If Looks Could Kill. BEVERLY BARTON

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СКАЧАТЬ by the candles. After arranging two chairs at a small, antique table, she sat in one of the chairs, folded her hands in her lap and waited, her mind settling into a meditative state. Readings were not like visions. During a vision, the images were clearer, sometimes so clear it was as if she were watching them through the lens of a movie camera. But when she did a reading, she seldom received clear pictures. She usually simply felt things, sensed things and sometimes heard a voice inside her head.

      While she waited for Jazzy and Reve—she knew that despite her misgivings, Reve would come—Genny concentrated, all her thoughts on the look-alike redheads. Almost immediately she sensed a deep yearning to protect the twins. Protect the babies.

       Babies?

      Pure white light surrounded Genny. The innocence of newborn babies. Completely void of any evil. Love. Maternal love. A desire to nurture and protect.

      Whoever had given birth to the twins had wanted them, loved them and believed she had to protect them. But from what? From whom?

      Genny focused on Jazzy and Reve again instead of the mother, willing herself to move forward into the present and out of the past. She couldn’t even be certain that it was the real past she sensed, anymore than she knew for certain it was a past that Jazzy and Reve had shared. But her instincts, which were seldom wrong, told her that the two women were twins and the powerful maternal love she sensed did indeed come from their birth mother.

      “Are you ready for us . . . for me?” Jazzy asked.

      Genny opened her eyes. Jazzy stood in the doorway, Reve directly behind her.

      “Yes, please come in.” She motioned to the chair on the opposite side of the antique table. “Sit here, Jazzy.” She nodded to a rocker in the corner. “You may sit there, Reve.”

      Both women did as Genny had instructed. The vibrations from the sisters—the twin sisters—bombarded Genny. Jazzy was eager, hopeful, almost giddy with excitement. On the other hand, Reve was anxious, uncertain, fearful.

      Genny laid her hands, palm up, on the table, closed her eyes and repeated the name “Jasmine” several times. By using that one name, she hoped her gift of sight would connect only with that one person.

      “Happiness. Love. A rejoicing over good news,” Genny said.

      “That means the DNA tests will prove we’re sisters.” Jazzy sneaked a peek at Reve.

      “Two who are one. Forever linked. A bond that cannot be severed.” Suddenly the bright, clear light in her mind grew dim, darkened. Gray shadows filled Genny’s consciousness. She tried to will the negative thoughts away, but they persisted. Grew stronger. “Fear. Fear of discovery. Anger.”

      “Who’s afraid of being discovered?” Jazzy asked. “Is it Aunt Sally? Has she been lying to me all my life?”

      “No, I don’t believe it’s Sally.”

      “Then who?”

      The gray mist within Genny’s mind turned black. Black swirls of malevolence. “I sense a strong combination of love and hatred, of desire and rage.” Genny tried to see who emitted such powerful emotions, but she could not pin them down, couldn’t even discern if the person was male or female. But she did know—without a doubt—that these disturbing feelings were connected with Jazzy. And with Reve. The twins. “There’s danger. Great danger.”

      “Stop. Please, stop. Don’t do this.” Reve jumped up from the rocking chair.

      “Who’s in danger?” Jazzy asked. “Reve and me?”

      “Yes, both of you. But—Oh, God! Jazzy, I sense the greatest danger for you.” Genny gasped, then slumped over, her head dropping to the table, cushioned by her cupped hands.

      Chapter 6

      He stood alone in the shadows of autumn twilight, the sky overcast with gold, and thought about Dinah. In the beginning, after she’d gone away that first time, it had been years before she came back to him. Years he’d been able to live in relative peace. And then she had reappeared un expectedly, still as beautiful and alluring as ever. He had stupidly thought they had been given a second chance to be together and that this time she would really love him. She had pretended not to know him, but he’d understood that she was simply playing a game. Being the whore she was, she’d made him pay her for her favors. He’d paid her handsomely those first few times, but unfortunately found the sex less than satisfactory. That was when he came to understand what he had to do. Only by repeating the past could he achieve the fulfillment he craved, the pleasure only Dinah could give him. So they had played out the same scenario that time and then again and again with every return visit, both of them acting out their parts from memory.

      After half a dozen recurrences, he had considered keeping a diary, marking down the dates and places But he’d thought better of the idea, and the only record he kept was in his head. If anyone had ever accidently come across such a diary, they might not have understood. The police wouldn’t understand. They would think he had killed numerous women—over twenty in all—when he’d actually killed only one woman. Dinah. The authorities wouldn’t care that he’d been justified in killing her. They wouldn’t believe that it really hadn’t been murder. No one would understand that he had to keep killing her over and over again because she wouldn’t stay dead.

      For the past few hours, he had been unable to get Becky Olmstead out of his mind, despite his best efforts to forget her. He always went with his heart in these matters, because his heart always knew when the woman he desired was Dinah. But allowing his mind to rule his emotions when it came to protecting himself was what had kept him safe all these years. No one had ever connected him with any of the bodies found in the river. Thankfully, Dinah had never come back to him in Cherokee Pointe, and he’d never sought her out in his home area. But he feared that things had changed, that Dinah had chosen to tempt him beyond all reason in his own backyard. He had hoped Becky wouldn’t turn out to be Dinah, but he was beginning to believe she was. Dared he risk going to her and confronting her?

      What choice did he have? Once Dinah came back to him, she wouldn’t leave him alone. What he didn’t understand was why she’d returned so quickly, only a matter of days since they’d last been together.

      Soon—very soon—he would have to seek Becky out. Once he’d fucked her, he’d know for sure whether or not she was Dinah.

      Reba Upton parked her black Mercedes at the back of the mountaintop chalet so that anyone who happened to drive past wouldn’t see it. As nervous butterflies jittered in her stomach, she flipped down the sun visor and inspected her face in the mirror. She had taken special care with her hair and makeup and had worn her pink cashmere sweater set with a pair of winter white slacks. He’d told her she looked especially lovely in pink. She’d been wearing a pink silk bed jacket the first time he’d visited her in the hospital while she was recovering from her heart attack this past spring. That visit had been the beginning for them. Odd that she had known him for years, had been friends of a sort with his late wife, and yet she’d never thought of him as more than an acquaintance. In all the years Jim and she had been married, she hadn’t looked at another man, despite knowing Jim cheated on her frequently. She’d been so in love with her husband, so totally, devotedly in love.

      Reba opened the door and got out of the car, then glanced at her wristwatch. She was early. But once Jim had left the house, supposedly to go to the club to have dinner with some of his political cronies, she’d been so eager that she’d dressed and left less than half an hour after he had. She suspected he СКАЧАТЬ