Reve had tried to beg off having supper with Caleb and Jazzy, but when they both insisted she join them at Jasmine’s, she had reluctantly agreed. Now that they were at the restaurant and she saw how happy and at ease her dinner companions were, she was actually glad she’d tagged along. Even though she had connected on a personal level with Reba Upton this afternoon, their three-hour visit with Caleb’s grandparents had been less than pleasant for everyone involved, but especially for Jazzy. And as odd as it felt to Reve, something truly strange seemed to be happening to her. She was beginning to feel protective where Jazzy was concerned, protective in a big-sister kind of way.
You’re being foolish, she told herself. You don’t know for certain she’s your sister and you’re not even sure you like her. Ah, but she did know Jasmine Talbot was her sister. She knew deep down inside. She knew instinctively, had probably known all along, ever since this past spring when she’d first met Jazzy; but she was only now admitting the truth to herself. Okay, so they were sisters. That didn’t mean she was the elder of the two, did it? Yes, it did. She felt that instinctively, too, that she was the one born first.
“What’ll it be, folks?” the waitress asked. “Our special tonight is—”
“Denise, I want pork chops, with the works,” Jazzy said. “I’m starving. I didn’t eat much for lunch today.”
“I’ll take a hamburger steak, creamed potatoes and green beans,” Caleb said. “And don’t forget the cornbread.”
“And for you, ma’am?” Denise asked Reve.
She glanced up at the young waitress and smiled. “Just a Caesar salad, please.”
“Iced tea all around?” Denise asked.
Jazzy and Reve replied affirmatively, but Caleb said, “Coffee for me.”
Once Denise was out of earshot, Caleb looked across the table at Reve. “So, what did you think of my grandparents?” He grinned devilishly. “And why didn’t you take my grandmother up on her offer to stay there with them?”
He’d certainly put her on the spot, hadn’t he? Being known as a blunt-spoken person, Reve saw no reason to shy away from complete honesty.
“I liked them both. Your grandfather has a great sense of humor, and Miss Reba reminds me of my mother.”
“Poor you,” Jazzy said.
“I beg your pardon?” Reve’s gaze connected with Jazzy’s.
“Sorry. I’m sure your mother was a lovely person. It’s just that—” Jazzy huffed. “Hell, what difference does it make? I should have known that you and Miss Reba would hit it off like a house afire.” Glaring at Reve, she continued, “You do know what she was up to with that gracious invitation for you to stay with them, don’t you?”
“Yes, I believe I do. And that’s the very reason I declined. I don’t want to become involved in any of Miss Reba’s matchmaking schemes. It’s quite obvious that she would prefer for Caleb to be romantically involved with me instead of you.”
“Smart lady,” Caleb said.
“Thank you.” Reve liked Caleb, and if he wasn’t madly in love with Jazzy, she might be interested in him. Despite being a little rough around the edges, he was a handsome, intelligent man. And he was almost as rich as she was, or would be someday when he inherited the Upton millions.
Frowning, a slight catch in her voice, Jazzy turned to Caleb. “Miss Reba will do her best to stop us from getting married. You know that, don’t you? Trying to use Reve to come between us is only the first item in her bag of tricks. I know her. I’ve been fighting her since I was sixteen, and she always wins.”
“Not this time.” Caleb slipped his arm around Jazzy’s shoulders.
“Miss Reba has made two mistaken assumptions,” Reve said in a matter-of-fact manner. “She actually thought that because Jazzy and I are look-a-likes, you might easily transfer your affections from the unsuitable sister to the suitable one.”
Snapping her head around, Jazzy’s eyes widened as she glowered at Reve. “Since you seem to know so damn much about Miss Reba, maybe you’d be kind enough to tell us what you think her second mistaken assumption was?”
“Certainly. I’d be glad to. She believes you simply transferred your desire to marry Jamie to Caleb. And you did this simply because he’s now the heir to the Upton fortune,” Reve said. “But that isn’t true, is it?”
Jazzy shook her head. “No, that’s not true.” She looked at Caleb. “You know that’s not true, don’t you?”
“Yes, I know.” He kissed her on the mouth. A quick yet passionate affirmation.
Reve was so absorbed in Caleb’s tender, loving concern for Jazzy that she didn’t realize at first that two people were heading toward their table at the back of the restaurant.
“Now I know why y’all are sitting way back here away from the other customers,” Dallas Sloan said. “It’s easier for you to steal a few kisses without being noticed.”
Chuckling as he released Jazzy, Caleb then stood immediately and held out his hand to the chief of police. “What are you two doing in town this evening?”
“We’re planning on having dinner out tonight,” Genny said.
“Then sit right down here and join us.” Jazzy pointed to the empty chairs at their table. “We’ve got plenty of room.”
“We’d love to, if y’all are sure you don’t mind?” Genny looked directly at Reve. “Jacob will be joining us shortly, as soon as he finishes with the press conference.”
Reve’s spine stiffened at the mention of the sheriff’s name. And just when she thought she might enjoy this evening, circumstances proved her wrong. Her worst nightmare was probably on his way over here right now.
“Why is Jacob giving a press conference?” Jazzy asked.
“It’s an official announcement about the murder of a local girl,” Dallas said. “A young prostitute named Becky Olmstead. She’d been missing less than twelve hours when her body was found over in Jefferson County, in Douglas Lake.”
“Does this have anything to do with the murder of that man out on Clinton Road last night?” Caleb asked.
“We think so, considering Timmons was her pimp, but we’d prefer—” Dallas stopped talking the moment Denise appeared.
“Do y’all need menus?” Denise asked.
“I don’t,” Dallas replied. “Do you, honey?”
“No, thanks. I know what I want. I’d like potato soup and a house salad, with lots of crackers,” Genny said. “And Thousand Island dressing on the side. And a large glass of milk.”
“Make mine chicken and dumplings, with cornbread.”
“Tea?” Denise asked.
Dallas nodded, then pulled out a chair for his wife, who sat down beside Reve. He then sat across from her alongside Caleb, leaving the chair on the other side of Reve empty.
“I’d also like hot decaf tea, as well as the milk,” Genny replied to Denise’s question, then pivoted in her chair so that she faced Reve. “So, how are you?”
“I’m fine, thank you.”
Genny spoke directly to Reve, her voice soft and low. “You were smiling when we first arrived, but I noticed the moment I mentioned that Jacob would be joining us, you got a peculiar look on your face.”
Genny Sloan was much too perceptive. Of course she is, Reve reminded herself. The woman is psychic, isn’t she? Reve wasn’t sure she believed in psychic powers, but she prided herself on having an open mind. For the time being, perhaps she should give Genny the benefit of the doubt. “I, uh, I’m not sure how to respond to that.”
Genny’s dark gaze penetrated the barrier Reve kept in place to prevent the world from getting too close. For a split second she sensed someone probing into her mind.
“Sorry,” Genny whispered. “I didn’t mean for that to happen.”
Reve stared at her, startled by the unexpected invasion.
“Sometimes I can’t control it,” Genny explained.
Slightly shaken by the odd experience, Reve nodded. “The sheriff and I got off on the wrong foot when we first met and nothing has changed. I’m afraid we simply don’t like each other.”
“That’s a slight understatement,” Caleb said. “To outside observers, you two seem to despise each other.”
Reve hadn’t realized the others were listening to her conversation with Genny. She shot Caleb a defensive glare. “I believe despise is too strong a word.”
Dallas grinned. “Well, however you feel about him, how about going easy on him this evening? The guy’s had a rough twenty-four hours. He hasn’t slept since night before last. And today he had to be present when a woman identified her eighteen-year-old daughter’s body.”
Reve was certain Dallas hadn’t meant his statement as a chastisement, but that’s how it felt to her. “Perhaps it would be better for Jacob if I simply left now and—”
Genny grasped Reve’s arm when Reve started to stand. “Please, don’t go.”
Reve settled back into her chair.
“Being in the same profession gives Dallas and Jacob a common bond,” Genny said. “Other than their relationships with me, of course. Dallas didn’t mean to be rude. It’s just that he’s concerned about Jacob and these new murders.”
Reve nodded, but thought it best not to reply verbally. In some dim corner of her mind, the thought of how difficult Jacob Butler’s job must be elicited some unwanted sympathy pangs. She did not want to feel anything for the man, least of all warm, kind thoughts.
“I apologize if what I said came off sounding rude.” Dallas smiled at Reve. “Lucky for me, I have a diplomatic wife.”
Reve forced herself to return Dallas’s smile, and everyone at the table breathed a sigh of relief.
“I’m going to share some info with y’all that can’t go beyond this table,” Dallas said. “And the only reason I’m telling y’all is because . . . well, because both Jazzy and Reve have something in common with our victim.”
A heavy knot of unexplained fear tightened in Reve’s belly.
“Our victim was a redhead.” Dallas leaned over the table and spoke quietly, so his words wouldn’t carry beyond their small circle. “She’s not the first redhead killed in a similar manner in northeast Tennessee. In the past three years, there have been seven murders in all, that we know about. These redheaded women had one other thing in common—each one was either a prostitute or had a bad reputation.”
Reve looked right at Jazzy.
“Well, I guess I’m next up, huh, since I qualify on both counts.” Jazzy’s sarcastic laugh sent a chill up Reve’s spine. “I’m definitely a redhead, and nobody in Cherokee Pointe has a worse reputation than I do.”
“An undeserved reputation.” Genny reached across the table and grasped Jazzy’s hand.
Jazzy squeezed her friend’s hand, then glanced around the table at everyone there. “Not entirely undeserved. Let’s face it, I’m no saint. And if this nut is killing bad-girl redheads, he won’t need to look any farther than”—she tapped the center of her chest—“little old me.”
“Nobody’s going to hurt you,” Caleb vowed.
“That’s the reason I’m sharing this strictly confidential info with you,” Dallas told Caleb. “I knew you’d keep a close eye on Jazzy. Just in case.”
“What about Reve?” Jazzy asked. “Or since she doesn’t qualify on both counts, is she safe?”
“Possibly,” Dallas replied. “Probably.”
“Just to be on the safe side, maybe she needs her own personal protector,” Genny said. “I could speak to Jacob about it.”
“If I feel the need for a bodyguard, I’ll hire one,” Reve told them. “But since, as Jazzy pointed out, my reputation is not questionable, I should be safe from this killer. Right?” Why was it that as she made such a confident pronouncement, a sense of foreboding encompassed her, as if a threatening dark cloud had suddenly settled directly over her head?
The minute Jacob arrived at Jasmine’s, he gave Denise his order. Then she pointed to the table where Genny and Dallas were sitting. When he noted who their dinner companions were, he knew he’d been set up. Again. After the night and day he’d had, the last thing he needed was being forced to share a meal with Reve Sorrell. He had half a mind to turn around and go back to his office. He could get some peanut butter and crackers and a Coke out of the machine down the hall from the sheriff’s department at the courthouse. Yeah, that was what he’d do.
Get the hell out of here, an inner voice warned.
Just as he turned to leave, Genny spotted him, threw up her hand and waved, motioning for him to join them. Great. Just great. He who hesitates, gets caught. Grunting, he shed his Stetson and suede jacket, hung them on the rack by the entrance and trudged grumpily toward the table on the far back side of the restaurant. When he approached the table, he soon realized that the only empty chair was—not sur prisingly—beside Reve. He saw Genny’s manipulative, match-making hand in this whole damn mess. If he didn’t love his cousin so much, he’d be tempted to wring her pretty little neck.
“Evening,” Jacob managed to say without growling the word.
Genny eyed the chair on the other side of Reve. “Sit down and tell us about the press conference.”
He gave Genny an I-know-what-you’re-trying-to-do glare. She smiled, her black eyes gleaming with satisfaction and a hint of mischief.
Reluctantly, Jacob sat. He was a big man, with broad shoulders, and it was a tight fit at the table with three people on each side. Inevitably, his arm brushed Reve’s when he settled into his chair. He felt her stiffen and thought he heard her gasp. Willing his hot temper under control, he just barely managed to keep from saying, “Look, lady, I don’t want to be here any more than you do. And accidently touching you wasn’t exactly a thrill for me either.”
“We’ve all ordered,” Jazzy said. “Let me call Denise—”
“I gave her my order already,” Jacob replied.
“How did the press conference go?” Dallas asked.
“I’m still standing.” Jacob harrumphed. “But just barely. The reporters realized that I know more than I told them. And since Brian MacKinnon has made it perfectly clear to both his newspaper and TV reporters that I’m fair game, they bombarded me relentlessly.”
“It’ll get worse,” Dallas said. “Especially if another local woman is murdered.”
“I sure would like to know how to prevent that from happening.” By moving only slightly, Jacob once again brushed his arm against Reve’s. He scooted his chair over as far as it would go toward the end of the table. All of two, maybe three inches. His left shoulder was pressed up against the wall.
“You could let the public know that it seems to be only redheaded women who are at risk,” Reve said, but didn’t look at Jacob.
“I shared that info with them in confidence,” Dallas explained.
“With all the redheads we have in Cherokee County, that bit of information could cause a real panic.” Jacob had been looking forward to a quiet, peaceful dinner with Genny and Dallas, but instead he was doomed to at least an hour of abject discomfort.
“Caleb plans to keep a close watch over Jazzy,” Genny said. “Just in case.”
“Yeah, since I’m a redheaded slut, I’m probably numero uno on this guy’s hit list.” Jazzy laughed, but there was no humor in her voice.
“You shouldn’t joke about it that way,” Reve said.
Jazzy shrugged. “Why not? It’s a lot better than biting my nails down to the quick and living in fear. It’s not my style to run scared, especially from such a non-specific threat.” She eyed Reve insightfully. “Something tells me running isn’t your style either.”
“You’re right. It’s not my style,” Reve said. “I’m stubborn and determined, and when my fight-or-flight instincts kick in, I tend to stand and fight.”
“Another thing you two have in common.” Genny glanced from Jazzy to Reve, then leaned in slightly so she could look around Reve at Jacob. “I think perhaps the sheriff’s department should check on Reve every night and make sure—”
Reve bristled. “Genny, I told you that if I feel I need protection, I’ll hire a bodyguard.”
When Jacob glanced over at Reve, he noted a subdued blush on her creamy cheeks. “Yeah, sure, Genny. As a favor to you and”—he looked across the table—“to Jazzy, I’ll send one of my deputies around to check on Ms. Sorrell every night.”
“That won’t be necessary!” Reve’s voice rose loud enough so that customers at the nearest table turned and stared at her. Her face turned bright red.
“Here comes our supper,” Jazzy said as Denise and Kalinda brought two large serving trays to the table. “Yum, everything looks delicious. We have great food here at Jasmine’s, if I do say so myself.”
Okay, Jacob thought, he could take the hint and ease up on Ms. Sorrell, if she’d do the same. Participating in a verbal sparring match during a meal wasn’t high on his agenda of things to do. Besides, he had the oddest notion that his comment really had offended Reve Sorrell. Unless she was a lot dumber than she looked, she had to know that Genny was playing matchmaker. Her ploy to have Jacob make a nightly check on Reve had to be as repulsive to Reve as it was to him.
And then he did something really stupid. He looked at Reve and caught her looking right back at him. The expression in those big brown eyes reminded him of a deer caught in the glare of oncoming headlights. There was more to her animosity toward him than simply hatred—the woman was afraid of him. Their gazes locked for a second too long, and a hush fell over the table as everyone else seemed aware of their visual Mexican standoff neither of them backing down. Thankfully, just about that time, Denise set his bowl of chili down in front of him. He broke eye contact first, picked up his spoon and dug into his meal. But he could feel Reve’s heated glare boring into him. Ignore her, he told himself.
“This sure does look good,” Jacob said, and within seconds everyone breathed again and renewed their conversations.
It was done. A fait accompli. He couldn’t go back and undo it; he wouldn’t even if he could. After all, it wasn’t his fault that after all these years, Dinah had chosen to come back to him in Cherokee County. Of course, in the past, he hadn’t searched for her locally, had made a point of looking for her in other places and had once been able to exert some control over her reappearances. But lately, things had changed. And this time, she had forced him to act more impulsively than ever before, making it necessary for him to also kill someone else in order to protect himself.
He’d done what he had to do. This time, he hadn’t sought her. She had found him.
She walked right into your life and all but begged you to notice her.
Then the next move had been his. He’d hated going through that bastard Timmons, but it had been the quickest and easiest way to make contact. And killing Timmons had been no more trouble to him than cleaning mud off his shoes.
This time Dinah had resurfaced in the guise of Becky Olmstead, a local prostitute. Once again, she had chosen someone a great deal like herself, someone in whose body she’d felt comfortable. In all her reincarnations, not once had she chosen someone pure and innocent. She probably never would. Nor had she ever chosen anyone who was as beautiful as she had been. Not until now.
He had been aware of this woman for years, had even found himself fascinated by her beauty as all the other men in the county had been. But he had kept his distance from her, not wanting to tempt Dinah into tricking him into killing her in his home territory. But she’d fooled him after all—by not choosing Jazzy Talbot first. She’d used Becky, as she’d used all the others, to seduce him, to lure him into her trap, to force him to destroy her yet again.
He couldn’t believe that she was returning so quickly now—three times in less than a week—giving him little peace and no rest whatsoever. Less than a week ago, he’d killed her and dumped her body in the Tennessee River near Loudon Dam. She’d called herself Kat Baker then. He had thought, had hoped, she would stay away for months, as she usually did, sometimes even as long as eight or nine months. But she had come back to him almost overnight in the form of Becky Olmstead. And now, less than twenty-four hours later, she had done what he had always feared she would do someday. He was almost certain that she had come back in Jazzy Talbot’s body.
Sitting there tonight at Jasmine’s with her friends and current lover, Jazzy had been totally unaware of her fate. Dinah never let her victims know she had possessed them, not until it was too late. Poor Jazzy didn’t even suspect that she was as good as dead.