The Last to Die. Beverly Barton

right, huh? I figured it was a woman. After all, it would be only poetic justice if some woman chops off his balls.”

      Genny gasped. Dallas clutched her shoulders and whirled her around to face him.

      “Is that what happened?”

      Feeling suddenly cold and knowing the color had drained from her face, Genny nodded. “And—and there was something about the woman.”

      “I thought you said you didn’t recognize her.”

      “I didn’t see her face, but I saw a few strands of her hair.”

      “So?” Dallas stared at her quizzically.

      “Her hair was red.”

      “Red? Good God, honey, you don’t think it was Jazzy, do you?” When she couldn’t bring herself to respond, Dallas grunted. “You think you saw Jazzy murder Jamie, don’t you?”

      “No, of course not. Jazzy isn’t capable of murder.”

      “That’s where you’re wrong. Every human being is capable of killing, given the right provocation. But if Jazzy was going to kill Jamie, she’d already have done it. Long ago.”

      Genny took a deep breath, then exhaled as she nodded agreement. “I don’t think the woman who killed Jamie in my vision was Jazzy, but my instincts warn me that somehow Jamie’s death will bring great trouble to her.”

      “So should we forewarn Jamie?”

      Genny shook her head. “No. He’d never believe me. He’d only laugh at me. But I’m going to tell Jazzy. She needs to stay as far away from Jamie as she possibly can.”

      “That might be a problem, considering how he hounds her all the time.”

      “I think she needs to take out a restraining order against him.” Genny looked directly at Dallas. “Now that you’re the chief of police, you can handle that for her, can’t you?”

      “Yeah, sure, but Jamie being Jamie, I doubt a restraining order will keep him away from her.”

      “Then maybe I should speak to Caleb McCord.”

      “McCord? The bouncer at Jazzy’s Joint?”

      “Yes, that Caleb McCord.”

      “Am I missing something? Why would you tell—”

      “That’s right, I didn’t tell you, did I?”

      “Tell me what?”

      “Caleb is in love with Jazzy.”

      “He is?”

      “Yes, he is. He just doesn’t know it yet.”

      Dallas chuckled. Genny turned her attention back to the morning sky as she sipped her coffee and allowed her fiancé to pull her down in his lap as he sat in one of the four rocking chairs on the front porch.

      Laura Willis rested on the window seat in the guest bedroom she shared with her younger sister, Sheridan, at the Upton estate outside Cherokee Pointe. She’d been living here since Jamie brought her to meet his grandparents three months ago. Until her sister and parents had arrived two days ago for her engagement party, she had shared Jamie’s bed many nights. The nights he stayed at home. His grandmother, Miss Reba, assured her that Jamie wasn’t with other women on those nights he stayed out until dawn, but she knew better. Her Jamie was a ladies’ man. And there was one lady—and she used the term loosely—Jamie found irresistible. Jazzy Talbot.

      Maybe she was a fool to believe that once she and Jamie were married he’d be faithful to her. But he had solemnly vowed to her that once they said their “I dos,” he would be true to her. Perhaps she had to believe he’d keep his word because she loved him so much.

      And he loved her. She knew he did. He could be tender and considerate and loving, as well as wildly passionate. She was lucky that he intended to marry her. He’d been engaged twice before, but this time would be different. In three weeks they would say their vows and she would become Mrs. James Upton III. And if Jazzy Talbot didn’t stay away from her husband, she’d…what would she do? She’d kill her, that’s what she’d do. No, no, Laura, you don’t mean that. You could never kill another human being. Not even Jazzy.

      The eastern sky brightened as dawn colored the horizon with muted pastels. Laura could see the front drive from her window as well as the expansive front lawn. Quiet, empty, nothing more than the spring breeze stirring at this time of day.

      You’re with her, aren’t you, Jamie? You spent the night with her. Touching her, kissing her, making love to her the same way you do me. No, no, no! It’s not the same. He loves me. He only wants to fuck her.

      Tears gathered in Laura’s eyes. She swallowed hard and willed the tears away. It wasn’t too late to call off the wedding. But what good would that do? Jamie had already broken her heart. And she knew that without him, she’d die. He was everything to her. Her whole world. The only way she’d ever be free of him was if she died. Or if they both died.

      “Where do you suppose that fiancé of yours went?” Sheridan asked as she approached the window seat.

      Not realizing her sister was even awake, let alone out of bed, Laura gasped. “I’m sorry if I woke you. I couldn’t sleep.”

      “I wouldn’t be able to sleep either if my fiancé had left our engagement party before it ended and stayed out all night.” Sheridan sat down beside Laura and glanced out the window. “You do know what people were saying, don’t you?”

      “I do not want to hear gossip!”

      Laura wished her sister would leave her alone, but she knew Sheridan would needle her until she’d drawn blood. Figuratively drawn blood, of course. Sheridan had a knack for it, especially where Laura was concerned. Her sister seemed to derive some perverse pleasure from pointing out all of Laura’s shortcomings.

      “You know, I wondered how you’d caught yourself such a prize,” Sheridan said. “Someone like Jamie. Someone in our social circle, very rich, handsome, charming. But I’m beginning to understand. Your fiancé has a major character flaw, doesn’t he?”

      “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Please, God, make her leave me alone. I don’t want to despise my own sister, but sometimes…

      Sheridan laughed. Laura hated the sound. She’d hated that mocking laughter since they’d been children and Sheridan had pointed out to Laura that “Mommy loves me best.” Maybe Mother did love Sheridan best. God knew sometimes it seemed that way. But Laura knew she was her father’s favorite, something Sheridan punished her for, even though it wasn’t her fault.

      “I suppose it’s only fair that both you and your fiancé aren’t quite perfect.”

      Laura forced herself to confront her sister. Their gazes met forcefully—and this time Laura didn’t blink, didn’t back down as she so often did. “I’ve never claimed to be perfect—”

      “Good thing…considering.”

      “Considering what? That I’m crazy?”

      “You said it, I didn’t.”

      “I’m not crazy. I’m not! I’m high-strung and nervous. I’m more emotionally sensitive than the average person. That’s all. Daddy said that I’m all right. Even the doctors said I’m okay.” Why did Sheridan have to keep reminding her about her past mental and emotional problems?

      “Does Jamie know?” Sheridan asked. “Is he aware that his little bride-to-be could easily go completely berserk at any given moment?”

      “What a cruel thing to say to me.”

      “Maybe someone told him about you and he’s run away before—”

      “He’s gone to her!” Laura cried out. “That’s what you wanted to hear, isn’t it? You