Insinuations Page 13

  When she stepped out of the elevator, Jordan already questioned the wisdom of her current actions. Bethany might not even be home. She should have called.

  Yeah, right.

  She should have never come here in the first place, after running from their last interaction at the funeral. This wouldn’t achieve anything other than give Bethany the wrong idea. Jordan rang the doorbell, and a moment later, she heard footsteps from within the apartment—nowhere to run now.

  “Jordan. Come on in.”

  Bethany stepped aside to let her in, looking not at all surprised. She was extremely smart and intuitive, and in the beginning, it was something that had attracted Jordan. It was like a game between them, a battle of wits—it became less fun when Bethany always needed to win.

  “I won’t stay long,” she said. “I just need to ask you something.” Did she, really?

  “Anything.” Conveniently, Bethany also seemed to have forgotten about the terse conversation at the cemetery. “I thought you might stop by. Take a seat. You have that long, don’t you?”

  “What did you tell him?” Jordan preferred to stand in case she needed to get to the door quickly. She noticed Bethany hadn’t made any changes to the place. Then again, Jordan didn’t have that much input in the first place. “Darby. When you were chatting with him, engaging him, what exactly did you tell him?”

  Bethany was still wearing her poker face. “You read the reports. It’s all in there. I told him my girlfriend was cheating on me, and he said he’d take care of it. Where is this coming from?”

  “I went to see him this morning.”

  “Oh, honey, that wasn’t a good idea. Why didn’t you come to me first?”

  If Bethany and Ellie agreed on the subject, did that mean she had screwed up badly? “Did you tell him anything that wasn’t in the report? Think about it. Did you ever speak on the phone, or in video chat, anything that’s not in the records?”

  Bethany perched on the armrest of the couch. She might be trying to remember—or stalling. “I had to make it realistic,” she said. “There was quite enough material to work with.”

  “Jesus, Bethany. I hope you know what you were doing.”

  “It’s over. He will never get out.”

  “You told him I had doubts about…” That was too ridiculous even to say it out loud.

  “Well…you had doubts about many things at that point, and you were talking about them when you had a drink or two too many,” Bethany said. “I was convinced it would help catch him. I’m sorry.” She got up and made a step towards Jordan who stepped back and half turned around.

  “I can’t believe this. Why?”

  “I never meant for you to get hurt. I swear.” Bethany came up behind her, speaking softly, but she didn’t touch Jordan. “It wasn’t worth it. I wish I could turn back time and do it all differently, but it’s too late now. I am so sorry. I heard. Officially, it’s none of my business. That son of a bitch Pratt is…” Bethany paused.

  “My father, yes.”

  Jordan pressed a hand against her mouth, knowing that she was in the worst possible place to have this meltdown now. Not that it was a surprise—in the wake of the horror, her body and mind continued to let her down. Bethany finally moved in, embracing her from behind. “Baby. I’m so sorry.”

  “Don’t. I need to go.”

  “Why did you come here in the first place?” Bethany’s question was all curiosity, no scorn. Any reason Jordan might have had didn’t sound so good to her anymore, in her head, or out loud. Her world was crumbling, had been for some time. She had thought she could get away, from the basement, her parents’ trailer, all by being a good cop. Wishful thinking. Her instincts had been letting her down too. She took a deep breath. “To hear it from you. I’ve got everything I wanted, thanks so much.”

  “Jordan, wait. Don’t run away again. Can’t we talk about all this like adults?” This was a card Bethany often pulled when she was about to lose an argument. She looked truly upset, though, a rare, real emotional moment, and more than Jordan could handle.

  “I am sorry. I shouldn’t have come here. You’re right. He’s a liar. Why did I even bother?”

  “No, it’s good you came. Please, stay. We can work this all out. I’ll take some time off, hell, I’ll quit my job if you want me to, and I’ll be here for you. Just let me.”

  “No.” Jordan didn’t even blame her—if there was anyone to blame, it was her for being naïve enough to come here and expect anything different. She had known.

  “I still love you,” Bethany claimed, “and whatever it is you’re trying to do these days, I know you still have feelings for me too. Nine years, no one puts that aside just like that. Let me help you. Jordan…I’m afraid for you.”

  “You don’t have to be. I’m sorry if you misunderstood. Take care.”

  Jordan resisted the urge to slam the door behind her, part of her obviously still worried Bethany could think of her as childish. In the elevator, she turned away from the mirror wall, still holding on.

  Barely.

  She skipped the gym for another day. Drinking wouldn’t change anything, Jordan knew that from experience, but it would, if only for a while, stop the roller-coaster, keep the monsters lurking in the shadows of her mind at bay, Darby, and those further away.

  Her grades had been mediocre at best before she got to live with the Carpenters, which wasn’t a surprise. It was always loud, a strange sweet smell in the air she didn’t know to name until later. She thought she had let all of this behind her, a long time ago, but going back to the trailer park and talking to Pratt for that first time in many years hadn’t done her any good. Jim Larson hadn’t been the greatest father material either, proven by the fact that he and Kathryn had never even tried to get her back.

  Which was most likely for the best.

  “Bad day?”

  “Life,” she returned, and he gave her a sympathetic smile as he put the glass in front of her.

  “There you go.” He lingered, almost making her pay and turn around. She wasn’t in the mood for company, at least not his. “You want to talk about it? My boss wouldn’t like it if he heard me say this, but sometimes, drinking is not the answer.”

  “No,” Jordan said, pushing the empty glass towards him. “Get me another one? That works fine.”

  He refilled her glass and left the bottle on the counter, a silent capitulation, or so she thought. It was odd, she reflected, how blurring the image led to an unwelcome clarity sometimes. She shouldn’t be drinking, letting her guard down, inviting images that would further chip away at the safety she’d found. Then, now. Jordan wanted them to go away, instead it seemed like she was putting a spotlight on them.

  All she wanted was a break from a reality that seemed to become more disturbing with every moment. Seeing Darby again had reminded her, of the choking fear that he might want to accelerate the plan at any moment, the possibility that he might rape or kill her. Her fingers tightened around the glass.

  It was over and done. He lied, just like Kathryn and Jim were lying. Someday soon, she would move on with her life, and none of them had a place in it.

  “Look, my shift is almost over,” the bartender tried again. “I don’t really have anywhere to go, so if you want to talk…”

  Jordan shook her head. “Nothing to talk about.”

  “Let me call you a cab at least?”

  “How about you do your job and leave me alone?”

  What the hell are you doing, TJ? There was something that had alarmed Jim, jolting him out of his drug-induced stupor. That’s what it did for him—he retreated and forgot the world around him, whereas Kathryn got affectionate, sometimes with her husband, sometimes with someone else. Whether it was just the two of them, or others were over for parties, Jordan was mostly left to herself, something she learned to appreciate.

  She could handle pain—but when Darby had drugged her, the sensations and images rushing through her mind had sent her into a panic, just
like that one time when TJ Pratt had come to the trailer and introduced her to whatever it was they were smoking and sniffing at the time. He thought a twelve-year-old panicking was fairly funny. It was the first time she had ever seen Jim and Kathryn concerned, and it could have been almost worth it if they’d been concerned for her.

  Bethany didn’t need to be afraid. Jordan had come to terms with the fact that they had never cared, no matter how she felt about the situation. These days, she wasn’t depressed about the truth, just angry that they managed to mess with her life once more, Jim, Kathryn, Pratt. This anger wasn’t masquerading as anything else. She wouldn’t think about taking it out on herself.

  “No,” the bartender said.

  “What the hell? You’re afraid I can’t pay? Here,” she picked up her wallet and threw a few bills on the counter. “Now give me my drink.”

  “I’m sorry. I think you’ve had enough.”

  He probably had a point. One more, or two, and she might pass out, but in comparison, this might be the better outcome.

  “Just one more. You can call that cab after.”

  “Why don’t you let me take care of that?” The sound of a voice behind her made her want to black out even more. “Jesus.”

  If Ellie was the number one person on her list she was too ashamed to face right now, Derek Henderson was a close second. “Go away. I’m fine.”

  “Let’s just get you home, okay?” he said. “Hey, look on the bright side. I’ll do it for free.”

  Jordan failed to see the humor in the situation. “You are not the boss of me. Thank God for that.”

  “Fine, if you absolutely want to be black out drunk tonight, we’ll stop at the liquor store, but we’ll do it safely. Now, let’s get out of here.”

  “You’re…unbelievable. Damn.” Getting to her feet, she immediately held on to the counter as the room started to spin. Derek waited patiently.

  “I know it’s been a shitty day. You could have warned me before you went for a private conversation with Mr. Darby.”

  “That would have accomplished—what exactly?” Walking worked all right. Jordan wasn’t so sure about a moving vehicle, but she’d have to keep it together. Derek was quite fond of his 1973 Pontiac GTO. “I had to do this. I was sure he was behind those text messages.”

  “There is no proof.”

  “Which is worse, because that means someone else attacked her that night. It never ends. They never give up. I should have known.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Nothing. I mean nothing. We need to find him.” She hated the small pleading tone to her voice. It reminded her of when Darby had recorded the video—an apology for Bethany, because it was all her fault. Then.

  Now.

  What the hell was wrong with her?

  “God, this is embarrassing. Never remind me of this moment, okay?” This had already gone much too far. Derek Henderson was a good friend, but until a few days ago, he had no idea about the way she’d grown up, or that the friendly couple who had provided him with a few dinners after shifts were not her biological parents. She’d been stripped naked for all the world to see, by Darby, by the recent revelations.

  “We all want them behind bars. I understand.”

  “No, you don’t. I don’t know what to believe anymore. I’m…I’m scared.”

  “We’ll figure this out,” Derek said, laying a hand on her shoulder. It didn’t seem patronizing, neither did he appear fazed by her breaking character, but at this point, that wasn’t a solace to Jordan. She had no idea what could be.

  Chapter Eighteen

  After the unpleasant course of events, Ellie had been able to leave her shift early. Sure, she wanted to give Jordan space, but she figured that could wait. It was the first time Ellie used the key Jordan had given her. Sure enough, she arrived to a dark empty house, feeling more like an intruder than a welcome guest.

  She sat on the couch, trying to ward off the uneasy feeling. At this time in the morning, where could Jordan be? Restless, she got up and walked into the kitchen. Maybe she should start breakfast for a change? Jordan seemed to have no problems with Ellie making herself at home, but maybe this was crossing an invisible line. She heard sounds on the front porch, something shattering. Ellie carefully opened the door and found herself face to face with Detective Henderson, his gun drawn, pointing at her.

  “Relax! I’m allowed here.”

  “That’s right.” Jordan giggled, which presented a striking contrast to her overall miserable appearance. “Don’t shoot her. Otherwise I’ll never get laid again.”

  Now the pieces of the puzzle made sense, kind of. Ellie didn’t blame Jordan for wanting to get drunk after seeing Darby, but maybe her partner could have talked her out of both instead of enabling dysfunctional ways of dealing with a horrible experience. She cast an irritated glance towards Henderson. Had that really been necessary?

  “Don’t look at me,” he said, holding up his hands. “I found her that way. What happened to you, Harding?”

  “Bar fight. No, we didn’t start it,” Ellie said dryly. “Come on in.”

  “No thanks. I’ll head home now. See you guys later—I think. Put some ice on that.”

  “Yeah, thanks for the advice, and…thank you.” She turned to look after Jordan who headed straight for the bedroom. Ellie winced. “She’ll regret that tomorrow. Who called you?”

  Henderson hesitated only briefly, before he said, “Dr. Roberts said she stopped by…It’s not like that,” he added quickly. “Jordan ran out on her, and she was worried. You know she went to see Darby?”

  “Yes.” Ellie told herself that she’d be irrational and petty thinking that it was anything other than that visit into her own personal hell that had made Jordan want to drown her misery in vodka. “Thank you,” she said again. I’ll make sure she’s okay.”

  She waited until he had left and turned for the bedroom, not sure what to expect, or what was expected from her at this moment. She’d promised. She’d do her best.

  “Hey.”

  Opening the door, Ellie couldn’t help staring when she found Jordan stretched out comfortably on the bed, wearing lingerie. This was kind of unusual. Jordan wasn’t big fan, she knew, wearing it herself anyway. “I heard you didn’t have such a great day. Well, I can see it too, poor baby. Come here. Let me make you feel better.”

  Ellie stepped closer hesitantly, still assessing the situation. “I’m sure we’ll both feel better after a few hours of sleep. Let’s just do that, okay?”

  She’d had other things on her mind, but not tonight. They’d both need a clear head for the conversations to come.

  “Come on, it’s all we’ve been doing in this bed lately, not even at the same time. Ellie…I know you want to.”

  Ellie laid down next to her, still contemplating what would be the best answer when Jordan leaned over to kiss her, hungrily. For a few moments, Ellie was almost willing to forget that they’d had a terrible time behind them with maybe more to come, that Jordan was drunk and simply trying to get away from it all. She couldn’t deny her own body’s reaction. Sex might not solve any of their problems, but it had been too long. Still, when Jordan’s hand went underneath her skirt, she stopped her—with regret, but nevertheless.

  “I meant what I said. I’m here for you, and I won’t go anywhere. I just need to understand what happened today.”

  “I found out a few things.” Jordan moved her hand to Ellie’s face, brushing her fingers over her cheek. Ellie shivered. There was a reason why she had once abandoned all caution and morals when it came to Jordan, and doing the right thing was hardly the easy one.

  “I really tried to do this the right way, listen to what the shrink said, and everyone else. It doesn’t matter. Meanwhile, that asshole is behind bars, but he’s still here! It’s got to stop. I need to move on.”

  “Why did you see Bethany?” Ellie tried hard to keep her tone neutral, curious, non-judgmental.

  “I hoped she might want
to apologize. She didn’t.” Jordan laughed bitterly. “Everything is a Goddamn race with her. I nearly died, but I’m still the bad person here. Bad blood, huh? I’m surprised she didn’t say that. See, I’ve had the odds stacked against me for a long time. Maybe you should get out of here right now. Who wants to deal with this shit anyway?”

  Her mood had taken a sharp turn. Jordan pulled the covers around her as if cold all of a sudden.

  “Let’s talk about this tomorrow—and whatever she said, it’s not right. You made a mistake, yes, but unlike hers, it never put anyone’s life in danger. As for Pratt—it doesn’t matter to me or anyone. We know you.”

  “You don’t!”

  “What does that mean?” Ellie asked softly. “Don’t you think that I have an idea by now? I’m still here. In fact, I let myself into your house in the middle of the night. That has to mean something.”

  “That means you’re brave. Just look at me.” Irritated, Jordan got up to take a shirt out of her dresser, pulling it over her head.

  “I’m looking.” In fact, it was crystal clear to Ellie what she was in for. Bethany would be around, and it would take her a while longer to accept the facts for what they were. Meanwhile, Jordan would seek her counsel for professional reasons, and she would talk to her period, something she didn’t need Ellie’s permission for. “I wish you would have told me yesterday. I know this wasn’t easy for you. Come back here?”

  Jordan sat on the side of the bed, her back to Ellie. “I wanted to hear from Bethany that she was sorry,” she said bitterly. “Meanwhile, I was feeling so sorry for myself I went out to drink, and that man could still be out there! I don’t know what’s happening to me. It’s like I’ve lost direction completely.”

  “That’s not true. I mean, it’s true that you’re feeling that way, but you’ll be okay. We’ll be okay.” Ellie embraced her from behind. “There is no second man. Darby saw a chance to plant doubts in your mind, and he went with it. He knows you care about me. That was all it took.” She hoped her words made sense to Jordan, though she wasn’t entirely sure. She was tired, and having gotten hit in the face didn’t help. Finally, Jordan turned to her.