Insinuations Read online

  Insinuations

  Barbara Winkes

  Copyright © 2015 by Barbara Winkes

  All rights reserved.

  This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales are purely coincidental.

  This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  For D.

  Chapter One

  Jordan braced herself for the inevitable question. When it came, she was ready.

  “Do you want to see Pratt today?” her partner Derek Henderson asked. TJ Pratt had once done time with Phil Hobbs, a wanted felon high on their list. He was also a longtime friend of Jordan’s birth-parents whom she hadn’t seen in almost twenty years. She had good enough reasons to stall this visit, and even one that would convince Derek.

  “He’s not going anywhere. After baby girl threw up on me earlier, I’d rather go home and shower, start fresh tomorrow.”

  Derek, oblivious, nodded. “I’ll see you later?”

  Jordan would have preferred to spend the evening curled up on her couch, but one of their colleagues was having his retirement party at the Code 7 this evening. She had to make an appearance, at least.

  “Sure. I won’t be long though. We’ll check on Pratt first thing tomorrow.”

  “All right, see you there.”

  “Yeah.”

  Jordan took the elevator down to the lobby, breathing a sigh of relief when the sliding doors of the department closed behind her and she could escape the looks and whispers behind her back. In her car, she regarded herself critically in the mirror. They had rescued the baby from a volatile domestic abuse situation. The mother was barely conscious and transported to the hospital. It was unclear whether she would make it. The officers first on the scene had made a judgment call and notified the detectives.

  They had been waiting for social services to arrive. The uniformed cop first on the scene had with unmistakable certainty found the woman with the least maternal instincts, when he handed the little girl to Jordan. She was cute. Jordan felt for her. However, she realized she was not capable of consoling a crying baby or handling being thrown up on. Her shirt might have to go in the trash. She felt like crying, angry at herself because of it, and all of it had little to do with the stained clothing. Jordan hated crying, always had.

  It was good to be back at work though. It was what she needed. After all, she had a house to pay for. She had gotten a good deal, the fact that the man who had sold it to her was a serial killer, notwithstanding. She had a job and a roof over her head. Most importantly, she was alive, and so were Lori Gleason and Judy Lawrence. Others had not been so lucky. She had to remember that.

  Walking up the stairs to her porch, Jordan was once again fascinated by how much this place felt like hers, like home. Her mind had blocked out the first visits with the realtor, or when she went to see him at his place and discovered a secret door leading to his torture chamber.

  There were no ghosts in this house. It was her safe space, ironically. Jordan went straight to the bathroom where she stripped, tossing the shirt in the sink. She’d give it one more chance. She stepped into the shower stall, washing off the grime of the day in quick, brisk moves. While naked and vulnerable, she had to keep her mind blank, not have it invaded by flashes of the basement—or other, almost as disturbing memories that were bubbling closer to the surface lately.

  Chances were Pratt wouldn’t remember her. She’d do her job, question him regarding Hobbs, move on. It wasn’t the universe conspiring against her that this happened now. Shit happened to good people, or those who tried to be. Wrapping the towel tightly around her, she sat on the rim of the tub, leaning forward.

  Whether or not Jordan belonged into the category of good people wasn’t always clear to her—she had cheated on her girlfriend, not once, but twice. She had left another woman with many question marks. She owed her some answers, sometime soon.

  Get up. Get dressed. Go to the damn party. She couldn’t bring herself to move. What if Pratt did remember her? Her picture had been all over the news. For all she knew, he was still hanging out with Jim and Kathryn Larson, worse, they might be around. She could perhaps get away with asking Derek to take care of Pratt, but she didn’t want him or anyone, for that matter, to think she couldn’t do the job. If she wanted special treatment, she’d need to give an explanation. Whether they’d go for the obvious one, or open a whole other can of worms, it would be bad for her in any case. Better to suffer through one morning of traveling back to a time she had long left behind.

  Determined, Jordan put on clothes and dried her hair, willing herself to make it to tomorrow night. A couple of days off would do her some good, and maybe by then, Phil Hobbs would be back behind bars.

  One of the best and most unpractical features of her new home was that it was a half hour drive, twenty minutes on a good day, to the city center. She enjoyed the more remote, suburban living, but it wasn’t close to work or any of the places her colleagues liked to hang out at the end of a shift. On the plus side, she might manage not to drink. The alternative was to spend an outrageous amount on cab fees. Jordan wasn’t yet sure which one it would be.

  She could hear the voices, talk and laughter, from the outside, momentarily overwhelmed by the impulse to flee. It was ridiculous. In there were people who had worked hard to save her life. To gossip about her was the last thing on their minds, especially not when Marcus, the retiree, paid for the drinks tonight. Jordan walked inside, immediately scanning the room for Derek. He sat at the bar with another homicide detective, a recent addition to the department. Her eyes fell on another table in the corner, occupied by a group of rookies, third year, almost fourth. Jordan knew most of them by name as she had worked with them on one case or another, Kate, Jensen, Libby and…

  Ellie.

  Her back was turned to Jordan, so she hadn’t seen her coming in. Her hair was still blonde. Jordan smiled, remembering when Ellie had confessed she’d dyed it because of her ex’s preferences. She missed her, but some of the reasons why she’d broken up with her in the first place were still valid, and even more so than before. When they first met, Jordan had struggled with a separation that could turn ugly at any point—which was mostly her own fault—now she struggled to keep her life together, day by day. It was the kinder solution not to involve another person in the chaos. At this moment, Ellie turned in her chair, and their eyes met. Seconds ticked by before Ellie gave her a hesitant smile and then directed her attention back to her friends. Jordan had seen something else reflected in her gaze, the same longing that she felt, but couldn’t give in to, not yet. It was better this way, if painful, but they both knew a thing or two about how to handle pain.

  “Hey, Jordan! It’s good to see you. I’m glad you made it.” Especially since I almost ended up dead, she added what she suspected most of her co-workers of thinking these days, even though they wouldn’t say it out loud. She had to stop it. It wasn’t like she could read their minds, and she shouldn’t try.

  The brief touch to her shoulder made her wince with the expected phantom pain. Her body had healed, and she’d been off the meds for a while, but her mind still played tricks on her sometimes.

  “Congrats, Marcus,” she said. “You made it out of the madhouse on time.”

  There it was, the concerned expression people wore in her presence these days. “How are you doing?” he asked.

  “I’m doing fine,” she stressed.

  “Well, I’m glad to hear that.” Jordan spun around at the sound of a familiar voice, and all of a sudden, she was far from fine. Talk about her mind playing tricks on her. The image
of the woman standing in front of her, smiling ruefully, didn’t waver.

  “I’ll leave you two to it,” Marcus said. “Enjoy the party.”

  Bethany waited until he had left to talk to a couple of other guests, then she leaned in to kiss Jordan on the cheek.

  “Hi,” she said, almost a whisper. Jordan was still trying to make sense of her presence, let alone the too intimate greeting. No doubt, it had been a bad idea to come here.

  “What are you doing here?” She made an effort to sound fairly polite. After all, they had vowed to communicate with each other like adults. Her question was legit. She couldn’t imagine Marcus, or anyone else in the department, inviting Bethany.

  “For one, my therapist is kicking my ass.” Bethany shrugged. “I asked around a bit, took a chance that I might find you here.”

  “Why do I have the feeling I might not want to be sober for this conversation?”

  “Because you’re a jaded and suspicious person…and because you’re right. Look, Jordan, this isn’t easy for me. I didn’t come here to win you back though…” She sighed. “I really want to. I understand you need your space. I wanted to apologize.”

  “Apologize?” Jordan raised a curious eyebrow at her ex-girlfriend. This wasn’t something that came easily to Bethany Roberts, FBI profiler and usually the one who thought she had everyone figured out. Bethany had wanted them to do couples counseling after the abduction. When Jordan dropped out, she continued to see the therapist. They sat down at the bar where Jordan ordered a Long Island Ice Tea, waiting for a comment that didn’t come. Bethany chose a Corona.

  “Yeah, about that,” she said. “Some shrink I am. Doc made me realize something, and it really hurt.”

  What do you know about hurt? You weren’t strung up by your wrists in a sadistic killer’s basement. Jordan took a sip of her drink, grateful for having enough presence of mind to keep in the retort. Whenever they tried to tackle difficult subjects, Bethany would make it all about herself, nothing new there. She had to acknowledge though that Bethany was likely to talk about a different kind of hurt.

  “I’m sorry about that,” Jordan offered.

  “Well…I am sorry too. I was so scared of losing you that I lost sight of what I was doing. You never talked a lot about your family, but it was enough I should have bought a clue.”

  “Dear God.” This time, Jordan couldn’t hold back the first thought that sprang to mind. “Please, let’s not go there—ever. Whatever it is, you’re forgiven. Moving on.”

  “I didn’t realize I was borderline abusive to you.” Bethany’s eyes glistened with tears, and it occurred to Jordan that all the alcohol in the world would not be enough to get her through the confession Bethany thought she needed to make.

  “I’m so sorry, Jordan. I didn’t mean to repeat a pattern, I was just…I don’t even know. I was so mad when you had your affairs, right under my eyes, and I need you to know I didn’t mean it. Especially with where we are now.”

  “It’s all right. If that was all…”

  From an observer’s point of view, it was fascinating how Bethany, on purpose or not, managed to dismantle every process Jordan had made for herself. Okay, she knew that was the alcohol as well as PTSD talking, but it did take a certain level of insensitivity to bring up Jordan’s parents in this context. If familial abuse was in the picture, it often bled into adult relationships. Jordan was well aware of the patterns Bethany was talking about, but they didn’t apply to her, did they? No. Her birthparents had been neglectful to the point Child Protective Services got involved, but they never laid a hand on her. They had nothing to do with the fact that this doomed relationship had finally blown up in their faces, hers and Bethany’s—or had they?

  “That’s all you have to say?” Bethany asked incredulously.

  “What did you expect me to say? I dealt with all of this a long time ago. As you might remember, I have other things on my mind now.”

  “Okay.”

  To Jordan’s surprise and relief, Bethany relented quickly. “Okay,” she echoed. “Thank you. I appreciate this, even though the timing is pretty bad.”

  “Are you sure you should be working? I heard you’re on the Hobbs case. That’s a tough one.”

  Jordan took her time to answer, meanwhile wondering how her glass had gotten empty so fast, or why she felt slightly lightheaded. Most of all, she was afraid Bethany had a point. She couldn’t screw up her first big case since her abduction.

  “They’re all tough ones. The shrink—no offense—said it was okay to work. I’m sorry, but frankly, I don’t want to discuss any of this with you. I’m going home now. Please, don’t call me.” Jordan got to her feet before she could change her mind and make decisions she would bitterly regret later, like having another drink, or ending up in Bethany’s bed. She might be flattering herself on the latter. Still. She needed to go home, sleep, clear her mind before dealing with Pratt the next day. “Good night.”

  “Good night,” Bethany said in the tone somewhere between hurt and accusatory that was so familiar to Jordan.

  She quickly said goodbye to Marcus and Derek and fled before they could ask her any questions, making a detour to the restroom on her way out. At least Bethany didn’t follow her. As she washed her hands, the door of a stall opened, and Ellie stepped outside, and for a moment, the world stopped. It wasn’t just because their last interaction had left the future wide open. The last time they’d been in here together, they ended up having sex in one of the stalls.

  Ellie finally moved and washed her hands in the sink, a blush to her cheeks. That might have been from the memories, or from having a few drinks with her friends earlier.

  “You’re leaving already?” she asked, a hint of disappointment to her voice.

  “Yes. It’s been a long day. You guys have fun.”

  “Sure.” There was a hesitation on Ellie’s part, as if she intended to say something, or waited for Jordan to change her mind. She wanted to, badly, but here and now was hardly a good place to pick up the pieces. Jordan hoped Ellie would be patient with her a little while longer.

  “Okay then,” she said. “I’ll see you at work.” Maybe she was misinterpreting all the signs, and she should let Ellie get on with her life, but Jordan wasn’t ready to give up all hope yet.

  “Of course.” They shared a smile, and then Ellie was gone.

  Jordan didn’t go home right away, like she knew she should have, and she didn’t stop drinking like she knew she should have. She drew the line at encouraging the blonde with the pixie cut two tables away who gave her the eye. Life was complicated enough at the moment, and sex was another complicated subject. Casual encounters had, in the past, seemed like an acceptable short-term solution, but now she felt uncomfortable at the idea.

  Jordan hated Jonathan Darby whom she considered responsible, with a passion. She knew whatever happened during those days were only a few bones of the skeleton in her closet. Jordan had been determined not to let him define the rest of her life or choose for her whom she’d share it with. The more time passed, the harder it was to stick to that plan. She was tired, not just from the workday or a multitude of long days since she’d been back to work. It went bone-deep. Jordan had no idea how to stop it, but she was certain that her separation from Bethany was a good start—for Bethany’s sake and hers. She couldn’t even begin to sort out her growing feelings for Ellie, but as long as her life was a mess like this, she’d do her a favor by staying far, far away.

  When she left the second bar of the night, the blonde gave her a half shrug as if to say “Too bad. Your loss.”

  You have no idea. Jordan thought. It had to be bad when she continued to have imaginary conversations with people in her head. With a shudder, she remembered a time when that had been her only way of hanging on to her sanity. She managed to keep it together in the cab, until she was home and walked into her bedroom.

  Most of the furniture came from the earlier owner who had left her home behind to start a n
ew exciting career in Japan. This was fine with Jordan, since Bethany had bought most for the apartment they had shared together—not because Jordan didn’t want to pay for it, but because Bethany had very strict ideas about the kind of surroundings she needed.

  Jordan felt so empty she was perfectly okay with a stranger’s choices, more so over those of a well-meaning and overbearing relationship partner. Ex-partner. She lay face down on the bed and started to cry, huge shuddering sobs that embarrassed the hell out of her even though no one was there to see it.

  She didn’t want Bethany back. She needed to be by herself.

  The ghosts never asked if their presence was welcome. Even so, Jordan fell asleep at some point, knowing they would follow her into her nightmares.

  She woke five minutes before the alarm, toying with the idea of calling in sick, but decided otherwise. A hot shower, a couple of Aspirin and black coffee did patch up her condition enough to be presentable at work. Clothes. Keep it simple. Pratt was the type of guy who’d be leering as soon as a person with a pair of boobs came into his view, and considered any kind of authority, especially held by women, a challenge. She hadn’t seen the man in a long time, but it was something she remembered.

  Jordan went with black jeans and a grey turtleneck sweater. Then she took a good look at herself and cringed. She was already running too late for the kind of elaborate makeup job she would have needed to cover up the dark circles under her eyes. Did they come from yesterday’s binge, or did she not notice before?

  Whatever—it was a sunny morning, so sunglasses would not be too suspicious. She just had to make it through the day.

  Derek was waiting for her, parked on the curb across from the trailer park where TJ Pratt still lived. If Kathryn and Jim Larson were still around, it wasn’t in the hope of finding their daughter. They had never tried after they signed away their parental rights. It was something to be grateful about, Jordan mused.