Chapter Nineteen
Jordan felt a lot more confident in her decisions these days, career-wise and when it came to her relationship with Ellie. She had called a realtor first thing in the morning, then brewed some coffee and gone to the bakery down the street to get some fresh pastry for breakfast. Kate had left early.
When Jordan returned to the apartment, Ellie was still asleep, so she kissed her awake softly.
“Hey. I smell something delicious. It’s not a special day?”
Given what they’d been through, every day truly was a special day, but Jordan didn’t want to dampen the mood with a reminder.
“You like breakfast before going to work,” she said. “It’s ready.”
Ellie got to her feet and walked into the kitchen where the table was set for two.
“I could get used to this,” she admitted, and Jordan embraced her from behind.
“Me too.”
* * * *
Jordan spent the morning piecing together her report for the case she had solved within in a few hours. She was careful not to step on any toes regarding the FBI’s secret witness, who wasn’t such a mystery any longer. Joseph’s statement partly supported Lilah’s, though it still wasn’t entirely clear why he had tried to play both sides and removed the wire. He was still in the hospital, recovering from the gunshot wound.
Jeremiah had given the order to kill Jennifer—because of the book.
And, according to Joseph, he had killed Deborah to stop her from fleeing the cult. He hadn’t gone after Ariel…no time? He had other plans for her? The thought made her shudder.
At the hospital, she had been able to interview him briefly about the murder of Raphael Deane, before the FBI took over.
Jeremiah Deane had denied knowing about Deborah’s plan to leave the cult.
Something didn’t add up. Joseph might have once been the mystery witness—ironically, much about him still was a mystery.
Jordan made a few calls, learning that he already had been transferred to the infirmary of the jail where he would be held until the trial.
There were a few more questions that needed answers.
“Detective? I’m surprised to see you,” he said when she introduced herself. “I’m not sure I can help you. I’ve been working with the FBI.”
“I’m aware. There are a couple of details I’d like to go over with you.”
He looked pale but alert. “Really? What’s left?”
“You saw Jeremiah Deane kill Deborah.
“That’s what I said.”
“You know we’ve been over at the house, looking at the scene. It’s possible. You had a fairly good angle to see what was going on. Why didn’t you help?”
“Come on, Detective, I answered that too. You don’t go up against the brothers, at least not face to face. This is why I co-operated with the FBI right away. They sent me in to talk to some of the members, carefully convince them to talk, and in the end, establish contact with Jeremiah.”
“But then it wasn’t as clean as it could have been, had you stuck to the plan.”
Jordan might have no good reason to be angry with Bethany, but she was angry with him. He had played both sides and risked a lot of lives that day.
“What are you getting at? I told you already that whatever the guard made of my story, it’s not my fault he became a killer. As for Deborah, like Jennifer, Jeremiah wanted to keep her from talking. He trusted that most of the women would be too scared of losing their children, and the lawyers would get the men out soon enough.”
“What was your long-term plan in all this? You wanted to marry Lilah Strickland? Or maybe you had an interest in Deborah as well? And other women before her?”
“You’re wrong,” he said angrily. “Dead wrong.”
“Am I? I understand that there’s a pretty disgusting hierachy in these cults. You don’t get to have your multiple wives right away. You have to work for it, and the brothers don’t like sharing all that much. That’s what you told Biggs. Young girls who were born into the cult, or runaways off the street, they all belong to them first, and they decide who can marry, and how many. Why aren’t you married, Joseph?”
“I was going to get married soon.”
“With whom, Lilah Strickland? That was part of her cover. If one of the brothers allowed for you to court her, that meant she was as safe as she could possibly be among you. And you’re pretty old to get started. What did you do to piss off the brothers?”
“What the hell are you talking about? They liked me. They trusted me!” He struggled into a more upright position.
“I think they wouldn’t let you marry, so you had to find something on them. Blackmail them, even threaten to…wait, work with the FBI?”
“You have no idea what you’re saying. You have no idea who you’re talking to.”
Something was changing about his demeanor. Jordan had seen that expression before, the apparent glee in his eyes. It startled her to see it in a man who had successfully positioned himself as a double agent for quite some time.
“I think I’m beginning to,” she said. Jordan left the room and, after a moment of hesitation, called Bethany.
* * * *
“I didn’t think I would see you again,” Ariel said matter-of-factly, and Ellie couldn’t blame her.
“I called ahead, and told Mrs. Milner that I was going to bring lunch.”
“Oh, lucky me. Finally I can watch TV and eat junk food like all the other kids.”
Ariel’s tone said clearly that she believed she’d never be like ‘all the other kids,’ and given her experiences, she might be right.
“I am sorry it took me so long. You know that some members of the group escaped during the first raid, and when we found them, I was helping out.”
“It’s okay. The detective—Jordan—was here, with the A.D.A. I’ll still need to testify, right?”
“I’m afraid so, but we’ll do the best to shield you from any cult members.”
The girl shrugged. “They were around all my life, and I know they will hate me. That’s fine. I hate them for what they did to my mom, and I want them to be held reponsible. I’ll do anything I can.”
“We will help you, I promise. How are you doing?”
“Mrs. Milner is nice, but I know I won’t be able to stay here.”
“Yeah. There’s going to be a place more permanent for you. It will all work out.”
“Is that what people told you after your parents died?”
“Some, and I didn’t want to hear it at the time. I had friends to help me through that time.”
“Good for you.”
“You have friends, too,” Ellie told her.
After she left, she took a turn outside of the city to go to a place she had rarely gone to lately. She walked through the rows, startled at how the cemetary had grown since her last visit. She remembered coming for Jensen Baker’s funeral. She remembered the other funeral, all those years ago, where she’d been so doped up she was barely conscious. She hadn’t been able to escape the pain in the long run.
“Hey Mom and Dad,” she whispered after laying down a bouquet of flowers, thinking it was silly, because she didn’t even believe in a presence, right here. It was mostly a painful reminder. “So much has happened since the last time.” Ellie brushed her hand over the names engraved in the headstone, Meredith Evans-Harding and Patrick Harding.
She wasn’t quite ready to leave yet when her phone vibrated in the pocket of her pants, but seeing the call came from Jordan, she answered it.
“Hey.”
“Where are you? Still on break?”
“Yes. What happened?”
“I suppose you’ll hear it on the radio in a minute, but I thought I could reach you. We are turning the compound upside down.”
Ellie didn’t understand right away. “Why? I thought…Wait. What did you find?”
“Bones,” Jordan said somberly. “As if what the brothers started wasn’t vile enough…they a
lso covered up the sick compulsion of one of their sons. There was a reason Joseph wasn’t married.”
Ellie’s stomach turned. “Oh my God.”
“He couldn’t care less that Deborah and Jennifer wanted to expose the Prophets of Better Days. He wanted all the glory—well, that, and many brides.”
“I’m on my way,” Ellie said.
* * * *
Bethany’s goodbye had been a bit premature, as they now had to deal with the graveyard uncovered underneath the basement of the school house.
Being right wasn’t always a reason to be happy, but at least they’d be able to provide closure to even more families now. The crew had uncovered four bodies, proving the brothers to be guilty of even more crimes than they had originally imagined.
Instead of turning Joseph over to the authorities, they had covered for him, every time an “accident” happened. Finally, he revealed that he had been willing to leave Jennifer to Raphael, because he liked her. Somewhere along the line, when he realized that the Prophets not only wouldn’t send a lawyer, but were either in jail or on the run themselves, Raphael freaked out. He was planning to tell the whole story, and so Joseph put Plan B in motion.
Jordan and Derek were both working at their respective desks. Ellie had texted her that she’d be there in a few minutes. They’d go home and change, go to a restaurant or join some colleagues at the Night Shift. Everyone was overdue for a break.
She realized that would have to wait when she saw the man in the cheap suit coming her way. Jordan recognized him right away. Self-preservation was part of it.
“Counselor, how are you today?” Part of her hoped that the sarcasm might reach him. She didn’t hold her breath.
“Ms. Carpenter…Excuse me, Detective.”
Jordan was sure he had done it on purpose. She was aware of Derek watching them, shaking her head in his direction. She could handle the sleazy lawyer on her own.
“I’m off at this moment. So please, don’t bother.”
“I’m here on behalf of Mr. Darby.”
“I imagined. That’s why you shouldn’t bother. I have nothing to say to him, and I’m not going to participate in one of his games. Goodnight, Mr. Donovan.”
“He knows you’re not going to talk to him, so he asked me to give you this.” He held up a white envelope. “Don’t worry,” Donovan added with a nervous laugh. “It’s been cleared. Nothing dangerous in there.”
“Yeah, but why would you think I care?”
“Detective, Mr. Darby is a very sick man.”
Jordan let out a wry laugh. “No kidding.”
In her opinion, this conversation was already going on too long. In person or writing, she didn’t want any contact with the worst nightmare of her life. Or maybe it had taken second place when Ellie was kidnapped. In any case, she was over it.
The attorney placed the envelope onto her desk.
“I know what you’re thinking, but this might be helpful for you too. If you can make anything of it…It’s all about control, right, isn’t that what psychiatrists say?”
“Go, before I come up with something to have you arrested.”
“I’m sorry. Detective. I happen to believe that everyone deserves representation, no matter what they’ve done. You won’t have to worry about Mr. Darby much longer. He’s dying.”
“In that case I take back what I said. This is the best news I’ve gotten all day. Thanks for stopping by.”
Fortunately, he got the message. “Please understand I had to do this on behalf of my client. You have a good evening.” He turned around and left, nodding to Ellie, who had just returned. She headed straight to Jordan’s desk.
“What did he want?” she asked, the tone of her voice revealing that she, too, had recognized Donovan.
Jordan shrugged. “Bring me a letter from Darby. Apparently he’s very ill, so he’s trying to play everyone one last time. I won’t fall for it.”
“You’re not curious?”
“Not one bit. Are you ready?” Her tone was a bit sharper than intended.
“Sure. Let me just talk to Derek for a second. I have a message from Kate.”
“Okay. I’ll be waiting outside. I think I need some fresh air.”
A few moments later, on the steps of the precinct, Jordan took a deep breath. She was certain that this was the right decision. She had made the mistake seeking out Darby when Ellie got mysterious text messages, and he had tried to get into her head again, almost succeeded. The world would be better off without him, no doubt. He had brought pain to many. With individuals like him, it was hard to take the high road and stay on it, not wish exactly the same for him.
Either way, she never had to see him again. Especially on a day like this, with all the horrors uncovered, Jordan was grateful for that fact.
She’d see her new realtor tomorrow—time to look to the future.
* * * *
“You don’t have a message for me, do you?” Derek observed as Ellie bent down to retrieve the crumpled paper from the waste paper basket, calling her bluff. “You’re sure this is a good idea?”
“No,” Ellie admitted. “But someday she might change her mind, and want to know.”
“You’ll just keep it until then?”
“No. I’ll tell her soon.”
Derek shrugged in a way that said, “You must know.”
Ellie was fairly convinced that she did. She caught up with Jordan outside of the precinct, linking her arm with Jordan’s.
“I’m starving. I think I don’t feel like a lot of company tonight. Just the two of us, a bottle of wine and some take-out, how does that sound?”
Jordan kissed her softly.
“That sounds perfect,” she whispered.
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The Carpenter/Harding thrillers:
1. Indiscretions
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3. Incisions
4. Intrusions
5. Initiations
Jayce & Emma (romantic suspense)
Halfway Home
Familiar Places
New Rooms
Close Quarters
Paranormal/Suspense
Rise
Romance
The Interpretation of Love and the Truth
The Design of Everything Perfect
Callie & Rebecca:
Autumn Leaves
Winter Storm
Spring Fever
Summer Wine
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Read a chapter from Intentions, Carpenter/Harding #6:
Intentions
(Carpenter/Harding #6)
Barbara Winkes
Chapter One
Life was good. Nothing to worry about. With a sharp focus, Jordan took aim at the target and pulled the trigger, three times, four, five, hitting the mark each time. She had needed the practice, and it was good to see she hadn’t lost her touch. That was all there was to her visit to the shooting range. It had nothing to do with the appearance of Darby’s lawyer, or the news he’d brought.
Or the letter.
Jordan wasn’t interested in what Darby had to say to her. Based on her experience, she could tell without reading the letter that he’d try to get under her skin one more time, make her doubt herself. He wouldn’t succeed.
She was letting go of the house he’d sold her. The case was long closed, and the letter didn’t contain information to magically solve others, she was certain. Darby had nothing to give to her, because he knew she wouldn’t offer him anything in return.
Truth be told, she was angry. Not at his last attempt at manipulating her—Jordan wasn’t surprised at that. He was supposed to spend the rest of his life behind bars, years and decades to come, but the end of that time was coming sooner than they’d all expected. Too easy on him, after the terror he’d
inflicted on his victims. Too quick.
Another round. Jordan suppressed a sigh. Practice, right. She didn’t need a shrink to tell her that with the parameters having changed once again, she needed to feel in control—the last step to closure. She didn’t know if he had weeks or months. She didn’t want to know.
She’d met with a realtor named Andrea Cox earlier today to discuss the sale of her house. The woman was also in charge of finding Jordan and Ellie a new home. She was moving on.
Darby couldn’t go anywhere. There was solace in that, for her, for the other survivors, the victims’ loved ones.
Time to go home.
She had some cleaning up to do. The realtor had assured her that the house was in good shape and almost ready for an open house. She had to consult with Ellie regarding dates for viewings of their own. She had barely seen her this week as Ellie was working nights at the moment.
She was also waiting for the test results of the detective’s exam she’d taken.
Jordan was excited for her, though she had no doubt Ellie had aced the exam, because she’d tackled it like everything else in life. Frankly, she was more focused on the future living arrangements, mostly thrilled about the prospect, a small part of her still terrified. Those were voices of the past, though, her former self. Just because she’d messed up once—okay, a few times—it didn’t mean she’d to it again.
This was different. Ellie was different.
“That was pretty impressive.” Back at the front door, she turned around at the sound of a familiar voice.
“I didn’t know you were here,” she said, surprised.
Derek Henderson, her partner, shrugged. “Nothing better to do on a Friday evening, I guess. What’s your excuse?”
That didn’t sound good. Jordan wasn’t sure Ellie had managed to talk to Kate yet, Derek’s girlfriend with whom she was sharing an apartment at the moment.
“Ellie is working nights. I’m stalling getting my house cleaned up. Want to have dinner?”
Initiations (Carpenter/Harding Book 5) Page 19
