The Southern Comfort Series Box Set

by Clark O'Neill, Lisa

  Jesse grunted, and picked up one of the scones Jordan had added to sweeten the deal.

  Thank God Starbucks opened at five a.m.

  Jordan took a drink from his own cup when the words he was reading blurred on the page. His brain cells might be moving with the lubrication of caffeine, but the rest of his body was quickly turning to lead. He was exhausted. When he’d realized the significance of the chain, he’d backtracked toward Ava’s only to find the car gone.

  But had sat there, watching, for hours.

  Maybe it was paranoia on his part, but the chill that had danced over his skin when the memory kicked into place was enough to have him pick up the phone. He’d called his brother, told him what he’d seen. Jesse had started running tags, no questions.

  “The ones on that list are registered to individuals who came up as having some form of criminal record. Mostly nickel and dime stuff – your petty thievery, drunken and disorderlies, simple assault – but we have at least ten convicted felons. From armed robbery all the way up to murder one. One or two have served their time, several others are out on parole. A few are still locked up, but the vehicles might be being used by relatives.” Jesse slipped off his glasses to rub his eyes. “You’ll want to look it over and see if any of these names jump out at you from one of your cases.”

  “Thanks.” Jordan pulled out a chair and joined his brother at the desk. The computer hummed as Jordan scanned the names, probed his memory. Consulted his stored notes whenever memory failed. The house creaked occasionally, in the language of old buildings, and when morning streaked its first pink fingers across the sky Jordan heard the shower kick on above Jesse’s home office.

  “Clay’s up.”

  Jesse just grunted. “Bastard took me for thirty dollars last night. Should have kicked him out of the house. Never play poker with a psychologist.”

  By the time the water pipes gave their final groan Jordan had cross-referenced most of the list.

  “Anything?” Jesse asked.

  “The only name that jumps out as even a possibility is Eileen Zeigler. Looks like she got busted for shoplifting back in eighty-five. Community service, no time served. But it’s her son who came through Chatham County’s system. Bodie Zeigler is doing the flip side of a dime for possession with intent.”

  “That’s pretty stiff for a drug charge.”

  “Aggravated. He’d been slapped on the wrist a couple times before for simple possession, which – though you didn’t hear it from me – is a waste of both manpower and taxpayer money. I’ve seen enough of these guys come through multiple times to know that people who want to get high are going to find a way to do it. But anyway, he went from being a danger mostly to himself to a predator when he decided to pedal smack to middle school kids.” He circled the name even as he shook his head. “Mrs. Zeigler lives in a retirement community outside Orlando. Wore a Mickey Mouse sweater at the trial, and sat in the lobby knitting during recess. It was one of those things that hit home for me. Even degenerates have mothers.”

  Jesse eyed him over the rim of his cup. “And this particular mother has sticky fingers. Just because she knits, it doesn’t mean she’s a model citizen, Jordan.”

  “She’s probably seventy years old by now. I can’t see her bashing me over the head. I know,” Jordan said when Jesse continued to stare. “She could have had help. Though after six years, why bother? Unless something happened to the son. People can go batshit when they lose someone. But anyway. I’ll pass this along to Detective Coleman.”

  “You sure you don’t want me to check it out?”

  “Let’s do everything through the proper legal channels. This is Coleman’s jurisdiction. I don’t want to hang anything up on a technicality.” He crossed the room to his briefcase.

  “Speaking of Coleman’s jurisdiction, still no word on that redheaded succubus you were dating?”

  Jordan turned, cocked his head. “Does your wife realize you’re an ape?”

  Jesse stretched out his legs, covered in jeans he hadn’t bothered to button, and propped his bare feet on the extra chair. “Jillian’s the one who called her that. Woman would have sucked you dry within a year. No idea what you saw in that one, apart from an exceptional rack.”

  “Who has an exceptional rack?” Clay asked as he walked in, buttoning his shirt. “Damn, is that coffee?”

  “All gone.” Jesse shook his empty cup.

  Spotting Jordan’s cup on the edge of the desk, Clay walked over and popped off the lid.

  “By all means. Help yourself.”

  Ignoring Jordan, Clay slapped Jesse’s feet aside and sat. “About this rack. You talking about the veterinarian? What?” he said in surprise when Jordan bared his teeth.

  “Do not. Say one word. About Ava’s breasts.”

  Jesse’s low whistle accompanied Clay’s raised brow. “Well. Mostly I was yanking your chain again, but apparently I’ve roused the beast. You’re serious.”

  “I’m going to marry her.”

  Clay bobbled the coffee, spilling some across his lap. “At least it wasn’t hot. My God son, have you gone insane?”

  But Jesse was grinning like a fool. “The Wellington Curse strikes again.”

  “What?” Clay looked over his shoulder as if expecting an attack from behind.

  “Relax, Copeland. The only unattached female in this house is Grace, and I don’t think she’s considering marriage just yet.”

  “Not until she’s forty,” Jesse agreed. “Or I’m dead. Whichever comes first.”

  Jordan closed his briefcase, then dropped onto the leather sofa angled in the corner. And sank. It felt so damn comfortable that he knew it was a mistake. “Trade me spots, Clay. If I sit here, I’ll fall asleep.”

  “Yeah, I want to hear about why you were skulking around before the crack of dawn,” Clay said as he grabbed a napkin before heading to the couch. He dabbed it at his lap. “Right after you explain why I shouldn’t suggest that your family have you committed.”

  “Our dad proposed the day after he and Mom met,” Jesse explained, scooping up the last scone and breaking a piece off. “Took one look and basically handed his testicles over on a platter. Been her puppy ever since. It’s the stuff of family legend.”

  “Hey.” Jordan reached out and snatched the scone from his brother’s hand. “Having the good sense to know what you want when you see it is in no way emasculating. And it’s not like you’re not married, Jesse.”

  “Yes, but –”

  “Jesse?”

  Jordan had the pleasure of seeing his brother jump. Then Jesse pressed the button for the intercom system he’d wired throughout the house. “Uh, yeah, honey,” he responded to his wife’s disembodied voice. “I’m here.”

  “Could you come help me deal with Grace? I need to pop in the shower, and she’s refusing to get dressed unless I let her wear her Easter dress to school. They’re finger painting today.”

  “Sure. Be up in a sec. Shut up,” he said when Jordan picked up the plate from the scones and mimed handing it over.

  “Excuse me?”

  “Not you.” Jesse said to his wife before grabbing the plate and smacking it on Jordan’s hand. “I’m talking to the idiot who shares my parents. Though I suspect he was probably adopted.”

  “Oh.” Jillian’s smile came through. “Good morning, Jordan. And I’m assuming Clay’s there, too.”

  After their chorus of responses, Jesse turned off the intercom and climbed to his feet.

  “Woof,” Clay said, and Jesse just stabbed a finger toward him.

  “Jesse?” His brother turned, and Jordan nodded to the computer. “Thanks.”

  “I told you. I got your back.”

  “Well, that was fun.” Clay popped up and grabbed the scone from Jordan. “Orange cranberry. My favorite. So what happened last night?” he asked around a mouthful.

  Jordan filled him in on the car, and what he and Jesse had uncovered.

  “Crazed septuagenarian mourns loss of so
n, assaults prosecutor. Full coverage at five.”

  “Sounds ridiculous, doesn’t it?”

  “Stranger things, and all that. But now you’re worried because that car was parked in front of your woman’s house. You’re serious about the ball and chain? Okay.” Clay held up a hand. “You are. And now you’re worried.”

  “I see why you took Jesse for thirty dollars. Yes, I’m worried. More than I was before. I don’t want any of my dirt smeared on Ava. I don’t like the idea that maybe somebody followed me last night. I don’t like that they know where she lives.”

  “Assuming,” Clay popped the last piece of scone. “That this car actually means something. Could have been a random tourist.”

  “Could have been.”

  “But you’re not taking any chances, now that Ava’s potentially involved.”

  “You know, you should be a psychologist. And… hell, is that the time?” He squinted at the clock on the computer. “I’ve got to run home and let Finn out and change.”

  “I thought we were doing that witness interview today. That’s not until ten.”

  “But I’ve got a flat tire to deal with before that.”

  Clay looked out the window, which faced the drive. And the four un-flat tires on Jordan’s car. “Here.” He snagged the plate from the desk. “Better take this along.”

  “Ha ha. I’ll pick you up at nine-thirty.”

  THE pitiful howling woke her moments before someone pounded on her door.

  Peering at the clock, Ava cursed with creative viciousness when she saw that it was blank. She checked the cord. Plugged in. So the damn power must have gone out.

  “Perfect.” She pushed the hair out of her eyes, spotted the scrap of paper next to the clock. “Well, at least that gives me an idea who’s out there banging,” she said to Jack as she read the message on the back of one of her order forms. “And a lot of good you are. Lying there at the foot of the bed, watching me sleep the day away.”

  The pounding started again.

  “I’m coming, I’m coming. Dammit.” Rolling to her feet, Ava looked on the floor for her shirt from last night. And saw… absolutely nothing but floor. Even her boots sat in the corner. Neatly.

  “Hell. The man even picks up after himself. Time to start cloning.”

  When the knock sounded for the third time, Ava forewent the nicety of clothing and, snarling, stomped to the door.

  “Hey. You’re… not dressed.” With a quick, panicked look over his shoulder, Jordan hustled her back inside. His own clothes smelled of fabric softener, his skin of a recent shower. “You can’t answer the door like that. What if I’d been the UPS guy, for God’s sake. That’s grounds for a lawsuit. Inducing cardiac arrest.”

  “My UPS guy is gay.”

  “So he’d try to knock you down and steal your underwear. Why aren’t you dressed?” he persisted as he trailed her into the kitchen.

  She needed caffeine. Lots and lots of caffeine.

  “First, I said he was gay, not a cross-dresser. Two separate things, that don’t necessarily go hand-in-hand.”

  “I’d rather you not use that sort of expression when we’re discussing men who like other men. Not that there’s anything wrong with that.”

  “Second.” She ignored that bit of nonsense, and scooped out the coffee, filled the pot. “What have you done to Finn? He sounds like the Hound of the Baskervilles.”

  “He doesn’t like being left in the car. Ava, why aren’t you dressed? I double checked your alarm. It was set for six-thirty.”

  He’d double checked her alarm, Ava thought in amazement. Helped her out of her dirty clothes. Put them away.

  And then left.

  She noted the bruised look of fatigue, the concern in those gorgeous eyes.

  He’d given up half his night for her.

  And had come to change her tire, first thing this morning. With his silly, howling dog in tow.

  “You really are a gem, aren’t you? A regular treasure.”

  “I don’t know about all that, but I like the look in your eye. Push that coffee pot aside and we’ll pick up where we left off last night. Except, uh, the pot doesn’t actually seem to be doing anything.”

  “What? Shit. Shit.”

  “You plug it in?”

  “Yes I plugged it in. I’m not an imbecile.” She slapped a hand on the counter. “Or maybe I am. The power is out. That’s why I answered the door in my underwear.”

  “Breaker box?”

  “Behind you. In the closet with the washer and dryer.”

  While Jordan fiddled in the closet, Ava pulled her cell from her purse to check the time. “No time for coffee anyway. I’m just going to run and grab a shower. A cold one, I guess.”

  “Okay.”

  Her first appointment wasn’t until eight fifteen. She could make it, Ava thought as she turned on the water, held her breath. “Damn, damn that’s cold.” Her spine stiffened like it had simply been frozen, but she toughed it out and grabbed the shampoo.

  Barely make the eight fifteen, she acknowledged while she scrubbed. Stupid power outage. Probably a crew working on the lines, as they were forever fiddling with this or that. Like people didn’t need their caffeine in the morning. Luckily the patient was just Big Lloyd, with a suspected UTI. Both the cat and his owner were sweeties, and she could call the woman if she had to make an emergency coffee stop. After all, no one wants a doctor making judgments with only partial brain function.

  Ava braced herself, and stepped back under the spray.

  It hit her in a thousand icy needles. “Okay. Okay, that’s more than enough.”

  She jumped out, feeling like she’d just been dipped in liquid nitrogen. How did water get that cold in the south? In April, for pity’s sake.

  Snatching at a towel like it was a lifeline, Ava wrapped it around her middle, grabbed another for her face. Maybe she wouldn’t need that coffee after all.

  Something warm licked her leg.

  “Oh. Hello, Finn.” She looked down into brown pools of pure canine adoration. His tail thumped against the awful tile when she scratched under his bandana.

  “Sorry.” Ava glanced up as Jordan’s voice sounded from the doorway. “I had to let him out before somebody called the cops.”

  And speaking of expressions better left unsaid…

  Ava managed a smile despite the reminder. “He’s fine. Let me just grab some clothes and I’ll be good to go.”

  “I want to show you something first. Get dressed. I’ll meet you in the kitchen.”

  “Well, isn’t he a bossy britches this morning,” she said to Finn. But the look on his face had sparked her concern, and it flamed in her empty stomach. She knew him well enough by now to understand he was pissed.

  Ava threw on some scrubs, tied her hair into a damp tail. And pasting some bright-eyed and bushy-tailed on her face, followed the dog into the kitchen.

  “What’s up?” The chipper tone met his stony expression and clashed.

  He opened the door that led to the garage below, gestured her down the stairs.

  Finn bounded down in front of her, all happy barks and wagging tail.

  “I never use this entrance,” she told him, her voice echoing a little in the steep, narrow well. The bare bulb above them cast the sort of shadows that gave her the creeps, huge and menacing. “The outside door is easier, since I park my car in the drive.”

  And besides, it wasn’t so damn claustrophobic.

  “So I gathered. I could see my footprints in the dust. And watch your step there. The wood on that last tread has gone a little soft.” She emerged into the dim garage, next to the enormous Cadillac that Lou Ellen had inherited from her father, and hadn’t driven since. Her classic Karmann Ghia sat beside it, the SUV she drove parked outside.

  “Your main breaker wasn’t on the panel with the others,” Jordan said as he hopped over the last step, snapped his fingers at Finn, who was sniffing the Cadillac’s tire. “Finn. No. So anyway, I figured, hey, mus
t be downstairs. Which is kind of odd, but whatever. The building is old, and they probably finished out the apartment later. I went down, let Finn out, circled around to the back door. Which was locked. But the window beside it was broken.”

  Glancing over, Ava could see the missing pane, the shards of glass.

  Her heart began to gallop.

  She knew the goon had been in her apartment once, but she’d changed the locks herself. Deadbolts. Solid. Lou Ellen had a spare key – which she’d already used, blast her – but Ava knew the hardware was good.

  Apparently good enough that the goon had resorted to breaking windows.

  “Well, damn. I’ll have to tell Lou Ellen. Looks like the cars are both okay. I can’t imagine she had anything valuable inside them, as they’re really never driven. But still, it –”

  “Ava.”

  She stopped babbling, swallowed.

  “Ava, they broke in and tripped your breaker. You’re right, the cars are both okay, from what I could tell. And my footprints were the only ones in that dust when I went up and tried the door. Which was locked, thank God. But if my footprints were the only ones in that dust, it means that someone broke in, ignored the vehicles, tripped your main breaker so that you’d lose power in the apartment, and then didn’t even try to get inside.”

  “Maybe something scared them off.”

  “Could be,” Jordan agreed, and something moved behind his eyes. Something just a little dangerous. “Could be a botched attempt at breaking and entering. And that’s exactly what I would have thought if I hadn’t noticed this.”

  He snagged her elbow, led her to the power box, and pointed out the smiley face scratched into the metal.

  “Well, huh.” Finn came over and sniffed, so Ava rubbed his head. “I guess Lou Ellen must have done that when she was a kid. Although her artwork hasn’t improved, considering.”

  When the hand on her arm tightened, she reluctantly met his gaze. Oh, yeah, the guy was furious.

  “It’s fresh, Ava. There are shavings on the floor. So someone broke in, ignored the cars, tripped your breaker, decided to try their hand at a little carving instead of walking up your stairs, got spooked and fled the premises, thoughtfully taking the time to relock the door on their way out.”