The Fifth Victim Part 7

Dallas finished his breakfast, downed his fourth cup of coffee, then gathered up their dishes and placed them in the sink. He glanced out the window and saw Drudwyn racing around in the snow, playful and exuberant despite the desperate cold. Then he caught a glimpse of Genny. She wore a heavy, black wool coat over her pajamas and robe, thick rubber boots on her feet, and a black knit cap pulled down over her ears. She stood in the middle of the backyard and was surrounded by a variety of animals. Squirrels. Racc.o.o.ns. Possums. A couple of foxes. A deer. A silver-gray wolf. And birds perched on her shoulder and outstretched arm.

Dallas blinked to clear his vision, thinking he had imagined the scene before him. Not his imagination. It was real. Genny Madoc had charmed the wild animals in the forest. They came to her like babes to their mother. He'd never seen anything like it. And although he was seeing it now with his own two eyes, he found it incomprehensible.

An odd feeling hit him in the pit of his stomach. He'd humorously considered her a witch who had cast a spell over him last night. Seeing her now, in this setting, with a host of spellbound animals circling her, Dallas didn't find the thought of Genny possessing some sort of unearthly power quite as amusing.

Get a grip, Sloan, he told himself. Genny isn't a witch, because there is no such thing as witches. She hasn't cast a spell over you or those animals. You find her s.e.xually appealing. And as for the animals-she's probably been feeding them for years. Yeah, that was it. Those explanations made sense to him. They were logical.

Suddenly the birds flew away and the animals scattered. Genny turned her head and looked toward the front of the house. That's when Dallas heard the drone of motors in the distance.

Genny came running into the house, stripping off her coat and hat as she flew into the kitchen. "The snowplows are coming up the mountain," she said breathlessly. "We'll be able to get into town soon."

"We?" Dallas asked.

"Your car is still in the ditch, so we'll take mine. We can send a wrecker back for yours. We both want to see Jacob as soon as possible, don't we?"

"Why do you want to see-"

"To tell him about the second victim," she replied. "But it's possible he already knows. I feel fairly certain she was killed in a church, probably one of the fancier churches in town. None of the country churches have stained-gla.s.s windows."

"What are you talking about? You're actually going to bother the sheriff with that crazy dream you had? You don't honestly think it was real, that what you dreamed really happened."

Genny stared at him quizzically, as if he'd spoken to her in an alien language. "You don't understand, do you? No, of course not." She tossed her coat and hat on the table, then kicked off her boots. "I'll freshen up and get dressed. We should be able to head down to Cherokee Pointe very soon."

As she raced past him, Dallas reached out and grabbed her arm. She halted, glanced over her shoulder and looked directly at him, as if to ask What?

"You're right, I don't understand," he said. "How about explaining it to me?"

She tugged against his grip. He released her immediately. "Everybody in these parts knows about me. My grandmother and both of her grandmothers before her were...different. And so am I. I'm able to sense things, see things, feel things that other people don't."

Dallas glared at her. h.e.l.l, what was she trying to tell him? Whatever it was, he already didn't believe her.

"Before you start trying to convince me that you're some sort of soothsayer or psychic or whatever the h.e.l.l all the phonies call themselves, don't bother," Dallas said sternly. "If I can't experience it through my five senses, then I don't believe it."

"Ah." Her mouth formed a soft oval. Moisture glistened in her black eyes.

"Ah, what? You act like I'm the crazy one for not believing you."

"No one knows except Jacob and my friend Jazzy-and probably Sally and Ludie-about my recent vision. If you stay in these parts for a while, you'll meet Sally and Ludie." Genny shook her head. "That's neither here nor there, of course. The truth is that whether you believe me or not, it doesn't matter. Jacob believes me. He knows."

Genny rushed out of the kitchen, leaving Dallas with his mouth hanging open. Well, she told you, didn't she?

After a few minutes, he followed her, not willing to leave things as they were between them. When he caught up with her in her bedroom, he walked in on her just as she jerked her pajama top over her head and threw it on the bed atop her robe. Holy s.h.i.+t! Hurriedly, she removed the bottoms, which left her completely naked. He stood frozen to the spot, looking at her, devouring her perfect body with his gaze, unable to move or speak.

When she tossed her pajama bottoms on the bed, she must have sensed his presence. She turned, then gasped. Her eyes rounded in surprise.

"Sorry," he said, lying through his teeth. To his dying day, he'd never regret this moment. Genny Madoc might be a certifiable nutcase, but he didn't care. Her beauty took his breath away.

She didn't scream or try to cover her nakedness. She simply stood there, allowing him to drink his fill. After a couple of minutes, he realized how totally inappropriate his actions were.

"Genny...I-I'll wait for you in the living room." He turned and practically ran down the hall.

When he reached the living room, he pounded his fist against the wall. "Idiot!" The sight of Genny in all her naked glory flashed through his mind repeatedly. She was small and slender, delicately made. Her skin, the color of light honey, was flawless. Tiny waist. High, round b.r.e.a.s.t.s, peaked with dusty peach nipples. Full, tapering hips. A tight, lush b.u.t.t. And a triangle of jet black hair nestled between her trim thighs.

Dallas swallowed, then cursed under his breath. He had the hard-on from h.e.l.l.

Jim Upton caught his grandson trying to sneak up the back stairs. The boy had been out all night doing only G.o.d knew what. Jim hadn't slept much, worrying about Jamie, wondering just what the h.e.l.l kind of mischief he'd been up to. Some of his usual nonsense, no doubt. s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g some two-bit floozie. Drinking himself into oblivion. Gambling away money he'd never earned. Getting into a fight and landing himself in jail or winding up in County General's ER. Seeing Jamie all in one piece, with no black eyes or broken bones, allowed Jim some momentary relief. More than once these past few years he'd been on the verge of writing the boy off as a lost cause. But Reba would champion their only grandchild to her dying day, no matter what he did.

Jim walked across the big, modernized kitchen and stopped at the foot of the stairs. "Glad to see you finally made it home."

Jamie stopped dead in his tracks. He squared his shoulders and turned to face his grandfather, a silly, aw-shucks grin on his handsome young face.

"Morning, Big Daddy." Jamie made his way back down the stairs. "Looks like it's going to be a right pretty day, despite the foot of snow we got last night."

"Got caught in town, did you?" Jim asked.

Jamie shrugged. His c.o.c.ky grin widened. "Yeah, something like that."

"You could have called. Your grandmother was worried sick about you. And Laura was none too happy that you'd deserted her."

"I'll smooth things over with my ladies. Don't worry. They'll forgive me."

"Reba will forgive you for anything, but I won't. You'd better keep that in mind. Sooner or later, you'll cross the line as far as I'm concerned."

Jamie reached over and grabbed Jim's shoulder. "We're both men of the world. You know how it is. A man's gotta do what a man's gotta do."

Jim glowered at his grandson. "Exactly what is it that you do, boy, other than spend my money and raise h.e.l.l?"

Jamie laughed, an infectious, lighthearted chuckle that personified his shallow, flippant personality. "Don't tell me you don't understand what it's like to need a little variety. Laura is a sweetie. Really she is. But every once in a while I need something a bit spicier. You adore Big Mama, but that doesn't mean you don't dip your quill in other inkwells and we both know it."

Anger heated Jim's face. The unmitigated gall of the boy! "We aren't discussing my behavior."

"Don't get all huffy." Jamie patted Jim on the chest. "You're liable to give yourself a heart attack and we don't want that. I didn't mean any offense. I was just stating a fact. You've kept something on the side for as long as I remember, so don't go getting all righteous on me just because I-"

Jim slapped Jamie soundly across the cheek, the force of the blow sending the boy reeling backward. Jamie caught hold of the counter behind him, then lifted his hand to his stinging cheek.

Jamie glared at his grandfather. "What's the matter? Can't stand to hear the truth, old man?"

"Your grandmother wants to see you married to Laura, so if you know what's good for you, you won't do anything to run that girl off the way you did the other two you brought home." Jim swallowed, then took several deep, calming breaths. "If Laura finds out that you spent the night with-"

"I didn't spend the night with Jazzy, if that's what you're thinking."

Jim c.o.c.ked his eyebrows inquisitively.

"Jazzy was just punis.h.i.+ng me by sending me away," Jamie said. "She'll give me a hard time for a week or two, then she'll come around. She always does."

"Then who were you with?" Jazzy had mentioned she thought Jamie had left her place with a woman named April or Amber.

"What difference does it make?" Jamie's eyes widened with speculation. "Are you afraid I might have been diddling your latest lady love?" Jamie laughed right in Jim's face. "h.e.l.l, unless your mistress hangs out at Jazzy's Joint, I didn't screw her last night."

d.a.m.n fool boy! He didn't know the first thing about keeping a mistress faithful. He thought most women were s.l.u.ts who would spread their legs for any man. Jim knew better. If a man chose wisely and kept the lady content, she didn't go to other men for satisfaction.

"Get your a.s.s upstairs, take a shower and change clothes, then come back downstairs for breakfast with the family," Jim said. "You tell your grandmother and Laura that you went into town to see one of your old high school buddies and got caught by the snowstorm. Tell them that you're sorry you worried them, but by the time you realized you couldn't get home, it was too late to call and wake everyone."

Jamie grinned. "Yes sir. Whatever you say. And may I compliment you on your ability to weave a convincing tale."

Jim grunted. With his stupid grin in place, Jamie turned and bounded up the stairs. Before he made it halfway up, he started whistling.

Jim heaved a deep sigh. That good-for-nothing boy was his legacy to the world. A sad and sorry thought. He'd wanted more children, but Reba had been unable to conceive again after Melanie's birth. A cruel trick of fate had taken away the son he'd been so proud of and the daughter he'd loved to distraction. How was it that Jamie was so different from Jim Jr.? Had he inherited some weak genes from his mother? Or had Reba and he simply ruined the boy by overindulging him all his life? But they'd spoiled Jim Jr., hadn't they? Yet he'd been a credit to his family.

Enough of this, Jim told himself. Can't change a d.a.m.n thing. A man makes do with the hand he's dealt. Concentrate on the positive things.

He poured himself a cup of coffee from the pot the housekeeper had prepared earlier, before she'd gone back to her quarters to get ready for the day. Mug in hand, he made his way down the hall and into his study. He closed the door securely behind him, crossed the room, and sat down behind his ma.s.sive mahogany desk. After taking several sips of black coffee, he placed it on the leather coaster in front of him and lifted the telephone. He dialed her number and waited.

"h.e.l.lo," the sultry feminine voice said.

"How'd you make it through last night's storm?" he asked.

"Just fine. But I'd have enjoyed being cooped up here a lot better if you'd been with me."

"I probably won't be able to make it out there today."

"I figured you wouldn't."

"I wish you had come to the party last night," Jim said. "You got your invitation, didn't you?"

"I got it. But I didn't think I'd enjoy seeing you with your wife. I'm quite jealous of her, you know."

A warm feeling came to life in his gut. "You got everything you need out there to see you through a few days until the roads clear up?"

"I've got everything I need...except you."

"You've got me. Got me wrapped around your little finger."

"If only that were true."

"Be careful, will you? I don't like the idea of you being out there all alone with a killer on the loose."

"I have the gun you gave me," she said. "And I know how to use it."

"Just be careful. And don't let anyone inside the house you don't know and trust."

"Come see me just as soon as you can. I miss you."

Jim's p.e.n.i.s twitched. She had a way of bringing him to life with just the sound of her voice. "I miss you, too...but I've got to go. I'll call you this evening."

The dial tone hummed in his ear. He was a d.a.m.n old fool and he knew it. Erin Mercer was twenty-five years his junior, a fine-looking woman, and really didn't need him to support her. He'd met her several years ago when she'd first moved to the area. And he'd known the minute he saw her that he wanted her. She was no wh.o.r.e, so paying her for her services had been out of the question. He'd figured he didn't stand a chance with her. He'd been wrong. She had been the one who'd chased him, lured him into her bed and kept him coming back, begging for more. It couldn't last. His affairs never did. He'd never wanted anything permanent from any of his mistresses. But Erin was different. He was halfway in love with her, and if he was ten years younger, he'd ask Reba for a divorce.

But he was seventy-five. He was able to keep Erin s.e.xually satisfied because he kept a supply of v.i.a.g.r.a on hand. But how many more good years could he possibly have-four or five? He was physically fit for a man his age, but even a healthy, tan, muscular body couldn't stop the ravages of time.

Jim ran his open palms over his face and rubbed his eyes. If only he could be Jamie's age again, he wouldn't waste his life the way his grandson was doing. If he had it to do all over again...what would he do differently?

Everything! Starting with not marrying Reba.

Chapter 7.

Dallas manned the wheel of Genny's Chevy Trailblazer, taking it slow and easy on the freshly cleared road into town. He had deliberately kept quiet, uncertain how to deal with this woman whose beauty attracted him, but whose admission of having visions disturbed him. Knowing he'd gotten all hot and bothered over a woman who was probably the town kook didn't sit well with him. Teri would laugh herself silly if she knew that the stoic Dallas Sloan was tied in knots over somebody like Genny. In the past he'd scoffed at people claiming to possess any type of sixth sense. Sure, there had been a couple of times when he'd come close to believing, when he'd been part of an investigation where a so-called psychic had been brought in and appeared to have helped trap the a.s.sailant. But in each of those cases, he'd been able to figure out a logical reason behind the person's foreknowledge.

"Turn left where the road forks," Genny said. "The right turn will take us back up the mountain."

Grunting, Dallas nodded and kept a lookout for their turn. Within minutes, he saw the divided roadway and carefully veered to the left. Despite having been cleared and sanded, the pavement was still slick in a lot of places, and muddy slush covered the shoulders on each side of the road and filled the numerous potholes.

Up ahead on the left he noticed ma.s.sive wrought-iron gates heralding the entrance to a country estate. Far in the distance, a good half mile, he saw a large mansion with towering white columns spanning the front of the house.

"That's impressive," Dallas said.

"That's the Upton Farm," Genny replied. "The Uptons are one of the wealthiest families in Cherokee County."

"Old money?" Dallas asked.

"Not too old. Theirs is post-Civil War money."

"You said they're one of the richest. Anybody richer?"

"The MacKinnons are probably just as wealthy, maybe more so. They made their fortune post-Civil War, too. There's quite a rivalry between the two families. They're divided on just about everything, from politics to religion. The MacKinnons are Democrats and Methodists. The Uptons are Republicans and Congregationalists."

"Don't tell me-the son of one family fell in love with the daughter of the other family and they had a tragic Romeo and Juliet romance."

Genny smiled. "Not exactly. When they were just boys, Big Jim Upton and Farlan MacKinnon, both now in their midseventies, fell in love with a young woman named Melva Mae Nelson, whose family was quite poor and lived up in the mountains."

"And they've hated each other ever since," Dallas said. "So, which man won Miss Melva Mae? Upton or MacKinnon?"

"Neither. Melva Mae married the love of her life, a half-breed Cherokee like herself. Jacob Butler."

"Jacob...any relation to your cousin Jacob?"

"Jacob was our grandfather."

"Then Melva Mae was-"

"Our grandmother."

"The one who was-"