Part 14 (2/2)
”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 s.h.i.+vered. ”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.
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