Although they would have to be careful not to risk their jobs, Dallas knew Teri and Linc wouldn't let him down. They understood how much finding this killer meant to him personally-and they also realized that if he was right about Brooke's murderer being a serial killer, other women's lives could depend on narrowing down the suspects with a top-notch profile done by an FBI expert. But with only a handful of profilers on staff, the Bureau kept them busy all the time.

Because none of the local or state law enforcement agencies in Alabama, Texas, South Carolina, or Louisiana had requested federal help, the FBI hadn't been involved in the four other cases where a series of five sacrificial murders had been committed. The Bureau seldom looked into cases involving a lone criminal. If the killer had continued murdering women in the same area and the crimes had been suspected as the work of a serial killer, there was no doubt that the locals would have looked to the Feds for help. The fact that there were similarities in the four sets of murders in various southern states came to light only because Dallas had started digging for information.

Teri had been the one who'd helped him comb the files collected by the UCR-the Uniform Crime Reporting Program-for the information about reported homicides that had anything relevant in common with Brooke's murder. And when they'd found those cases, Dallas had made phone calls to each local law enforcement authority to request all the information they had on each case. As late as the day he'd left D.C., more doc.u.ments arrived from the similar case prior to Mobile, in Hilton Head, South Carolina.

Dallas had also made another call while Jacob had been gone-to the FBI field office in Knoxville. Chet Morris, who headed up the office as the special agent in charge, was an old friend and had agreed to cooperate with Sheriff Butler by using the FBI's labs to conduct examinations of evidence. All Dallas had to do was get Butler to put in a call to Chet.

Jacob entered his office, where Dallas sat behind his desk studying every tidbit of information on the two Cherokee Pointe murders. When Dallas glanced up, Jacob nodded as he shucked off his coat and removed his hat, then hung them on the rack in the corner.

"Sorry about being gone so long, but I've been following every lead, responding personally to every phone call about anything suspicious." Jacob headed for the coffeemaker on the small table braced against the side wall. "Half a dozen people are convinced that the animal sacrifices we had back before Christmas are somehow connected to Cindy's and Susie's murders."

Dallas rose from the chair and rounded the desk to join Jacob at the coffeemaker. He'd been so busy studying the files that he hadn't even stopped for lunch.

"What do you think? Is there a connection?" Dallas asked.

"I don't know what to think, but if you're asking me what my gut instincts tell me, I'd say there probably isn't a connection."

"I tend to agree. Animal sacrifices aren't all that uncommon, but human sacrifices are."

Jacob poured coffee into a clean mug and handed it to Dallas, who said, "Thanks," then asked "Were there any reports about animal sacrifices prior to the human sacrifices in any of the other cases? In the series of murders in Mobile?"

Dallas shook his head. "Nope."

"Did you talk to your people at the Bureau today?"

"No profile on my killer. Not yet. But soon."

Jacob eased his hips down on the edge of his desk and lifted the orange UT mug to his lips. He took a couple of sips, then set the mug on his desk. "I'm going to be totally honest with you-I think I'm not experienced enough to handle this case properly, and it doesn't help that our chief of police is a numbskull. I'm considering asking for some help."

"Call Chet Morris at the Knoxville field office and ask for some official a.s.sistance from the Bureau so that your department can have access to all our resources. Chet's an all-right kind of guy, and he's not going to bellyache about my looking over your shoulder. And if you're willing to let me, I'll work with you in an unofficial capacity. I've got the law enforcement experience you lack."

"I need to talk to Roddy Watson first. The d.a.m.n man is determined for us to handle these murders ourselves. He's going to put up a fuss."

"You've got jurisdiction over the Susie Richards case. Call Chet about using the Bureau's resources just for that case and you really won't leave Watson a choice in the matter. And you might want to consider asking Chet to send some people here to join your task force."

"Yeah, it sounds like a good idea." Jacob chuckled. "That's d.a.m.n sneaky, going behind Roddy's back, but it's probably the best way to handle him."

Dallas downed several large gulps of coffee, then set his cup on the floor. He dragged a chair up to the side of Jacob's desk and picked up a notepad and pen.

"Have you got time for us to compile that list of suspects now?"

"You mean the list of newcomers to our area?"

Dallas nodded.

Jacob rubbed his chin. "To begin with, there's Reverend and Mrs. Stowe over at the Congregational Church. They've been here only a few months. They came after old Reverend Thomas retired."

"Isn't Reverend Stowe the one who found Cindy Todd's body?"

"That's him."

"What's the preacher's first name?"

"Haden," Jacob replied. "And his wife is Esther."

Dallas printed the names on the notepad. "Who else?"

"Dr. MacNair is new. Been here a couple of months. Galvin MacNair's a general pract.i.tioner. His wife's name is Nina."

Dallas added MacNair's name to the list.

"A minister and a doctor," Jacob said. "Not exactly your criminal types."

"A serial killer can hide behind any facade," Dallas told him. "I'll see if Teri can check them out for us, or, if you get Chet on the case soon, he can run a check on our suspects list. We need to find a man who moves around quite a bit or at least travels a lot."

"Jamie Upton."

"Who?"

"Forget it." Jacob finished off his coffee and walked across the room for another cup.

"Why forget it? Who's Jamie Upton?"

"A spoiled brat who grew up to be a sorry b.a.s.t.a.r.d. He travels a lot. He comes back to Cherokee Pointe every so often. He just came back into town less than a week ago."

"Right before Susie Richards was murdered?"

"Yeah, about that time. But forget Jamie. His name just popped into my mind. I'm afraid I'm prejudiced where he's concerned."

"I take it that along with Brian MacKinnon, this Jamie guy is high on your s.h.i.t list."

The corners of Jacob's mouth lifted ever so slightly. A hint of a smile. "Yeah, I have some issues with rich guys who think their money can buy them out of trouble or get them whatever they want."

Dallas jotted Jamie's name down on his list.

"If you're adding Jamie's name, you might as well add MacKinnon, too. He travels quite a bit. Wouldn't hurt to check him out."

Dallas grinned as he wrote Brian MacKinnon on the list. "Who else has been living in Cherokee County six months or less, or travels a lot?"

"Dillon Carson runs the little theater in town. He's new, and a real ladies' man. And there's Genny's friend, Royce Pierpont. The guy's a wimp and a bit of a weirdo if you ask me, but Genny likes him. He owns an antique shop here in town. He hasn't been here more than six months."

"Anybody else?"

"I can't think of anyone off the top of my head. Isn't that list long enough? How many names do you have?"

"Six." Dallas quickly scanned the names. "It's a place to start."

"Do you want to wait until I contact Chet Morris or do you want to ask your friend Teri to start the ball rolling with that list of names?"

"I'll call Teri. We don't need to waste any time. But when you talk to Chet and ask him for a.s.sistance, tell him that I've got a friend doing me a favor at the Bureau, just so we don't work at cross purposes. And don't mention Teri's name."

"If our killer is the same man as the one who committed the crimes in Mobile, how long do you think we have before he strikes again?" Jacob asked. "He's already killed two women only twenty-four hours apart."

"He has no specific time frame. Some of the murders were committed twenty-four hours apart, others three weeks apart. There seems to be no rhyme or reason to it. But there's one thing all the murders have in common, timewise."

Jacob narrowed his gaze. "And that would be?"

"They've all occurred early in the morning, probably at dawn."

"The more I learn about this serial killer of yours, the freakier the whole scenario becomes. If our man is the same as yours, then we're dealing with a very sick mind." Jacob cursed softly under his breath. "h.e.l.l, what am I saying? Even if they're two different guys, our killer is a real sicko. He's gutted two innocent women."

"And if he's my killer, and I'm sure he is, he's already on the hunt for his third victim."

Genny put the kettle on so that when Jazzy arrived, they could have chamomile tea. Something soothing. Jazzy was deeply troubled and needed a calm, caring friend-a shoulder to lean on. Genny seldom wished ill to any of G.o.d's creatures, not even bottom-feeders like Jamie Upton. But if she possessed the power to intervene in people's lives, she would remove Jamie from Jazzy's life. Permanently. Oh, no, she wouldn't have him die, but she would have him leave Cherokee County and never return.

After removing the container of chamomile from the cupboard, Genny measured the correct amount and placed it in the teapot on the counter. Granny had cultivated the Roman chamomile plant with double flowers because it possessed the strongest healing properties.

The sound of a car entering the driveway alerted Genny to the arrival of a guest. By the time she made her way to the front door, Jazzy was on the porch. Genny flung open the door and held out her arms. Jazzy rushed into Genny's embrace.

"I've been going nuts ever since it happened." Jazzy lifted her head from Genny's shoulder. "You don't know how close I came to killing that son of a b.i.t.c.h."

Genny grasped Jazzy's hand and led her into the house. After closing the door, she escorted Jazzy into the kitchen.

"Come with me," she told her friend. "I'll pour us up some tea and we'll talk."

Jazzy followed like an obedient child. And anyone who knew Jazzy knew she wasn't the type to be obedient or submissive. But she trusted Genny as she trusted no one else on earth, and Genny felt the same way about her. True friends.

While Jazzy sat at the kitchen table, Genny prepared their tea, then handed Jazzy a cup and sat across from her.

"Start at the beginning and tell me everything."

Jazzy sighed loudly. "I've told you that he's been pestering me, just as I knew he would." Jazzy searched Genny's face, apparently seeking some sign of understanding. "I'm finished with him. I can't keep doing this to myself over and over again. I want him out of my life permanently. But"-Jazzy took a deep breath-"I don't want him dead. I swear I don't."

"Drink your tea, then tell me exactly what happened last night."

Jazzy lifted the cup to her lips and sipped the hot liquid. She shivered. "I hate this stuff."

"It's good for you," Genny told her. "Drink up."

Jazzy took several more sips. "He'd been drinking. He threatened to make a ruckus if I didn't let him in. Stupid me, I thought I could handle him, talk sense to him."

"You should have called Jacob."

"I threatened to, but all he did was accuse me of s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g Jacob."

"Jacob wouldn't have cared what he said. He'd have put him in jail overnight. You know Jacob isn't afraid of Big Jim Upton."

"He-he would have raped me."

Genny opened her mouth in a silent gasp.

Jazzy spoke slowly, softly. So softly that a couple of times, Genny could barely hear her. But she didn't interrupt as Jazzy told her about her unnerving experience with Jamie.

"And that's when I threatened to blow his b.a.l.l.s off. He knew I meant it." Tears gathered in Jazzy's luminous green eyes. "But it's not over. He won't let it be. He'll come back again...and I'm not sure what I'll do."

Genny reached across the table and took Jazzy's hands into hers. "Come stay with me until he leaves town."

"I can't do that. I have three businesses in town." A tentative smile played at the edges of Jazzy's lips. "Besides, I won't give that b.a.s.t.a.r.d the satisfaction of thinking he has me running scared."

"We'll call Jacob and ask him to have a little talk with Jamie."

"Jacob has his hands full right now with those murder cases."

"He can make time for a two-minute talk with Jamie."

"Two minutes, huh?" Jazzy's lips widened into a full smile. "Yeah, you're right. Jacob could put the fear of G.o.d into just about anybody in two minutes."

"Stay and have supper with me and Drudwyn, then I'll call Jacob." When Jazzy hesitated, Genny said, "I promise I won't make you drink any more chamomile tea."

Jazzy laughed. "I'll stay, but you don't have to call Jacob. I'll go by and see him when I drive back into town." Jazzy glanced down at the tablecloth and began straightening invisible wrinkles in the material. "Genny...I...would you..."

Genny looked her friend directly in the eyes. "What do you want?"

"You know."

"Are you sure?"

Jazzy nodded. "In all these years, I've never asked you to do it for me, but...Is it wrong of me to want to know?"

"Wanting to know the future is neither right nor wrong, but sometimes it's...dangerous."

"I need to know about Jamie. That's all. Nothing else."

"You know it doesn't work that way. Once I look into your future, I can't control what I see."

Jazzy grasped Genny's hands. "Just do it, will you? Please."

Genny pulled away and stood. "Let's go into Granny's room. It's quiet and dark in there. And the candles are already set up."

Jazzy followed Genny upstairs and into Melva Mae Butler's room, which lay in darkness, the curtains closed, the unmistakable scent of roses in the air. Granny had always smelled of roses because she used rose-scented powder. An antique four-poster dominated the fourteen-foot-square area. Genny went about the room and lit the white candles that were strategically placed throughout, then she sat in one of two chairs by a small, antique table. Jazzy took a deep breath and sat in the other chair. She laid her hands palms up on top of the table.

Genny closed her eyes and repeated the name "Jasmine" several times. With her eyes still shut, she reached out, ran her open palms over Jazzy's and let them remain there.

Silence. The whispering moan of the winter wind. Steady breathing. Two hearts beating.

Genny did "readings" for only a few people, those she knew truly believed in her abilities. She never took money, never asked for anything in return. Usually people came to her for a reading only when everything else had failed. Most people feared the future; few were brave enough-or foolish enough-to actually want to know what lay ahead for them.

The readings weren't like the visions. She had no control over the visions, and they were devastatingly real, almost like watching through the lens of a video camera. But that camera was held in someone else's hands. When she did a reading, she didn't get clear pictures. Or at least not often. She got feelings, sensed things, sometimes heard a voice inside her head whispering to her.