The Last to Die. Beverly Barton

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 met 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?