Shadow Dance (8 page)

The next time Jaffee checked on her he was thrilled to see the blue screen.

“You’ve got it working again. Oh, thank goodness. But what’s all that gibberish you’re typing?”

It would take too long to explain. “Dora and I are having a little chat. When I’m finished, the program will be easier for you to run.”

After the last customer had left at eight-thirty, Jaffee closed the restaurant and sat down with her to go over the changes she’d made.

She spent an hour helping him familiarize himself with his computer. He made copious notes on Post-its and stuck them on his wall. She had already programmed in her e-mail address so he could write to her with questions if he got into a bind, but he asked that she also give him her cell phone number just in case he couldn’t get the e-mail to work.

She thought she was finished, but he handed her a stack of e-mail addresses and begged her to put those in his address book. Eli Whitaker was at the top of the list. Dave Trumbo came next. She smiled when she read his e-mail address. DangerousDealer-Dave. She added it without comment and went on to the next one.

When everything was complete, Jaffee insisted on walking her back to the motel.

“I know it’s not that far and we’ve got streetlights, but I’m going to walk with you just the same. I want to stretch my legs anyway.”

It was still hot outside, but the temperature had dropped a little with the setting of the sun. When they reached the drive that led to the motel entrance, Jaffee wished her a good night and strolled on.

Jordan walked into the lobby thinking she could take a shortcut to her room. The lobby was packed with women.

Amelia Ann rushed forward to greet her at the door. “I’m so happy you could make it.”

“I’m sorry?” Jordan responded.

Amelia Ann’s daughter, Candy, sat at the front desk. She printed Jordan’s name on a pink name tag and hurried over to stick it on her shoulder.

“We’re happy you can join us,” Amelia Ann bubbled.

“What am I joining?” Jordan asked, smiling at all the women staring at her.

“I’m giving Charlene a late-night bridal shower. You remember Charlene,” she said in a whisper. “She let you photocopy your papers at the insurance agency where she works.”

“Yes, of course.” Jordan searched through the smiling faces for Charlene’s. “It’s so nice of you to invite me, but I don’t want to intrude.”

“Nonsense,” Amelia Ann protested. “We’d love to have you.”

Jordan lowered her voice. “But I don’t have a gift.”

“That’s easy to fix,” Amelia Ann said. “How about giving her a place setting of china? Charlene chose a real pretty pattern. Vera Wang.”

“Yes, I’ll be happy to—” Jordan began.

“Don’t worry about a thing. I’ll order it tomorrow, and I’ll add it to your bill. Candy? Go wrap another gift card and write Jordan’s name on it.”

Jordan met all twenty-three women and was thankful that they were wearing name tags too. For the next hour, she watched the unwrapping of the gifts while she drank sweet punch and ate mints and white cake with thick, gooey icing.

By the time she returned to her room, Jordan was on a sugar high. Then she crashed.

She slept hard that night, returned all of her phone calls the next morning, and didn’t leave the motel until after ten. Her plan was to walk over to the insurance agency to copy the rest of the papers, bring them back to the motel, and then run over to Lloyd’s Garage and wait there for Lloyd to finish the repairs. And he would finish them, she decided, even if she had to stand behind him and prod him with a crowbar. One thing was certain: she wasn’t going to put up with any more delays or surprises.

Her plan didn’t work out. Charlene gave her the bad news. “They picked up the machine and hauled it off about an hour after Steve told the salesman he wasn’t going to buy it. Did you have a lot more to copy?”

“A couple hundred pages,” she answered

She thanked Charlene again and retraced her steps to the motel. Okay, new plan. She’d get the car, check out the copy machine at the grocery store, and if that machine didn’t have the capability of feeding the pages in, she’d look for another one.

Lloyd was pacing in front of the garage. The second he spotted her he shouted, “It’s ready. All ready to go. Early too. I told you I’d fix it, and I did. Okay?”

He was a nervous twit. His hand trembled when he thrust the itemized bill at her. He was obviously in a hurry to get rid of her, for he didn’t even count the money she gave him.

“Is something wrong?”

“No, no,” he rushed out. “You can be on your way now.” Without a backward glance, he hurried back into the garage.

She put her purse and her laptop on the passenger seat next to her and started the engine. Everything seemed to be in working order. Lloyd, she decided, ranked up there with Professor MacKenna for weirdness. She was happy she didn’t have to deal with him any longer.

She drove directly to the grocery store and was elated to find a modern copy machine with all the bells and whistles. She was back in business. She thought she could have everything done in a couple of hours if she hurried. Then she’d call the professor and get his boxes back to him.

Better safe than sorry, she reminded herself. To be prepared in case the car acted up on the road again, she bought water and planned to stop at a filling station to buy some antifreeze for the radiator if it sprang another leak.

She carried four gallons of water, two in each arm, out of the store. The parking lot was deserted. No wonder. No one would choose to go grocery shopping in the god-awful heat of the day. Today was already a scorcher. She squinted against the sun bouncing off the cement. She felt like she was getting sunburned just walking across the lot. She placed the containers on the ground next to the trunk of the car. While she was digging through her purse for the keys, she noticed a piece of clear plastic protruding from the seam of the trunk and thought it was odd that she hadn’t noticed that before. She tried to pull it free, but it wouldn’t budge.

She found the key, slid it into the lock, and the lid sprang upward as she stepped back. Jordan looked inside…and froze. Then she very gently lowered the lid.

“No,” she whispered. “Couldn’t be.” She shook her head in denial. She was just seeing things, that was all. Her mind was playing tricks on her. It was all that sugar she’d eaten…and the heat. Yes, that was it. The heat. She’d had a terrible heat stroke and just didn’t know it.

She opened the lid again. She felt as though her heart had just stopped beating. There, curled up like a tabby cat inside the biggest Ziploc bag she’d ever seen, was Professor MacKenna. His lifeless eyes were open, and he seemed to be staring at her. She was so stunned she couldn’t breathe. She didn’t know how long she stood there staring down at the man, two seconds, maybe three, but it seemed an eternity before her mind would let her body react.

Then she freaked. She dropped her purse, tripped over one of the gallons of water, and slammed the trunk lid closed. No matter how desperately she tried, she couldn’t convince herself that she hadn’t seen a dead body in her trunk.

What in God’s name was he doing in there?

Okay, she was going to have to look again, but oh, Lord, she didn’t want to. She took a deep breath, turned the key again, and mentally braced herself.

Oh, God, he was still there.

She left the key in the lock, ran to the side of the car, and all but dove through the window to get her cell phone from the front seat.

Who should she call? The Serenity Police Department? County or local? The sheriff? Or the FBI?

Jordan knew two things for certain. One, she was being set up, and two, she was in way over her head. She was a law-abiding citizen, damn it. She didn’t carry dead bodies around in her trunk, and she, therefore, didn’t have the faintest idea what to do with it.

She needed advice—and fast. The first person she wanted to call was her father. He was a federal judge, so of course he would know what to do. But he was also a worrier, like most fathers were, and he had enough on his plate now with the explosive trial under way in Boston.

She decided to call Nick. He worked for the FBI, and he would tell her what to do.

The phone suddenly rang. The sound so startled her she let out a yelp and nearly threw the phone down.

“Yes?” She sounded as though she were being strangled.

Her sister was on the line. She didn’t seem to notice the hysteria in Jordan’s voice.

“You are not going to believe what I found. I wasn’t even looking for a dress, but I ended up buying two of them. They were on sale, and I almost got one for you too, but I thought our tastes are so different you might not like it. Should I go back and buy it anyway? The sale won’t last long, and I could always return it—”

“What? Oh, God, Sidney, what are you talking about? Never mind. Are you home?”

“Yes. Why?”

“Is anyone else home with you?”

“No,” she answered. “Why? Jordan, is something wrong?”

She wondered how Sidney would react if she told her the truth. Yes, something’s wrong. There’s a dead body in the trunk of my car.

Jordan couldn’t tell her. If Sidney did believe her, she’d only become upset, and there really wasn’t anything she could do about it from Boston. Besides, as dear as her younger sister was, she could never keep a secret, and she’d immediately find their mother and father and tell them. Come to think of it, she’d tell anyone who’d listen.

“I’ll explain later,” she said. “I have to call Nick now.”

“Wait. What about the dress? Do you want—”

Jordan disconnected the call without answering the question and quickly dialed Nick’s cell phone.

Her brother didn’t answer. His partner, Noah, did.

Dear God in heaven, she couldn’t catch a break to save her life.

“Hi, Jordan. Nick can’t talk right now. I’ll have him call you back. You still in Texas?”

“Yes, but Noah—”

“Great state, isn’t it?”

“I’m in trouble.”

The panic in her voice came through the phone loud and clear. “What kind of trouble?” he asked quietly.

“There’s a dead body in the trunk of my car.”

He didn’t miss a beat. “No kidding.”

Could he have been more blasé? “He’s in a Ziploc bag.”

“Yeah?”

She didn’t know why she’d felt the need to add that extra bit of information, but at the moment it seemed vitally important that he know about the plastic.

“And he’s wearing blue-and-white-striped pajamas. No slippers though.”

“Jordan, take a breath and calm down.”

“Calm down? Did you hear what I just said? Did you catch the part about the dead body in the trunk of my car?”

“Yes, I heard what you said,” he replied, his voice maddeningly unruffled. He sounded as though her news wasn’t such a big deal, which of course was ridiculous, but even so, the fact that he was so calm helped her get a grip.

“Do you know who he is?”

“Professor MacKenna,” she said. She took a deep breath and lowered her voice. “I met him at Dylan’s wedding reception. I had dinner with him last night. No, that’s not right. Two nights ago. I thought he was disgusting. He ate like a wild animal. It’s horrible to talk about the dead like that, isn’t it? Except he wasn’t dead…”

She realized she was rambling and stopped in mid-sentence. A minivan pulled into the lot and parked near the front door. A middle-aged woman got out, squinted at Jordan, and then went inside.

“I’ve got to get out of here,” she whispered. “I’ve got to get rid of him. Right? I mean it’s pretty obvious I’m being set up for murder.”

“Jordan, where are you now?”

“I’m in a grocery store parking lot in Serenity, Texas. It’s so small it’s barely on the map. It’s about forty miles west of Bourbon, Texas. Maybe I could dump the body there. You know, find an isolated spot and—”

“You’re not going to dump the body anywhere. Here’s what you’re going to do. You’re going to call it in, and so will I,” he explained. “I’m also going to get a couple of FBI agents over there within an hour, two tops. And Phoenix isn’t that far away. Nick and I will get there real soon.”

“I am being set up, aren’t I? Oh, God, I hear sirens. They’re coming for me, aren’t they?”

“Jordan, hang up now and call it in before they get there. If you’re arrested, you ask for a lawyer and don’t say another word. Got that?”

The wailing of the siren indicated the police were just a couple of blocks away when the 911 operator answered Jordan’s call. She quickly explained what the emergency was and then gave her name and location.

The operator was giving her instructions to stay where she was when a gray sedan came careening into the lot.

“The sheriff’s car just pulled in.”

“The sheriff?” The operator sounded surprised.

“Yes,” Jordan said. “That’s what’s printed on the side of the car, and I’m sure you can hear the siren through the phone.”

Jordan couldn’t hear the operator’s next question. The car screeched to a stop about twenty feet away, and a man jumped out of the passenger side of the front seat. He wasn’t wearing a uniform.

He ran toward her, a chilling look on his face. She saw something flying at her and instinctively turned away trying to protect herself, but the blow caught her on her right cheek and she went down.

T
HE ARGUMENT WAS OVER JURISDICTION
. J
ORDAN HEARD
raised voices and opened her eyes just as a paramedic placed an ice pack on her cheek. She tried to push it away. She was dazed and disoriented.

“What happened?” she asked in a whisper as she struggled to sit up. The cement was burning her arm.

One of the paramedics, a young man dressed in a blue uniform, took hold of her arm to help her. Still feeling light-headed, she leaned against him.

“You got hit,” he said. “That’s what happened. When Barry and I pulled up, the Dickey brothers were here. We heard Sheriff Randy yelling at his brother, J. D., because J. D. jumped out of the car and lit into you. He stopped yelling at him, though, when he saw me sprinting across the lot. Now he and his brother are arguing with Serenity’s chief of police.”

“What are they arguing about?” she asked. Her head was pounding, and her jaw felt as though it had come unhinged.

“J. D. insists that you were resisting arrest and that he thought he was helping his brother out when he hit you to restrain you so Sheriff Randy could get his handcuffs on you.”

Jordan grew more and more clearheaded by the second. “That’s not true.”

“I know it isn’t,” he whispered so the Dickey brothers wouldn’t hear him. “Barry and I heard your 911 call, and we got here as quick as we could, which really wasn’t any time at all because our little clinic is only three blocks away. We knew something had happened to you. One second we could hear you talking as clear as a bell, and the next second we hear what sounded like a half shout. You know what I mean?”

“He knocked the phone out of my hand.”

“He smashed it to bits is what he did. I’m afraid you’re going to have to buy yourself a new one. Right now they aren’t arguing about your phone though. Sheriff Randy is saying that you were in his county when you took off and headed over here. You’re in Grady County now,” he explained. “Randy Dickey is sheriff in Jessup County, and how he ended up sheriff is a mystery none of us can figure out. He must have made a lot of promises. Anyway, Sheriff Randy’s jurisdiction ends at the foot of the bridge that crosses the creek. Once you get on that bridge, you’re in Grady County. We have a sheriff too, but he’s in Hawaii on vacation with his wife and kids, and we only see him once in a blue moon because he lives way east in Grady’s county seat.”

Barry, the other paramedic, had been listening to their conversation. He popped a toothpick into his mouth, parked it in the corner, and strolled over.

“The only reason Sheriff Randy comes around here is because his brother lives in Serenity. He likes to go fishing with him. Del, you ought to make her keep that ice pack on her cheek. It’s already swelling under her eye. I think we need to take her to the clinic and get an X-ray.”

“No, I’m okay. I don’t need an X-ray.”

“We can’t make you go with us,” Del said. “If you refuse treatment, there’s nothing we can do, but if you start feeling sick to your stomach or dizzy, you tell us, okay?”

“Yes, I’ll tell you.”

“Could I ask you something?” Del asked. “What was it like finding a body in your car? It would have given me a heart attack. Barry and I figure you didn’t have anything to do with the murder because, if you did, you sure wouldn’t have called 911, would you?”

“You look like you’re hurting,” Barry said.

“I’m okay. I’ve just got a little headache, that’s all, and I don’t want to take anything that might dull my anger. I swear to heaven—”

“Now, now, it’s not good to get all upset,” Barry said. “Especially after taking such a hit.”

Del motioned Barry closer. “If Maggie Haden could get away with it, she’d hand her over to Sheriff Randy and his brother in a heartbeat.”

Barry agreed. “She wouldn’t lose any sleep over it either,” he whispered.

“Who’s Maggie Haden?” Jordan asked. She was trying to see what was going on with the chief and the Dickey brothers, but the paramedics were blocking her.

“That’s her there. She’s the chief of police,” Del answered. “The chief and Sheriff Randy have a history. You know what I’m talking about? Everyone in town knows he got her the job.”

“She shouldn’t have gotten the job,” Barry grumbled. “She wasn’t qualified. Just because she was on the police force over in Bourbon doesn’t mean she should be the chief here in Serenity. But since nothing much ever happens here, I guess people don’t care if she knows what she’s doing or not.” He shifted the toothpick to the other side of his mouth and squatted down in front of Jordan. “It’s payback,” he whispered. “She wanted the job, and Randy owed her since he got married to someone else and left her high and dry.”

“How long has she been chief of police?” Jordan asked.

“About a year,” Del said.

“More like two years,” Barry offered.

“Don’t let the way she looks color your judgment. She’s a lot tougher than you’d think. She can be a real viper.”

Jordan leaned around Del to get a look. The chief had brassy, bleached blond hair and wore enough makeup to work in a circus.

“Getting the job of chief of police is a big deal around here. Serenity is kind of behind the times. The police station only just got a computer, and all the 9ll calls are routed through Bourbon.”

“I’m feeling much better now,” Jordan said. “And I’m tired of sitting on the ground and being a bystander. Please let me get up.”

Barry lifted her but didn’t let go of her. He insisted that she sit on the back bumper of the ambulance. “You lean on me if you feel dizzy.”

Surprisingly, she wasn’t at all dizzy, but her throbbing cheek reminded her that one of those brothers had punched her. Seething now, she was about to ask the paramedics which one was J. D. when Barry said, “Listen, if the chief does decide to hand you over, I’ll say we’re taking you to the clinic for an X-ray. I’m telling you right now, you don’t want to go anywhere with those brothers.”

“Okay,” she agreed. “You’re being very kind to me,” she said. “I appreciate it. I know it looks suspicious. I’m a stranger in town…”

“And there’s that body in your car,” Del reminded her.

“Yes,” she said. “But I am innocent. I didn’t kill anyone, and I assure you no one was more surprised than I was when I opened that trunk.”

“I’ll bet. My name’s Del, by the way. And he’s Barry.”

“My name’s Jordan Buchanan and—”

“We know who you are. The chief already got your driver’s license from your wallet,” Barry said. “She read your name out loud. You don’t remember? Del, maybe we should go ahead and get her head X-rayed.”

She hadn’t been aware that anyone had gone through her purse to get her identification. Had she been knocked unconscious? Maybe she’d just been knocked senseless. That’s what her mother used to ask her when she’d done something she didn’t approve of. Did you get knocked senseless?

“I don’t need an X-ray,” she said for the second time. “And I didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Looking guilty and being guilty are two different things,” Del said. He pulled the stethoscope from around his neck and handed it to Barry.

“I think you’re going to be okay,” Barry whispered as he folded the stethoscope and put it in the metal case before snapping it shut. “The chief knows that you weren’t over in Jessup County, and she also knows you weren’t involved in any car chase. There’s a witness.”

“And that witness is going to make it real hard for her to hand you over to the Dickeys.”

“She still might,” Del said.

“No, she can’t,” Barry argued. “Not with the witness. A woman coming out of the grocery store saw the whole thing. She also called 911, and she told the operator what she saw and how J. D. punched Miss Buchanan without any provocation. She said J. D. hopped out of the car like he had a swarm of wasps on his tail and grabbed her phone and punched her silly. Then he smashed her phone.”

“Miss Buchanan better hope that J. D. doesn’t get to the witness and scare the wits out of her so she’ll change her story.”

“It won’t matter. Every emergency call is taped, so there’s a record, and J. D. can’t change what’s already on the tape.”

The two men were talking about Jordan as though she weren’t even there. She was astonished that no one was doing anything about the body. She’d seen the chief of police glance into the trunk, but that was all. As far as Jordan knew, no one else had even looked. The paramedics certainly hadn’t. No one seemed interested in finding out who the victim was. She wondered when they were going to get around to that question.

“You think we’ll be taking the body to Bourbon?” Del asked.

“I’ll bet so. We’ll have to stick around until the crime scene people get here and the coroner releases the body.”

Weary of being on the sidelines, Jordan thanked the paramedics once again, and then walked closer to the chief and waited for her to acknowledge her.

One of the Dickey brothers noticed Jordan’s hands were free.

“Someone ought to put that suspect in handcuffs,” he said. “Someone who ought to know her job by now,” he added.

Jordan stepped forward. “Are you the one who hit me?”

He didn’t look her in the eye when he answered her. “No one hit you,” he snapped.

“For God’s sake, Randy, look at her face. Someone sure as hell hit her,” Maggie Haden yelled. “And there’s a witness.” Because the sheriff looked so surprised, she added with a nod, “Yes there is. A witness who saw your brother slap the cell phone out of this woman’s hand and then hit her with his fist.” Lowering her voice, she said, “So you can see nothing can be done or changed now. It’s too late. There could be a potential lawsuit over this.”

J. D. had been slouching against the hood of the sheriff’s car and shouting his jabs at the police chief, but when he heard about a witness, he lunged forward.

“What witness? Who saw what? If I’m going to be accused of something I didn’t do, I should get to know this witness’s name.”

“In good time, J. D.,” the chief said.

“Chief Haden, I want to press charges,” Jordan demanded.

“You be quiet,” Haden snapped.

“I want you to arrest him,” Jordan insisted.

The chief shook her head. “I don’t care what you want. Now keep your mouth shut.”

J. D. nodded his approval and then said, “Randy, doesn’t it seem curious to you that the chief is ranting about a little rough treatment subduing a violent suspect, and that suspect murdered a man. You can’t argue with that. The evidence is right there for anyone to see. The body ain’t in my car or yours, Randy. It’s in her car. And since when do we care about manhandling a murderer?”

The Dickey brothers were two of the most unattractive individuals Jordan had ever encountered. They were both built like used-up wrestlers who’d let their muscles go to flab. Their necks were thick, their shoulders round. J. D. was taller than his brother, but not much. Randy carried quite a paunch, and his face was elongated by a double chin. Both men had small eyes, but J. D.’s were set close like a ferret’s.

The chief of police finally turned her attention to Jordan.

“My name is Chief Haden,” she said. “And you are?”

Since she was holding Jordan’s driver’s license in her hand, the chief knew exactly who she was, but if she wanted to go through the formalities, Jordan wouldn’t argue. She told her her name and gave her address.

“I want some questions answered right here and now. Do you know who the man in the trunk of this car is?” she asked. “The deceased. Do you know his name?”

“Yes,” Jordan answered. “His name is Professor Horace Athens MacKenna.”

“How do you know him?” she asked.

Jordan quickly explained where and how she’d met the professor and why she was in Serenity. Chief Haden didn’t look like she believed a word Jordan was saying.

“You’ll be coming with me to the police station,” she said. “You’ve got a lot more explaining to do. We’ll wait here until the coroner arrives, so don’t give me any trouble or I’ll cuff you right now.”

Without a word, Sheriff Randy and his brother walked back to their car. J. D. had a disgusting smirk on his face.

“Chief Haden, may I ask you a question?” Jordan asked. She was still seething with anger, but she kept calm. Pleasant was too much to ask for.

“Make it quick.” The chief’s tone was snippy.

“How did the sheriff know there was a body in the trunk?”

“He said his brother got a tip on his cell phone. I can’t say if he’s telling the truth or not.”

Sheriff Randy ignored the comment. His brother didn’t. Whirling around, he shouted, “Did you just call me a liar?”

When the chief didn’t answer, J. D. said, “Are you going to take the word of a murderer over a law-abiding citizen?”

“The FBI can check the sheriff’s cell phone records and get a printout of all the calls both of the brothers received in the past twenty-four hours. That will be helpful, won’t it, Chief Haden?” Jordan asked.

J. D. snorted. “Yeah, right. As if the FBI would go to that kind of trouble for a homicide in this nickel-ass town. They won’t give you the time of day.”

“I already called them, and they’re on their way here,” Jordan responded.

She’d certainly gotten everyone’s attention with that statement.