by Mary Burton
Ruby shook her head. ‘What a mess.’
‘Yeah.’
Lindsay called each of the women, did her best to downplay the situation, and promised to transfer their goods to the new shelters so they wouldn’t have to return to Sanctuary. Ruby would pick the Greenland boys up at school and take them directly to Riverside.
By the time she hung up the phone, Lindsay’s head was really pounding. She needed caffeine.
At the kitchen sink, she rinsed out stale coffee from the coffeemaker carafe, refilled it with tap water, and dumped it in the machine’s reservoir. She tossed out the old grounds, scooped fresh into the metal filter, and switched the machine on.
A flicker of movement caught her eye. She turned in time to see Zack step through the front door, a cell phone cradled under his chin. He’d loosened his tie. Thick stubble covered his chin, as if he’d been up all night. His gun rested on his narrow hip.
He spoke into his cell. ‘Ayden, you and Warwick need to see this. Yeah, well, tell him his vacation is over.’
The deep timbre of Zack’s voice swirled around Lindsay, raking over her frayed nerves. Just having him close made her nervous.
Zack had a strong profile and Lindsay found herself liking his hair short. It suited him. Unexpected desire flickered to life. A part of her still wanted Zack. Probably always would. Damn. Her fickle libido was the last thing she needed to deal with right now.
‘I need to talk to the shelter director first,’ he added.
She turned back to the hissing coffeepot, in a sudden rush to have something to do. She pulled the half-full carafe out. Hot coffee dripped down on the machine’s burner as she quickly poured a cup, then replaced the pot. Coffee spilled over the edge of the burner.
She grabbed a handful of paper towels and started to mop up the mess. ‘Damn.’
Footsteps sounded behind her. ‘Patience never was your specialty,’ Zack said.
Lindsay ignored the greater meaning behind his words and swallowed a tart retort. ‘No, I guess not.’ Be nice, she thought. Turning, she held up a mug. ‘You want a cup?’
‘That would be great.’
She filled a cup with black coffee and handed it to him. He thanked her. The forced civility didn’t fit them. Their relationship had never been lukewarm. When they fought, laughed, or made love the intensity could have shaken the rafters. And she’d been proud of that. She’d never figured that that same intensity would also rip them apart.
Lindsay nodded toward her office door. ‘We can talk in my office.’
Tension snapping at her, she headed past him, down the center hallway to her office. Her office, like every other room in the shelter, served many purposes. The public health nurse used her desk when she visited, residents used the space for private meetings, and donations were usually left there before they were sorted.
Stacks of papers covered her desk but she could, at any given moment, find anything she needed.
Lindsay removed a donated clothes bag from a chair and set it behind her desk. She motioned for Zack to sit as she took her chair behind the desk. Here she felt safe.
Zack took a seat and flipped open his notebook.
‘Are you going to tell me who was murdered?’
In no rush, Zack sipped his coffee and then set it on the edge of her desk before settling his gaze on her. ‘You had any trouble here at the shelter lately?’
That was so Zack to answer a question with a question. ‘Not lately. You know about Pam Rogers, the woman who revealed the shelter location to her husband. He picked her up and later he killed her.’
‘Nine months ago, right before I joined homicide. I read the file.’
‘Since then, we’ve had no trouble.’
‘No threatening phone calls? No messages in the mail?’
‘No, nothing out of the ordinary.’ She sipped her coffee. It tasted bitter. ‘So who was murdered?’
He watched her face closely. ‘Harold Turner.’
Stunned, Lindsay dropped open her mouth. ‘The attorney?’
‘That’s right. You know him?’ He stared at her, gauging her reaction.
Yeah, she knew Harold. He liked to slap his wife around, a fact few knew. Lindsay had found out about the abuse when Jordan had cornered her in the ladies’ room at the Race for the Cure fund-raiser two weeks ago. Jordan had told Lindsay everything: Harold’s drug use, the beatings, and the verbal abuse. Lindsay had comforted Jordan and begged her to come to Sanctuary. But Jordan Turner had refused. She had admitted that she enjoyed Harold’s wealth far too much to abandon it. She had wiped her tears away, fixed her makeup, and assured Lindsay she could handle Harold. She’d called her tears a momentary lapse and then downplayed the entire incident.
Lindsay had likened Jordan’s emotional outburst to a leak in a dam. Eventually, the water would widen the dam wall, erode the foundation, and rush out with devastating force.
My God, had Jordan shot Harold? Had she lured her husband to the shelter and killed him as some kind of message to Lindsay? I can handle Harold.
If convicted, Jordan could spend the next thirty years in jail for ridding the earth of human slime. The need to protect Jordan overrode Lindsay’s responsibility to tell Zack what she knew.
‘Sure, who doesn’t know Harold? He’s in all the newspapers. He’s defending some drug dealer.’
‘Have you ever met him in person?’
‘Sure. We crossed paths at different fund-raisers. Two weeks ago, as a matter of fact, at the Race for the Cure gala at the Virginia Museum.’
Blue eyes narrowed. ‘That’s it? You’ve never spoken to him any other time?’
She didn’t look away. ‘Nope.’
His gaze held hers as if he were waiting for her to say more. When she didn’t, he frowned. ‘You’re not telling me everything.’
Uncomfortable, she leaned forward. ‘Are you some kind of psychic?’
‘I know you.’
She noticed his ring finger. The absence of a wedding band wasn’t a surprise. Because of his undercover work, he’d rarely worn it when they were married. ‘You knew me, Zack.’
His face hardened. ‘I know when you’re holding back information, Lindsay.’
She stiffened. ‘As I remember, you were good at hiding things too.’
His jaw clenched slightly, but otherwise he looked unaffected by her comment. ‘Lindsay, I’m here to investigate a murder, not rehash our marriage. We’ll save that gem for another day. Right now, I want to know if Harold Turner had a connection to the shelter.’
‘You’re right. Harping on ancient history is foolish.’ She shifted in her seat. ‘He’s never been here before, if that’s what you’re asking.’
‘I’m going to need to see your files.’
She had started a file on Jordan. Only a few notes, but it was enough to prove a connection. She wasn’t going to make it easy for Zack to arrest Jordan. ‘My files are confidential. If you want to know what’s in them, you’re going to have to get a court order.’
‘Consider it done.’ He studied her with more intensity. ‘Why not just tell me all that you know?’
‘You know why. The women who come through my doors or who talk to me are frightened, battered, and often humiliated. Some go on to better lives. Some go back to their husbands. Either way, they know I’ll guard their privacy. They count on me. I can’t betray their trust unless the court orders me to.’
‘Did Jordan Turner ever visit the shelter?’
‘No.’
‘You ever meet her?’
She folded her hands in front of her. ‘She was at the fund-raiser two weeks ago. We spoke briefly.’ She sipped her coffee. ‘How was Harold killed?’
‘Not ready to release that yet.’
‘Harold had a lot of enemies. He’d sell anyone out for a buck.’
‘Then why was he murdered behind the shelter?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Any of your residents have a drug problem?’
�
��No. We test all who want to stay here. They’re clean.’
Always one to play his cards close to his vest, Zack simply nodded. ‘I think his body was positioned behind the shelter for a reason.’
Jordan. ‘Just because Turner’s body was found behind the shelter doesn’t mean his death had anything to do with me.’
‘I’ve never put much stock in coincidence.’ He ran his hand down his tie as he leaned back in his chair. ‘Where were you last night and this morning?’
His proprietary tone rankled her nerves. He didn’t have any rights to her time now. ‘I was home asleep. And I overslept this morning.’
He lifted an eyebrow, amused. ‘As I remember it, you rose at five every morning come hell or high water.’
‘A power outage knocked out all of the electricity in my row of town houses. My alarm didn’t go off.’
‘I also never remember you sleeping through the night.’
‘I did last night.’
‘Can you prove you were home last night?’
He didn’t trust her and that hurt more than it should. ‘Do I have to?’
‘It would be nice.’
Very few knew Lindsay had taken on Nicole Piper as a roommate. Her former college roommate had shown up two weeks ago on Lindsay’s doorstep begging for a place to stay. Nicole had left her abusive husband and was hiding from him. Lindsay had taken her in without question. If Zack knew she had a roommate, he’d start checking into Nicole’s past. And that could tip off Nicole’s husband as to her whereabouts.
‘Sorry, I can’t prove anything. I was home alone. You’ll just have to take my word for it.’
He studied her and then deliberately glanced around the office. ‘How many women does the shelter serve each year?’
She rolled with the change of topic. ‘We saw about a hundred women last year.’
‘Impressive.’ He scratched a few words in his notebook.
‘Sadly, business is booming.’
He nodded thoughtfully as if remembering that afternoon in Byrd Park when she’d confided her own horrific past to him. She’d told him of her mother’s murder, of her father’s suicide, and of her running away. He, better than anyone, understood her drive to protect the women and children under her care.
‘I want a list of everyone who was here last night,’ Zack said. ‘I want to see records of all the women who’ve been through the doors since you opened.’
‘Only when the warrant arrives.’
He looked annoyed. ‘You always have to be so stubborn.’
With an effort, Lindsay kept her tone light. ‘It’s what I do best.’
His lips flattened as he rose. ‘Thanks for the coffee.’
She stood. ‘Always happy to help.’
At five ten, she stood eye to eye with most men. Zack had a good six inches on her. ‘Is it all right if I leave the shelter? I received a call from Mercy Hospital to counsel a battered woman. The doctor is trying to delay her, but he won’t be able to hold her more than an hour, which leaves me about twenty minutes.’
He seemed to gauge the truth of her words. ‘Keep your cell phone on this time. I want to be able to reach you easily.’
‘It’s always on.’
‘Not this morning.’
He had tried to call.
‘As I said, there was a power outage in my town house complex. I’m sure you can verify it with maintenance. And I put my phone in the charger as soon as I arrived here.’
Zack studied Lindsay again as if trying to pry into her brain.
Lindsay folded her arms over her chest, matching his glare.
‘I’ll be back this afternoon or tomorrow at the latest with the warrant.’
Thanks to Harold’s murder, she would have to deal with all the agonizing baggage she shared with Zack and had done her best to ignore this past year. ‘I can’t wait.’
Chapter Five
Monday, July 7, 11:02 A.M.
On the way to the hospital, Lindsay called Jordan Turner twice. The first time she got her voice mail. She didn’t bother to leave a message. What was she going to say? Mrs Turner, did you murder your husband?
Thanks to light midday traffic, Lindsay made good time driving downtown. Still, the Mercy Hospital parking deck was crammed with cars, forcing her to drive to the bottom level, where she found an open spot in a darkened corner.
She shut off the car engine, waited until it shuttered off, got out, and locked the car. Her sandals clicked against concrete as she moved along the line of parked cars. A horn honked, the sound echoing from the level above. A car door closed.
She’d parked on this deck a thousand times before, always cautious but never afraid. However, today, the hairs on the back of her neck prickled. She scanned the rows of parked cars around her. The air-conditioning system whirred overhead and condensation dripped from the ductwork.
The deck appeared deserted. On a deck below, a car horn honked again. There was no need to be nervous yet her nerves tightened, as if someone were close.
Watching.
She tightened her hold on her purse. ‘Is anyone there?’
No answer.
It wasn’t like her to be so jumpy. Crossing quickly to the elevator, she punched the button, careful to keep her back to the doors. She dug in her purse fishing for her mace and cursed when she couldn’t find it in all the clutter. When the elevator doors whooshed open, she rushed into the empty car. Her heart pounded in her chest.
As the doors closed, a nearby car door slammed shut, the sound echoing from an unseen corner.
Lindsay punched level four, the lobby level. She dragged a shaking hand through her hair. ‘Get a grip.’
Within seconds the elevator doors opened to the muted sounds of gurneys rolling past, carts clattering, and telephones ringing. The smell of antiseptic cleaner blended with the bright hospital lights. Her nerves settled and the parking garage was forgotten.
She walked up to the nurses station and smiled at the familiar face behind the counter. ‘Hey, Jennifer.’
Jennifer Watkins glanced up from a chart and grinned. Red hair scraped back in a tight bun accentuated green eyes that sparkled behind wire-rimmed glasses. ‘What’s shaking, Lindsay?’
‘I missed you at yoga on Friday night.’ She didn’t want to talk about the murder. It would be headlines soon enough.
‘I know. I’m sorry I missed your class. It had been a long day and I was beat.’
Lindsay taught yoga at a small studio near her town house. She’d gained a reputation as a patient but exacting instructor. ‘You’ll be better for it if you make the time.’
‘I know, I know. If anyone needs yoga, baby, it’s me. I’m about as flexible as a piece of plywood.’
Lindsay smiled. ‘You carry too much stress in your shoulders, but if you keep at it, your body will open.’
Jennifer held up her hands in mock surrender. ‘Okay, okay, I promise to be there Wednesday night.’
‘Good. Hey, I’m here to see Sam.’
‘He’s just finishing up rounds. He should be passing by in just a second.’
‘Great.’
Jennifer leaned forward. ‘I hear you and Sam had a date last week.’
Color rose in Lindsay’s face. Jennifer knew everyone and their business. Hospital staff jokingly called her ‘Jenni-dot-net.’ ‘I wouldn’t call it a date at all.’ The idea that Jennifer and likely now everyone else was calling her evening with Sam a date didn’t sit well.
Jennifer wagged thin eyebrows. ‘What would you call it?’
Lindsay shoved fingers through her hair. ‘A friendly night out.’
‘Friendly?’ A smile twitched the edges of Jennifer’s full lips, made her eyes spark. ‘I’ve seen the way Sam looks at you.’
Since Lindsay was a child, she’d been careful to keep her private life private. Her home life shamed her and she didn’t want anyone to know about it. But the days of hiding a violent home life had long passed and there was no need to keep secrets. Yet the
habit of hiding persisted.
Her evening out with Sam wasn’t shameful or dark, just fun, and it had been exactly as she’d described it – friendly. ‘Movies. Dinner at a burger joint. Home by nine. Very pleasant.’
Jennifer looked disappointed. ‘That can’t be it.’
‘It is.’
‘Ah, come on, there must be more details,’ Jennifer said.
‘Nope. Sorry.’
Sam’s voice drifted down the hallway as he gave orders to a nurse.
Lindsay sighed her relief.
Jennifer laughed. ‘The cavalry has arrived.’
‘See you around. I’ve got to run.’ Lindsay tossed Jennifer a grin and hurried down the hallway toward Sam.
Sam stood in front of a curtained cubicle wearing his green scrubs, a patient’s chart in hand. An inch taller than her, Sam was trim but not muscular. He looked like a tennis player who belonged at a country club. Blond hair curled at the edges above his ears. Horn-rimmed glasses accentuated intelligent brown eyes.
‘Sam.’
He peered over his glasses and smiled warmly as he closed the chart. ‘I was beginning to think you’d forgotten me.’
Her smile came easily. ‘Sorry, we had some trouble at the shelter.’
Worry creased his forehead. ‘What?’
She lowered her voice and leaned close to him. ‘This is not for anyone else to hear right now, but Harold Turner’s body was found in the shelter’s alley this morning.’
‘What?!’ His voice raised in shock.
Lindsay glanced around and noticed several nurses staring at them. ‘I don’t have many more details than that. The cops were at the shelter this morning interviewing me. In fact, they’ll be there for days.’
‘No one else was hurt?’
‘We’re all fine.’
He let out a long breath. ‘Damn. Harold Turner. His wife came through here two months ago with a sprained arm and bruised ribs.’
‘I know. She cornered me at a charity party two weeks ago and told me about her marriage. I offered her a bed at Sanctuary but she refused.’
Sam shook his head. ‘Sanctuary is a big step down from a mansion on River Road.’
‘Yeah.’ I can handle Harold. Jordan’s words replayed in Lindsay’s head. ‘I can’t imagine her sleeping in a bunk bed or sharing kitchen duties.’
