"He was on his way there to meet her when it happened He got there a few minutes before the police and the ambulance."

"Who would possibly want to hurt Jazzy?" The question was no sooner uttered than Reve remembered that Jacob and Dallas had warned them that a possible serial killer was on the loose in northeast Tennessee. A man who was murdering redheads. "You don't think the man who killed those prost.i.tutes tried to kill Jazzy, do you?"

"I have no idea. I don't know all the facts yet. The only two things Jazzy's attack has in common with the two murder cases are the facts that Jazzy is a redhead and her body was thrown into the creek. Other than that, there don't seem to be any similarities."

"Does that mean you've ruled out-"

"It means I don't know."

"But there could be a connection to the murders of those two redheaded prost.i.tutes, couldn't there?"

Jacob grunted. "I didn't ask Dallas what he thought, but I will. And I figure he'll agree with me. I'd say if there is a connection, we're probably dealing with a copycat killer."

"What makes you think that?"

"Look, Reve, I know you're as confused and concerned as I am, but asking me a bunch of questions I don't know the answers to isn't helping anybody, least of all Jazzy."

Reve felt as if he'd slapped her. "I-I'm sorry. I didn't mean to..." Her voice trailed off as she struggled not to cry.

He cut his eyes toward her quickly, then refocused immediately on the road. "No, I'm the one who's sorry. I didn't mean to bite your head off that way."

"We're both worried about Jazzy."

"Yeah."

Neither of them said another word until Jacob parked at the ER entrance. By the time he came around to the pa.s.senger's side, Reve had opened the door and was getting out by herself. He grasped her around the waist, lifted her down and set her on her feet, then took her hand in his. Together, their long-legged strides in unison, they rushed toward the hospital. Once they reached the waiting area, Jacob released her hand.

Dallas Sloan, who hovered over Genny as she paced restlessly back and forth, noticed them and threw up his hand to motion them over.

Jacob punched Reve gently in the center of her back, urging her into movement. When they walked over to the other couple, Reve saw Sally and Ludie sitting side by side in the corner. Lacy Fallon, the bartender at Jazzy's Joint and one of Jazzy's friends, stood by the bank of telephones along the back wall. She was talking to someone. Reve figured she was calling other friends who'd want to know what had happened to Jazzy.

"Any word?" Jacob asked Dallas.

"We're waiting to hear something. Caleb's back there. They tried to make him come out here with us, but he refused," Dallas said. "When the receptionist threatened to call security, I stepped in and told her that only if Caleb caused a problem would anyone forcibly remove him. Caleb swore he'd stay out of the way."

"You did the right thing."

"h.e.l.l, all I could think about was how I felt when Genny got shot. I should have done what Caleb did and demanded to stay with her as long as I could."

The ER waiting area was crowded, filled with an a.s.sortment of people, none of whom Reve knew, other than Jazzy's friends. As she surveyed the room, two men entered, each I carrying a cardboard caddy of Styrofoam cups. She recognized the younger man as Brian MacKinnon, someone Jazzy 1 intensely disliked. Noting the vague resemblance between j Brian and the older man, she a.s.sumed he must be Brian's father, Farlan MacKinnon.

The two men approached and held out their cardboard caddies.

"Here's coffee for everyone," the elder MacKinnon said.

"Thank you." Genny stood and offered Mr. MacKinnon a gracious smile, then she turned to Brian. "How can we ever repay you for rescuing Jazzy? You might have saved her life."

Brian flushed. "I didn't do anything. Not really."

"Any word?" Farlan asked.

"Not yet." Genny lifted a cup from the caddy. She spread her glance around to the others, her look inviting them to accept the coffee that was being offered.

Dallas lifted a cup and so did Reve. Jacob declined.

"Go see if Sally and her friend want coffee," Farlan told his son, who immediately walked over to the two old ladies.

"We won't get in the way," Farlan said. "I told Brian I wanted to stay until we knew something. It was quite a shock finding her the way we did. Poor little thing."

"You and Brian found her?" Reve asked.

Farlan MacKinnon turned to Reve, his mouth open to speak, but suddenly he went dead still and stared at Reve. For a minute there, she thought the old man was going to faint.

"Who are you?" he asked.

"I'm Reve Sorrell,"'She replied. "I'm Jazzy Talbot's-"

"Twin sister," he finished for her.

His hands shook so badly that Genny took the cardboard caddy from him and placed it in a nearby chair. "Are you all right, Mr. MacKinnon? Do you need to sit down?"

He kept staring at Reve. "Identical twins. Redheaded identical twins. How old are you, Ms. Sorrell?"

"I'm thirty."

"Yes, you would be."

Brian came up to his father and put his hand under the old man's elbow. "Come on over here and sit down. And just as soon as we get word on Jazzy, I'm taking you home."

Farlan MacKinnon allowed his son to escort him across the room to where a couple of seats remained empty. But once seated, he looked back across the room at Reve, seeming unable to take his eyes off her. He sure is acting odd, she thought. But then, he was probably partly in shock after what happened.

"Are you telling me that Brian MacKinnon rescued Jazzy?" Jacob asked.

"It seems he and old man MacKinnon were on their way home from the country club when they spotted Jazzy's Jeep parked on the side of the road," Dallas said. "They stopped to investigate, and Mr. Farlan saw Jazzy's body in the creek. Brian went down and got her. He was bringing her up out of the creek when Caleb arrived."

Jacob snorted. "I can see the headlines in tomorrow's Cherokee Pointe Herald. 'Brian MacKinnon, Hero!' is what it'll say."

"I take it that you don't like Brian MacKinnon," Reve said.

"He's a pompous jacka.s.s who throws his daddy's money around and thinks that because he's a MacKinnon he can do whatever the h.e.l.l he pleases." Jacob shot a disapproving look in Brian's direction. "Be forewarned, Ms. Sorrell, that despite his prestigious pedigree, Brian MacKinnon is not a very nice man."

"Keep your voice down." Genny whispered the warning. "And despite what you think of him, Brian did try to help Jazzy tonight and we mustn't forget that fact."

"Yeah, yeah. We're all very grateful," Jacob said, his voice a low growl. "I just wanted to make sure Reve understood that just because MacKinnon is on a social level with her kind, he's no gentleman."

Reve stood there staring at Jacob, uncertain how to reply or if she should bother to comment at all on what he'd said. But before she could decide, Caleb came hurtling through the door leading to the private cubicles inside the heart of the emergency room. He rushed straight to Reve and Genny.

"They're taking her up to surgery. She sustained some internal injuries from the fall and they're certain she has some internal bleeding," Caleb said. "But-" He swallowed. "It's more than just her body. The son of a b.i.t.c.h who hit her cracked her skull. Dr. Meadows ordered an emergency CT scan. He said that there's evidence of bleeding from torn veins." Caleb's voice trembled. Tears glistened in his eyes. "He said something about a growing subdural hematoma." Caleb sucked in a deep breath. "That's a blood clot. Bottom line-if they don't do surgery immediately, she'll die. He's called in a neurological surgeon."

Dallas curled his arm around Genny's waist and pulled her close. She rested her head on his chest and wrapped her arms around him. Jacob clamped his big hand down on Reve's shoulder. She looked up at him and saw her own fears reflected in his eyes.

Reve walked over and put her arms around Caleb. When he hugged her for dear life, she stroked his back as tears streamed down her face.

"She's going to make it," Caleb said.

"Yes, of course she is," Reve replied, swallowing her tears.

"And we're going to find the b.a.s.t.a.r.d who tried to kill her." Caleb spoke through clenched teeth, anger evident in his voice. When he pulled away from Reve, there was an expression of pure rage on his face. "And when we do-"

"You let us take care of finding the person who did this to Jazzy," Dallas said.

Caleb looked at Reve. "You probably aren't safe either. He might come after you next."

Startled by Caleb's dire warning, Reve gasped. Undoubtedly Caleb believed Jazzy had been the serial killer's latest victim.

Jacob draped his arm around Reve's shoulders. "I'll take care of Reve."

Instinctively, desperately needing comfort and longing for strong arms to hold her, Reve laid her head on Jacob's shoulder.

Still resting against Dallas, Genny turned and stared at Jacob. The two exchanged rather odd looks that made Reve curious about what they had silently said to each other.

"Yeah, I know I need to let the law handle this," Caleb said to Dallas. "But you've got to understand how I feel."

"We all understand," Dallas replied. Then, after a slight hesitation, he said point-blank, "I hate to ask this, but we need to know-did Dr. Meadows say if there was any evidence of s.e.xual a.s.sault?"

A collective hush settled over Jazzy's friends and family.

"No." Caleb sighed heavily. "I asked. He said no, there was no sign of s.e.xual a.s.sault."

Dallas nodded.

"Surgery could take hours," Caleb told the others. "They said we can wait upstairs and the surgeon, a Dr. Behel, will come out and talk to us... afterward."

"Do you think you can look out for the ladies while we're gone?" Dallas glanced from Reve to Genny and then over to Sally and Ludie. "I need Jacob and his department to work with us on this case. I want him to go with me out to the; crime scene so we can take a look at things ourselves."

Reve realized that by putting Caleb in charge of their care, Dallas was giving Caleb something to think about other than the very real possibility that the woman he loved was going to die. Just the thought that she could lose her sister before J they had a chance to really become sisters hurt Reve in a way nothing else ever had. It was at that moment she realized she loved Jasmine. And more than anything on earth, she wanted her to live.

I did what I had to do. Jazzy had to die. It was easier than I thought it would be to kill her. Two hard blows to the back I of her head was all it took. She dropped instantly after the second blow. Although she was slender, it wasn't easy lifting her up and over the railing. And I hadn't realized there would be so much blood. All over the hammer I used to kill her. All over my gloves. And it even splattered across my coat and on my shoes.

I burned everything as soon as I returned home. Even my underwear. But the metal hammer wouldn't burn, so I hid it. I removed it from the fireplace and once it cooled, I wrapped it in an old pillowcase and took it up to the attic. It's there now, hidden away at the bottom of an old trunk, safely tucked away where no one will ever find it.

I wonder how long it will be before her body is discovered? Days? Weeks? Of course there will be a search for her once it's discovered that she's missing, so they could find her by morning, especially if they bring out Sally Talbot's blood-hounds.

Oh, G.o.d! What if-No, no, I didn't leave anything behind with my smell on it. But what if they 're able to pick up a scent simply out of the air? I hadn't thought of that. Just how long did a human's scent remain in the air? Surely not very long.

I can't worry about it now. Besides, no one would ever believe me capable of such a horrendous crime.

Should I act again quickly? Or should I wait? With Jazzy dead, that leaves only her twin. But what if they suspect that Reve will be the killer's next victim? They '11 be watching her, guarding her day and night.

I'll have to wait. The perfect opportunity will present itself. And soon. I have to wait for the right moment. But I dare not wait too long. I have to put a stop to the investigation into the past before they discover the truth. I can't let that happen. If Slim had done his job thirty years ago, I wouldn't be in this situation now. If he'd just killed those d.a.m.n babies as I'd told him to do... Her babies. Those beautiful little redheaded twins.

When they arrived at the crime scene, Jacob and Dallas found what appeared at first glance to be an unruly crowd and ma.s.s confusion. Jacob parked his truck on the side of the road behind three black-and-white cruisers. After Dallas and he emerged from the truck, they hurried up the road, only to be bombarded by a small horde of TV and newspaper reporters. They kept walking, forcing the ones spouting questions at them to follow along.

"Is this the work of a serial killer?"

"Was Jazzy Talbot attacked because she's a redheaded wh.o.r.e?"

"What's Jazzy's condition? Is she going to live?"

"If y'all expected her to be the next victim, why wasn't she better protected?"

The news camera zoomed in, getting a close-up of their aces when the cameraman jumped around in front of them.

Within seconds the reporters formed a circle, effectively surrounding them. Jacob wanted to smash the camera and knock the cameraman's teeth down his throat. But he was already notorious for his bad temper, so he did his level best to keep; it under control tonight.

"No comment," Dallas said.

"Can't you tell us whether Jazzy is going to make it or not?" a female reporter for the Herald asked.

"Contact the hospital for an update on Ms. Talbot's condition," Dallas told her, then gently shoved her out of the way, making an escape route for Jacob and him.

Jacob saw Jazzy's red Jeep up ahead, just off the road, parked in the gra.s.s. A tight knot formed in his stomach. If only Jazzy had waited for Caleb before coming out here to meet some mysterious caller. Yeah, hindsight was twenty-twenty, and the world was filled with people asking themselves "What if?" But it wasn't in Jazzy's nature to be cautious. Even as a kid she'd been bold and fearless. And that meant she'd often leaped before looking and gotten herself into all kinds of trouble.

Noticing one of his deputies, Moody Ryan, standing guard over the Jeep, he threw up his hand and waved. Moody waved back.

When they reached the corded-off area, they found two-thirds of the police force and half of Jacob's deputies keeping the crime scene protected from reporters and curiosity seekers. He sure as h.e.l.l hoped this many officers didn't mean that by their numbers alone they had compromised the scene. All it took was one wrong move to screw up the evidence. And with this many people milling around on the bridge, putting out dozens of different scents, there was no point in bringing in Sally's bloodhounds.

Bobby Joe Harte met them when they approached the bridge "How's Jazzy?" he asked.

"In surgery," Jacob replied.

"Lieutenant Glenn put me in charge of crowd control," Bobby Joe said. "I called in as many deputies as I could on short notice, and we're manning the parameter. Luckily, we got in place before that bunch showed up." He nodded toward the clamoring reporters kept at bay only by the presence of the deputies. "The crowd's been getting bigger by the minute. More and more folks are hearing about what happened and showing up. But I think we can handle things."

"Where's Glenn?" Dallas asked.

"He's on the other side of the bridge, overseeing the investigation. He's got Burt and Dwayne and Earl collecting evidence."

"Who were the first officers on the scene?" Dallas gazed out across the bridge and surrounding area, apparently taking note of his personnel working the site.

"Hendrix and Kirk," Bobby Joe replied.

"Hm-mm. Kirk's a rookie, but Hendrix has been around long enough to know the proper procedure."

Jacob followed Dallas as he headed across the bridge. He'd learned that the first two rules you follow at a crime scene are don't touch anything and write everything down. Anything taken away or added to a scene could mean the difference between solving a crime and a perpetrator getting away scot free.

Tommy Glenn, a heavyset, bearded guy in his early thirties, had been with the Cherokee Pointe police department since he was nineteen. He was a seasoned professional, a small-town-cop pro. When Glenn saw Dallas and Jacob heading his way, he came toward them, a grim look on his face.

"Chief." Glenn nodded to Dallas. "Sheriff." He looked at Jacob. "How's Jazzy?"