Emily And The Stranger

by Beverly Barton

  Mitch, Nikki and Zed boarded the rented helicopter in Bay Minette less than ten minutes after the Mobile police had been notified about the possible danger to Emily Jordan. The police chief, a personal friend of Zed’s, had promised not to waste any time sending two patrol cars out to the Jordan residence on Solomon Drive, and had promised to have a SWAT team on standby. Zed assured Mitch that everything possible was being done, but he could only imagine the torture his old friend was going through, not knowing if he’d ever see the woman he loved alive again.

  In that split second after Fowler shot Charles, he focused all his attention on him. Bending down on one knee, he stared at him, then ran the tips of his fingers over his face. Charles groaned, dying but not yet dead.

  Emily realized that Fowler wasn’t paying any attention to her. Slowly, cautiously, she took one step backward, then another and another, keeping an eye on her uncle all the while. She continued moving backward, toward the French doors leading to the enclosed courtyard at the side of the house.

  “I’m so sorry, my dear boy,” Fowler told the dying Charles. “I regret that things had to end this way. It’s all Emily’s fault, of course. If she’d done as I expected her to, then none of this would have been necessary.”

  Emily slipped back against the French doors, reached behind her and grasped the crystal knob.

  “I treated her like a queen.” Fowler stood, shook his head sadly and sighed. “Poor girl. Poor misguided girl. I can’t allow her to go on living. Not now. Now that she’s in love with Stuart’s murderer. Now that she’s given herself to him.”

  Emily turned the doorknob, eased the door open a fraction and then opened it just a little bit more.

  The doorbell rang. Fowler jumped. Emily froze to the spot.

  “Who the hell?” Fowler asked himself.

  The doorbell rang again.

  Emily flung the French doors open and ran outside. Fowler raced after her, ignoring the ringing doorbell.

  Emily hid behind a five-foot hedge that hugged the far back side wall of the enclosed courtyard. Her heartbeat hammered in her ears, obliterating every other sound.

  “Come out, Emily dear, wherever you are.” Fowler Jordan circled the courtyard. “There’s nowhere to run, no way out.”

  Emily swallowed hard. He was wrong. There was a way out. Through the intricately carved cast-iron gate that opened up onto the driveway. But she would have to expose herself, put herself in the line of fire, to reach the gate.

  She watched from her hiding place as Fowler scoured the courtyard, looking behind every bush, circling the two trees, overturning the patio furniture. Then he halted his rampage and stared directly at the hedge. He smiled.

  “I know where you’re hiding. Come on out. Now!”

  Emily reached down, picked up a handful of pebbles and threw them at the opposite end of the hedgerow. She waited until Fowler began his search of the hedge at the far end, a good twenty feet away from her.

  She crept along the hedgerow, then darted out and dashed to the gate. The moment she grabbed the latch, a shot rang out over her head, zinging off the cast iron.

  Emily screamed, but she didn’t look back. He was going to kill her, no matter what. She would rather die trying to escape than to wait for him to shoot her.

  She unlatched the gate and swung open the door. Fowler fired again. Crying out in pain, she grabbed her shoulder where the bullet had entered and ran out of the courtyard and onto the driveway.

  When Mitch, Nikki and Zed arrived at the Jordan house on Solomon Street, they found the Mobile police in charge of an explosive situation. A uniformed officer stopped them.

  “What’s going on here?” Zed inquired.

  “Sir, I’m afraid I’ll have to ask you and the others to leave the vicinity.”

  Paying no heed to the officer, Mitch rushed past him and headed across the street. If Emily was here, inside that house and in trouble, he had to go to her. Had to save her. Another policeman grabbed Mitch. Mitch reared back, drawing his hand into a fist.

  “Don’t, Mitch,” Zed yelled. “I’ll find out what’s going on.”

  Lowering his fist to his side, Mitch glared at the officer, who held on to Mitch.

  A dark sedan pulled up and parked directly behind the two police cars. A tall sandy-haired man in his late forties emerged, threw up his hand in greeting and walked toward Zed.

  “Stay cool, Mitch,” Zed warned. “Arnold Madden’s here now and I’ll find out what’s going on.” Zed turned to greet the new arrival. “Arnold, that’s Mitch Hayden over there.” Zed nodded toward Mitch and the officer just barely restraining him. “He’s half out of his mind worrying about Emily Jordan. What the hell’s going on here?”

  . “Release Mr. Hayden,” Chief of Police Arnold Madden ordered the officer, who obeyed instantly, but stared at his commanding officer as if he questioned the man’s sanity.

  “Come here, Mr. Hayden, and I’ll brief you and Zed on what’s happened,” Madden said.

  Nikki rushed over to Zed. He slipped his arm around her waist. Mitch ran back across the street and stepped up on the sidewalk to stand on the other side of Zed.

  “We don’t know the whole story yet,” Madden told them. “When our men arrived, we couldn’t get anyone to answer the door, but we heard a gunshot.”

  Mitch cursed loudly. “If anything has happened to Emily, I’ll—”

  “When my men got inside, they discovered the body of a man in his early thirties. We found some ID in his wallet. His name was Charles Tolbert.”

  “Where is Emily and her uncle?” Zed asked.

  “I’m afraid Mr. Jordan is outside in the courtyard, and he’s holding his niece hostage.”

  Mitch’s heart thundered in his chest. He trembled, knowing the truth. Bile rose from his stomach, coating his throat. He clenched his jaw tightly. Emily. Dear God in heaven! Emily was in the hands of a madman. A man she had loved and trusted.

  Zed gripped Mitch’s shoulder, but looked directly at the police chief. “What’s been done to free Ms. Jordan?”

  “The SWAT team is getting in place,” Madden said. “And Fowler Jordan is talking to our officer inside the house.”

  Nikki gasped. Tears trickled down her cheeks. “Please, please don’t let anything happen to Emily.”

  “We’re going to do our best,” Madden told her. “At this point, we have to assume that Ms. Jordan could be injured.”

  “I’m going in there,” Mitch said.

  Zed tightened his hold on Mitch’s shoulder, then grabbed his arm and jerked him around so that they faced each other. “Let the police do their job. Once the SWAT team gets set, they can put a sharpshooter in place and he can take Jordan out.”

  “And what if Emily is hurt? What if he shot her?” Mitch asked. “What if the SWAT team can’t zero in on Jordan? This house is on a corner lot and that walled courtyard faces the side street. Where are they going to get so they can take a shot at him? Huh?”

  “They’ll figure out something.” Zed pulled Mitch several feet away and placed his hands on his shoulders. “If you try to storm the house, Chief Madden will have his men stop you.”

  “If Jordan was holding the woman you loved, what would you do, Zed? Would you wait around out here, hoping the SWAT team would get him before she bled to death? Would you wait to see if they could save her?”

  Zed closed his eyes and clenched his jaw. Releasing his hold on Mitch, he spit out a crude expletive. Opening his eyes, he stared at Mitch. “You don’t even have a weapon.”

  “If I can take Jordan unawares, I won’t need any other weapon than my own two hands.”

  “How the hell do you think you’re going to be able to sneak up on Jordan—that is, if you can get past the police?”

  “Jordan will be placing most of his attention on the back entrance from the house and on that gate leading to the driveway,” Mitch said. “He won’t be paying too much attention to the wall itself.”

  “You’re going to scale the
wall?”

  “Jordan has got to know that the police called in their SWAT team. So that means he’s going to keep Emily in front of him and he’s going to keep his back covered. He’s telling himself that he can negotiate his way out of there.”

  “You could be committing suicide as well as endangering Emily’s life by trying to rescue her.”

  “If I fail, you make sure they save Emily.” Mitch clasped Zed’s hand. “And make sure Fowler Jordan pays for what he’s done.”

  “Think twice about what you’re doing,” Zed cautioned. “Hell, you’re going to do it regardless of what I say. So, what can I do to help you?”

  “Tell the chief that you’ve calmed me down and persuaded me to take a walk to cool off while we wait for the SWAT team.”

  “Okay. What else?”

  “Make sure the chief keeps that officer in the house negotiating with Jordan. That might distract him long enough for me to get to Emily.”

  “God help you,” Zed said.

  “God help Fowler Jordan when I get my hands on him.”

  Mitch said a thankful prayer that Jordan’s garage was unlocked. He lifted the door and scanned the dim interior, quickly spotting a fiberglass extension ladder hanging along the back wall. Emily’s LeSabre was parked inside the garage.

  Standing on an old trunk, Mitch eased the ladder off the hooks and stepped down onto the concrete floor. He spotted a length of wound rope hanging from a nail. He grabbed the rope. Dust particles swirled off the rope and into the air. The damn thing looked a hundred years old. No telling how long it had been in the detached garage. He slipped his arm through the loop and tossed the rope over his shoulder.

  His best chance lay in a surprise attack. And he could accomplish that goal only if Zed had persuaded the chief to keep the officer inside talking to Fowler Jordan. Mitch had to have that distraction—that split second when Jordan would be vulnerable.

  He laid the ladder against the eight-foot courtyard wall, inadvertently making a scraping sound. Damn! His heart beat at breakneck speed. He gripped the ladder with damp hands, climbing slowly, trying to be quiet.

  When he reached the top, he peered below. Jordan had his back to him, and was focused on the house. Mitch tried to make out what Jordan was looking at, but the sunlight reflected off the panes in the French doors, preventing Mitch from seeing inside.

  “I know what’s going on,” Fowler Jordan yelled. “I’m not stupid. Your damn SWAT team guys are here, aren’t they, Sweeney? I heard more cars drive up out there. Well, you’d better get rid of them. Get everybody out of here, or I’ll kill Emily now.”

  Thank God! Mitch thought. Chief Madden had kept Officer Sweeney in the house.

  Jordan removed his arm from around Emily’s waist and shoved her out in front of him, holding her by her bloody shoulder. She moaned. Mitch closed his eyes against the sight. Hot, sour liquid ran up his throat. He swallowed it. Jordan had shot her, the son of a bitch! She was bleeding, her blouse covered in red.

  “Don’t hurt Emily,” Sweeney said. “Give me your exact terms and I’ll talk to the chief and see if we can cut a deal with you.”

  “I want everybody out of here! Then I want a car. You can drive us. If I see anybody following, I’ll kill her.”

  Mitch glanced down at the hedge below. The top of the hedge was a good three or four feet beneath him. Could he jump into the hedge, cushioning his fall, without Jordan hearing him? No way! He’d have to take his chances with the ancient piece of rope. He tied the rope securely to the cast-iron rail that circled the top of the brick wall, then dropped it. The end of the rope fell downward, a couple of feet curling on the ground.

  . Mitch eased himself over the wall, grabbed hold of the rope and began his descent. Halfway down the wall, his body partially hidden behind the hedge, he caught a glimpse of the man standing just inside the open French doors. The police negotiator. Jordan had called him Sweeney. He must have introduced himself before he started bargaining. Well, Sweeney wouldn’t be expecting him. What would he do when he saw Mitch climbing down the wall?

  Whatever you do, don’t give me away, Mitch prayed. Don’t screw up this chance to save Emily.

  Sweeney saw him! Mitch sucked in his breath. Sweeney glanced away. Mitch let out his breath and eased down the rope and onto the ground.

  “You tell the chief that there had better be a plane waiting for us. A plane to take us out of the country. I’ll take Emily far away from this place. We’ll start all over again. This time she’ll do what I tell her to do.”

  “A plane to take you out of the country,” Sweeney repeated. “If we provide you with a plane, we’ll expect you to release Ms. Jordan.”

  Fowler Jordan laughed, the sound harsh and cold. “Absolutely not. She goes with me. What kind of fool do you take me for?”

  Mitch peered through the hedge, and for the first time noticed that Sweeney was wearing nothing but his boxer shorts. What the hell? Jordan had not only made the officer discard his weapon, but he’d made him strip down to his underwear.

  Emily swayed on her feet Mitch called upon every ounce of willpower he possessed not to run out and grab her. Jordan shoved her into a nearby white wrought-iron chair, then stood behind her, holding his gun to her head.

  Mitch searched for and found a sparse section in the thick hedgerow. Testing it with his shoulder, he realized this was the place to crawl through. But how much noise would that make? If he took the long way around, going to the end of the hedgerow, he ran the risk of Jordan catching sight of him in his peripheral vision. If only Sweeney would cooperate, make some noise, create a distraction. Mitch stood up and stared at Sweeney, who didn’t look his way. Mitch kept standing there until Sweeney made eye contact. Only a split second, but he knew the guy saw him. But did he understand?

  Mitch bent down, eased his shoulder into the hedge and waited.

  “We really need to get a doctor in here to see about Ms. Jordan’s shoulder,” Sweeney said.

  Mitch stuck his head through the hedge and saw Sweeney take a tentative step forward. Suddenly the man tripped and fell directly into the French door. One of his feet and one hand rammed into the glass panes, shattering them.

  “What the hell?” Yelling, Jordan stepped away from Emily.

  Mitch crashed through the hedge, ran the ten feet across the courtyard and jumped Fowler Jordan from behind. Emily turned her head and cried out, then slid out of the chair and onto the ground.

  Mitch overpowered Jordan, sending them both to the ground. They rolled around, the Magnum still in Jordan’s hand—the hand that Mitch gripped with all his might.

  As they struggled for the gun, Jordan dragged it between their bodies. Mitch felt the barrel pressing into his stomach. He squeezed Jordan’s hand, turning the gun, accidently forcing Jordan’s finger against the trigger. The gun went off. Mitch froze.

  Emily screamed. Mitch glanced around, looking for her. He saw Sweeney helping Emily to her feet.

  Fowler Jordan lay on top of Mitch, a hard, heavy weight Mitch rolled the man off him and onto the ground. Jordan coughed several times. A trickle of blood oozed from the side of his mouth.

  “Mitch!” Emily cried out to him.

  Mitch lifted himself up on his knees, his breath ragged, his chest hurting with every ounce of air he consumed. He stood, shaky on his feet, and walked unsteadily toward Emily. Sweeney released her. She rushed into Mitch’s arms.

  “It’s all over, pretty lady. All over. You’re safe.” He circled her shivering body in an embrace.

  Crying, Emily clung to him. “I was so afraid. I thought I’d never see you again, that I’d never get a chance to tell you that I believe you love me. Oh, Mitch—”

  “Hush. Don’t talk,” Mitch told her. “Save your strength. You can tell me all about how you feel once we make sure you’re all right.”

  Sweeney cleared his throat. “There’s an ambulance outside waiting for Ms. Jordan.”

  Holding Emily close, Mitch looked over at Sweeney.
“Thanks for distracting Jordan.”

  “That was a dumb fool thing you did,” Sweeney said.

  “Maybe. But it was what I had to do.” Mitch lifted Emily in his arms and carried her across the yard. “How about opening the gate, Sweeney? I need to get my future wife to a hospital.”

  Emily’s hospital room was filled with floral arrangements, but her favorite was the pale-pink roses Mitch had sent. Sitting up in bed, she rested her head on his shoulder. He hadn’t left the hospital since he’d carried her in the day before. She rubbed her smooth cheek against the beard stubble covering his face.

  “You need a shave,” she told him.

  “Yeah, and a bath, too. But I don’t want to leave. I can’t bear having you out of my sight.”

  “Nikki and Zed are coming back after they eat lunch. They’ll stay with me long enough for you to get cleaned up.”

  Mitch cupped her face in his hands. “Just let me look at you, pretty lady. God, when I think about how close I came to losing you.”

  “We have a great deal to be thankful for, don’t we? Just thinking about what Uncle Fowler did—”

  Mitch covered her lips with his index finger. “Don’t think about him. There’s nothing you can do to help him.”

  “I know. It’s just that I still can’t believe Uncle Fowler was willing to kill me to keep me from being with you. And he murdered Rod and Charles.” Emily covered her face with her hands and wept.

  “I’m sorry he wasn’t the man you thought he was.” Mitch slipped his arm around her waist.

  “I don’t know what to think anymore.” Emily lifted her tearstained face. Mitch wiped the moisture from her cheeks with his fingertips. “It’s as if Uncle Fowler was two different men. His obsession to have me marry Charles and spend the rest of my life under his protection must have driven him crazy.”

  “I understand about obsessions,” Mitch told her. “I’ve been obsessed with you for a long time.”