Nowhere To Run (To Protect And Serve) (7 page)

“You love inspecting the gems.
I know.” She answered for him. “Go. Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.”

Still he
hesitated. In the hours following her brother’s death, Caesar made sure she was never alone. Almost as if he didn’t trust her not to run. Or maybe he was just afraid of what she might uncover if left on her own. She hadn’t dared try to call Riley although she was desperate to hear his voice. Have him reassure her she hadn’t imagined him or what happened between them.

Caesar had i
nsisted on checking in with the detectives working Jeremy’s case and been told by Detective Burbeck that the investigation was still on-going. He couldn’t comment on any of the details other than someone would be in touch soon.

Since that time, the silence
in the apartment became unbearable and Jordan’s doubts had been limited to as far as her imagination could take them. She knew, if she didn’t get away from Caesar for a little while, she’d tip her hand. And if he knew what she suspected, would she end up in the same position as Jeremy?

Once
she was certain Caesar had gone into the office as he’d indication, she grabbed her purse, making sure her cell phone was inside then left the apartment.

Caesar d
idn’t approve of her walking alone in the city. Not a native New Yorker himself, he didn’t understand the pleasure of strolling the streets. He’d be furious with her for taking a cab. But now more than ever she needed to feel the city’s heartbeat, interact with fellow New Yorkers, absorb its energy. The city could be brutal at times, but it could also be healing.

The warmth of a late fall afternoon assaulted her
with senses with an array of flavors. The street vendors peddling their wares of hot dogs and soft pretzels. The heat of the city, rising up from concrete and asphalt. The dozens of passer-bys bathed in a kaleidoscope of perfumes and colognes.

In the past
, this had been one of Jordan’s favorite times in New York. Now, the beauty and color of the changing leaves would forever remain marred by the death of her brother.

The small apartment she and Jeremy shared was some ten blocks away from Caesar’s modern brownstone
and light years away in social standing.

Jordan took her time,
wanting to make sure Caesar hadn’t changed his mind and followed her.

She forced herself to wait until she was safely inside the apartment before trying to reach Riley.

Within the space of a few hours, her life as she knew it had been reduced to a series of insignificant, forced actions. Sleep. Get dressed. Eat. Finding out the truth was the most important thing in her life. Nothing mattered more than learning who was responsible for taking Jeremy’s life.

She unlocked the
apartment door then forced herself to go inside. Everything looked the same as it had when they’d left it that morning and yet nothing was the same. The people who lived here had no idea what lay ahead for them.

In the
ir tiny kitchen, the evidence of a hurriedly prepared meal remained scattered everywhere. Two-day-old coffee had turned to sludge in the pot. An opened cereal box sat on the counter. Cereal spilled out. A dirty bowl in the sink.

Jordan took a deep breath
and struggled to keep back the tears. She couldn’t cry. Since learning the news of Jeremy’s death she’d cried so many tears. She felt all cried out. She’d need to be strong if she were going to get through this thing. Tears were for the weak. Her father had taught her that lesson only too well.

She fished out
Riley’s business card from her purse and dialed the number listed for his cell.

“Detective Donovan.”
The sound of his voice carried strength and confidence. Like those moments following Jeremy’s death, she found just hearing it brought a strange measure of comfort.

“It’s Jordan.”
After an awkward moment of silence, she rushed on, “Doctor Scott – Jeremy’s sister--”

“I know who you are, Jordan
,” he assured her quietly. Even grief-stricken, his voice still sounded sexy as hell. “I’m glad you called. How are you?”

“
I’m okay. I’m not sure,” she admitted with a shaky sigh. She didn’t know she was doing anymore.

“It’s okay. You’re scared. I understand. You’ve been through a
n awful lot in the pass twenty-four hours. Let me help you.”

God, she wanted to believe he meant it
. Jordan shook her head then realized he couldn’t see her answer. “How do I know I can trust you?” The question leapt out before she could yank it back.

Two heartbeats
and a thousand doubts passed before he answered. “I guess you don’t. But I can prove it to you if you let me.”

Outside
of her living window, a noise from down below startled her, jerking her attention from the call. A car backfiring? A gunshot? Her frayed nerves stretched a little bit closer to the breaking point.

Suddenly, not even Riley’s quiet
strength was enough any longer. “Maybe this was a mistake…”

“Jordan, please just trust me
.”

Around her
, the silence of the apartment became even more oppressing. She could hear every creek. Every hum. Every beat of her heart. “I don’t think I can. Not yet. I’m sorry. I’m not sure why I called. It’s just, well you seem so…and I thought…after what happened yesterday… I-I just can’t believe Caesar would do the things you’ve suggested.” God, she hated this war raging within her. She felt frustrated and confused. Exhausted beyond measure.

“
Jordan, do you know something? Did he tell you anything?”

“No
…I don’t know, I’m not sure…I’m sorry. I know I’m not making any sense, am I?”

A minute went by before he responded. His voice
had grown gentle. “It’s okay. You called. That’s a start. I understand you still have doubts. You need more time, but you have to realize I can’t give you much.”

“
Why? Has something new happened? Do you know more about Jeremy’s—“

“No. Not exactly…” Another beat passed before he continued. “Is there somewhere that we can meet in private
, we really need to talk face to face, Jordan? I need to see you,” he added and some of her resistance melted.

Jordan
wasn’t sure why she hesitated. She wanted to know who was responsible for Jeremy’s death, didn’t she? “I’m not sure—“

“Think about it.
This is very important, Jordan. I really need to speak with you in person about what we discussed last night.”

What we discussed last night?
Was he trying to tell her Caesar might be listening in on their conversation even now?

“There’s a coffeehouse
not far from the hospital. But I’ll have to call you.”

She realized this wasn’t the answer he wanted from her
, but he’d accept it for the moment. “Okay. But make that call. Don’t stand me up. Whatever you do, Jordan, please don’t stand me up.”

She closed the cell phone and glanced at her watch. If she left now, she might be able to meet
Riley without arousing Caesar’s suspicions.

She
headed for the door then remembered the excuse she’d given for coming here today. She couldn’t show up at Caesar’s place without Jeremy’s clothes.

Facing Jeremy’s empty bedroom was hard to do.
For the first, she noticed what must have been there all along, right before her eyes. She’d been too caught up in her own worries to notice.

Jeremy’s closet was filled with expensive,
designer shirts, shoes. Jeans that she knew cost several hundred dollars each. Stuffed in one corner, hidden under a pile of discarded sweaters and pullovers, most of which still contained their price tags, was a fifty inch 3-D TV, DVD player, IPad, and a very state-of-the-art laptop still in its box.

A
s far as she knew, Jeremy was getting by on the small allowance she provided him and yet there was no way he’d been able to afford those types of luxuries on such a small amount of money. A quick search through Jeremy’s desk didn’t turn up any receipts for the items in question or any further insight into the last days of Jeremy’s life.

Slowly,
Jordan sank onto the bed. “What had you gotten yourself involved in, Jer?” she whispered as if he could still hear her. She had to believe that somewhere in this room there would be some clue as to what Jeremy had gotten mixed up in that had ultimately cost him his life. She needed some explanation for her brother’s death because she still didn’t want to accept that Caesar was capable of such brutality.

Jeremy’s
college books lay stacked haphazardly on the edge of the bed as if he’d dumped them there in haste. She picked the top one up and flipped through the pages. There were no notes. No turned down pages. It was almost as if Jeremy had never touched the book. She looked through the rest of them and found the same.

On
an impulse, Jordan went back to his desk and booted up the inexpensive laptop she’d bought Jeremy his first year of high school. She searched through all the files and yet not a single homework assignment could be found. No class notes. Nothing. Jeremy had barely made it through high school. His grades had been marginal at best. He studied endless hours each night after school as well as most weekends just to pass. Without Jordan’s help, he’d never have gotten into NYU.

She
dug through the papers on the desk until she found the number for NYU’s administration and ended up on hold. Once she’d gotten a live person and told her she needed to check on Jeremy’s schedule, the harried assistant put Jordan back on hold to look up Jeremy’s name.

Several minutes past while Jordan listened to
MUZAC before the assistant came back on the line. “I’m sorry, but our records indicate Jeremy Scott dropped out last year.“

Jordan couldn’t believe what she
’d heard. “That can’t be. Are you sure? Could you check it again, please? Jeremy Scott, S-C-O-T-T. He’s enrolled this fall. There must be some mistake.” She could hear the sound of the assistant’s fingernails clacking against the keyboard.

“
No ma’am, there’s no mistake. I’m sorry. In fact, the tuition money was refunded over three months earlier. You should have received it by now.”

Jordan’s thoughts
reeled. Why hadn’t Jeremy told her he’d dropped out? And where had the money gone that she’d given him just recently for fall tuition.

After rummaging t
hrough Jeremy’s desk drawers, she found what she was looking for. An envelope from NYU’s accounting department. A letter explaining that the sum of money represented a refund for two classes canceled last spring.

The check she’d written
at the beginning of the school year was stuffed inside the envelope as well.

Jordan’s
gaze went to the designer labels hanging in Jeremy’s closet. Where had he come up with the money to buy three hundred dollar shirts not to mention all the electronic gadgets that would have cost a small fortune? The money refunded from NYU would not have been enough. Had Jeremy started stealing as Caesar suggested? Sure, Jeremy’s behavior had changed dramatically in recent weeks, but she couldn’t believe he’d resorted to stealing for money. Which brought her back to the question of how Jeremy could afford such extravagant items?

She did a
thorough toss of every square inch of the room, but didn’t uncover a single clue as to how Jeremy had spent his days or what caused him to simply drop out of a life she thought he wanted.

Chapter Six

Riley figured it was best not to return to the precinct after his meeting with Deb. He needed to lie low for a bit. Frank had left him at least half a dozen voice messages warning him that the Lieu was mad as hell and had been looking for him for hours.

Unfortunately, his time with Deb hadn’t proven as
insightful as he’d expected. Instead of gaining anything useful as to why the FBI had taken interest in a seemingly routine murder case, their meeting produced more questions than answers.

The one person who might know something
, however insignificant it might seem, was Jordan. While he hoped to convince her to at least talk to him, there’d been no communication between them since her last call. Did he risk further distancing her by calling back? Riley had a feeling time was running out for the both of them.

If he couldn’t
convince her to talk to him or give him any information about her brother’s last days, then there was only one other person left to talk to.

Caesar Santiago.

He knew very little about the man other than what he’d read in surveillance reports from the past. More recently in the local papers. The press seemed to love Santiago, declaring him the next Donald Trump of the diamond business.

He was s
mart. Good looking -- if you like the dark Latin type. Apparently, Jordan’s tastes ran along those lines.

M
ost significant was the fact that Santiago hadn’t attempted to hide from his past from the press. He’d been open and honest – or so it appeared on the surface – with a female reporter who’d interviewed him a couple of months back for the lifestyle section of the
‘Times’
.