by Bonnie Dee
She slipped out the door without leaving a note and hurried to her car. Home now. Have to get home.
A shower and two cups of coffee later, she felt almost like herself instead of the overly emotional woman who’d allowed herself to be drawn to a magnetic stranger. Her exhaustion last night explained the out-of-character behavior. She’d gone to the McKenzie crime scene after a full day’s work, interrogated the family, guarded them all night and driven all over town the next day questioning more witnesses before ending up at Langley’s house. No wonder she’d had some kind of breakdown and imagined herself half in love with the man. Sheer fatigue, coupled with some long-overdue sex—that’s all it was.
Lauren jabbed a number on her cell, and after a few rings, Court picked up.
“Where the hell have you been? I’ve been trying to reach you all morning,” he snapped.
“Turned off the phone and slept in. Sorry. What’s up?”
“I’m going back to the shipping company. Something’s definitely off there. Most of the clients in McKenzie’s Blackberry checked out, but there are cryptic entries, initials and numbers like a code.”
“I’ll be there as soon as I can. Wait for me before you go in.”
As she drove toward McKenzie and Brandt Shipping, Lauren tried to put ill-fitting puzzle pieces together. She agreed with Brad that the business covered for something, probably smuggling. But most underworld types wouldn’t botch the job of killing McKenzie so badly. They’d have hauled his ass into the country, executed him and destroyed the corpse. McKenzie would have simply disappeared. The faked suicide was unprofessional.
What about Arthur Brandt? Maybe he’d discovered Robert was double-dealing him. The man had acted twitchy enough when they’d talked to him. If he was the killer, Mike would have recognized his dad’s business partner. Perhaps she could get a photo of Brandt to see how the boy reacted to it.
Maybe she should press Mike harder and bring in a psychologist to work with him. At least she didn’t need to worry about the kid getting hurt like the one in the Kindle case. She’d set a twenty-four-hour guard on Mike. If the murderer was even aware there’d been a witness to the shooting, they’d have to get past the cop to reach the boy.
Lauren spotted Brad’s car as she pulled into the parking lot near McKenzie’s offices. Her partner heaved his bulk out of the car and walked toward her, finishing off the last of a breakfast burrito. Lauren’s stomach rumbled, reminding her she hadn’t eaten since Jordan’s delicious steak and eggs the previous evening. Thoughts of the food led to memories of the man who’d cooked for her. She quickly slammed the door on the erotic images and sensations that tumbled through her mind.
“Take a look at this.” Court showed her the entries on McKenzie’s Blackberry that had caught his interest, as well as numbers retrieved from his phone log. “I think these guys are into some extracurricular activities, unofficial clients and shipments.”
“Wouldn’t surprise me.” Lauren led the way into the building to the front desk.
“Mr. Brandt isn’t in today,” the receptionist said. “He’s pretty broken up about Mr. McKenzie. I’m sure you can reach him at home if you need to talk to him.”
“All right. But meanwhile there are a few other people, like McKenzie’s secretary, we’d like to interview.”
“Oh, Phyllis isn’t here, either. She’s in shock. We all are. She came in for a little while yesterday, long enough to do some paperwork and cancel appointments, but without Robert, there really isn’t anything for her to do.” The woman wiped her eyes. “It’s all so terrible!”
“Yes, it is.” Without giving the woman a chance to question their right to be there, Lauren and Brad continued toward the elevator.
Court pressed a button and the doors slid closed. “So far, so good. You keep up the chatter and I’ll see what I can find in his office.”
The method worked for them. As abrasive as Lauren could be, she was still better with people than her gruff partner. Whenever there was something a little illegal like a search without a warrant to be done, Court took point and she distracted. So Lauren spoke with McKenzie’s colleagues while her partner searched for useful information. No one questioned his poking around.
When he emerged from Arthur Brandt’s office, Brad’s face was grim. He gave her a nod and Lauren wrapped up her conversation.
“Office looks like there’s things missing. Maybe files missing in the file cabinet. Bits of paper still caught in the shredder. Nothing definite, but…” Court trailed off.
It didn’t sound like much, but Lauren had learned to trust her partner’s gut feelings since they usually proved right. Maybe that was why it had been so easy for her to believe in Jordan’s abilities. There was nothing magic about hunches. Some people simply had a heightened sense of awareness.
“I think we need to see Brandt before he skips town,” Brad concluded.
She didn’t wait for him to finish before calling for backup to go to Brandt’s house and watch it until they arrived. They were on the verge of something and damned if she’d let their prime suspect get away.
When Jordan woke and found Lauren gone without leaving a note, he figured she was having doubts about what they’d done. What had passed between them last night was extreme. For a woman with admitted trust issues, she probably felt exposed and vulnerable, and wanted some time alone to think about the situation.
He felt pretty much the same way. It was one thing to share so passionately in the secrecy of night, another to face up to it in the light of day. To look a person in the eye after you were back in your own skin, two separate beings once more, was awkward and uncomfortable.
He’d give her time. Maybe a little later in the day he’d give her a call.
After showering, shaving and dressing, he sat at his computer with coffee and a bagel. The best and worst thing about working from home was his freedom to manage time. He could knock off an afternoon to go sailing or even take a whole day as he had yesterday, but deadlines loomed and he had to discipline himself to keep producing. Sometimes it was hard to focus on a project when the day was sunny and there was no office protocol to keep him at his desk.
It took a good twenty minutes for him to stop daydreaming of Lauren and last night, but eventually he got caught up in his current design. There was a glitch he hadn’t been able to solve that suddenly became clear. Maybe the day off had been good for him, because he knew exactly what to do to correct the problem. When he finally came out of the creative zone, it was nearly two o’clock. He was starving, his back ached from sitting in one position so long and he was anxious to know what was going on with the McKenzie case.
He drove to Danny’s house without calling first, honestly concerned about how Mike was doing, but hoping he’d run into Lauren there.
When he pulled up in front of his friend’s house, there were no cars in the driveway and he wished he’d bothered to make a call. Jordan rang the doorbell without much hope anyone would answer. He’d given up and was walking back to his car when the door opened.
Celia stood in the doorway looking wan as a ghost. “Hi.”
“How are you doing?” He climbed the steps again.
She opened her hands in a gesture that said words were too much effort to form.
“I’m sorry.” Jordan took one of her cool hands in his, steeling himself for an assault of emotion. Pain. Disbelief. Sorrow. He accepted them all. Anger. Fear. Suspicion. The last caught his attention. What was the doubt about? Did Celia have an idea about her husband’s death?
Jordan stilled his own thoughts and opened wider, allowing everything she felt to flow freely into him. His lingering touch on her hand went on much longer than a sympathetic squeeze. When he finally pulled away, Celia’s eyes were wide.
“Danny was right about you. Is this what you did for Mike? Took the edge off his pain?”
Jordan shrugged. His head ached and a hot flush burned his cheeks. He wished she’d quit staring at him as if he was some ki
nd of miracle worker. “I guess.”
“Thank you for what you did for him. I’m sorry I didn’t say it before. I was a little…” She laughed sharply. “I was barely coping the last couple of days. Come in. Danny’s taken Mike for ice cream, but they should be back soon. I know they’ll want to see you.”
He followed her into the living room, hoping the others would return. It was too hard to be with this mourning woman he barely knew.
“I feel so useless,” she confided as she sat in the chair across from his. “Like I should be doing something, but there’s nothing to do. Robert has no family. My parents were on a European vacation. They’re flying in later today. Everyone who needs to know has been called, and we can’t have a funeral until after the autopsy.” Her voice cracked on the word.
Jordan nodded, feeling silence was better than an ineffectual apology.
“The worst part is not knowing what happened. I feel so lost and so…angry. Why did this happen? Why did it happen to us?”
“Does Detective Sadler have any leads?” He despised himself for fishing for news of Lauren, but wanted to know what she was up to.
“I haven’t talked to her or Detective Court today. I have no idea what they’re doing, and that’s frustrating too.” Her hands knotted together on her lap.
“Celia.” He paused, trying to find a way to phrase his question. “It’s not my business, but I feel like you have some suspicions. Do you want to talk about them? I won’t tell anyone if you don’t want me to, I promise. But it might make you feel better to say what you’re thinking to someone.”
Her hand went to her mouth, knuckles pressing against it as though she’d hold the words back, and then abruptly they tumbled out. “I think Robert might have been having an affair. I don’t have any proof, no middle-of-the-night phone calls, no unusual credit card bills. It’s just a feeling I’ve had the past couple of months.”
Jordan didn’t ask if they’d been fighting or distant recently. He wasn’t a detective. It was enough to let her unburden herself.
“Even though I have no basis for believing it, I keep coming back to the idea of a lover, one who may have been angry enough about something to shoot him. If the killer wasn’t a stranger, who could it be? I know the detectives are considering Mike. They think he may have been playing with the gun and it went off. But it’s impossible. He would’ve run away and he never would have planted it like that.”
She turned her agonized gaze to Jordan again. “Do they think I’m covering for him? That it was me who wiped off the prints?”
“I don’t know, but you should tell Lauren about your suspicions.”
“It might make me look like a jealous wife, a crazy, accusing shrew. I know they always consider the spouse first.” Celia rubbed her forehead. “My God, I hate that I sound like I’m only concerned about me when Robert’s dead, but I’m scared.”
Jordan understood her turmoil. “Have you at least talked about this with Danny?”
She shook her head. “I was too upset to consider it at first, but the more I think about it, the less outrageous the idea seems.”
“You should tell him.”
The front door opened and a high, piping voice answered by a bass rumble announced Mike and Danny’s return. Jordan had nearly forgotten the boy could speak since he’d only related to his inner life up until now.
The pair entered the living room. Mike ran across the room and threw his arms around Jordan. Warmth and a deep recognition that went beyond casual acknowledgment surged from the boy. I know you.
“Hey, Mike. How’s it going?” I know you, too.
Celia smiled. “He’s never taken to anyone like this before. You’ve done so much to help him. Thank you.”
Jordan smiled, uncomfortable with her thanks. “Why don’t Mike and I go outside while you guys talk?”
Danny glanced back and forth between Jordan and Celia, catching the unspoken message that his sister had something to tell him.
Mike grabbed Jordan’s hand and led him out to the front porch, continuing to cling to him while he talked. “I have a cat. Her name is Portia.” Worry rose in him.
“I’m sure your uncle arranged for someone to feed the cat.”
Mike caught his doubt that this detail had been remembered and the child’s worry grew stronger. “I need Portia.”
“You can’t go to your house right now. But Danny will take care of it.”
His agitation escalating, Mike pulled away from Jordan. When their hands broke contact, the boy’s swirling desires and energies were immediately extinguished.
“Cats are good at taking care of themselves.” Jordan tried to comfort him.
But Mike wasn’t listening. He was staring at the street, his eyes riveted and his posture tense.
Following his gaze, Jordan saw an idling, white Saturn accelerate past the house. He looked at the boy. “Do you know that car?”
Mike’s lips were moving, and Jordan touched his back as he bent to listen to his nearly soundless whisper. A wave of terror flowed into his hand.
“Seventeen. Seventeen. Seventeen.”
Chapter Seven
“You’ve reached Detective Lauren Sadler. Leave a message.”
“Lauren, please call back. It’s about the case and it’s urgent.” It was his third attempt to reach her. Jordan hoped she was screening and would call right back. But maybe she saw his name and deleted the messages unheard, afraid he wanted to talk about something personal.
The phone rang in his hand, making him jump. “Hello?”
“You called?” Her voice was cool and professional, as if they’d barely met.
“Did you listen to my messages?” He wished he could touch her so he could really communicate with her.
“No. I just saw your calls. I’ve been busy.”
“It’s not about last night. Something happened today you should know about. Mike saw—”
“I don’t really have time to talk right now. I’m in the middle of something. I’ll call you back.”
“But this is about the case.”
“So’s this. I’ve got to go.” Lauren spoke to someone in the background then the phone went silent.
Inside Jordan felt the same dead air. This was what it would be like to be a normal person, walking through life unable to do more than guess what other people were feeling by their tone of voice or facial expressions. How lonely it was to be so isolated, especially after what he and Lauren had shared last night. Maybe she really was busy, but he suspected she was shutting him out.
Putting his phone in his pocket, he went back into the house. In the living room, Mike sat on the floor, gazing into space, his fingers moving in private calculations.
Danny hung up his phone. “I’ve got the DMV doing a search of all Saturns in the area. If the owner is someone familiar to Mike, it should be easy to narrow it down.”
“Good. By the way, Mike’s worried about his cat. You might want to let him know it’s been taken care of.”
Jordan was suddenly exhausted and desperate for some time alone. Using work as an excuse, he bid the family goodbye, but not before holding Mike’s hand once more. He willed strength and courage to the boy and felt a weak stir of acknowledgement rising like steam over a simmering stew of fear.
Back at home, he sacked out in front of the TV.
When he woke, the room was lit only by the glow of the television and the doorbell was ringing. He felt a flash of déjà vu. This would be the third night in a row he’d received a visitor in his self-imposed exile.
As he walked to the door, his pulse sped up. What if it was Lauren again? He was excited yet nervous at the prospect of seeing her, but when he opened the door to find her on his front porch, any trepidation evaporated. She stood, gazing at the street and when she turned toward him, his heart caught. Her pale face glowed in the harsh porch light.
“Hi.” Her eyes met his for only a second then flicked away. Hands jammed in her pockets, she stood at the very edg
e of the porch, as though ready to bolt down the steps.
“Come in.” He moved aside to let her through the door, but she shook her head.
“I can’t stay. I need to get home and get some sleep. I just wanted to stop by and tell you the latest on the case.”
She could have called, so Jordan guessed she wanted to talk about more than that.
“We arrested Robert’s business partner, Arthur Brandt, in the airport. Seems McKenzie’s business is a cover for smuggling. My partner and I believe the murder is tied into organized crime.”
Jordan wasn’t surprised to learn Robert McKenzie’s business wasn’t completely legal. But the idea of the man’s partner having committed the murder or arranging a hit didn’t jibe with Jordan’s sense that Mike knew the shooter well.
“What about the car Mike saw today? Did Danny tell you about that? Mike recognized the person driving and feared them.”
“He would know his father’s business partner by sight, but as for the car, Danny’s search didn’t uncover any connection. Maybe the boy’s so nervous he imagined he saw the killer driving past.”
Jordan wondered if Celia had shared her belief Robert was having an affair with the detectives. Would that have any impact on Lauren’s investigation? She seemed so certain she was right she’d half-convinced him, but deep inside a nagging voice told him something was wrong with her scenario.
“Can you come in for a little bit? It’s been a long day and I bet you could use some dinner.” He tried to entice her with the offer of a meal.
Lauren glanced at her car as if she’d like to make a run for it, then back at him. She inhaled deeply. “Jordan, what happened last night was great, but it can’t happen again. I can’t get involved with someone while I’m in the middle of a case. I have no time and it’s not a good idea. I might be distracted and miss something.”
“I only asked if you wanted something to eat.” His voice sounded tight even to his own ears.
She sighed. “I know what coming in will lead to. I don’t think we can be around each other without…”
