Chapter 15

When Dr. MacNair entered the waiting room on the first floor of County General, Jim rose to his feet, but he stood back and allowed Laura’s parents to meet the doctor. His heart lodged in his throat as he waited to hear his unborn great-grandchild’s fate.

“I’m sorry,” MacNair said.

Jim sighed. The only hope of an heir—a descendant with his blood flowing through his or her veins—had died with the miscarriage of Jamie’s child. Why now, God, why now? Wasn’t it enough to take Jamie? Did you have to take his baby, too?

“When may we see Laura?” Andrea Willis held her husband’s hand tightly.

“Soon,” MacNair replied. “We did a D and C and she’s asleep and resting comfortably now. In a few weeks, she’ll be fully recovered. There was no permanent damage, no reason she can’t have other children.”

It was good that sweet, little Laura would one day be able to have other children, Jim thought. But those children wouldn’t be Upton babies. Jamie’s child was dead.

Tears glistened in Cecil Willis’s eyes. “Thank you, Dr. MacNair.”

“I’ll arrange for a grief counselor to speak to Laura,” MacNair said.

“I would prefer that I be present when the counselor talks to Laura,” Andrea said. “I plan on being here at the hospital with her day and night until she’s released.”

“Yes, of course.” MacNair looked sympathetically at Andrea. “Laura will certainly need her mother with her.”

After the doctor left, Jim walked over to Andrea and Cecil. During their brief acquaintance, Jim had formed an opinion of the couple. Basically he liked them. They seemed like good people. Reba sure set great store by them being wealthy and socially prominent. Laura’s from a fine family, Reba had said. The Willis family has been breeding Kentucky Derby winners for generations. They’re old money.

“I’m truly glad that Laura will be all right,” Jim told them. “She’s a dear girl. Reba and I were looking forward to her becoming a member of our family. And if the baby had—” Jim cleared his throat. “I’m going to head on back to the house. If the sedative Dr. MacNair gave Reba has worn off, she’s probably worrying herself sick because I haven’t called to let her know how Laura is.”

Cecil shook Jim’s hand, then patted him on the back. “Please tell Sheridan that we’ll call her later.”

“Yes, yes, of course,” Jim replied. “I appreciate her staying at the house with Reba. It was kind of her to offer.”

As Jim left the waiting room and walked down the hall toward the hospital’s back exit, he thought about what he had lost today and how irrevocably his life had changed in the matter of hours. Less than twenty-four hours ago, Jamie had been alive. And Laura had been pregnant.

Just as the automatic exit doors opened and Jim stepped outside, he came to an abrupt halt when he saw Erin Mercer rushing toward him. What was she doing here? How had she known where he was?

“Jim!” She ran toward him, her arms open wide.

He grabbed her hands to prevent her from enveloping him in a hug.

“I know about Jamie. I called your house and spoke to Dora. I asked to speak to you to give you my condolences, and she said you’d gone to the hospital.” She looked up at him with concern in her eyes. “Are you all right? I was afraid you’d had a heart attack or—”

He pulled her aside, away from the glass wall that surrounded the hospital exit and exposed them to prying eyes. “I’m fine. I came to the hospital with Laura’s parents. Laura just suffered a miscarriage.”

“Laura was pregnant?”

Jim nodded. “She hadn’t even told Jamie.”

“Oh, Jim…Jim, I’m so sorry, darling. I wish there was something I could do.”

He thought about demanding to know where she’d been all night, why she hadn’t been at home early this morning when he’d stopped by her cabin. But somehow that didn’t seem to matter right now. “I need you, Erin. God, how I need you.”

Squeezing his hands, she leaned toward him. It was all he could do to stop himself from grabbing her and kissing her.

“I’m here for you,” she told him. “Tell me what I can do and I’ll do it. Anything. Everything.”

Jim let go of her and stuffed his hands into his pants pockets. “I have to go home and tell Reba that”—he looked up at the clear blue sky, swallowed, and willed his emotions under control. “She’s in pretty bad shape, as you can imagine. Finding out that we no longer have the hope of a great-grandchild…”

“I understand that you have to be with her, that she needs you.” Erin offered him a compassionate smile. “And you probably need her, too. After all—”

“I need you,” he told her. “Later today—will you be at home?”

“Yes, of course I will be.”

“I’ll try to come by. Just for a while.”

“If you can’t, it will be all right. Just know that if you need me, I’m here for you.”

“I’ll come by. I want to be with you.” Without saying another word to her, he walked away, and all the while he wished he could turn around, go back to her, and pull her into his arms.

“I need your permission to search your office,” Jacob told Jazzy.

“Why do you need to search her office?” Genny inquired at the precise moment Caleb asked “Why?”

“You have my permission,” Jazzy said. “I have nothing to hide.”

Jacob shifted uncomfortably. “Hell, Jazzy, I know that. Don’t think just because I’ve got to search your office that for one minute I think you killed Jamie. Not even if we find evidence to the contrary.”

Caleb snorted. “I don’t see why you have to go searching for evidence against Jazzy just because some nut called you and said—”

“He’s just doing his job.” Jazzy grabbed Caleb’s arm.

“Is it his job to help some crazy woman railroad you for a crime you didn’t commit?” Caleb glared at Jacob.

“What will you do if you find some sort of planted evidence in Jazzy’s office?” Genny asked. “You’ll know that it was put there, that Jazzy is innocent.”

Jacob removed his Stetson, then ran his fingers through the back of his hair where it rested just above his shoulders. “I’m not trying to build a case against Jazzy, but as the sheriff, it’s my job to share all the information I have with Wade Truman. Our ambitious young DA is already breathing down my neck hot and heavy about coming up with a suspect.”

“And I’m the most likely suspect, aren’t I?” Jazzy said.

When Jacob reached out and placed his hand on Jazzy’s shoulder, Caleb tensed. Jacob could tell the guy wanted to knock his hand off her. He understood the other man’s proprietorial, possessive attitude. He’d sensed the same thing in Dallas Sloan the very first time he saw him with Genny.

“You didn’t kill Jamie,” Jacob said. “We all know that out there somewhere is a very disturbed woman who will, sooner or later, give herself away.”

“Yeah, but in the meantime, I may just wind up in jail.” Jazzy crossed her arms over her waist and emitted a couple of nervous, mocking chuckles. “It’s not as if Jamie didn’t screw me over enough while he was alive. Now he’s reaching out from the grave to do it.”

While Jacob and Deputy Moody Ryan searched Jazzy’s office, she waited outside in the hall with Genny and Caleb. She could feel the noose tightening around her neck. She didn’t need Genny’s psychic gifts to know that someone had intentionally framed her for Jamie’s murder. But who? And why?

Someone had hated Jamie so much that they had tortured him to death. And that same person hated her enough to want to see her go to jail—oh, God, not just go to jail, but be sentenced to death for Jamie’s murder. How could this be happening? And why now, when she had thought maybe she had a chance of finding happiness with Caleb?

When Jacob came out of her office carrying a plastic bag, she grabbed Caleb by the arm. Jacob held up the bag to show them the bloody knife it contained.

“Where was it?” Jazzy asked him.

“Hidden in the back of one of the file cabinets,” Jacob told her.

“It’s the knife she used on Jamie,” Genny said. “But you won’t find any fingerprints on it. Only Jamie’s blood.”

“I didn’t put it there,” Jazzy said, her strong survival instincts kicking in, forcing her to defend herself, even to her friends.

“We know that,” Genny said. “Jacob, the knife was planted in Jazzy’s office to make her look guilty.”

“Yeah, I know,” he replied. “But I’m afraid whoever put it there accomplished her goal.”

“Are you going to arrest me?” Jazzy asked.

“Hell no, he isn’t going to arrest you.” Caleb moved between Jazzy and Jacob. “You and I were together last night and this morning. I’ll swear in court that we were together whenever Jamie was killed.” He glared at Jacob, his aggressive stance and determined expression issuing a warning.

Jazzy pushed Caleb gently aside and looked directly at Jacob. “What happens next?”

“Nothing right now,” Jacob replied. “It could take a while to determine if this knife was used on Jamie, if this is his blood. Besides, if this is all the evidence that shows up—”

“She couldn’t have killed Jamie,” Caleb reiterated. “She was with me.”

In that slow, easy way Jacob had, he turned and squinched his eyes as he focused on Caleb. “If you lie to try to protect Jazzy, you won’t help her. You just might hurt her and get yourself in trouble to boot.”

Caleb stared inquiringly at Jacob.

“Folks might think you two were in cahoots,” Jacob said. “Maybe Jazzy lured Jamie up to that cabin where you were waiting for him. Maybe it wasn’t a woman who killed him. Maybe it was a jealous lover. Maybe the two of you decided that the only way to get Jamie out of Jazzy’s life permanently was to kill him.”

Jazzy grabbed Caleb’s arm, sensing he was on the verge of hitting Jacob. “No, don’t. Jacob is only playing devil’s advocate. Besides, he’s right—you won’t help me by lying about our being together when Jamie was killed.”

Jacob’s cell phone rang. He handed the evidence bag to Moody and told him to get it over to the sheriff’s office immediately. Retrieving his phone from its belt holder, he punched the ON button.

“Butler here.” He listened, then said, “Why am I not surprised?”

“What is it?” Genny asked, but Jazzy sensed that by the look on her best friend’s face she already suspected what Jacob had been told.

“Yeah, Dallas, thanks. Meet me over at my office as soon as possible.” He looked at Jazzy. “I know what I have to do, but I sure as hell don’t have to like it.” Jacob hit the off button and returned his phone to the clip holder on his belt.

“You know Dallas went back to the cabin and then to the site where the Jag was dumped, to oversee things there,” Jacob said. “We’ve combined forces—the sheriff’s department and the police department.”

“What did Dallas tell you?” Jazzy asked, and when Genny slipped her hand over Jazzy’s and squeezed, she knew the news was really bad.

“They found a book of matches at the cabin,” Jacob said. “They’re from Jazzy’s Joint. Got the logo on the cover.”

“So? Big deal.” Caleb all but snarled his statement. “Half the population of Cherokee County probably has a Jazzy’s Joint book of matches.”

“Yeah, I know, and the matches alone wouldn’t prove anything. But coupled with the bloody knife and—” Jacob paused and cursed softly under his breath. “They found something in the woods only a few feet away from the burned out Jag.”

Three sets of eyes focused on Jacob, but he looked only at Jazzy. “They found a red silk scarf with the initials J.T. monogrammed on it.”

Jazzy laughed. “Whoever the hell she is, she’s good. She didn’t steal just any of my scarves. No, she had to steal the one with my initials on it—the one my friend the sheriff gave me for my birthday last year.”