“You’re getting upset.”
Duh. “And about sex…” she began.
“What about it?”
“Are you familiar with the expression ‘What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas’?”
“Yes,” he replied. “I’ve seen the commercials.”
“All right,” she said. “I’m proposing that what happened between us in Serenity stays in Serenity. We’re bound to run into each other sometime or other on Nathan’s Bay. You’ll be fishing with one of my brothers and I’ll be checking in with the family and I don’t want you to feel awkward…” She stopped when she realized what she was saying. “Okay, you wouldn’t feel awkward, but I don’t want you to worry about me feeling awkward.” She was making a mess of her speech. “Do you understand what I’m trying to say?”
“Yes,” he replied. “Why are you worried about—?”
“I just am,” she interrupted. “My question is: Do we have a deal?”
“If it will make you happy…”
“Do we have a deal?”
“Yes.”
She thought it might be pushing the matter to suggest that they shake hands, but she was happy to have it settled. It shouldn’t be too difficult to pretend that nothing extraordinary had happened. She was a pro at pretending. She could even pretend she hadn’t fallen in love with him…couldn’t she?
BY THE TIME JORDAN ARRIVED HOME, IT WAS WELL AFTER midnight. Noah carried her bags up to her brownstone apartment, checked each room just to make sure everything was as it should be, then kissed her good-bye and left without a backward glance.
He was already moving on, she thought. And she needed to do the very same thing.
When she fell into bed, she immediately crashed, and slept hard. In the morning, she opened her eyes and instinctively reached for Noah, but he wasn’t there. Feeling groggy and disoriented, she threw off the covers, put on her favorite ratty old robe, and padded into the kitchen. She pushed the play button on her answering machine as she walked past, and while she made herself a cup of hot tea, she listened to her messages. All forty-nine of them.
Three of the messages were from Jaffee. He wanted to know just how serious the delete button was because he had accidentally hit it when he was trying to save all his recipes and had lost them. He hoped he could get them back. Would she send him an e-mail telling him what to do, if indeed anything could be done?
“My computer mail is working fine,” he explained. “I haven’t messed that up, so I’ll get your reply. I’ve already left you two phone messages, and this is the third, and I’m guessing you aren’t even home yet. Please check your messages on your computer when you get in.”
How serious was the delete button? Jordan smiled. She guessed there really were people who needed extensive training on computers. Jaffee, was one of them. She would phone him later. After she listened to and erased the rest of the messages, she carried her cup of tea across the living room, curled up in the window seat that overlooked the Charles River, and stared out the window at nothing in particular.
Love wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. How long was she going to be miserable? Since she’d never really loved anyone the way she loved Noah, she didn’t have a timeline. She hoped that phase one of getting over him was feeling sorry for herself, because she was now wallowing in self-pity.
In no hurry to get dressed, she stayed in her pajamas until the middle of the afternoon. Around three p.m. she got a glimpse of herself in the mirror and cringed. So she took a shower and got dressed.
Nick called just after she’d put in her contacts.
“I was just about to call you,” she said. “How’s Laurant? I don’t want to phone the hospital and disturb her if she’s sleeping. Can she have visitors?”
“She’s okay,” he said. “The doctor wants to keep her another day at least, and I’m keeping the visitors to a minimum so she’ll rest.”
“I won’t come today,” Jordan said. “Give her a kiss for me and tell her I’ll be by tomorrow.”
“Be ready to answer a lot of questions,” Nick said.
Oh, God, what did Laurant know? “Why?” she asked nervously. “What questions? Why would Laurant want to ask me questions?” Could Jordan have sounded any guiltier? Did Nick notice?
“Jordan, what’s the matter with you?”
Of course he’d noticed. “What’s the matter?” she replied. “Nothing’s the matter. I was just wondering why your wife would want to question me.”
“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe she wants to ask you about those bodies you found,” he said sarcastically.
“Oh, yes. The bodies. The dead bodies.” She could not believe she’d forgotten about them. “Okay, then. I’ll answer her questions.”
“Are you angry with me? Is that why you’re acting so squirrelly?”
So much for her brother’s hotshot detective skills. “Um, that’s right, I am.”
“Tell me why.”
“You know why,” she stalled.
“It’s because I left you in Serenity, isn’t it? You were in good hands with Noah, but I’m your brother, and I should have stayed. I’m right, aren’t I? That’s why you’re angry.”
She was going to burn in purgatory for this lie alone. “Yes. That’s exactly why.”
“Doctor Morganstern ordered me back to Boston, and I don’t feel guilty about doing my job, Jordan. Besides, I was here when Laurant started having contractions. I needed to be here.”
“Okay then. Well, I forgive you.”
“That was quick.”
“You did what you had to do,” she blurted. “I’ve got to go now. Someone’s at the door. ’Bye.”
There really was someone at her door. UPS was delivering the research boxes she’d sent one-day air. After she brought them in and stacked them inside the front door by the coat closet, she went to her computer and turned it on. She wanted to get through her e-mails before she sent a message out to all of her addressees explaining that she was shutting down the computer for a while. She wouldn’t say for how long.
It took the rest of the afternoon and evening to get through all her cybermail. She still hadn’t called Jaffee back, and she made a mental note to do that first thing in the morning.
A bag of microwave popcorn was Jordan’s dinner. She stretched out on her sofa and channel-surfed while trying to keep Noah out of her thoughts. But he kept intruding. What had he done all day today? What was Noah doing now?
“Oh, this has to stop!”
Determined to think about something besides Noah, Jordan thought back over other aspects of her eventful journey to Texas. An innocent trip had become a firestorm leaving three men dead and a little town dazed. Had she been told beforehand what she was heading into, she never would have believed it. There were still so many unanswered questions, and she hoped that Agents Chaddick and Street would be able to get to the bottom of it all and wrap up the investigation quickly. All the intrigue and the deceptions were enough to make one’s mind spin, so Jordan concentrated on sorting it all out, starting with Professor MacKenna.
His story about the inheritance had been a lie. He’d obviously moved to Serenity because of the money he was getting. But where did he get those cash deposits? Were he and J. D. working together? Did J. D. kill the professor because he learned he was holding out on him? The professor was making five-thousand-dollar deposits while J. D. was collecting nickels and dimes. With his hair-trigger temper, J. D. could have easily killed him. And then J. D. himself went up in a blaze while trying to stir up even more trouble.
If they were working together. That would certainly solve part of the mystery, but what Jordan couldn’t work out was their association. The professor was a strange duck, a loner. He didn’t play well with others. So why’d he hook up with J. D.?
It didn’t add up.
She considered a second possibility. Sneaky blackmailer J. D. had found out about the money the professor was getting from a third party, and then tried to blackmail him. But the nu
tty professor couldn’t be blackmailed. If MacKenna had threatened to go to the police, J. D. knew he’d be sent back to prison. He couldn’t risk that, so he killed the professor to shut him up.
But something about that didn’t sit right either. Jordan thought it was a good bet the professor was involved in something illegal too.
Where was Professor MacKenna getting the money? That was the million-dollar question.
Sometimes you need to stop thinking about a problem for the solution to present itself. Jordan fell asleep waiting for that to happen. She was still waiting the next morning when she woke up. And by noon, she gave up. Jordan was unaccustomed to any sort of problem-solving failure. Obviously, this was a whole new can of worms.
Car keys in hand, she was walking out the door on her way to visit Laurant when her phone rang.
“Jordan, Agent Chaddick here. I’ve got some interesting news. We found your laptop.”
“You did? Where did you find it?”
“On eBay.”
“Excuse me?”
“Maggie Haden had it. She was trying to sell it on eBay. I guess she can kiss any hope of resuming her career good-bye.”
Jordan hadn’t time to absorb the news before Chaddick said, “I’ve got to take this call. I’ll get back to you.”
Jordan dropped into a chair. Maggie Haden. The gall…the unmitigated…
Her phone rang again.
“Jordan, Agent Chaddick again. Listen, I’ve got some other news. Not so good.”
“Yes?” she asked hesitantly.
“We just received a preliminary autopsy report on J. D. Dickey. It’s a homicide.”
All of Jordan’s earlier conjectures disappeared. She faced a new, more troubling scenario: The killer was still out there.
PAUL NEWTON PRUITT WASN’T GOING TO LET ANYONE DESTROY HIS NEW life. He had worked hard to get where he was, and he wasn’t going to run and hide and then start all over again. Not this time.
He had come a long way. Murder didn’t faze him these days. First there was the Scottish pip-squeak; then Lloyd, the lumbering idiot; and finally his eager but stupidly greedy little helper, J. D.
He hadn’t been at all squeamish about killing any one of them. Hadn’t had any remorse either. Pruitt had killed once before and had learned a valuable lesson. He would do anything to protect himself.
He’d thought he’d found the perfect patsy in J. D. And placing the bodies in Jordan Buchanan’s cars had bought him more time. Then, getting rid of J. D. would take care of the last link to Pruitt.
Or so he thought.
He’d been one of the first to hear the results of J. D.’s autopsy. There shouldn’t have been anything left of him to examine, but there was. The cracked skull had given him away, and J. D.’s accidental death was now listed as a murder.
Getting his hands on the copies of Professor MacKenna’s papers was becoming critical.
NOAH HAD BEEN STUCK IN SEMINARS WITH DR. MORGANSTERN for the past two days, and he hated every minute of it. He wasn’t a seminar kind of agent, which he mentioned several times, but his complaints didn’t matter to the doctor.
Morganstern wanted a bigger budget. The lost-and-found program he’d created several years ago had been immensely successful, and with their impressive records, Noah and Nick were the doctor’s best advertisement for expanding the program.
Each interminable seminar ended with a question and answer period. In Nick’s absence, all of the questions were directed at Noah. Had Nick been there, he would have stepped in and taken over that portion of the program. He was far more diplomatic and polished. But because his wife, Laurant, was in the hospital, Nick got a pass on attending the conference.
The lucky bastard.
By the end of the second day Noah could barely be civil to the other attendees. Sitting at a table with the doctor at the end of a long corridor, he waited for the next seminar to begin. Morganstern, Noah noticed, looked completely relaxed, but then Noah had learned that nothing ever got to him.
The venerable Dr. Peter Morganstern encouraged Nick and Noah to call him by his first name, but they would do so only when alone with him.
Noah whispered, “Hey, Pete, I want to ask you something. You think you’ll still get your bigger budget when I start shooting people? Because if I have to listen to one more long-winded lecture from another boring speaker, honest to God, I’m gonna shoot somebody…and then myself. And I just might take you with me for making me wear a suit and tie.”
“As a psychiatrist, I’ve been trained to pick up on subtle hints, and I should probably be alarmed—”
“Subtle hints?” Noah began to laugh.
Pete smiled. “However, since I feel the same way about the speakers, I won’t be too concerned, even though some of your comments during our last chat did make me wonder.”
Noah knew that “chat” was Morganstern’s code word for their private conferences. As a psychiatrist, Pete’s goal was to get inside Noah’s head and make sure he wasn’t about to go postal. The good doctor always found a way to accomplish it.
“Are you worried about me?” Noah asked him.
“Not in the least. How was your trip to Texas?”
Noah shrugged. “I kept her alive. That’s about it. I trust you heard what went on?”
“Yes, I did.”
“Agents Chaddick and Street took over the investigation.”
“Which is as it should be,” Pete said. “That’s their area.”
“I hated giving it up,” he admitted.
“What about Jordan?”
“What about her?” he asked sharply.
Pete raised an eyebrow. “I was wondering how she handled the stress.”
“Okay. She did okay.” There was a note of pride in his answer.
“Jordan has always had a special spot in my heart. My wife and I don’t ever play favorites, but if we did…” He added, “She has a wonderful heart, doesn’t she?”
“Yeah, she does,” Noah said softly.
“Have you spoken to her since you’ve been back?”
“No.”
The abrupt response didn’t go unnoticed. Pete didn’t say a word. He picked up a pencil and twirled it between his fingers while he waited for his subordinate agent to talk to him. It didn’t take long.
“What do you want from me?” Noah demanded.
And still Pete didn’t speak. Frustrated, Noah asked, “What are you fishing for?”
“I’ve noticed you’ve been on edge since you’ve been back,” Pete said. “I’m curious to know why.”
“I thought I made that perfectly clear. I hate seminars.”
“But that isn’t the reason for your anxiety, is it?”
“Ah hell, Pete. Anxiety? Are you kidding me?”
Pete smiled again. “When you’re ready to discuss whatever is going on with you, Noah, let’s talk.”
He was letting him off the hook. Noah could have gotten up and walked away, but he didn’t. He leaned back in the cushioned chair and, blankly staring as Pete sketched on his notepad, thought about how edgy he’d been lately.
“What are you drawing?” Noah asked after a minute.
Pete’s mind was somewhere else too. He looked at his sketch for a few seconds. “I’m not sure. It might be a calendar.” He nodded. “My subconscious must be trying to help me remember a date.”
“You guys believe those chicken scratches mean something, don’t you?”
“I don’t,” he said. “But a persistent, recurring sketch or doodle…yes, I’d look at that closely.” He checked his watch. “I don’t believe we need to attend this last meeting.”
Noah felt as though he’d just been given a last-minute reprieve from the governor. He walked with Pete to the parking garage.
When they reached the third level, Pete headed in one direction and Noah in the other.
Pete had his keys in his hand and was opening his car door when he heard Noah call to him.
Pete looked over the top of the
car. “Yes?”
“What made you decide to leave me in Serenity and bring Nick back? Was there a meeting or a review Nick needed to attend? Or was it something else?”
“What do you think?” Pete grinned as he slid into the driver’s seat and pulled the car door closed.
Noah stood in the corner of the garage and watched Pete drive away. The truth almost knocked him off his feet. He’d been played…and he was supposed to be a highly trained, astute, pickup-on-all-the-signals agent. So much for his razor-sharp skills.
“Son of a bitch,” he whispered.
Pete had blindsided him. Noah had never considered the possibility that the psychiatrist might have had an ulterior motive. Unbelievable. When he’d been apprised of Jordan’s situation in Serenity, Pete had decided then and there to be clever. He’d leave Noah and bring Nick home.
“Son of a bitch,” Noah whispered again. Pete had been matchmaking.
Noah called Nick from the car. When his partner answered, Noah could hear Nick’s two-year-old, Samantha, laughing in the background.
“I’m heading over to the hospital to hit on your wife,” he told Nick.
“Pick me up on your way,” Nick said. “Sam, put that down.” Noah heard a crash, then Nick’s sigh. “I swear to God, I don’t know how Laurant does it. Hostage negotiations are a piece of cake compared to bargaining with a two-year-old.”
Traffic was a bear, but that was the norm for Boston. Noah thought about Serenity. No traffic there. Just murder and mayhem.
Nick waited on his front porch holding pretty little Sam. A stunning brunette took the baby when Noah pulled into the drive.
“Is that a new babysitter?” Noah asked. “I haven’t seen her before.”
“She’s our backup sitter,” Nick explained.
“Sam like her?”
“Yeah, she does.” Nick waited a minute and then, puzzled, asked, “Aren’t you going to ask if she’s married? She’s not. Want her phone number?”
Noah shook his head. “Not my type.”
Nick, though happily married and faithful to the love of his life, had certainly noticed how attractive the babysitter was. “How can she not be your type?”