by Renee Simons
"We'll start with you, Ms. VanDien. Any luck?" He looked at the scratch pad.
"This man is the only one I may have seen sometime. I don't know where but I think it was long ago."
He opened to the proper page. "Boots Woerner, huh?"
"Maybe I saw something about him on television."
"This particular punk has been around for a while, but he's certainly not on anyone's 'Most Wanted' list." He wrote something on the scrap of paper and went to the door, handing it to someone waiting outside. "Get me whatever we’ve got on this guy."
They looked at the photos Ethan had picked - one of a man named Aldo Federico and another labeled Marvin Richards. Each had a list of misdemeanors and felonies to his credit and had done time in prison.
"These are the guys who came to the house last night. I know them from the project."
Jordan gave him a silent thumbs up.
O'Keefe took notes. "Would you testify to that in court?" Ethan nodded. "Ready to sign a complaint?"
"Do I have to give you an answer now?"
"No, but what's the holdup?"
"My brother had some trouble on the Cape last night. The house is his and I want to talk to him first."
"That's within your right, of course, but the sooner we get these mutts off the street, the safer you'll be. They're VolTerre people. We need to send them a message."
Jordan opened the book containing Woerner's photo, studying the small dark eyes staring blankly from beneath thick brows and the slim straight nose that seemed too aristocratic for the man's beefy face and thick neck.
Her mind traveled back to the days before her father's death, trying to call up names and faces she'd spent years forgetting. The harder she tried the less familiar the face became, forcing her to admit she didn't know him at all. Then what...? She read through his vital statistics.
"Not 'Boots'. His name wasn't 'Boots.'"
"'S'cuse me?" O'Keefe asked.
Unaware she'd spoken aloud she looked up at him. She cursed her carelessness and searched for an explanation.
"Whenever or however I came across this man, he wasn't 'Willy Boots Woerner.' He was 'Billy the Boot' - because of his deformed foot. That's what I remembered - not his face but his name. I must've read about him during my research."
She pointed to the description beneath his picture. "That kind of physical characteristic is rare. It must have made enough of an impression to stay in my memory." Not a lie, exactly, because while she'd never met him, her father had talked about him. Was the explanation sufficient to cover her slip of the tongue?
One sharp knock sounded on the door. A policewoman brought in a thick accordion file.
The sergeant searched the file, finally extracting a manila folder. After studying the contents, he looked up at her. "It's one of his aliases, all right. Brought it with him from his old stomping grounds in South Philly."
Her heart sank to her gut, but she tried to keep her expression blank as O'Keefe confirmed her memories.
"He's been involved over the years with your pal, Conlon," O'Keefe said. He shoved the book closer to Ethan and tapped a finger on the photo.
"Conlon's not my pal. I keep telling you people that." He examined the photo. "I have seen this guy around the site. Wears a suit and tie but he's only a glorified gofer, as far as I know."
"Ever been to the site yourself, Ms. VanDien?"
"Once." She couldn't bring herself to flat out lie.
"Maybe that's where you saw him?"
"I don't think so."
"What were you doing there?"
"She was helping me."
She looked over at Ethan. His tone surprised her - hard, coming from deep in his throat, with his words delivered slowly and deliberately.
"Easy does it, Caldwell. I'm not accusing, just asking."
"Then watch how you ask. She's a bystander, nothing more."
"I wouldn't be asking at all if Federico and Richards hadn't specifically asked for you, Ms. VanDien." He gave her the look over his glasses that contained a hint of challenge. She nodded. "So, why did you go and how did you manage to get inside?"
"I went because Ethan can't. I got in because Terence Conlon took me."
The sergeant pushed his glasses higher on his nose. "And you managed that, how?"
As she explained she noticed Ethan's face. Despite his annoyance, he seemed to enjoy the retelling of her escapade. Unwilling to do herself further harm, she chose her words carefully. O'Keefe listened in rapt silence, a strange, almost dreamy expression clouding his eyes.
"So he thinks you're on his side?"
"Maybe he thinks he can harness my ambition to his cause."
The sergeant gathered the books together, arranging them in pairs alternating in a north/south, east/west pattern. He worked slowly, with total concentration, as if each step helped him sort the pieces of a puzzle. Finally, with nothing left to do, he looked up at them.
"Thanks for coming in. You've been a big help." He seemed to recite by rote words he'd used a hundred times.
"Sure thing, Sergeant." Ethan looked at her. As puzzled as he was over the sudden change, she shrugged.
"I'll see you out."
"We know the way."
O'Keefe's gaze focused briefly. "Oh, yeah, sure. Let me know how you want to handle the complaint."
Then they lost him again. "Have a nice day." He picked up the books and walked off. They looked at each other and laughed.
"What do you suppose I said?"
"He'll tell us when he's ready."
"You sound like you know him well."
"Well enough to know he's not given to bouts of insanity."
By the time they got back to the house, Drew had arrived and Ethan's sheltie was ensconced on a roomy pillow in the breakfast room. Her reunion with her master was appropriately warm and sloppy with yips and doggie kisses slobbered over Ethan's face and hands. He seemed to enjoy the whole thing immensely.
"She's still a little groggy," Drew said, "but getting stronger and more alert by the hour."
"Thanks for looking after her, Andy."
"After her brave defense, I could do no less." Drew reached down and scratched Lady behind the ears, receiving an appreciative lick in return. "Although I would have helped this little sweetheart in any case."
"I identified the guys who broke in," Ethan said.
"I did, too. They come from Boston."
Jordan looked at Drew. Something about the way he stood, the way he held his head told her he was ready for a confrontation.
"They're part of VolTerre's so-called security force," he continued.
"So were these blokes, but what d'you know about VolTerre?"
Drew’s shoulders rose as he took a breath. "Do you imagine you could be in trouble without my wanting to help?"
Ethan pointed to Jordan. "And her?"
"She's helping me verify my research."
"Into me?"
"No!" They answered at the same time, drawing Ethan's penetrating gaze to her and then back to Drew.
"I have been investigating every aspect of the accident," he said, "including everyone connected with VolTerre. They're a bad lot.
"I've been building a case step by step, but I felt like a surgeon operating on a member of his own family. Rather than trust my objectivity out of hand, I asked Jordan to work with me. She's been going over all my research to make sure it's accurate and complete."
Ethan turned to her. "You and I have spent a lot of time together, even gotten into a scrape or two. I need to know what that was all about."
"Drew asked me to help you. To watch over you, since he couldn't." Semantics, she thought. She’d gotten caught up in Drew’s lie and no words would extricate her.
Ethan's eyes narrowed. "What does that mean, Jordan? Exactly."
"It means keeping an eye on you, and not letting you get too deep in trouble."
"Bloody hell! You've been spying on me, haven't you?"
"I've been trying
to help."
"To help him,” Ethan said. His face was empty of expression, all except for his eyes, which blazed angrily.
"By helping you. Drew knew you wouldn't accept it from him." She reached out. "We care about you. Both of us."
"I told you once before - my brother cares about no one but himself." He gave her another searching look. "What's he paying you to baby sit me?"
"He's paying me to help research his book, to bring back the material he needs to do a good job. Nothing else."
"The fault is mine," Drew interjected. "I swore Jordan to secrecy, over her objections, I might add."
Ethan turned back to Drew. "What’s this book about?"
"About the accident and the organized crime activities that caused it. I hope it will put the responsibility squarely where it belongs, clearing you in the process."
"And make you some money - in the process?"
"We're going to need money to mount a defense."
The brothers were totally focused on each other now, leaving Jordan free to watch them and releasing her from Ethan’s angry scrutiny. Drew had relaxed a little as if relieved the confrontation he'd anticipated had finally begun. By contrast, Ethan had tensed. She understood the struggle between past resentments and his need to change.
"Wallace Patterson will handle your case," Drew said. "And I've hired a private investigator to do a background check on Terence Conlon. Wally is donating his firm's fee, but we'll need to reimburse him and his staff for out-of-pocket expenses. The investigator, Elliot Brock, will want to get paid."
"And the money is coming from the book?"
"From the advance."
"Bloody convenient."
Drew’s back stiffened. His brow creased as he focused on his brother. "Look here, Ethan, my publisher isn't obligated to help, but we have a good relationship and my books make a deuced lot of money for the house. You can call that convenient or the result of years of hard work, but the reality is we have a source of cash to do what needs doing." His lips tightened to a thin angry line. "I'd prefer you didn't scoff at that."
Ethan held one of his long silences while Jordan prayed he’d say the right thing. She didn't care as much for herself as she did for Drew. Some healing, no matter how minor, had to take place between the brothers and this time at least, Ethan needed to take the first step.
Finally, he turned to Drew. "I may not like the way you handled this situation, but I understand why you didn't trust me to accept your help. We’ll talk. Just not now."
He turned to Jordan. "It's a matter of trust, you know?"
She nodded. "I know."
"I thought we had something, or at least the beginnings of something."
Jordan remained silent. She'd known the pain of betrayal and understood all too well his anger and disappointment. He had every right to speak his mind and take whatever action he chose. She waited for him to continue.
"Did we?" he asked. "Did we have any kind of relationship? Was there anything honest between us?"
Once again, she considered what would satisfy the need for truthfulness without exposing her beyond repair. "What I did," Jordan said, "I did because you needed a friend. I did, too. And because I wanted to help you and Drew leave the past behind. As for being honest? I've told you things about myself no one in this world knows." She shrugged. "Does that have anything to do with trust, do you think?"
"Maybe." He ran his fingers through his hair. "Maybe we can give ourselves another chance?"
"It wouldn't be the first time."
Chapter 7
Days later, Jordan and Drew worked in the study to record the two break-ins. Drew, of course, was the only one who could supply the facts of the incident on the Cape.
"I'd like to set down my impressions while they're fresh."
"Do you want to dictate or type them directly into the computer?"
"If I'm at the keyboard, what will you do?"
"I can edit what you've printed out so far."
They worked in silence until a key turned in the front door lock. "Ethan," Drew said. "If he makes you uncomfortable, you can slip out." He motioned to a door leading to the library.
She shook her head, no.
"Anybody home?"
"In the study," Drew answered.
"I've got something to show you." Ethan pulled a sheaf of papers from his jacket front and laid them on Drew's keyboard. "Have a look."
Drew scanned the sheets and handed them to Jordan as he finished each one. "Work orders."
"And inspection reports," Ethan said.
"Two sets," Jordan said. "Why are some of these in such bad shape - wrinkled, torn..." With a look of disgust, she held a couple between two finger tips and flapped them in the air. "And these stains. I hope that's coffee."
"Look closely. You'll see changes and new orders. The night watchman rescued the old ones from the trash. I lifted the others from the construction shack."
"Why did he save these?" Drew asked.
"In case I could use them."
"Here's where they altered the spacing of the fasteners," Jordan said.
"And changed the design from a single rod running through both skywalks, which would have given adequate support and prevented a collapse.” Ethan's anger vibrated in his voice. "Instead, they have one rod running from the top down into the concrete and another from the bottom up."
"What do you intend to do with this information?" Drew asked.
"More like what are you going to do with it?"
"Me?” Drew looked skeptical. “Why?"
"The injunction. I'm not supposed to go near the place. Use these reports in the book or give them to the lawyer. Just don't tell anyone how you got them or I'm in the bloody soup."
"You'd trust me?"
"None other."
Drew's eyes misted over. He looked at the papers in his hand. "This safety report indicates a problem with the footings."
"Do footings have something to do with the foundation?" Jordan asked.
"They have everything to do with it. I'd like to see them tear the whole place down. It's that unsafe." Ethan ran his fingers through his hair. "What haunts me is where was I when all this was happening?"
"Where were you?"
Ethan's anger at Drew's question flickered briefly then quickly changed to resignation. "Chasing my next commission. Instead of being at the project, where I should've been.”
"That's the job of the project supervisor,” Drew said.
"What was the commission?"
At her question, Ethan faced Jordan. "A new shopping mall."
"One of VolTerre's?"
"Yeah. Why?"
"Maybe they arranged things so you'd be too preoccupied with your next job to bug them while they messed around with this one."
A muscle beat visibly as he clenched his jaw. "Why doesn't that make me feel any better?"
* * *
A week after the invasion by Federico and Richards, Jordan entered the dining room. She nodded to Sergeant O'Keefe and joined Ethan at the recently restored window. In the street below, a small boy ran a stick along the wrought iron fence bordering the little park.
"What are you thinking about?" she asked.
Nothing between them had been resolved. They simply went about their business in a businesslike way. Although at the moment, his arm lightly touching hers felt less like business and more like...enticement. He couldn’t know how her breasts tightened and her pulse raced while he continued to look down at the street. And she didn’t want him to.
"Did you know that this little enclave was the first cooperative community in America?" he asked. The softly murmured question caressed her ear.
"I thought co-ops were a modern invention," she said, looking for a distraction.
"The original owners back in the mid-1800s shared responsibility for the upkeep of that mall down there and pooled their resources to erect the fence. Do you think they would have minded the kid's sacrilegious treatment of their pride and joy
?"
A warm breeze floated through the open window, bringing the scent of new grass and spring-flowering shrubs. A patch of sky above the rooftops hung bright blue and cloudless.
"I don't think they would have minded."
"What's so fascinatin' out there?" a voice muttered behind them.
Ethan turned to face the sergeant. "Kids, and being free on a day like today."
"Yeah, I know what you mean all right. Wish I was out there myself 'stead of in here. Of course, I get to see some of it when I go off duty. You folks're kinda cooped up in here permanent like. I don't envy you being in P.C."
Ethan grimaced. Jordan knew why. Two days after the visit to the police station, Drew, Ethan and she were placed under twenty-four-hour surveillance. The police called the arrangement "P.C." or "protective custody." With most of their time spent in the house, it felt like prison.
Detectives in unmarked vehicles and plain clothes, "soft clothes," somebody had said, secured the front door. Rotating teams working in the wine cellar monitored the phones. A special task force already investigating Conlon's activities took over the effort to find evidence of Ethan's innocence.
The lawyer, Wallace Patterson, and his people, made daily visits to consult with the three of them and with Ethan’s friends, Pete Mosher and Eric Delavan. Brain-storming sessions with an Assistant District Attorney, a D.E.A. agent and two high-ranking police officers took hours each afternoon. Life had deteriorated into a tedious grind. The confinement offered no relief.
“When does this power session get under way?” Ethan asked.
“Soon as Assistant D.A. Santorelli gets here,” the sergeant replied.
“What about the Captain?”
“He’s already inside with the others. Came while you two were day dreaming out the window.”
"It's worse than a bloody summit conference," Ethan remarked.
"It is a bloody summit conference" O'Keefe said. "It needs a summit to tangle with the guys you got yourself involved with."
"Not me." Ethan shook his head. "The city fathers accepted VolTerre’s bid just like they did mine."
