L.A.P.D. Special Investigations Series, Boxed Set: The Deceived, The Taken & The Silent (56 page)

CHAPTER SEVEN

WELL, THAT HADN’T GONE
the way she thought it would. Laura watched Cait and Jordan from the window in her bedroom. After Jordan had made his phone calls, Cait immediately dragged him outside to show off her new scooter and Phoebe had shooed Laura out. They both knew too many women in the kitchen was a recipe for disaster.

Laura glanced at her image in the bureau mirror. Her unruly hair sprouted in all directions and her jeans and orange T-shirt were smudged with dirt after her efforts to shovel out a spot for a spring garden in the backyard. But Jordan hadn’t seemed to notice.

Laura felt a twinge of embarrassment. When he’d touched her, she’d jerked away like he’d made an inappropriate move or something. Stupid. He was a gentle, caring man. And he smelled good, too. She didn’t recognize the scent, but then why would she? It’d been nearly four years since she’d been so close to a man.

She took another look at herself. Cait would probably monopolize Jordan until dinner, so maybe she’d freshen up. Quickly, she turned on the shower, pulled the grungy T-shirt over her head and sloughed off her jeans.

As she stepped inside the stall, she heard Caitlin laughing. She didn’t know what had possessed Jordan to say yes to dinner, but she was glad he had.

Standing directly under the shower nozzle, she tipped her face into the fine, hard spray, reminding herself Jordan wasn’t really there for a social visit. She’d called him because she was scared.

But, oddly, she wasn’t so frightened anymore. Jordan exuded confidence and she, in turn, had confidence in his abilities. A male presence in the house had all kinds of effects on her psyche. She felt very much alive again.

Within ten minutes, she’d washed and toweled dry. She quickly blew dry her hair and then put on a clean pair of blue jeans and a green hoodie. She didn’t have much else in her wardrobe but jeans and T-shirts. For the first time in ages, she wished she had something more feminine. She dabbed on a bit of lip gloss and blush. That was about as dressed up as she got these days.

A knock on the door startled her. “Mom, are you going to come out? Dinner’s almost ready.”

Laura opened the door. “I was just coming.”

“Yum,” Cait said. “You smell good.”

“I took a shower.” She passed Cait in the doorway and headed for the kitchen.

“It doesn’t smell like soap. It smells like perfume.”

Oh, the honesty of kids. “Okay, I’m busted. Now, let’s see if we can help Phoebe in the kitchen or set the table or something. Where’s Det— Jordan?”

“He’s with Alysa and Claire.”

The apprehension she thought she’d stifled surfaced again. She didn’t think he’d question the girls, but she really didn’t know him and couldn’t be sure. “See if you can help with the table. I have to talk to Jordan for a minute.”

Cait grumbled something as she went into the kitchen.

Laura found Jordan in the sunroom with the two girls, their eyes wide in rapt attention and hanging on his every word. He had his back to her and neither girl looked up when Laura came in. She waited for Jordan to finish. At the end of his story, the girls laughed and Jordan turned, almost as if he knew she was there all along.

“Hey. You look great in green,” he said.

“Oh…thank you. I was dirty from working in the yard so I…cleaned up a bit.”

“Well, you clean up nice.”

Claire and Alysa giggled and Laura felt heat rise to her cheeks. She cleared her throat. “Can I get anyone something to drink?”

“We already got Mr. St. James something,” Alysa piped up.

Laura saw a glass of lemonade on the table next to Jordan. “Oh. Good.”

“He’s telling us stupid-crook stories,” Claire said. “It’s unbelievable how dumb some people are.”

“Call me Jordan,” he said to the girls. .“It works better over dinner.” Claire and Alysa giggled again.

Laura had wondered how her charges would take having a guest for dinner. A detective in particular. Some of her residents didn’t have a high opinion of the police. But she needn’t have worried.

“Tell her the one about the bank robber and the deposit slip,” Alysa prompted.

Laura sat next to Jordan on the love seat since the others had the chairs. “Please do. I’m all ears.”

An hour later, after they’d finished dinner and a fruit dessert, the girls shooed Laura and Jordan out of the kitchen, volunteering to clean the mess. Phoebe and Rose claimed they had work to do and even Cait went to her room to finish some homework.

On their way into the TV room, Jordan grinned at Laura and shrugged. “Was it something I said?”

Laura laughed. “It’s a thinly disguised plot to leave us alone.”

“Really?”

He stood next to her, near the old vinyl sectional. Neither made a move to sit.

Having dinner with Jordan had been delightful. He was an easy conversationalist, charming and surprisingly funny. He made everyone around him feel at ease, including her. When any of the girls spoke, he gave his full attention, as if she was the only person in the room. He made the teens feel important. She knew because she’d felt the same. “Yes. They’ve all been bugging me to get a social life for a while now.”

He arched an eyebrow. “And what do you think?”

“About what?”

“Do you think you need to get a social life?”

His eyes, the color of quicksilver, held hers...and her stomach fluttered like a schoolgirl’s. Without answering, she set her cup on the table and turned to sit. He stopped her with a hand on her arm. The teasing look in his eyes said he already knew the answer.

She moistened her suddenly dry lips. “Maybe. A little. But this isn’t the time.”

His playful expression faded. “Right.” He let her sit, then sat next to her. “I think you need to tell me what you’re afraid of.”

The warmth and concern in his voice compelled her, and right then, for a fraction of a second, she wanted more than anything to tell him everything. Wanted to relieve herself of the horrible secret hanging over her head like the sword of Damocles. Because as long as she kept the secret, she’d live with the fear of discovery. She’d never stop watching. Waiting. Never be free to have a relationship.

But protecting her daughter was more important than her comfort level or any social life she might want. She shrugged. “I was afraid Caitlin was in danger because of the car. That’s it. Really.”

His head bobbed. “I could help.”

When she didn’t answer, he added, “I’m asking as a friend. A concerned friend.”

A friend. Could he really be? If she told him, he’d have to report it. She knew that as well as she knew what DeMatta was capable of doing. And what kind of friends could they be then? She almost reached for his hand for reassurance, but thought better of it. “I’m truly grateful for everything you’ve done tonight, Jordan, but please don’t read anything more into it. It was the car. If he goes away, we’ll be fine. I’ll be fine.”

He frowned, clearly puzzled, then took her hand. “Okay.”

His touch was gentle, but she could tell he didn’t believe her. Not for a second. Well, whether he did or not didn’t matter. He was just going to have to accept it.

***

Driving home, Jordan returned a call to Luke on his cell phone. “What’s up?”

Luke grunted. “Shit. A lot of shit.”

“Something I can do?”

“Where are you?”

“On my way home.”

“You want to stop by? I’ll buy you a beer.”

“Sure. Any hint on what it’s about?”

“I’ll tell you when you get here.”

“Give me twenty.”

Intrigued, Jordan clicked off. Since his divorce, Luke never invited anyone over. It had to be important.

He took the exit to Highway 10 and headed west toward Luke’s place in Venice, but his thoughts veered in another direction—where they always seemed to go these days—to Laura. She was right to be upset about the car. And he was glad she’d called him. The police would put a watch on the school, but he doubted they’d put one at the shelter.

He felt he should do something else, but he didn’t know what. It made him even more determined to find out what she was hiding. It had to be something with catastrophic effects if it was revealed—hurting her or someone she loved. Otherwise why hide it?

The traffic congealed, a mass exodus from downtown L.A. Slowed to a halt several times, it took him longer than he figured to reach Ocean Avenue. He drove past the beach houses, funky shops and streets crowded with the usual tourists, vendors, artists and jugglers still out even though it was late. He turned onto a strip of road leading to Luke’s.

Luke’s grandfather had willed Jordan’s buddy the old home, now hidden among the palms on one of the old Venice canals. The area had seen a rebirth since the beatnik days of the fifties and hippie days of the sixties, and now Venice boasted some of the most expensive homes in West L.A. Luke’s property was worth a bundle, but his friend couldn’t care less.

Jordan parked, got out and filled his lungs with the salty sea air to clear his head. He strode to the door. It was late, 10:00 p.m., and he’d had a long day. The highlight being dinner with Laura and her daughter. He smiled at how much he’d enjoyed himself—despite the reason he was there.

The door sprung open. Luke stood there, his shirt unbuttoned, his jeans wrinkled even more than usual. His sandy hair looked like a pile of hay. He motioned Jordan inside.

“Hey, what’s up?” Jordan said. “You look like hell.”

Luke ignored the comment.

Jordan followed Luke into the kitchen and took the beer his friend handed him. “Nothing, I guess.”

“Have a seat,” Luke said.

They sat at the wooden table. The place was small, but well laid out. Everywhere Jordan looked he saw signs of Julianna—things Luke hadn’t bothered to get rid of. Some of the black-and-white photographs she’d taken were still tacked to the corkboard next to the refrigerator, most of them discolored and hanging at all angles. But no pictures of Michael. “What’s with the old stuff?” Jordan waved a hand at the pictures. “It’s been how long—four years since the divorce?”

“Four and a half.”

Jordan nodded. He doubted Luke had called him to talk about his broken marriage.

“Where’ve you been? I tried calling.”

“I had dinner at Victory House tonight.”

Luke’s head came up. “How’d you manage that?”

“Ms. Gianni called me.” He waited briefly for the response he knew he’d get.

“No kidding.”

Jordan took a swig of beer, then studied the label, drawing out the suspense. After all, they had a hundred-dollar bill riding on Jordan’s success or failure in getting information from Laura Gianni. Jordan held up the amber bottle. “Fat Tire. What kind of name is that for a beer?”

Luke crossed his arms and gave Jordan the evil eye.

“Actually, she called me for my law-enforcement expertise and her kid invited me to stay for dinner.”

“What kind of expertise is she interested in?”

Jordan lifted his beer, frowning. The whole thing still bothered him. “She thinks someone is stalking her daughter.”

“Is it valid?”

“I don’t know. The kid saw a car hanging around the school, and that’s enough for me.”

“Why would someone stalk her daughter?”

“You got me. They’ve had old boyfriends hang out before. Could be some pervert preying on her daughter or an old boyfriend of her own. Could be anything. She didn’t seem to know a whole lot.”

“You get anything else from her on Kolnikov?”

Jordan leaned back on two legs of the chair. “Nope.” He smiled. “But I will.” No way was he going to admit defeat.

“Well, while you’re figuring it out, I’ve got something else for you to chew on.”

“It must be good, or you wouldn’t have dragged me here.”

“I found a bug under my desk, so I checked yours.” Luke arched his brows. “Someone knows everything we’re doing.”

“Which is?”

“The Kolnikov case and the Gianni murder, and apparently we’re ruffling some political feathers. Both cases have mob overlap, so I figure someone’s making enough noise to get the mayor involved. Which funnels down to the captain, and he isn’t too happy about it.”

“You think DeMatta’s got the mayor under his thumb?”

Luke shrugged. “Pressure does funny things to rational people.”

“A bug, huh?”

“Yeah. I left them where they were, so be careful what you talk about.”

“Anyone else know?”

“Not yet. And I’m thinking maybe we should keep it quiet. We can’t find the mole if  he knows we know he’s there.”

Jordan shook his head. “Whoever our mole is, he’s got major
cojones
.”

***

“Caitlin? Is that you?” Laura thought she heard the back door open and shut, but the older girls had gone to the mall with Phoebe, and Cait had gone to Shannon’s house for a birthday party. Maybe her daughter had forgotten something.