truth—then it’s unlikely Jazzy or anybody else ever will, either. The truth didn’t matter. Whatever the whole truth was, it should stay buried in the past, along with all the lies Sally had told so nobody would try to take Jazzy away from her.

But what about Reve Sorrell? She ain’t the type to let sleeping dogs lie, Sally thought. Nope, that gal seemed like the type who just might stir up trouble, in her own very cultured, highfalutin way. What if she’s determined to find out why she and Jazzy look so much alike? What if she starts asking questions, digging into the past? What if she puts doubts into Jazzy’s head?

What you gonna do then, Sally, ole girl? What you gonna do then?