Indiscretions

by Barbara Winkes

  “A good evening to you. You’ve been looking forward to seeing me?” Ellie whispered. It was hard to deny that to a woman who had her hand down your pants, her question already answered.

  “All day, since you kind of left me hanging this morning.”

  “Well, yeah, your girlfriend showing up did not help with the plan.”

  “Please, don’t.” To her relief, Ellie didn’t mind ending the subject, nor providing another kind of relief right here in the doorway. “You feel so good.”

  “I hope so. I’m happy to please.”

  Even as her body strained into the touch, poised for release, Jordan wondered about the women who had asked nothing more, pleasure, a life of their choice, and ended up in the crossfire of somebody’s prejudice and deadly misogyny. For a few heartbeats, all thoughts vanished as she gave in to her climax, simply staying upright requiring all of her concentration. Ellie pulled her close, and Jordan reveled in the brief illusion of being in that warm, safe space with her. Reality would hit soon enough.

  “Actually, I don’t have beer,” Ellie said. “Would you like a glass of wine, before—” She broke off, obviously unsure about what to say. Jordan was already low on morals these days, but she wasn’t going to leave without repaying the favor at least. She didn’t want to leave at all, if she was honest.

  “That would be great.” She studied the floor for a moment and then forced herself to hold Ellie’s gaze. “Can I stay?”

  “Tonight?” Ellie’s eyes widened. “You’re not going to call her? Forget about it, that’s none of my business. I’m not sure I understand what’s going on, but yes, of course you can stay. You don’t have to convince me.”

  It was on the tip of her tongue to tell her about the meeting with Darby, but Jordan restrained herself at the last moment. She didn’t want to get anyone’s hopes up too high, hers or Ellie’s.

  “Thank you.” She wondered if Ellie expected any kind of reassurance, and if she was able to give her any.

  Ellie smiled gently. “I assume you’ll make it up to me, right? There’s something else. Since I haven’t been able to go grocery shopping, you may buy me breakfast as well.”

  She was letting her off easily.

  * * * *

  Her arms wrapped around Ellie, Jordan was close to drifting off to sleep. Unlike moments ago, the room was quiet, the peaceful atmosphere misleading. A few hours from now, they’d be back at work, and she’d be facing Bethany. She would have to drop by home to change clothes. The conversation, either at home or at the department, wouldn’t be pleasant. She hoped Darby would call her back sooner than later. Once she’d figured out her own life, she might have an idea about how Ellie fit into it, or if she even wanted to.

  Ironic how sex with her lover of nine years could make her feel troubled and restless, while for this moment, all the build up tension was gone from her body, leaving her at ease. She’d enjoy the feeling as long as she could.

  * * * ***

  He logged into the chat room, not surprised at finding a panicky private message. “They know about Seattle! What are we gonna do?!”

  He snickered. “I’m not sure what you’re going to do, buddy, but it sounds like you’re in trouble,” he said out loud. He had no intention whatsoever to engage any more with this amateur. Let the police deal with him, which, as it seemed, they were already doing. It could never harm to divert attention for a bit.

  Meanwhile, he’d have to figure out what to do about Judy. She wasn’t learning as well as he had hoped, defying him at every step. He couldn’t afford to have another body turn up, but he wasn’t going to bury her in his backyard either.

  He sighed to himself. Maybe it was time to intensify the lesson. Maybe she’d get it after all and become the first success story… Judy had been around longer than Lori, and still, she showed no signs of listening to him. His attention was straying. There were too many loose ends, too many stories in need of a better ending. He had been fantasizing about the one that got away, but there were risks to consider. He’d been so certain that night, the woman’s outfit and confident gait, click-click-click on the pavement telling him without a doubt that she was in need of a lesson. She still was, no doubt about it, but his priorities were shifting. Some things were meant to be, if risky. He decided not to see Judy tonight, but instead indulge himself with the idea of what he might do a couple of weeks from now.

  This one might actually want to be saved.

  Pain. Pleasure. He swirled his whiskey on the rocks, before he took a deep sip from the tumbler. He was still learning, after all, and nobody was perfect, but he was getting damn close.

  Chapter Six

  For once, Ellie’s sleepless night was not due to nightmares, on the contrary. She was feeling irrationally victorious with the outcome of the day. Not only had Jordan stayed with her, but she hadn’t needed any convincing at all, instead she had asked. Ellie’s initial shock of being confronted with Bethany at work of all places had made room for curiosity, and, she had to admit, sympathy. Why would Jordan let Bethany treat her this way? Of course, between the FBI and the department, a certain amount of posturing was to be expected, but that wasn’t all there was to the story.

  The workday brought some movement into their case as well. The autopsy results for Chantal Perron suggested that she’d been subjected to the same drugs as Lori Gleason and Eleanor Campbell.

  Ellie was, for the most part of the day, relegated to desk and phone. Apparently Jordan had no problem defying the sergeant when it came to assignments, but felt the need to be more careful with Bethany around. Unnecessary, Ellie thought. So far, they had managed not to ravish each other in an interrogation room. What could go wrong?

  The 911 call came in minutes after a lunch break in which most co-workers kept a terse silence, only Bethany seemed to be relaxed and in a good mood. Jordan hardly acknowledged her or Ellie.

  The call jolted everyone into action.

  “What are you doing?” Jordan asked her partner, irritated, when Bethany shrugged into a Kevlar. “You’re not coming.”

  “Whoa.” Bethany kept a polite smile, never raised her voice. “Now’s not the time to have that talk about jurisdiction with the sergeant—or my boss. It is out of courtesy that we haven’t taken the case away from your division yet.”

  “Are you even listening to yourself?” Jordan winced when she realized Ellie had been standing close enough to overhear their conversation.

  “Do you want me to come?” Ellie asked, trying to sound confident and not as freaked out as she was, by the potential confrontation with the murderer, and the profiler’s demeanor. Bethany looked her over before she shook her head. “No thanks, Harding. This is for the big girls.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “You heard me. We don’t have time for this.”

  Henderson gave her a sympathetic shrug.

  Ellie was dismissed.

  * * * *

  Several squad cars had already arrived at the scene, barricades erected outside the All Colors. Gleason was becoming unraveled, Jordan thought as she listened to the ramblings of a man who had pretended to be in Spain on business, when in fact, he had met Chantal Perron, a woman who was now dead, in Seattle. He was holding Sheila, the All Color’s bartender, hostage in her workplace. The fact that he had picked up the phone made her carefully optimistic the situation could be resolved without any more deaths.

  “We can talk about this, okay? Just let her go. You’ll be in a much better position if you let her go,” she told him. She could hear crying in the background. Jordan hoped he hadn’t hurt her. If they ended this today, there was still a chance they could find Judy Lawrence alive.

  “No! You’re just trying to trick me,” he accused.

  She could feel Bethany rolling her eyes behind her.

  “I swear, no one’s trying to trick you. We want to make sure Sheila is safe. Mr. Gleason, I have some questions for you, but we really don’t need her for that. How about I come in, and we talk?
Help me understand. We’ll leave her out of it.”

  Bethany drew a sharp breath. “Have you lost your mind? Sergeant Bristol, this is not what we agreed on.”

  “Okay,” Gleason said after a long pause. “You can come in.”

  “All right. We do this nice and easy. When you open the door to me, you let Sheila go at the same time. Do we have a deal?”

  “Leave the gun outside. If you bring a gun inside, I shoot her,” he threatened. The woman trapped inside the house whimpered.

  “Jordan, for Christ’s sake!”

  “No, it’s okay, I hear you. No gun. We talk.”

  “This is crazy.” Bethany shook her head in an angry, frustrated gesture. “If this is how you do things around here, I’m not surprised at your lack in efficiency.”

  “Sergeant, we want him alive and talking,” Jordan said. “We don’t even know if he’s the murderer.”

  Bethany scoffed.

  “In any case, we have a chance at talking him down before he hurts her, and if he’s our man, we might find Judy Lawrence.”

  “We might have a chance at getting you killed as well.”

  “Roberts, that’s enough. This is Detective Carpenter’s call.”

  Bethany’s lips formed a thin line.

  Jordan secretly felt exhilarated, allowing herself a brief moment to acknowledge the emotion. Not only had Bristol backed her up, but Bethany had no way of denying she was right. There was no time to discuss this any longer. While she had a good chance of ending up hurt, Jordan knew she could make a difference today. She knew her job, and her limits. Every once in a while she had to prove it to Bethany, and herself.

  “Mr. Gleason? I’m coming in now.”

  * * * *

  Crime and punishment. Was it more important to teach the cheater, or the person that dared to come between two partners in a relationship? There was so much work for him to do, but it was tough. Most people weren’t cut out for those realities. He turned off the radio, his anger growing by the minute.

  The woman stared back at him with wide frightened eyes, dreading the punishment she’d receive. What? He wanted to ask. Is it my fault now that you’re a lying, cheating whore?

  He went to work.

  * * * *

  Ellie couldn’t concentrate, a multitude of mixed emotions, none of them good, keeping her mind hostage. Dr. Roberts’ unveiled disdain for her was the least of it. Ellie was baffled—how could she know? It wasn’t her biggest problem at the moment. She hated to be this far from the action, not knowing what was going on. What she had understood so far was that Bethany and Jordan were in a constant challenge, an aspect of their relationship that had seeped into their professional lives long before Ellie was in the picture. Was she, really? What would happen after today?

  She was worried about Jordan too. Worried sick. If she’d been on the scene now, doing her job, she wouldn’t even have so much time to think about it. Ellie hated being afraid.

  She hated Bethany who had told her to stay behind, treating her like a schoolgirl when other uniformed officers had been called in to provide backup.

  Jordan had said she was planning on moving out. That gave her a little hope, even though it was no indication they might have a chance.

  Please, be okay.

  She went over the files again, Gleason, Hayes, Campbell, and now Judy Lawrence. He was wearing a mask the whole time, she remembered Lori Gleason saying. She would have recognized her ex-husband’s voice, wouldn’t she? Then again, the drugs in her system had to mess with her perception.

  “Stop struggling!”

  Had it been Gleason who attacked her that night? Would all the strings come together today?

  * * * *

  “What’s the point? You won’t believe me anyway,” he said bitterly, raising the gun once more.

  “That’s not true.” Jordan kept her hands up, fairly proud they weren’t shaking. At least, Sheila was outside now. “What’s this thing with the collar? I told you, I want to understand.”

  “It wasn’t me. In Seattle, it wasn’t me.”

  “Okay. What happened?”

  “They made fun of me. I wanted them to stop,” he said, his expression haunted. “It had to stop.”

  Here we go.

  “Them…You mean Lori…and Isabel?”

  “I’m not stupid!” he yelled at her. “It was supposed to be a prank. No one was ever supposed to die.”

  Jordan stood still, unflinching. She would let him talk until something came up that made sense, not let him know that she didn’t understand a thing at this moment. It was clear though that Mr. Gleason had a strange idea of a prank. Three women had died, another one was still in danger.

  “I believe you. Pranks can get out of hand, turn out in a way you didn’t intend.”

  “Lori was sleeping around, making me look like an idiot. Do you do that to your husband too? Do you expect him to just take it?”

  She hadn’t seen the blow coming, the butt of the gun connecting painfully with the side of her face before he trained the weapon on her again. It made her stagger back, struggling to keep her balance. She tasted blood.

  “No. That’s not a good idea. So you wanted to punish her, make her stop. Is that why you locked her up?”

  “I didn’t lock her up, stupid!”

  “Calm…down, okay? We don’t want the cops outside to think this is getting out of hand, right? Tell me about the prank. You went to Seattle. You met Chantal. Was it for payback, to let Lori know you could do the same?”

  He was nervous, his finger trembling on the trigger. It might be time to put an end to this situation, and soon.

  “He said he’d scare her a little, and I could enjoy myself in the meantime, with Chantal.”

  “Who said that?”

  “It’s over,” he said darkly. “You won’t believe me anyway. It’s only a matter of time before you connect the dots, and I won’t go to prison.” This time, he raised the gun to his own head. Jordan acted without thinking, trying to get hold of his wrist. A shot rang out, and then another. If he died, they might never find Lawrence.

  Gleason dropped to the floor, screaming in pain, the side of his head bloody, but he hadn’t managed to put a bullet in his brain. Kicking the gun out of his reach, Jordan stepped back, catching her breath. “I’m sorry, Mr. Gleason. You’ll have to answer some more questions about who put you up to this.”

  She felt her knees go weak and reached for the table behind her to steady herself.

  Chapter Seven

  No one had died, which was a relief, but there was still a lot of work left to do. Back at the station, Jordan went to clean herself up in the bathroom. She looked a bit worse for wear, but with the blood cleaned away, it wasn’t so bad. She returned to her desk hoping to sit down for a few minutes and clear her head. As expected, the moment of peace didn’t last long.

  “You should go to the hospital.” Bethany’s tone sounded more chiding than worried, but maybe that was Jordan’s imagination. Ellie hovered close as well, looking scared. Jordan thought it might be as much for her as her looks had to be triggering to someone who had been beaten up not so long ago.

  “I’m fine,” Jordan said, pressing the ice pack against her face, wishing she could block out all the concerned people around her. Gleason had lost consciousness and was in the hospital, ironically the same from which Lori was about to be released. There was nothing for her to do there.

  They had to talk to Sheila, and take apart Gleason’s apartment for any hint of something that could support his ramblings.

  Punishment. Bethany had been right. Of course she had been.

  “We have the warrant for Gleason?” Jordan asked, receiving a nod from Henderson. “Fine. You can go ahead,” she told him. “Take Harding and McCarthy. I’ll join you right after I talk to Sheila.” The bartender was waiting in an interview room, shaken but ready and willing to answer questions after she’d been provided with hot coffee and a snack. “All right. Anything else?�
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  “I’ll wait for you,” Bethany said. “You can’t drive like this.”

  “I’d prefer you go over to Gleason’s and do your thing.” The truth was, Bethany was incredibly gifted in her field, and intuitive. She’d find proof for Gleason’s delusions, whatever they mean in detail. Jordan wasn’t yet sure if the second man existed at all. Bethany agreed with her on that, surprisingly.

  “A few minutes won’t change anything,” she argued anyway. “Don’t be so stubborn.”

  “I do believe that time is of importance here.” Bethany frowned at Bristol’s statement. “Why don’t you join the officers at Gleason’s house, and Officer Harding can drive Detective Carpenter when she’s done here?”

  Jordan gave him a tired smile. “That’s a brilliant idea.”

  * * * *

  “Oh God, I was so scared,” Sheila whispered. “I thought he was trying to kill me.”

  Welcome to the club, Jordan thought wryly, but she kept her musings to herself. Ellie, standing in the corner of the room, looked freaked out enough already.

  “Well, it’s a good thing you called 911,” Jordan acknowledged. “You’ve been checked out, everything’s okay?”

  Sheila nodded, biting her lip.

  “Is he…You know? Did he kill anybody?”

  “We don’t know for sure yet. Did he tell you anything? How did you know him in the first place?”

  The woman wrapped her hands around the paper cup as if trying to draw warmth from it.

  “The women were all kidnapped and drugged before they were murdered, right? I read about that.”

  Jordan sat up straighter, wincing. It wasn’t such a bad idea to have a designated driver. Hopefully there would be some hint at Gleason’s apartment as to what happened to Judy Lawrence. She couldn’t possibly make it an early night as long as they still didn’t have any idea where she was, headache or not. “We believe so.”