Pete Walsh, Chief of South Dakota’s Aberdeen Police Department, remembered the case of Joan Fontaine’s murder all too well. A uniformed officer at the time, he had been the first to respond to the frantic 9-1-1 call from her daughter who had found her mother’s deceased body in the upstairs hallway of their palatial country home. Dr. Fontaine had been a well-respected family physician, having served the Aberdeen community for thirty-five years prior to her retirement. News of her murder shattered the small town. Despite mounting a significant investigation, police never found her killer.
Walsh’s initial reaction to their call was different from the other law enforcement officials with whom Chief Curnow and Jordan had spoken to thus far. He was open to learning about Jordan’s insight into the murder. Walsh believed that a plane of existence transcended this world and considered any individual who outright dismissed the possibility of the supernatural to be either wholly ill-informed or plain-ass dumb. The Chief shared his own childhood paranormal experience with Curnow and Jordan; one so terrifying that his family was forced to flee their home in the dead of night. He needed no convincing that Jordan’s gift was real and listened intently as she shared the information imparted to her by the spirit of the late Joan Fontaine. As Jordan described the geography of the area where the dilapidated hunting cabin might be found, Walsh recalled a conversation with Joan’s husband a decade ago. An avid hunter and outdoorsman, Stephen Fontaine had purchased a parcel of land two-hundred miles south of Aberdeen in Vermillion, just outside Sioux City. Pete recalled how excited he was about the acquisition. The couple intended to build a home on the land and gift it to Wendy. They had erected a small cabin on the property which they visited periodically, mostly for weekend getaways. When ready, they would undertake construction on the project. Intending it to be a surprise for Wendy, the Fontaine’s kept the land purchase a secret from their daughter. Stephen Fontaine died two months before his wife’s murder from post-surgical complications. To the Chief’s knowledge, the property hadn’t been sold since the Fontaine’s passing. Following up on the lead, Walsh contacted the Vermillion land registry office, confirmed the lot number and location of the property, visited the cabin, and was surprised to find it occupied. Dressed in plain-clothes, Walsh knocked on the door and was welcomed by Gordon Camsten and his wife, Nadia. He lied, telling Gordon he represented a land developer who was interested in acquiring property on which to build a hunting lodge, and asked him if he thought any of his neighbors might be interested in selling their property. Gordon replied he wasn’t sure and said he had only recently acquired the land and cabin himself. Walsh knew this was not true. According to Vermillion town records, no such transaction had ever taken place. Camsten invited him in. As Walsh walked across the wooden threshold, a floorboard sighed under foot. Camsten laughed and told him the tired board was on his list of things to fix around the old place. Nadia made coffee while the two men sat at the kitchen table discussing the excellent angling and hunting amenities the surrounding land had to offer. Nadia smiled politely but appeared nervous. She sat at the table and played with her wedding band, rolling it around on her finger. Walsh took notice and complimented her on the ring. Nadia thanked him. She told him it was a family heirloom, passed down to her from her mother. Walsh asked if he could take a closer look at the ring. Though a rather unusual request, Nadia saw no harm in showing him the ring. She slipped it off her finger and handed it to Walsh. Inside the band, the ring bore the inscription, NOW AND FOREVER. Walsh smiled, told her the words were beautiful, handed it back, and asked Gordon if he might consider selling his land if the right offer came his way. Gordon hesitated, but became more interested when Walsh explained his client was becoming too difficult to work with, and that he was getting tired of trying to find ‘just the right place.’ He told Gordon he loved the location and the picturesque valley-view it offered from the porch. Baiting Camsten, Walsh offered him a price for the property he knew was far above fair market value. Intrigued, Camsten said he might consider selling if the offer was made more appealing. Walsh thought about it for a second, then added fifty-thousand dollars to his offer. Camsten accepted. Walsh shook his hand, thanked him, checked his watch, told him that he had an important meeting in town which required his immediate attention, and asked if he could return within the hour to draw up the documents for the cash sale of the property. Camsten agreed. True to his word Walsh returned within thirty minutes, accompanied by officers from the Vermillion Police Department. Chief Walsh identified himself as a police officer and pressed Nadia about the true origin of the ring. As Vermillion Police placed Camsten in handcuffs, Walsh pulled up the squeaky floorboard. The cavity was empty. Nadia broke down. She told Walsh she knew what he was looking for and how Camsten said he would kill her if she ever told anyone about the stolen jewelry. She walked to the stove, opened the storage drawer, and removed a roasting pan. Hidden inside were a pair of leather gloves. Nadia handed them to Walsh. She told the Chief Gordon had forgotten them after removing the jewel-laden satchel from its hiding place under the floor. She knew they must have been of value if Camsten had gone to the trouble of hiding them. When Walsh told her Camsten was being arrested on suspicion of murder in the death of Joan Fontaine, Nadia shared a secret of her own. Camsten was not her husband. He had kidnapped her a little over a year ago. She had been backpacking through the state when they met at a local bar. In need of companionship, she returned to the cabin and spent the night. He had kept her as his prisoner ever since. Nadia pulled aside a rug in the middle of the floor which revealed a hatch. She raised the door by its rope handle and showed Walsh the dirty room in which Camsten would lock her every time he left the cabin. Nadia told Walsh her real name was Natalya Peshkin. Walsh ran the name. Her story checked out. She was reported missing by her family one year ago. Camsten was subsequently charged with Natalya Peshkin’s kidnapping.
Every new lead Jordan and Chief Curnow presented to senior law enforcement officials across the country produced the same successful result. Cold cases were solved, and the perpetrators of the crimes were brought to justice.
As word about Jordan’s unique talent spread throughout the police community she was soon inundated with requests for assistance.
With proof of her abilities now irrefutable, Jordan’s credibility as a psychic was firmly established. With Chief Curnow’s help she’d been able to gain what she’d needed the most...
Validation.
Chapter 7: LIFE, THE LAW, FAMILY, FUTURE
MICHAEL AND Mary Farrow never expected to face the tidal wave of media attention that was suddenly thrust upon Jordan. Grief-stricken parents in search of missing children reached out to her. Television networks clambered to schedule prime time interviews with the now famous psychic. It seemed as if everyone wanted to connect with Jordan. News of her uncanny ability to help police agencies across the country resolve their cold cases based on her remarkable visitations seemed to explode overnight.
The Farrow’s became justifiably concerned for Jordan’s safety. As the billionaire chairman of one of the world’s largest technology companies, Farrow Industries, the demand on Michael’s time was immense. He immediately hired a private security team to watch over his family in his absence.
To everyone’s surprise, Jordan didn’t just cope with her new-found fame and the responsibility that came with it but thrived. She balanced her high school studies and regular interactions with law enforcement with ease.
By age fourteen, she had helped police solve forty cold-case murders.
Within two years that number had quadrupled to one-hundred and sixty solved murders.
When Jordan was seventeen she graduated high school, with honors, and delivered the commencement speech as valedictorian. Her cold-case solve rate had now risen to three-hundred and forty-five. With the help of her parents, she acquired an agent and publicist to represent her in her first book deal, a biography entitled, “Life After Death.” The novel became an immediate New York Times a
nd USA Today non-fiction bestseller.
Jordan’s path in life had become clear. She would use her gift to help those who had been taken violently to find peace in the afterlife. She also wanted to pursue a career in criminal law.
Four years later, after graduating Summa cum Laude from the University of California-Irvine with a degree in Criminology, Law and Society, Jordan set her sights on attending Harvard University. After passing the Law School Admission Test, police chief’s Don Curnow and Pete Walsh provided the Law School Admission Council with character reference letters. Dr. Carolina Kessel, Jordan’s Criminology professor at UCI, provided her academic letter of reference. Jordan was delighted to receive her letter of acceptance into Harvard’s Juris Doctorate program soon after.
While completing her law degree, Jordan continued to share her visitations with authorities. By the end of her third year at Harvard she had helped to solve over one-thousand cold case homicides and authored two additional books based on her experiences as a psychic and medium. Both ‘Cold Case’ and ‘Making Contact’ became huge commercial successes. Jordan was now the most well-known and celebrated psychic in America.
In her final year at Harvard, Jordan fell in love with a fellow student by the name of Keith Quest. They soon married, and Jordan Farrow became Jordan Quest.
The twins, Aiden and Emma, came along a year later, with Emma entering the world three minutes after her older brother.
Jordan had accomplished a great deal in her life. She had become a Harvard-educated criminal prosecutor, treasured wife, loving mother of two beautiful children and a nationally recognized celebrity.
In time, the responsibility of life, career and family made it necessary for her to make an important decision. She could continue practicing law or focus on The Gift.
Jordan chose to honor the dead.
BONUS PREVIEW: BOOK 1, “INTRUDERS.”
Thank you for reading the short story prequel to the JORDAN QUEST series.
Jordan’s story continues in book one, INTRUDERS.
A tragic accident. An incredible gift. Now, the dead have a voice. And law enforcement is listening.
When celebrated psychic Jordan Quest is approached by the Federal Bureau of Investigation she is asked to use her gift to track down the kidnapped daughters of FBI Director Andrew Dunn.
But before the investigation can begin, Jordan and her family become the victims of a brutal personal attack by a madman whose twisted desire for revenge against her family knows no bounds. His singular mission… to annihilate Jordan’s family using any means necessary.
Despite assurances from her FBI protection detail, Jordan quickly learns that if she is to keep her family alive she must take charge and be prepared to do whatever it takes to protect them from the psychopathic killer in their midst… even if that means taking a life.
PREFACE
JORDAN STOOD behind the heavy velvet curtain and listened as the conference host announced her credentials to the audience of law enforcement professionals.
She had given dozens of keynote speeches in the past. She was never nervous.
Today she was.
A heaviness had settled over the room, a physical pressure that weighed on her chest and forced her to catch her breath.
This feeling was usually preceded by only the strongest of visitations.
But there was something very different about this sensation.
This was not the energy of an unsettled spirit attempting to make contact. There was something deeper and more disturbing about this connection.
This was a warning, a premonition.
At the sound of the applause, Jordan refocused. She shook off the uncomfortable feeling.
There was nothing to be concerned about. She was in the company of fifteen hundred members of the American Association of Police Chiefs. She couldn’t possibly be any safer.
Jordan walked across the stage, took her place behind the podium, and began to deliver her presentation to the audience.
The heaviness grew stronger. Jordan fought to keep it at bay.
She gripped the podium, steadied her voice, showed no fear.
Yet she knew the truth. Something was coming.
INTRUDERS Chapter 1
JORDAN QUEST wasn’t concerned. Skeptics came with the territory.
A renowned psychic medium and missing person’s consultant to police agencies around the world, Jordan looked out at the group of attendees, all members of the American Association of Police Chiefs. She considered her response to the question posed by the man in the white Stetson. It was one she had been asked dozens of times, yet it never failed to elicit a small degree of anger within her: “With all due respect Ms. Quest, how can you expect us to take you seriously when what you do has absolutely no basis in science?”
The question brought with it an uncomfortable silence which fell hard over the auditorium. Jordan gripped the microphone. Fifteen hundred faces stared back at her, awaiting her response. Why the hell did it always have to be so hard?
“I appreciate your question… Chief?”
“Ballantyne, ma’am. Wayne Ballantyne. Lubbock, Texas.”
“Thank you, Chief Ballantyne. I understand your skepticism. I do. If I were sitting in the audience right now I might be skeptical too. You’re correct. What I do has no basis in science. I don’t expect you or anyone else here tonight to believe in me or what I do. That would be an unrealistic expectation. All I can ask of any police agency that reaches out to me for help with their investigation is to agree to suspend their disbelief. If they’re not willing to do that, then I’m not interested in working with them. If that sounds harsh I don’t care. I’m not concerned about bruising someone’s ego, nor do I see a need to prove myself to anyone. My interest is to bring closure to the family of the victim and help you solve your case. That’s it. My track record speaks for itself. I’ve been involved in over a thousand missing person and unsolved homicide cases since I was twelve years old. I’ve solved one hundred percent of them. If that’s not good enough for you or anyone else here there’s only one recommendation I can make.”
“What’s that?” Ballantyne asked.
“Find yourself another girl.”
Jordan’s straightforward response to Chief Ballantyne’s challenging question met with a round of applause from the conventioneers. Jordan raised her hand and called for quiet. Ballantyne glared at her from behind the audience microphone stand. Jordan could tell he wasn’t done with her. It had not been her intention to embarrass him in front of his peers, nor had she. But the senior law enforcement officer’s body language told her he was not about to let his challenge to her abilities go without a rebuttal. She had to deal with Ballantyne quickly.
Before the Chief could speak Jordan directed her closing comments to the crowd.
“Ladies and gentlemen, Chief Ballantyne is right. There is no hard science to support or validate my abilities. Some of you may have seen me on television. Others may have read my books and know my story. But for the benefit of those who don’t let me explain. When I was twelve-years-old, I struck my head on the diving board of my family’s swimming pool. I was knocked unconscious and drowned. My parents were away on business at the time and I was under the care of our housekeeper, Marissa. I’d been underwater for about thirty minutes when Marissa discovered I was missing. She saw me on the bottom, dove in, pulled me out and called Emergency Services. They began CPR right away and rushed me to the hospital. I died twice while en route. To my knowledge, I’m the only person in history to have survived death-by-drowning for that length of time. The emergency room staff worked on me for thirty minutes. I remember the nurses wrapping me in warm blankets and being surrounded by strange visions and voices. That’s when I received brief glimpses into the lives of those entities. When I woke up on the gurney I had been stabilized. My abilities became much stronger after that. There’s not a day that goes by that I don’t receive some sort of message or�
��”
Jordan paused, looked down at the stage, and abruptly disconnected from her conversation with the Chief.
“Ms. Quest…” Ballantyne asked, “Are you all right?”
Murmurs rose from the audience.
Jordan didn’t reply. Onstage, the striking brunette appeared to be lost in thought.
The Chief took advantage of the moment. “I’m sure all of us can appreciate the horrific tragedy you endured as a child,” he said. “But as far as your claim of possessing supernatural gifts is concerned…”
Jordan looked up, cut him off mid-sentence. “Who is Becky Landry, Chief Ballantyne? And what is the significance of the Orono Station Granary?”
Ballantyne felt as though he had just been punched in the gut.
INTRUDERS Chapter 2
LUBBOCK P.D. launched their investigation into the disappearance of the missing teenager reluctantly and only after much debate. For most of the towns other young residents the department would have taken immediate action, issued an Amber Alert and pulled out all the stops. But Becky Landry had proven herself to be the exception to the rule. With her birth mother resting in Peaceful Gardens Cemetery and her father on death row awaiting execution for her murder, Becky became a ward of the state. Three families tried to foster her, none successfully. But Becky’s fourth guardians, Joe and Elizabeth Landry, staunchly refused to quit on her. Despite her reputation for being damaged goods the Landry’s adopted the girl, provided her with a loving home, and tried to raise her to their high standards of morality integrity, self-respect and citizenship. Unfortunately for Becky her formative years had been spent huddled in life’s darkest corners, seeking shelter from the constant threat of danger. Hiding in the safety of its shadow had made her untrusting, anger worn and as tough as nails. By the tender age of fifteen she’d proven herself too hard to handle. Becky had become so well known to Lubbock Police that even the patient and understanding Landry’s were forced to wash their hands of her. As Joe Landry, a retired apple farmer, once put it after receiving his adopted daughter at their front door from the police officers who drove her home, it had become painfully obvious to both him and his wife that in creating the girl her birth father had planted a bad seed in his wife that over the years had destroyed not just the tree but the whole damn orchard that was Becky.
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