The Fifth Victim. BEVERLY BARTON
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whistled around the corner of the cabin and cut into her skin like a thousand frigid little blades. She slipped into the coat hurriedly, grabbled in the pockets until she found her hat and gloves, then put them on. The moment she stepped into the backyard, Drudwyn came racing out of the woods that lay all around the half acre clearing where her great-grandfather had built a home for his family.
“Been visiting your lady friend again?” Genny asked as she reached down to stroke the huge dog’s head and back.
He gazed up at her with the eyes of a wolf, with his father’s eyes. She knew that someday he would leave her to run wild with the wolf pack that lived high in the mountains. She hadn’t seen Drudwyn’s leaving her in a vision, but she had sensed it several times lately when they spoke to each other. One of her several abilities was the rare gift of being able to communicate with animals. It wasn’t that she actually talked to animals and they replied; it was simply that she sensed what they thought and felt, and they in turn seemed able to do the same.
“I have to check the generators,” Genny said. “The electricity will likely go out tonight and I can’t have the greenhouses without power.”
Drudwyn followed at her side as she went through the routine of checking the generator and the greenhouses. Her livelihood depended upon those greenhouses, where she grew specialty flowers and various herbs that were sold locally and by mail-order throughout the country. She hadn’t expanded her nursery of shrubs and trees to her mail-order business, but had hopes of adding it in the near future. During the winter she and Wallace were able to handle everything, but come spring every year she hired a dozen part-time workers.
Wallace drove up from Cherokee Pointe every day except Sunday and Monday. He hadn’t made the drive today since today was Monday. Wallace was a hand-me-down employee from Granny. The old man had worked in the nursery for as long as Genny could remember. People in and around the area had been as unkind and cruel to Wallace because he was “slow-witted” as they had been to Granny because she was “fey”. It didn’t matter that Wallace was Farlan MacKinnon’s younger brother and the MacKinnons were one of the two wealthiest families in the county. Long ago Farlan had ceased trying to control his mentally impaired brother and simply let him do as he pleased. It had always pleased Wallace to work for Melva Mae Butler.
Genny lifted an armful of wood from the huge stack at the back of the house and carried it inside to the box on the back porch. When the electricity went out—and it would; it always did in really bad weather—she would have to rely on the fireplaces and the wood stoves to keep the place warm. The generators were for the greenhouses only.
Suddenly, just as she eased one arm from the sleeve of her coat, she felt an overwhelming sense of foreboding. And then she sensed the presence of another. A man. A tall, fair-haired man. She shook her head, trying to dislodge the strange thoughts. Was she trying to visualize the killer, the man who had murdered poor little Susie Richards?
Standing there on her back porch, Drudwyn nuzzling the side of her thigh in a show of concern, Genny closed her eyes and allowed the vision to come to her, full force, surrounded by bright light and not dark shadows the way the vision had been this morning. Clear, white light. That always meant goodness, not evil. A tall, blond man trudged through the snow and came toward her cabin. He was angry. No, not angry. He was aggravated. He came closer and closer. Her heart raced wildly. Not out of fear, but from excitement. He was coming toward her. Coming for her.
No, no, that’s not right. It can’t be. Why would he be coming for her? He wasn’t the killer. She sensed no evil in him, only an enormous sadness.
As quickly as the phantom appeared, he disappeared. Genny shook from head to toe, then reached out and laid her hands flat against the wall to brace herself. Weakness crept through every muscle in her body.
He’s coming, an inner voice told her. He’s coming to you tonight.
Drudwyn whimpered. Genny took several deep, calming breaths, looked the wolf-dog in the eyes, then removed her coat and hung it on the rack there on the porch.
“I don’t know who he is,” Genny said to Drudwyn as they entered the kitchen. “But whoever he is, he’ll be here tonight. And I believe he’s a good man, one we can trust.”
Genny hoped she was right about the stranger. Only occasionally could she judge a person with her sixth-sense ability. Most people cloaked their true selves from everyone around them, even from psychics. But for some odd reason, she’d gotten past this man’s defenses, even if for only a few moments. Just long enough to sense his sorrow.
“Jamie Upton, you devil you.” Cindy Todd playfully swatted the young prince of the Upton family on the chest. “You know I’m a happily married woman.”
“I know nothing of the sort,” he said as he shoved her up against the wall at the far end of the hallway, near the powder room. “Jerry Lee’s sexual prowess can’t have improved that much since the last time I was in town. I distinctly remember—”
Cindy gently slapped the palm of her hand over Jamie’s mouth. He licked the moist, salty surface. She shivered, jerked her hand away, and glared at him. “You’ve got a new fiancée who should be keeping you satisfied. And … and I’ve got somebody else, too.”
“Somebody besides Jerry Lee, huh? Who is he? Do I know him?”
“No, you don’t know him. He’s new in town.” And he’s the best thing that ever happened to me.
Jamie ran his hand between their bodies and cupped her left breast. “Does he make you feel the way I do? Is he as good in the sack?”
“Dammit, is that what this is all about? You heard something, didn’t you? Somebody hinted to you that I was involved with Dillon and your ego couldn’t stand it because I haven’t been pining away for you the way Jazzy Talbot has.”
Jamie grinned. “You didn’t answer my questions.”
“And I’m not going to. I don’t owe you any explanations. What we had was a wild fling … a couple of wild flings.”
After releasing her breast, Jamie eased back, putting some space between their bodies. “No problem. Just thought I’d give you first dibs before I call Jazzy. I figured you’d be easier. Jazzy always puts up such a fuss before she gives in.”
“If she’s half as smart as I think she is, she won’t give in to you this time,” Cindy told him. “You know she’s dated Jacob Butler several times since he came back to Cherokee Pointe.”
“Jacob Butler? The old witch woman’s grandson? I thought he joined the army or something. When did he come home?”
“Last year. He’s the new sheriff and all the women have a thing for him, even Jazzy.”
“He’s not her type. Jazzy likes her men rich—like me. She wouldn’t seriously waste her time on a quarter-breed with nothing more than a county sheriff’s salary.”
“People change,” Cindy said. “You’ve been gone three years this time. Jazzy’s grown older and wiser. Besides, like I told you, she hasn’t been pining away for you any more than I have.”
Jamie laughed. The sound rippled through Cindy in sensual waves. Everything about Jamie Upton reeked with sex appeal. He was prettier than any man had a right to be, with his wavy brown hair and hypnotic hazel eyes. He wasn’t a big man, but every inch of his five-foot-ten-inch frame was honed to sleek, muscular perfection. He was handsome, rich, and could be charming when it suited him. And he knew how to please a woman in bed—if it suited him.
“I need to get back to the others,” Cindy said. “Jerry Lee’s going to wonder what’s taking me so long in the ladies’ room.”
Jamie stepped aside. Cindy released a relieved sigh, then hurried up the hall, walking only a bit faster than her usual pace. Even though her flight-or-fight instinct urged her to run, she didn’t. She wouldn’t give Jamie the satisfaction of knowing how desperately she wanted to get away before she succumbed to her wicked desire for him.