by Bonnie Dee
Even the suggestion of sex was enough to make him hard, so maybe she had a point. “When would be a good time for a real date? After this case is over? Or the next one? Do you ever make time for yourself? Do you ever let anyone into your life?”
“I warned you I’m not one for relationships. In my line of work, I can’t afford emotional commitment.”
“So you’re saying your ex was right?”
She paused so long he thought she wasn’t going to say anything. Her gaze was riveted on the warped floorboards of the porch and then on him.
“Maybe he was, but it’s not just about me and Mark. The last time I got involved with someone, it went badly. I ruined a kid’s life, because I wasn’t paying attention to my job.”
He waited for her to continue.
“I met this guy at a bar and we went out a few times. I liked him. He was open, honest, sweet…and turned out to be a complete psycho. The man I was dating was a child molester. The very criminal I’d been searching for was right under my nose—almost in my bed before I figured it out. Court and I caught him, finally, but not before he’d hurt another child.” Her voice was steady as she related the story, but he could hear her pain beneath the surface.
Jordan knew whatever he said or did next was going to either break through her defenses or push her even farther away. He took a step toward her, reaching out for her arm. It would be so much easier to communicate his thoughts without words, and he believed she could feel them.
But Lauren stepped back, nearly stumbling in her hurry to get away from his touch. “Don’t! I don’t want that.”
He dropped his hand to his side. His chest ached as he listened to her letting him go.
“I’m sorry. I just can’t give…whatever it is you want from me. It’s too much.” She turned and walked swiftly down the stairs and to her car without once looking back.
Jordan stared after her. It wasn’t the first time his ability had frightened off a woman, but it was the first time it felt like a part of him had been amputated. A deep, aching emptiness was all that was left as she gunned her engine and drove away.
After almost two years of hiding from the world, he’d opened himself to the possibility of love only to be immediately smacked down. Jordan retreated back inside his house and closed the door behind him.
• • •
Even though she was exhausted, Lauren’s sleep that night was restless and filled with anxious dreams. When she woke, she couldn’t remember any of them except that they centered around Ryan Kindle. It still turned her stomach to remember the relationship she’d nearly had with the pedophile, and how absolutely clueless she’d been about his true nature. She hadn’t dated since, except an occasional encounter to scratch an itch. Her confidence in herself to assess character had been destroyed by the experience.
By four thirty, she gave up trying to sleep and rose for the day, showered, dressed, drank coffee, watched the news then stared at yesterday’s newspaper, pretending to read the headlines but actually thinking about Jordan.
He was no Ryan Kindle. She knew that intimately, because she’d felt his emotions as if they were her own. With Jordan she could be sure he was exactly who she thought he was. Of all the men in the world, he was the last one she should be running from. Maybe with Jordan she could finally let her guard down and have a real, honest relationship. But he could see all of her, know every weak part of her. It was a scary thing to be so transparent to another human being. And could she take the rejection if, after he knew her, he decided he didn’t like her?
Giving up the pretense of reading the paper, she rested her chin in her hand and gazed out the window at the cloudy morning. She wasn’t the only one taking a risk. Jordan had suffered because of his gift and withdrawn from the world. Yet he’d been willing to take a chance on her. Last night she’d treated him like her own personal firing range, leaving a target riddled with bullets. The pain on his face when she’d rejected him didn’t require a touch to read.
“We barely know each other. It’s ludicrous.” She said it aloud to convince herself as she put her coffee cup in the sink. “It was only one night for Christ’s sake. How hurt could he be?”
Was it anywhere near as miserable as she felt? But better earlier than later. Eventually someone would have walked away with a broken heart. That’s the way most relationships inevitably turned out.
“Fuck it!” She had to get out of the house and distract herself from the endless cycle of thoughts. It was early to go to Danny Stipe’s house, but she wanted to talk to Celia and Mike as soon as they were up and show some photos to Mike of Brandt and a few other potential suspects. She tossed on a jacket and went out to her car.
The pieces of the case weren’t really fitting together as she’d like. Just because McKenzie was in business with criminals, it didn’t prove one of them was his murderer. Lauren’s gut feeling pointed to someone well known to the family.
She wished Court were around so she could bounce some ideas off him, but this was his day off and he allowed no interruptions to his family life no matter how crucial the case they were working on. The big lug may be smelly and gross, but he was a devoted husband and father, who always put his family above the job. Maybe that was why his relationship seemed to be succeeding while most cops’ marriages went bust.
Lauren’s cell rang and her heart leaped then settled when she saw it was the coroner’s office and not Jordan. The autopsy was complete and the body could be released to the family.
At Danny’s house, Celia welcomed her inside. Neither Danny nor Mike was awake yet. Celia looked a little better today, still pale and with circles under her eyes, but less shocked and lost.
“Can I get you a cup of coffee?”
Lauren had just finished a Sip ’n’ Go coffee in the car, but accepted another while explaining that the coroner’s report was finished and Robert’s body could be claimed.
“The cause of death was head trauma from a bullet. The shooter was probably standing several yards away.” She reached into her purse and pulled out the photos. “I’d like to see Mike’s reaction to these faces. My partner and I found a link between Robert’s company and organized crime. I know it may be hard for you to believe, but evidence is mounting. We’ve already arrested Brandt on smuggling charges.”
Celia stared at the stack of photos in Lauren’s hand. “But Robert was always so open about his business. He talked about it freely. How could he have done that? I would’ve known something was off, wouldn’t I?”
“There are plenty of regular accounts covering the illegal activities, which included shipments of drugs, guns and other things.” There was no need to make the woman feel even worse by suggesting human trafficking. “McKenzie and Brandt Shipping provided the legitimate front—paperwork, harbor space and warehousing that allowed these guys to operate their business.”
Celia lifted her horrified eyes from the photos to Lauren’s face. “Why would they kill him if he was working for them?”
“I’m not sure yet. Maybe Robert decided he wanted out and was killed to keep him quiet.”
Or maybe he’d screwed up a shipment or tried to cheat his underworld partners and pissed them off. But let Celia believe he was a little bit noble and trying to put a stop to something he never should’ve been a part of.
The woman put a hand to her mouth and exhaled a shaky breath between her fingers. “My God, this is worse than I thought. It makes what I imagined seem petty and stupid. To think that Richard was mixed up with mobsters, that they came into our house and killed him. They might know Mike was a witness. The car that drove past yesterday… Are we safe?”
“I have officers on twenty-four-hour watch, but I can enhance the security detail. Celia, you said this is worse than you thought. What did you believe happened to Robert?”
“It seems foolish in light of this, but I was afraid he was having an affair.” She shook her head. “You think you know someone, but it’s impossible to tell what anyone really f
eels, isn’t it?”
Lauren offered a small smile. “All you can do is listen to your instinct, I guess. But, yeah, sometimes it’s hard to know who to trust.”
Chapter Eight
Jordan stood with the Stipe and McKenzie families at the memorial service. It felt odd. He hadn’t seen Mr. and Mrs. Stipe in years and barely knew Celia, but Danny had asked him to be with them.
“I know we aren’t close like we used to be, but it would mean a lot to me to have you there. And Mike…well, you can help him in ways the rest of us can’t. Would you please stand beside him at the service?”
He couldn’t refuse the request and now he held Mike’s hand, listening while the minister talked about what a loving father and husband Robert McKenzie had been.
“We all make mistakes in this world and with God’s grace we learn from them and become better people. Like all of us, Robert struggled and fell sometimes, but he loved his family and wanted only the best for them.” The pastor sidestepped the breaking news about McKenzie’s shady business dealings, while still honoring his life.
Mike’s small sweaty hand shifted in Jordan’s. He glanced down at the boy. A cowlick stood up on the back of his head. From above Jordan could see little of his face as Mike gazed at the photo of his dad next to the urn at the front of the room, but he could feel the emotion pouring from him—sadness, loss, worry and fear.
You can talk, Mike. Just tell us what happened so you can feel safe again.
The child looked up at him. Jordan knew he couldn’t hear the words in his mind, but received the message of trust. Continuing to beam calmness at him, Jordan accepted the boy’s pain and sadness, letting them fill him up and, hopefully, lessening Mike’s burden.
By the time the service was done, Jordan was exhausted, his spirit zapped of energy. But the ordeal wasn’t finished for Danny’s family so it wasn’t over for him either. While the adults accepted condolences, Jordan stayed with Mike in the background.
He caught sight of Lauren across the room, somber in a dark blazer, but her face as luminous as always. She looked at him and nodded briefly before turning away. The sight of her made his body ache all over as if he had the flu. He hadn’t been able to put her from his mind over the past three days since she’d brushed him off. He’d tried to chalk up their night together as another aborted relationship in a string of them, but couldn’t stop thinking of her. He’d been so sure it was different this time, certain he’d found someone with whom he could share all of himself. But his gut feeling had proved wrong, which just went to show an empathic gift didn’t mean good intuition.
“Hey, you okay?” Danny clapped a hand to his shoulder, concern radiating from his palm. “You look kind of pale.”
“I’m fine.”
“This was a lot to ask of you. I’m sorry. I wouldn’t have for myself, but for Mike…”
“I understand. It’s okay.”
The truth was, after months of living away from the turbulent emotions of people, his defenses were weak. He received impressions from every person he so much as brushed up against, everyone who shook his hand because they thought he was part of the family. He was no longer adept at fending off the onslaught.
An old family friend drew Danny’s attention away. Celia and her parents were busy accepting condolences from those who’d come in support, as well as people indulging in morbid curiosity about the murder victim whom the press had revealed as a criminal. Reporters and others with no connection to the McKenzie family mingled with invited guests.
Jordan squatted beside Mike, who was staring off into space. “You okay?”
Celia joined them, her arm brushing Jordan’s, her grief washing over him. “This was a bad idea. It’s too much for Mike. I would’ve left him at home, but there was no one I could ask to baby-sit. Besides, I can hardly stand to have him out of my sight right now I’m so nervous.”
“There are cops guarding you. I’m sure you’re safe,” Jordan said.
“He feels safe when he’s with you.” She ruffled her hand through Mike’s hair. “He’s calmer. Would you mind terribly taking him out of here for a little bit? There’s a room for the family that’s quiet.” She indicated an antechamber off the main visitation room where family members could take private moments when needed.
“Sure.” He nudged Mike’s arm. “Come on, buddy.”
The boy’s blue eyes drifted slowly toward him, as though the words had to travel light years to reach him. Confusion reigned inside him. He was overwhelmed by the strangers and the unfamiliar location.
“Don’t worry,” Jordan urged as he straightened and squeezed Celia’s hand once more, sending encouragement to her.
He led Mike through the crowd and had almost reached the side room when a tidal wave of terror broke over him. Jordan froze, his hand welded to the child’s, an electric current of fear flooding him. Run! Hide! An adrenaline rush galvanized his body and he swept the boy into his arms. What had scared him this badly? Would a murderer actually show up at his victim’s funeral?
When he saw who had caught Mike’s attention, Jordan wasn’t sure he was looking at the right person. The petite, dark-haired woman standing before the PowerPoint show of Robert McKenzie’s photos appeared harmless. Then she turned around, her gaze met Mike’s and another bolt of heart-pumping fear swept through the boy and into Jordan.
Lauren watched everyone attending the memorial service. Sometimes killers were drawn to see the conclusion of their work, particularly if the murder was emotionally motivated. She hadn’t ruled out the possibility the shooter had intimate ties to McKenzie.
As much as she tried to keep her attention on the crowd, her gaze kept drifting to Jordan. In the days since she’d essentially dumped him, she’d regretted it often, yet still believed it was probably for the best. She wasn’t geared toward having a deep, emotional relationship. It was more than she could handle, and she knew anything between them would be deep, not some frivolous affair. No. She wasn’t ready to open up that much.
But, damn, Jordan looked good in his suit, tall and gangly yet somehow debonair. The dark suit made his hair seem even blacker, his eyes deeper and more soulful. Or maybe that was because he was so pale. He seemed worn and tired.
Mike McKenzie clung to his hand, and it occurred to her that Jordan was reflecting the boy’s sadness. As she watched, the boy’s eyes went wide, and Jordan stiffened and grimaced. Something unseen had happened to affect them both. Lauren’s gaze went toward where Mike’s horrified eyes were focused.
Camilla Santiago, the McKenzie’s housekeeper was staring back at the boy.
Without pausing to think or analyze, Lauren moved across the room toward the woman. Her instinct signaled danger. Her heart beat faster and the hair rose on her nape as she reached beneath her blazer for the gun in her shoulder holster.
Camilla was heading toward Mike. Jordan had lifted the boy into his arms and frowned uncertainly at the approaching woman. Lauren cut a quick glance toward the cop who was supposed to be guarding Mike. He stood several yards away, looking bored and not paying any attention to the developing situation.
Moving faster, Lauren dodged around a cluster of people. She was too far away. Camilla stood before Jordan now, talking to him. Maybe the scene was as innocent as it appeared—the McKenzies’ long-time housekeeper checking on the boy she’d known since he was small. But Mike drew back from her hand and a fearful expression clouded his features. Something was definitely wrong.
Lauren considered calling out to divert Camilla’s attention from the boy, but hesitated to reveal her presence. She didn’t want to be the catalyst that set the woman off. If Camilla had a weapon, would she dare use it in the middle of a crowd with cops on hand? The idea seemed ridiculous, but in Lauren’s experience, people often did amazingly stupid things when blinded by emotion.
Jordan’s mouth moved as he replied to the housekeeper. He stepped away from her, and she reached out and grabbed his arm. Her body blocked Lauren’s view, but f
rom the heightened tension in Jordan’s face, the woman may have produced a weapon. Camilla moved in close to the man with the boy in his arms, driving him in front of her toward the door past the oblivious people around them.
“Shit!” Lauren drew her gun and flicked off the safety. She let her arm drop so the weapon was hidden alongside her leg as she followed the trio. If Camilla was armed and wired as tight as Lauren imagined, she’d have a hair-trigger response to any attack. Not only Mike and Jordan but the entire roomful of people was in danger of a shooting spree. The situation was critical, and the wisest course was to let the woman escape from the room before confronting her.
Lauren caught up with them in the hallway outside the visitation room. Camilla was prompting Jordan toward the exit door. She glanced back and saw Lauren. She whirled around, pulling Jordan and Mike in front of her like a shield, her gun pressed into Jordan’s side.
“Drop your weapon.” Lauren raised hers. The roar of blood in her ears was deafening. Her heart raced, but she kept her voice steady. “Ms. Santiago, Camilla, you don’t want to do this.”
She could see from the woman’s terrified eyes that it was true. Camilla hadn’t meant to take hostages, but things had spun out of control. Her hand was shaking. It would only take a little pressure of her finger on the trigger to blow a hole through Jordan’s rib cage.
“Please, just put it down. There’s no good way out of this. You need to talk to me.” Lauren glanced at Jordan’s face, as white as paper. From the pained twist of his features, he was experiencing more than fear of the gun dug into his side. Whatever Santiago and Mike felt, Jordan was experiencing, too.
“I had to see him one last time. But he’s already gone. He’s gone. It’s too late to change anything.” Camilla’s voice broke.
“You loved Robert, didn’t you?” Lauren kept her voice calm and soothing.
Camilla nodded. “But he was using me right from the beginning.” Her hand on the gun relaxed slightly and a little of her fear seemed alleviated. Jordan, on the other hand, looked ready to collapse. Was he siphoning off her pain?
