Chapter 25

Caleb parked his T-bird in front of his rental cabin, alongside Genny’s Trailblazer. He knew before he emerged from his car that if Genny was here, that probably meant one of two things: either Jazzy had sent her or Jazzy was with her. Okay, so what did you expect? he asked himself. He’d left Jazzy before she woke this morning and here it was late afternoon and he hadn’t gotten in touch with her all day. She was bound to be wondering what the hell was wrong with him. After all, the two of them had shared an incredible night together. A lady had a right to expect certain things from a man after such an intimate experience.

If he was lucky, Genny was alone and he wouldn’t have to face Jazzy. But when he approached the cabin and saw Genny and Jazzy sitting on the porch, he knew his luck had run out. Whether he wanted to or not, he was going to have to face Jazzy and explain his actions. He’d been having second thoughts about total honesty. He didn’t think he was ready to come right out and ask her if she was still in love with Jamie. Actually, he wasn’t sure he’d ever have the guts to confront her about that goddamn horrible moment he’d heard her whisper Jamie’s name. And he certainly wasn’t prepared to tell her that he was Jim and Reba Upton’s grandson—that he was, as Jamie had been, an Upton heir. Only now that Jamie was dead, he was the only heir.

Just what was he going to say? What could he tell her?

“Afternoon, ladies.” Caleb climbed the wooden steps leading to the porch that spanned the length of the house. He’d been renting this place from Cherokee Cabin Rentals since he’d gone to work as the bouncer at Jazzy’s Joint back in January.

Not being one for subtleties, Jazzy hopped out of the swing and came charging toward him. “Just where the hell have you been?” Her bright green eyes squinted disapprovingly.

Caleb crammed his hands into his pockets and shuffled his feet. Now what? he asked himself. “I took a ride out of town.” Great response, McCord. Do you think she’s going to accept that without any other questions?

Jazzy crossed her arms over her chest and cocked her head to one side. “Wrong answer. Want to tell me what’s going on?”

Genny rose from the rocking chair where she’d been sitting. “I think you two need to talk privately, without an audience.”

When Genny walked past Jazzy on her way toward the steps, Jazzy grabbed her arm. “Don’t go. Depending on Caleb’s answers, I might need a ride back into town.”

Genny glanced from Jazzy to Caleb, but didn’t say anything. The intense expression in her black eyes spoke volumes. If Caleb had learned anything about Genny Madoc these past few months, it was that, by nature, the woman was a peacemaker.

“I’ll drive you to town whenever you get ready to go,” Caleb told Jazzy. “There’s no need for Genny to hang around and listen to our argument.”

Jazzy gave him an aha look. “So we’re going to argue, are we?”

“Maybe. I don’t know.”

Jazzy released Genny. “Go ahead. And thanks for coming with me and sitting out here for two hours waiting on Caleb to finally come home.”

“No problem.” Genny hugged Jazzy. “Give me a call later. Okay?”

Jazzy nodded.

Two hours? They’d been waiting here for him for two hours, and that had given Jazzy more than enough time to work herself into a powerful hissy fit.

When Genny walked past Caleb, she patted his arm and smiled at him, then hurried on out to her SUV. Jazzy stood there on the porch, glaring at him. From several feet away, he could feel the pulsating anger inside her. She was pissed as hell. And he didn’t blame her.

“Want to come inside and—” He didn’t get the sentence finished before Jazzy barreled forward, reached out, and pounded on his chest.

“Damn you, Caleb McCord.” She continued drumming her tight fists against his chest. “I thought last night meant something special to you. I thought we—” She gasped when he grabbed her wrists and drew her hands up between them.

“I just took a drive to clear my head this morning,” he told her. When she struggled against him, he increased the pressure, holding her wrists securely. “I had some things to think about and I needed to be alone—somewhere away from Cherokee Pointe.” What he told her wasn’t a lie, at least not completely.

She calmed enough so that he felt safe to release her. She stood only inches from him and looked up at him, their gazes clashing as she searched his eyes for the truth.

How the hell did you admit to a woman that you were jealous of her dead lover?

“What did you need to think about—you and me?” she asked, hugging herself as if she’d suddenly gotten a chill.

“Come on inside and—”

“Did I get it wrong?” she asked. “Did I read more into what happened between us than was actually there?”

“If you thought something special happened, it did,” he told her. “If you think it was the most incredible experience of my life, you’re right. It was.”

“Then I don’t understand—”

Caleb walked away from her, pulled his key chain from his pocket, inserted the house key in the lock, then turned the knob and opened the door. When he glanced back at her, he said, “Let’s talk inside. I need a drink. How about you?”

“Is what you have to tell me that bad?”

Her voice held a touch of humor, which he thought was a good sign. They’d both need a sense of humor and a whole heap of understanding and forgiveness if they were going to weather this storm. Just how honest should he be? Diplomatically honest? Brutally honest?

“I’m not sure how to answer that question,” he told her truthfully as he headed for the kitchen and the bottle of whiskey he kept in the cupboard above the sink.

After closing the door, she followed him through the living room and into the small kitchen area. He set two glasses on the table, then filled each with a shot of Crown Royal. He picked up one glass and held it out to her. She looked at him and then at the glass. As soon as she accepted her drink, he picked up his.

“What are we drinking to?” she asked.

“How about to happiness in the future,” he said. “And to burying the unhappy past.”

She examined his face, his expression. “I thought that’s what we did last night. You helped me bury my past and gave me a reason to think I had a chance to be happy in the future.”

“Did we bury your past last night?” Caleb gulped down the liquor, slung back his head and let the whiskey sizzle down his throat. One drink wouldn’t be enough to erase the memory of Jazzy whispering Jamie’s name. Hell, a hundred drinks wouldn’t be enough.

Jazzy set her glass down on the kitchen table, the liquor untouched. “I don’t know what’s going on. Stop avoiding giving me a direct answer. Cut to the chase.”

Caleb finished off his drink and poured himself another. “How do you feel about Jamie Upton? And I want the truth.”

She stared at him, a puzzled look in her eyes. “Where is this coming from? I thought I made myself perfectly clear last night. Jamie is my past. Before he died, I’d set myself free from him. I knew that I didn’t love him, that whatever fragments of caring were left in my heart I could deal with and move on.”

Caleb took a sip of whiskey. “Was last night about Jamie? Or was it about me?”

She stared at him, her gaze transfixed, as if his question stumped her. After a long, torturous silence, she finally said, “Both, I guess.”

Caleb nodded, then downed the second shot of whiskey.

She reached out and took the glass from his hand, then recapped the liquor bottle and set it aside. “Being with you was unlike anything I’d ever experienced. Better than anything.”

God, how he wanted to believe her. Not just for his masculine pride. He loved Jazzy. He wanted her to love him. Love him best. Love him more.

She put her arms around his neck. His body stiffened, and he knew he couldn’t resist her. “After being with you last night…” When he continued looking away from her, she kept one arm around his neck and, with her free hand, grasped his chin and forced him to look right at her. “Even if Jamie were alive, you’d have no reason to be jealous. If he were here right this minute, I’d choose you.”

Caleb cupped the back of her head and brought her face up to his. And while he kissed her, he tried to forget about Jamie Upton. What difference did it make whose name she whispered in her sleep? It didn’t mean she loved Jamie.

Keep telling yourself that and maybe one of these days you’ll believe it!

While the Willis family met with Dr. MacNair and the young hotshot lawyer Jim Upton had supplied them, Jacob and Dallas waited in Jacob’s office. Despite Andrea’s cool, uppity attitude, Jacob had seen below the surface and figured Andrea Willis had something to hide. His first guess was that she was trying to protect her elder daughter, that she either knew Laura had killed Jamie or suspected she had. His second supposition was that Mrs. Willis was the one who’d killed Jamie.

“So who’s this lawyer?” Dallas asked.

“Trent Langley,” Jacob told him. “He’s young and eager. And from what I hear, pretty darn sharp. He’s from Jefferson City and was recommended by the most prestigious law firm in Knoxville. Hobart, Richards and English.”

“Mm-hmm.”

“Big Jim would have sent Maxie, if we hadn’t already hired him for Jazzy. Maxie’s the best lawyer in Cherokee Pointe.”

“But not Big Jim’s business attorney?”

“Nope. That would be Hobart, Richards and English.”

“Out of Knoxville.”

Jacob grinned. “Yeah.”

Dallas walked over to the open door and glanced across the outer office to a quiet corner where Dr. MacNair sat holding Laura Willis’s hand and talking to her, soothing her. The young lawyer, Langley, stood several feet away, deep in conversation with Mr. and Mrs. Willis. Dallas’s gaze scanned the room and found the younger Willis daughter perched on the edge of Deputy Bobby Joe Harte’s desk. Bobby Joe looked downright mortified.

Glancing over his shoulder at Jacob, Dallas said, “What about Sheridan Willis? Think there’s any chance she might actually know something? She told Bobby Joe she believes her sister might have killed Jamie, but that could be conjecture on her part.”

“She might know something. But my guess is that Mrs. Willis told her to keep her mouth shut. And I’d say Mama rules the roost.”

“I agree.” Just as Dallas started to close the door, his cell phone rang again. His gaze met Jacob’s. He retrieved the phone and hit the on button. “Sloan here.”

Jacob waited patiently, something not easy for him. Dallas didn’t say much, just “uh-huh” a few times and “interesting” twice. Then Dallas’s eyes widened in surprise and he looked at Jacob. Something was up. Something more important than the fact Laura Willis had attempted to run down her high school boyfriend with her sixteenth birthday present—a Mustang convertible.

“Thanks, Teri,” Dallas said. “I can’t tell you how much Jacob and I appreciate your unearthing this information so quickly.” After he replaced his cell phone on its belt clip, he faced Jacob. “You might want to ask Mr. and Mrs. Willis to come in here alone.”

“What’s up? What did Teri find out?”

“She found out why Laura was born a year before her parents married.”

Jacob frowned. “I don’t see how that information could affect Jamie’s murder case, not the way knowing Laura tried to run down her teenage boyfriend could go to prove she might be unstable enough to kill someone.”

“What if I told you that Laura’s mother was declared legally insane when Laura was an infant and it’s possible Laura inherited her mother’s mental illness?”

Andrea hesitated when the sheriff asked to speak to Cecil and her. She didn’t want to leave Laura. But seeing how calm Laura was, what a soothing effect Dr. MacNair seemed to have on her, Andrea agreed. However, she insisted Trent Langley accompany them. She didn’t trust Sheriff Butler. He suspected Laura had killed Jamie and since he was Jazzy Talbot’s friend, he would no doubt do everything possible to lay the blame elsewhere.

“Have a seat.” The sheriff indicated the two chairs in front of his desk.

Cecil looked to her before doing anything. When she sat, he sat. Their lawyer stood directly behind the two of them.

“What’s this all about, Sheriff?” Mr. Langley asked.

“First, I need to preface what I’m about to say by telling y’all that Laura is a suspect in both murders,” Jacob told them.

“See here, Sheriff Butler, you can’t really believe that my Laura”—Cecil’s voice broke. “She is the sweetest, dearest child. She loved Jamie. She wouldn’t have…she’s not capable of such a heinous crime.”

“Maybe not, but her mother was capable of it, wasn’t she?” Jacob Butler made the profound comment and waited for a reaction.

All color drained from Cecil’s face. Andrea tried her best not to gasp or cry out a denial. She laid her hand over her husband’s, then looked from the sheriff to the police chief. “Exactly what do y’all know?”

“We know that Cecil Willis was married to a woman named Margaret Bentley and that she gave birth to a daughter named Laura,” Dallas said. “And we know that Margaret Bentley was found guilty of attempted murder, but instead of going to jail, she was placed in a private sanitarium when the judge ruled her legally insane.”

“Laura doesn’t know,” Andrea said. “She must never know.”

“Laura doesn’t know that you aren’t her biological mother?” Jacob asked.

“No.” Andrea shook her head. “I suppose we should have told her, but…” Andrea looked at the sheriff, hoping he was capable of great understanding and compassion. “Would you want to know that your mother was criminally insane? That she had tried to kill your grandfather by torturing him to death?”

“No, ma’am, I wouldn’t.”

“Then you can understand why we wanted to keep the truth from Laura, why we’ve lived in fear all these years that the truth would come out. Very few people know about Cecil’s first marriage. He and his father had a falling out when Cecil married Margaret. She wasn’t…she wasn’t our kind.”

“My first wife came from trash, Sheriff Butler,” Cecil said. “She was a beautiful woman determined to escape from poverty, and she saw me as her escape route. I was young and foolish, and although I was in love with Andrea and we were practically engaged, one night I succumbed to Margaret’s rather considerable charm. She came to me a couple of months later and told me she was pregnant. Naturally, I did the honorable thing and married her. Against my parents’ wishes.

“We moved to Louisville and were living there when Laura was born.” Cecil sighed heavily. “My parents cut off my funds, and I was ill-equipped to make a living on my own. Margaret discovered that I could offer her very little without my father’s money, and it was then that I realized my wife had severe mental problems. She…she…uh—” Cecil cleared his throat. “I took Laura, left Margaret, and went home to my parents.” Tears trickled down Cecil’s cheeks. “My parents arranged for the marriage to be annulled and we—I—gained full custody of Laura.”

Andrea couldn’t bear seeing her husband this way, so totally defeated, in so much pain. She had never loved anyone but Cecil. She had forgiven him, loved him, married him, and adopted Laura. And she had never regretted those decisions.

“Margaret somehow managed to abduct Marshall Willis, Cecil’s father,” Andrea said. “She blamed him for everything at the time. She had intended to kill him, after she tortured him. She took him to the Willis hunting lodge and only by mere chance a couple of hunters heard Marshall’s screams and investigated.”

“Margaret had tortured my father for hours,” Cecil said. “If those hunters hadn’t…he almost died.”

“You must see that our knowing Laura’s biological mother’s background sheds new light on Jamie’s murder case,” Jacob said.

“Just because Margaret was capable of doing something so terrible doesn’t mean Laura is,” Cecil said. “You tell them, Andrea. Tell them that Laura would never…”

“You have absolutely no proof that Laura had anything to do with Jamie’s murder.” Andrea held her head high and looked the sheriff right in the eye. “Yes, our elder daughter is emotionally fragile and it’s possible she inherited a mental weakness from Margaret. But Laura is, as Cecil told you, a kind, sweet young woman, incapable of murder.”

“Is that what her psychiatrist told y’all after you committed her for treatment a few days after she tried to run down her boyfriend when she was sixteen?” Dallas asked.

Andrea glared at the police chief. “That was nothing more than an accident. No charges were ever filed.”

Andrea looked to their lawyer and the minute he noticed her staring at him, he cleared his throat and said, “I suggest that instead of tormenting the Willis family and pointing fingers at Laura Willis, you make some inquiries about Margaret Bentley’s whereabouts. Is she still confined to the mental hospital? If not, then I’d say she could very well be your—”

“Shut up!” Andrea huffed. Damned stupid young man!

“Ma’am?” Wide-eyed and mouth agape, Trent Langley gulped as he looked at Andrea.

“The sanitarium where Margaret Bentley resided for nearly twenty-two years burned to the ground two years ago,” Dallas explained. “She and nearly two dozen other patients died in that fire.”

If only Margaret were alive, Andrea thought. If only that insane bitch had been the one who’d killed Jamie. But Margaret was dead. And the truth about Laura’s maternity was no longer a well-kept family secret. She had spent twenty-four years trying to protect Cecil’s little girl, but now she feared the time had come when there was very little she could do to protect Laura from a tragic past that had come back to haunt them all.