Beg To Die. BEVERLY BARTON
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need a husband for that, Daddy. Not when you do such a great job of it yourself.”
“Sheridan, don’t start with that nonsense,” Andrea warned. Since childhood, Sheridan had been jealous of Cecil’s relationship with Laura, and no matter how much she tried to persuade their younger daughter that her father loved her just as much as he did Laura, she refused to believe it.
Cecil looked pleadingly at Sheridan. “You know full well that Laura needs—”
“Oh, yes, I know. Laura needs more attention. Laura needs more love. Laura needs more praise. Laura needs everything and I need nothing. So that’s what you’ve given me, Daddy, absolutely nothing.”
“That isn’t true and you know it.” Cecil reached out for Sheridan, but she easily sidestepped him. “Sweetheart, I’ve adored you since the day you were born. I’ve always been proud of you for being such a bright, strong, competent young lady.”
“That’s me all right. Strong and competent. And what has it gotten me? Not your time and attention. If I’d been more like Laura—more emotionally and mentally unstable—maybe you’d have paid attention to me.”
“Don’t ever refer to your sister as mentally unstable!” Cecil bellowed.
“Why not? That’s what she is, and we all know it. She’s had more than one nervous breakdown. My big sister is looney tunes, and that’s a fact.”
Cecil Willis lifted his hand to strike his daughter. Andrea stepped between him and Sheridan just in time to prevent disaster. Realizing what he’d been about to do, Cecil dropped his hand to his side and hung his head.
Andrea turned to Sheridan. “Your father is overwrought. He would never strike you. We’re both very concerned about Laura marrying this terrible young man.”
“Would you be so worried if I were the one marrying him?”
“Yes, of course we would be. What a silly thing to ask.”
“Mm-hmm. Well, don’t worry, Mother. After Laura marries Jamie and has a severe nervous breakdown within six months, you and Daddy can pick up the pieces and try to put Humpty-Laura together again.”
Before Andrea could reply, Sheridan whirled around and left the room.
“We’ve failed both of them,” Cecil said. “And it’s all my fault.”
Andrea put her arm around her husband’s slender waist and hugged him. She loved this man more than anything on earth. There had never been anyone else for her.
“You didn’t fail them. You’re a good father to both of your daughters.”
No, Cecil wasn’t at fault, Andrea thought. All the blame lay elsewhere, with a woman long dead. A woman responsible for all the heartache their family had endured.
“Am I free to go?” Reve asked Sheriff Butler, who had detained her for nearly three hours at the sheriff’s department, located on the first floor of the Cherokee County courthouse. Of course, being a responsible officer of the law, he’d taken her by the local hospital’s ER before dragging her here. Just as a precaution, he’d told her. More to humiliate her, she’d decided. This big moron had taken it upon himself to try to bring “Miss High and Mighty” down a peg or two. While she’d been twiddling her thumbs waiting for him to release her, she’d overheard him say those very words to one of his deputies.
“Why are you in such a big hurry to leave our fair city?” Butler asked her. “You might give us the idea you don’t think much of our town or of us.”
“I don’t think anything one way or the other about you, this town, or the entire citizenry.”
“Citizenry? That’s one of them five-hundred-dollar words that you learn in college, ain’t it?”
The two deputies on duty—Bobby Joe Harte and Tim Willingham—chuckled, but had the decency to look embarrassed when she glared at them. The two men had been staring at her since the moment the sheriff escorted her into the courthouse. With absolutely no tact, they’d asked her right out if she was Jazzy’s long-lost sister. She’d replied, “Does this Jazzy person have a long-lost sister?”
Reve crossed her arms over her chest as she focused her attention on the sheriff. “If you’ve had your fun for the day, then just let me be on my way to the nearest car rental place, and I promise that you will never see me again.”
“Closest car rental is out at the airport,” Deputy Bobby Joe Harte told her.
“Thank you, Deputy Harte.” She rewarded him with a warm smile. “If you’d please call a taxi for me—”
“We don’t have a taxi service in Cherokee Pointe,” Deputy Willingham informed her. “Not since old John Berryman died. Wasn’t never enough business for him, so nobody wanted to take on the job.”
“It’s nearly lunchtime,” the sheriff said. “Why don’t you join me for a bite over at Jasmine’s and afterward I’ll drive you out to the airport?”
She’d rather eat glass than dine with Sheriff Butler, but she did need a ride to the airport. If there was a flight out to Chattanooga later today, she’d forget about renting a car. The sooner she escaped from this ill-advised little trip into the twilight zone, the better she’d like it.
“Isn’t there any other place in town to eat?” she asked, not wanting to run into Jazzy Talbot again, possible biological sister or not.
“You have some reason for not wanting to eat at Jasmine’s?”
Ah, hell, Reve, give up before you wear yourself out fighting a losing battle. It’s destined for you to face your look-alike again, so just bite the bullet and go peacefully with the sheriff. Later, once you’re back in Chattanooga, you can seek revenge. With one phone call to Senator Everett or Governor Neels, she could make Sheriff Jacob Butler rue the day he’d ever screwed with Reve Sorrell.
Damn! Bad choice of words. Putting Jacob Butler’s name in the same sentence with hers and the word screw brought some rather graphic and totally unwanted images to her mind. Totally unwanted, she told herself again. This guy would be the last man on earth she’d ever—
“Ms. Sorrell?”
She snapped around and smiled, ever so sweetly. “I’d be delighted to join you for lunch at Jasmine’s.”
Butler eyed her suspiciously. So the guy was no fool. He knew she couldn’t stand the sight of him, that from the moment he pecked on her car window after the wreck, she had taken an instant dislike to him.
“Okay, so delighted might be an overstatement,” Reve admitted. “Let’s just say I need a ride to the airport, and if eating lunch with you is the price I have to pay—”
“Humph. I just figured you and Jazzy ought to hook up before you rush out of town. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out you two have to be related. My guess is you must be at least a little curious about a woman who looks enough like you to be your twin. And if I know Jazzy—”
“And you do know Jazzy, don’t you, sheriff? Hell, every man in town knows Jazzy.”
The two deputies cleared their throats simultaneously. Reve smiled mockingly.
“You implied that before, back at the accident site,” Butler said. “Want to explain how you’ve jumped to that conclusion about a woman you don’t know?”
Reve sighed loudly. “I met Jazzy, very briefly earlier today. But we didn’t have time to delve into the possibilities 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.