The Fifth Victim Read Free Page A

and Gatlinburg.”
    “It’ll pick up in the spring,” Ludie said. “Always does.”
    “I’m ready for spring, myself.” Sally sipped on her coffee.
    “Me too.” Ludie sighed. “Nothing like spring birds chirping and buttercups and tulips blooming.”
    Jazzy caught her aunt and Ludie exchanging peculiar glances. “All right, what’s going on?”
    “Don’t know what you’re talking about.” Sally stared up at the bead-board ceiling.
    “Might as well tell her,” Ludie said. “I’m surprised she hasn’t already heard.”
    “Heard what?” A tight knot formed in the pit of Jazzy’s stomach.
    “Just ’cause he’s back don’t mean you gotta have anything to do with him.” Sally skewered Jazzy with a warning glare. “If he comes sniffing around, send him packing. That’s what you’ll do if you’re smart. He ain’t no good. Never was.”
    “Who are you talking about—my God! You don’t mean that—”
    “Heard it in town this morning, before the news about the Richards gal got out,” Ludie said. “Jamie Upton showed up at the farm two days ago, and his granddaddy done brought out the fatted calf to celebrate the prodigal’s return.”
    “Tell her the rest,” Sally said.
    Ludie hung her head and avoided eye contact with Jazzy. “He’s brought home a woman with him.”
    “A wife?” Jazzy asked.
    “A fiancée,” Ludie replied.
    “He’s been engaged before,” Jazzy said. “That doesn’t mean anything. You know how Jamie is.”
    “I know he ain’t worth shooting.” Sally finished off her coffee, then rose and poured herself another cup.
    Jazzy toyed with the piece of pie. She loved Ludie’s pies but knew that if she took a bite now it would taste like cardboard in her mouth. It wasn’t that she was still in love with Jamie. Actually she wasn’t sure she’d ever loved him. But she’d wanted him. God, how she’d wanted him. He’d been her first, back when she’d been young and foolish enough to think Big Jim Upton’s only grandson would marry the likes of her, a white-trash bastard raised by a poor, eccentric old woman half the town thought was crazy.
    Jazzy rose to her feet. “I’d better be heading into town. Can I give you a ride home, Ludie?”
    “Goodness no. You know my place ain’t a quarter of a mile from here.”
    “But with a killer on the loose—”
    “Got my revolver in my coat pocket, as always,” Ludie said. “You know I don’t go nowhere without it.”
    Ludie carried an old Smith & Wesson that had belonged to her father; and Sally toted a shotgun. A couple of old kooks, that was what most folks thought.
    Jazzy hugged Ludie, then turned to her aunt. “Keep your doors locked.”
    “I intend to,” Sally assured her. “I’ve got my shotgun, and I’ll bring Peter and Paul in before nightfall, like I always do in the dead of winter. Them dogs ain’t gonna let nothing slip up on me.”
    Five minutes later Jazzy headed her Jeep down the mountain toward Cherokee Pointe, all the while her mind swirling with memories of Jamie Upton. His smile. His laughter. The way he called her darlin’. The little presents he’d given her over the years—ever since she’d been sixteen and had given him her virginity. Expensive trinkets. Payments for services rendered? He’d told her at least a hundred times that he loved her. Every time he left town for months, even for years, he came home expecting her to be there waiting for him, with arms wide open. Actually, a better expression would be with legs spread apart. Why was it that every time he came back, she found herself unable to resist him?
    Because, idiot, every time he comes back into your life, he convinces you that he loves you, wants you, and someday you’ll have a future together . Even when he’d brought home a fiancée, on two other occasions, he’d come to her for sex. How could she have been so damn stupid?
    Well, this time Mr. Jamie Upton could find himself another whore. That’s the way he made her