“She just isn’t,” Noah said. “Nick, you look like you haven’t gotten any sleep in a month. Is Sam keeping you up?”
“No, I read her a story and she’s out for the night. I’m the one having the trouble. It’s odd. When I’m out of town on a case, I sleep just fine, but when I’m home, I need Laurant to be next to me. But she isn’t now, and I’m not sleeping.”
Noah understood. He hadn’t been sleeping much either since he’d been home.
“Got any suggestions?” Nick asked.
“Yeah. Stop acting like a girl.”
Nothing Noah said ever bothered Nick, probably because their senses of humor and personalities were so much alike.
“How was the conference?” Nick asked with a straight face. He knew how much Noah detested anything that remotely hinted of bureaucracy. “I was really sorry I had to miss it.”
“Very funny.”
Nick had a good laugh. Then he asked, “How come you haven’t commented on the verdict in my father’s court case?”
“What? The verdict’s in?”
“It’s been all over the news channels. Guilty on all counts.”
“I’ve been locked up in meetings and didn’t hear. Your father must be relieved. How long was the deliberation?”
“Just a couple of hours. That’s not the only good news. One of the detectives called to tell me they were looking at the guy’s cousin for the break-in on Nathan’s Bay.”
“How sure are they?”
“Sure enough to pick him up.”
They were still talking about the case when Nick parked the car in the underground garage at the hospital.
“Your father will be happy to get rid of those bodyguards. I know they were driving him crazy by following him everywhere he went,” Noah said.
“I’ll bet he’s already dismissed them.”
Noah removed his suit jacket and tie and left them in the car. He rolled up his sleeves as he walked.
A tall, leggy blonde strolled toward them. She slowed down, as if waiting for a reaction, smiled at Noah, glanced at the gun at his side, and kept going.
Nick noticed that Noah hadn’t noticed. He didn’t even break his stride.
“Is something wrong with you?” Nick asked.
“I saw her.” Noah shrugged. “Again, she’s not my type.”
The elevator was directly across from the emergency room station. Nick pushed the button.
Noah’s phone rang. He saw the caller ID. “That’s Chaddick,” he said as he flipped the phone open. A nurse and a security guard frowned at him. The nurse pointed to the wall and shook her head. The sign on the tile next to the elevator buttons said no cell phones were allowed. There was also an outline of a phone with a red X through it.
“Yes?” Noah said into his phone.
The federal agent got right to the point. “Noah? Chaddick here. J. D. Dickey’s death has been ruled a homicide.”
Noah cursed loudly. The security guard started toward him, so he pulled out his FBI badge and held it up as he listened to Chaddick’s explanation. The guard backed away.
Noah snapped the phone shut as the elevator doors opened. His mind was racing. There were dozens of suspects on J. D.’s blackmail list, and Serenity was a thousand miles away. Still, Noah had learned to pay attention to his instincts, and he suddenly felt very uneasy.
With a killer on the loose, where was Jordan?
JORDAN BROKE DOWN AND PURCHASED ANOTHER CELL PHONE identical to the one J. D. Dickey had smashed before he’d decked her. She could have gotten a newer model, she supposed, but she already had an extra battery in a charger sitting on her desk and a cord for her car that was specifically designed for her old phone.
She told herself she wasn’t slipping back into her old tech ways. She was just being smart. A cell phone was a safety tool, especially when Jordan was jogging by herself or driving on the highway. If anything happened, help was just a phone call away—providing, of course, she could get a signal.
She kept the same phone number, and when she returned home after making her purchase, she immediately plugged the unit into her computer to program it. By the time she’d changed her clothes, brushed her hair, and applied a little makeup, the new phone was ready to go.
Visiting hours at the hospital would be over in an hour and a half. To avoid the rush-hour traffic on her way there, Jordan took as many side streets as possible. Unfortunately, a lot of other drivers did the same thing.
She pulled her car into a spot in an underground parking garage adjacent to the emergency room entrance. It was well lit, and there were people coming and going. The ambulance bay was next to the automatic doors.
Just outside the entrance, eating a chocolate bar, a nurse sat on a bench. Chocolate reminded Jordan of Jaffee’s chocolate cake. She still hadn’t called him. How long had he been waiting to hear from her? She pulled out her phone and saw that she had a signal. She could call him now. But maybe later was better. If Jaffee had a lot of computer questions for her she’d be on the phone for a good, long while, and visiting hours would soon be over. Jordan couldn’t miss visiting Laurant. No matter what, she vowed, as soon as she came out of the hospital, she’d call Jaffee.
Entering Laurant’s private room on the fifth floor, Jordan was surprised to find herself walking into a small crowd. Her father had just arrived and the judge was kissing his daughter-in-law Laurant on the cheek. Nick was there, too, sprawled in a chair half-asleep.
And there was Noah, leaning against the window ledge, waiting to talk to Judge Buchanan, who had just turned in his direction. Noah’s arms were crossed and he looked perfectly relaxed. Jordan had wondered how she would feel when she saw him again, and it was exactly as she had thought: A stabbing pain shot through her heart.
So relieved to see her, Noah got angry. Where the hell had she been? Nick had told Noah that Jordan was on her way to the hospital, but she’d sure taken her own sweet time getting there. Did she come by way of New Hampshire?
The wait had been agonizing. He’d called her home phone and only reached her answering machine. If she had a damned cell phone, he could have been able to get hold of her while she was en route and would have known she was safe. It was the not knowing that had been tearing Noah up inside.
Jordan hugged her father and squeezed Laurant’s hand. Since Nick looked like he was asleep, she didn’t bother with him. Not sure of what she was going to say to Noah, Jordan finally looked over at him and managed a smile.
“Hi.” Not so very imaginative, but it was all she could come up with. It’s nice to see you again had been her second choice. Thank God she hadn’t said that.
He straightened. “We need to talk.”
His greeting wasn’t so hot either. He sounded like a drill sergeant. Grabbing her hand, Noah headed for the door.
“Be right back,” she called over her shoulder.
He pulled her halfway down the hall before stopping and facing her.
“Listen…”
“Yes?” Jordan kept her voice as low as his.
“Are you okay?”
She didn’t know how to answer. The truth was out of the question. She wondered how he would react if she told him, no, she wasn’t okay, she was miserable—thanks to him.
“Oh, you know…” she stalled.
He frowned, waited.
“What did you want to talk to me about?” Jordan asked.
“I talked to Chaddick.”
Suddenly Jordan was past her awkwardness with Noah. “I did too. Can you believe it? Were you as stunned as I was?”
“Well, I was surprised,” he said.
“The gall,” Jordan huffed.
“The what?”
“The sheer gall of that Haden woman. On eBay no less! How could she possibly think she wouldn’t be caught?”
“Jordan, what are you talking about?”
“My laptop. Maggie Haden was trying to sell it on eBay.”
Noah lowered his head. “Sugar, you need to
focus on the bigger picture here. Didn’t you hear? J. D. Dickey’s death was declared a homicide.”
“Yes, I know. And you’re right. That’s the bigger picture. I’ve been thinking about it a lot, but it always seems I end up with more questions than answers. Who do you think is behind it?”
“I don’t know,” he admitted. “There’s no shortage of suspects, thanks to J. D.’s list. But I’ll tell you one thing: I’m not going to stop worrying about you until this case is closed and the killer is behind bars.”
“Serenity’s a long way from here, Noah. You don’t need to worry about me. Down in Texas, I was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
“Humor me,” Noah said. “Just be careful, okay?”
“Yes, okay.”
“And get a damned cell phone.”
Where had that come from? “You’re such a charmer,” Jordan whispered, following him back into the hospital room.
Her father was telling Nick and Laurant a funny story about one of his “shadows,” the name he’d given to the contingent of bodyguards who had been constantly at the judge’s side for the last few months. Jordan was happy to see her father laughing again. The lines in his face had diminished, and he looked as though a great burden had been lifted from his shoulders.
When Nick raised a question about the lapse in security at Nathan’s Bay, the judge downplayed it, praising the agents for their dedication and professionalism. He admitted, however, that he was glad to be rid of them.
The conversation was interrupted when Laurant’s doctor arrived on his evening rounds. Everyone in the room was glad to hear the doctor say how pleased he was with the results of the medication and the tests. Laurant’s contractions had stopped, and if all stayed calm through the night, she could go home as early as tomorrow morning. After promising to stop by their house tomorrow to help with Sam, Jordan left a few minutes before visiting hours were over.
Noah followed her into the hallway. From behind, he called out, “Wait for me. I’ll walk you to your car.”
“I have to make a phone call that I’ve been putting off,” Jordan said, pulling out her cell phone. She held it up. “And as you can see, I already purchased a ‘damned cell phone.’”
Noah grinned. “Okay then. Go make your call, but wait for me downstairs, inside by the emergency room entrance.”
“Fine,” she agreed.
“Your father’s leaving soon. I’ll come down with him,” he said.
She stepped inside the elevator, then turned around. Noah watched as the doors closed between them.
OUTSIDE, PAUL PRUITT PATIENTLY WAITED FOR JORDAN. SLUMPED down behind the steering wheel, certain no one would notice him, he figured he’d found the perfect spot. His rental car was tucked neatly in between two sedans. He’d backed the car in to ensure he could quickly get away.
It wouldn’t be much longer. On the seat beside him, ready to fire, was the gun.
The entire day had been a waiting game. Most of the afternoon, he’d been parked down the street from Jordan’s apartment. Earlier he had identified her car parked in front of her building, so he’d known she was inside. His plan was to wait until she left the area, and then Pruitt would break into her apartment and get what he needed. He didn’t care how long it would take. He could wait one hour or twelve. Didn’t matter to him.
He’d carefully mapped out his strategy. Once he’d broken into her apartment, he’d pack up all the copies of MacKenna’s papers she had shipped from Serenity. He’d brought along a bunch of big cardboard boxes for just this purpose. After he had all the documents, he’d disappear, and any and all evidence implicating Paul Pruitt would be gone.
He had thought about tearing up her apartment so it would look like a simple break-in, but he’d realized how foolish that plan was. Why would a thief steal research papers?
Let Jordan wonder why they were taken. Without the copies, she’d never figure it out. And Pruitt could keep his nice new life.
Unfortunately, his plan got a little more complicated once Pruitt had actually gotten inside Jordan’s apartment. He had been walking across her living room when her phone rang. The answering machine quickly picked up. Jordan’s father was calling to tell her that he would meet her at St. James Hospital, and to remind her that Laurant’s room number was 538.
Good, he had thought. She was on her way to St. James Hospital. He didn’t know who this Laurant was and didn’t care. He planned to be long gone before Jordan returned home and discovered the theft.
It had been a piece of luck that Pruitt had noticed the notepad on the coffee table. Seeing what was written on it, he’d stopped cold. There, in the center of the page, pulsating like a neon beacon, were the numbers: 1284. And surrounding the numbers were a bunch of question marks.
She’d gotten too close. He tore the sheet of paper from the notepad, staring at it as his mind raced. Once again, everything had changed. But yet again, he knew what had to be done.
Her father…yes, her father, Judge Buchanan, was at the hospital. A perfect opportunity. Paul had done enough research on Jordan Buchanan to know who her father was, and he had immediately recognized the name when he recently heard it on the news. It was impossible to miss. The media were saturating the airwaves with reports about the major court case verdict and the judge who had presided over it. The news reports also mentioned the death threats the judge had received. So if he timed it just right, Pruitt could make it look like Judge Buchanan was the target, not his daughter Jordan.
And here he sat, in an outside parking lot with a good view of the hospital doors. If luck were truly on his side, any minute now the judge would walk through those hospital doors with his daughter.
Suddenly, Paul sat up. Was that her? Yes…Jordan Buchanan was coming through the doors.
Pruitt reached for his gun, waiting for just the right moment.
STEPPING OUTSIDE THE EMERGENCY ROOM DOORS INTO THE PARK-ing garage, Jordan turned on her cell phone and called information for Jaffee’s phone number. Checking her watch and subtracting an hour, she was sure Jaffee would be at the restaurant.
Jordan knew the operator would connect the call for her, but she wanted to write down the number in case she had to call Jaffee back. She dug through her purse for a scrap of paper and a pen. Holding her phone to her ear with her shoulder, she waited, pen poised to hear the phone number. There were two benches, one on each side of a concrete pillar. Both were empty. She started toward the one farther away from the entrance. The bright fluorescent lights above the sliding glass doors bothered her eyes, and one of the tubes was flickering annoyingly and making a low buzzing sound.
As the operator recited Jaffee’s number, two orderlies walked out, loudly talking to an ambulance driver, so Jordan needed to ask the operator to repeat the number. She quickly wrote it down.
She settled on the bench as the call went through.
“Hello.” It was Angela on the other end. Jordan held her hand over her other ear to block out the background noise.
“Hello, Angela.”
“Jordan? Hey, Jordan! How are you doing? Jaffee’s sure going to be happy to hear from you. He’s really been fretting over Dora.”
“Is this a busy time at the restaurant? Should I call back?”
“We’re closed. We had bankers’ hours today. Jaffee made a triple-sized chocolate sheet cake and drove it over to Trumbo’s house in Bourbon. His wife, Suzanne, is having her monthly bridge club.”
“I’m sorry I missed Jaffee. Please tell him I’ll call tomorrow.”
“Oh, no, don’t wait till tomorrow. You can catch him over at the Trumbo house. Jaffee’s wife is one of the bridge players in the club, so Jaffee drives her to Bourbon and waits to bring her back home. It’s the same every month. He takes a big old chocolate sheet cake for Suzanne to serve and a bottle of Bailey’s Irish whiskey for Dave to lace his coffee with. Since he has to drive back home, Jaffee says he only drinks his coffee straight. No lacing for him. He’ll be sitting the
re in Dave Trumbo’s kitchen, so you can call him on the Trumbo’s house phone. I know he’d be upset if you didn’t call tonight.”
Jordan promised she’d call Jaffee right away. She tried to hang up, but Angela wasn’t quite ready to say good-bye.
“Did you hear? They say J. D. Dickey got murdered?”
“Yes, I heard that,” said Jordan.
“I can’t say I’m too sorry about it. Folks sure have been acting strange since we heard though. Usually when news this big hits this town, our restaurant gets jam-packed. Everyone wants to come in and jabber on about it…like they did after you found that professor man and Lloyd, remember? The restaurant drew real crowds then. But no one’s come in to talk about J. D. It’s like they’re all hiding in their houses.”
“I’m sure they must be frightened. Until an arrest is made…”
“I know what you’re saying. Until then, we’ve got some crazy murderer running around town, so of course everyone’s scared witless. Still, there’s something else going on.”
“I’m not sure what you mean.”
“Suddenly, no one looks me in the eye. It’s like they’re embarrassed or something. I was in the grocery story getting some more half-and-half for the restaurant and I saw Charlene doing her shopping. I went over to say hey to her—I know she saw me—but what does Charlene do? She leaves a cart full of groceries in the middle of the aisle and speed-walks out of the store. Her face was flaming red too. Then I hear from Mrs. Scott. A similar thing happened to her over at the hardware store—only with her it was Kyle Heffermint not looking her in the eye and hightailing it out of the store. I sure wish I knew what was going on.” Angela sighed.
The tapes were what was going on, Jordan knew. Charlene and the others on the list obviously weren’t yet sure if anyone else in town had heard about their transgressions. Oh, no doubt, they were in a panic now.
“That all sounds very strange,” Jordan said.
“That’s what I thought,” said Angela. “Now you hang up and call Jaffee…Oh, but before you do, I was just wondering…”
“Yes?”