Insinuations Page 3

Hobbs had abandoned Marley Gordon’s car on the side of the road, whether or not he had continued on foot, was unclear. They found it about a mile from the gas station which was curious—Hobbs was a hardened, experienced criminal. He wouldn’t realize only a mile later that he’d been caught on tape and leave a car with the tank he just filled, that could have brought him much further. It was almost like he wanted to let the police know he was around, though that didn’t make any sense.

  Then again, he’d been on the run for a few days now with probably very few resources. The mess in Marley Gordon’s Honda was an indication he had gone through her groceries. Ellie watched Jordan wrinkle her nose as she leaned into the driver’s seat.

  “Cigarettes and booze?” she said. “He didn’t get that from the gas station, according to the clerk.”

  Ellie frowned. “Gordon was shopping at an organic store…she didn’t seem the type to smoke and drink the hard stuff. So he stopped somewhere else?”

  “Not a lot of time lapsed between the gas station and when he dumped the car, and no further hits on Gordon’s credit card.” Jordan leaned in again, taking out a crumpled can of beer with a gloved hand. “Damn.”

  “I know what you’re thinking. Pratt’s favorite brand.” Derek Henderson had joined them, and obviously he remembered the packs of cigarettes they’d seen at Pratt’s as well. “You could be right. We might have to pay him another visit.”

  Ellie could sense that ‘might’ wasn’t good enough for Jordan.

  “Especially if we find his prints on here. He’s hiding in plain sight! What if Mexico was a red herring Pratt fed us?”

  The senior detective’s gaze was doubtful, and even Ellie had to admit it was a long shot.

  “Come on guys, don’t rain on my parade.” To another uniformed officer, Jordan said, “I want all prints you get off this. Check for Thomas Jeffrey Pratt. Start with the cans and cigarette pack. That’s priority! Any connection you can find, you call me right away.”

  “Yes, Ma’am.”

  “Where can he go from here?” Henderson’s question was partly rhetoric. A person could easily get lost in the stretch of woods in front of them, but how far could they make it without shelter or support?

  “I guess we have to find out,” Jordan said. “Let’s get a search team together. I’ll keep my favorite rookie. I want someone to keep an eye on the trailer park. It’s your turn to ask the lieutenant.”

  Derek gave half an eye roll. “How long until you’ll forgive me for the baby puke? Not my fault they sent you.” He got on the phone without further protest though. Road blocks would be put in place, the woods combed thoroughly. Hobbs had been lucky so far, but his luck was about to run out.

  Ellie was very much looking forward to that moment. It would look good on her résumé—and Jordan’s, something they both could use.

  “Baby puke?”

  “Don’t ask,” Jordan warned her.

  My favorite rookie. For all her praise, Jordan didn’t talk to her much once the search parties were assembled and each team went on their way. Ellie found her enthusiasm vanishing by the minute. They didn’t know Hobbs was hiding in here. He could have hitched a ride, had someone else help him or simply vanished off the face of the earth, she thought with frustration.

  Marley Gordon had been lucky, but the next person might not be. Her feet hurt in the newly-issued shoes she’d been wearing for about a week now, not that it was something important in the grand scheme of things. It was the kind of pain easy to forget, unlike others. They worked in silence, everyone hoping for the crucial clue. The sky was beginning to cloud over, and soon the first drops fell, turning into a downpour within moments. The frustration among the investigators was palpable—if there were any traces to be found, they’d vanish soon in the pouring rain. Minutes turned into hours. Soon, daylight would fade into night.

  The only call Jordan got during that time made her sigh and hang up on the caller with an unhappy expression.

  “Apparently, Hobbs’s prints were on the pack and the cans, but not Pratt’s. That’s not possible.”

  “Why do you think Pratt helped him?” Ellie asked and preventively held up her hands. “I know, they were cell mates for a while, but Pratt was already out. What reason could he have to risk associating himself with the guy?”

  “Intimidation, money. We’re looking into that.” Jordan’s tone said clearly how useless these lines of investigation had been so far. She was tense, getting more so by the minute. They were coming up empty once more. “He’s a freaking chameleon. I can’t believe we came so close and didn’t get him.”

  “He’ll show up again.”

  “Let’s hope. Are you okay?”

  Ellie really wasn’t, but she would survive. They both had survived worse. She wouldn’t complain about a tight shoe in front of a woman who had gotten away from a serial killer. At least, she was determined not to.

  “I’m fine. Let’s get this done before it gets dark.”

  They had help from a team in a helicopter flying over the vast area, but Hobbs remained hidden.

  Marley Gordon being alive still made it a good day in everyone’s book, but that didn’t help with the frustration of the investigators.

  Jordan was still in the lieutenant’s office with Henderson when Ellie’s shift ended. She declined joining a group of co-workers for a drink and sat in a café across from the department instead, nursing a black coffee in the hope that the conversation Jordan had hinted at could take place tonight. No such luck. After a little over an hour, Ellie went home. They were working together again. She’d have to settle for that.

  Chapter Three

  Her first stop after work was the 24/7 gym. As soon as her recovery allowed, Jordan had made it a daily habit. She was working tirelessly on getting herself back into the mindset prior to her captivity, and making sure her body got the memo too. The doctor had assured her that Darby’s knack for medieval torture methods hadn’t left any permanent damage. Any remaining pain had to be solely psychological.

  Then, there were the recurring nightmares slowing down her desired progress. You’d think it had to be cold in a basement like that, instead the air had been stuffy, the fabric of what little clothes she’d had on her sticking to her clammy skin. An intense work-out was an almost foolproof strategy to fall into a near comatose sleep later, and, even more important to assure herself that she wasn’t weak, yielding, like Darby had hoped. Pushing her limits kept him at bay, something Jordan was grateful for.

  When she returned home, there were two calls, one from Bethany she deleted without listening—self-care—and one from Pauline and Jack who asked her to come to dinner on the weekend after next.

  Jordan sat on the couch, for a moment forgetting about the pressure of finding Hobbs, or the unholy connection with TJ Pratt. Fortunately, the couple whom she considered her real parents, had never learned too many details of what happened in Darby’s basement, but they worried. She had done her best to keep them at bay too. That was actually something Bethany had helped with—they didn’t know about the breakup yet. Jordan knew Pauline and Jack had been uncomfortable when she was around. Jordan, not exactly good at keeping people who cared about her, close, hadn’t intervened.

  So yes, she owed them dinner at least. Maybe Ellie would come. She needed someone to fence off the questions, and while Bethany would certainly volunteer, she was also the last person on earth Jordan wanted to ask. That could work.

  After another few indecisive moments, she got to her feet, put her coat back on and went outside. The wind had turned, and Jordan shivered in the colder air. She was certain Pratt hadn’t told her everything, and never would with any of her colleagues around. Whether or not he could lead them to Hobbs was unclear, but there was something unfinished.

  Old habits died hard…Pratt still lived in the same trailer park, so it wasn’t much of a stretch to assume he would still visit the same shady places. Not all of the bars in walking distance to the park were still around,
but a few had been in the area forever. A single woman would get odd, leering looks in all of them, no surprise there. Jordan hit pay dirt on the second one, a run-down bar called “Jerry’s”.

  She wondered if there were still people playing cards in the back room. Her birthparents had been buddies with the owner, now it was Jerry junior running the place. It was still cheap and dirty. Jordan wished she could claim overtime pay for going after a hunch. However, she needed to stay under the radar for the time being, not make too many waves and have anyone make this about her and her ability to do the job rather than the re-capture of a dangerous criminal.

  Pratt sat at the bar. Trying not to let the disgust show in her expression, for him, for this place, she sat next to him and ordered a beer.

  “This is police harassment,” he complained.

  “Right. Cheers, T.J. You hang out with my dad lately?”

  His laughter made her skin crawl. “Why do you want to know? You thought you were too good for your folks, huh? What makes you think they want anything to do with you now?”

  She shrugged and turned her attention to her beer. “Just making small-talk, you know. Maybe you and Phil did too. Eight months is a long time. Maybe something’s finally jogging your memory.”

  “I told you, I have no idea where he is. You must be desperate.”

  It was a good thing he didn’t know how much.

  “We don’t know yet how you helped him change cars, but we will find out. Your P.O.’s not going to be happy.”

  He scoffed. “You are crazy. Are you even listening to me? I haven’t talked to him. I want nothing to do with Hobbs. Wow, that guy really did a number on you, didn’t he?”

  “What the hell are you talking about?”

  A smug smile spread on his face. “I read the newspaper, remember? Didn’t see that one coming, he looked so normal.”

  Jordan wasn’t going to discuss one criminal with another.

  “I don’t like you, but I swear if you help us get to him, we will work something out. For old times sake, if you will.”

  That seemed to amuse him. “You know what they say about trailer trash, don’t you? I don’t trust you, Jordan. Get lost. I’m sure you’re enjoying your new life, and don’t want your colleagues to find out too much about the old one. You want stories, I’ve got some to tell.”

  “I hope you’re not trying to threaten me, because that wouldn’t be a smart move. You want a pissing contest, TJ? Remember, I’m a detective now and you…are just the guy who might have helped an escaped convict. It looks much better for one of us.”

  She tossed a bill on the counter and stood. “Have a good night.”

  He swore under his breath. Jordan didn’t need to be a mind-reader to tell there was a gendered slur involved.

  What she’d done was risky, and pretty much outside the book, but Jordan hadn’t felt this good in forever. She was still confident that if they continued to lean harder on Pratt, they might shake something loose. So far, Hobbs’ flight seemed successful, if chaotic. They had to concentrate on the chaotic part. He would make a mistake. He couldn’t hide out in the woods forever, and there were no other known associates—the people he had committed crimes with were either in prison or dead, that was the kind of company he kept. They would get him.

  Much consoled by those thoughts, Jordan went back home and to bed, having the first good night’s sleep in a long time cut short by Derek’s call.

  “Really? This was supposed to be the second of my two days off. What happened to that?” She wasn’t serious. If Derek called her at this time, that could only mean there was news. The idea excited her. “All right, good or bad?”

  “Good, I hope,” he said. “Pratt is here. He says he wants talk to you.”

  “What? Why?”

  “He looked pretty beat up, doesn’t want to go to a hospital though. He says he went out for a couple of drinks, and when he came back to the trailer, Hobbs was waiting for him and jumped him. Somebody heard the commotion, and Hobbs fled. We have officers at the scene right now.”

  That still didn’t explain why Hobbs wanted to talk to her. Jordan had the unsettling thought that he held back their earlier encounter for a reason. It wasn’t something he could use against her—she’d followed a hunch on her off time, and she was free to go wherever she wanted, even if that meant a rundown bar like Jerry’s.

  “I’ll be there in…” Ten, she’d almost said, but of course that wasn’t possible. She still hadn’t gotten used to counting in the longer commute. “Just wait for me.”

  “Jordan, before we get started here…is there anything else I need to know?”

  “No, why?” Her denial was swift and hopefully credible.

  “He seems to take an interest in you. Him, knowing your parents, could that be in any way connected? Should we talk to them?”

  “He’s a jerk, that’s all. Look, I need to get ready. I’ll see you.”

  Jordan ended the conversation by punching the end call button. This was going to be uncomfortable, no doubt about it. Her comfort didn’t matter at the moment—if Pratt could help them to determine Hobbs’ whereabouts, it was worth a small sacrifice.

  She showered and dressed quickly, then, with her hair still damp, picked up her keys and jacket. A floorboard creaked underneath her shoes when she passed by the dining area. The former owner had nice furniture, even though some parts of the house and décor were a bit dated. She might do a little do-over soon, make it more her own. There was some sort of a future for her, and it might include a pretty blonde rookie who had risked her career and life to save Jordan’s. She had to remember that.

  * * * *

  Jordan knew the moment she walked into the interrogation room that something wasn’t right. Pratt looked exactly like Derek had described, a bruise on his neck that could very well stem from someone attacking him from behind, a bandage around his arm. “Good morning, Detective,” he said, giving her a wink. Pratt’s smile, his posture, all of it was too cocky, too confident. He didn’t look like a man who was scared, either of going back to prison, or a vengeful Hobbs coming after him.

  “Took you some time to get here. That doesn’t look like you’re eager to solve the case. Seems to me like you’re distracted, but I’m sure everyone understands after what you’ve been through. Do you still have nightmares? Poor thing.”

  “Cut the bullshit,” Jordan shot back at him, then took a deep breath. She sat down across from him. “What’s all this about?” she asked.

  “Hey, you came to me. Not once, but twice—but I guess your colleagues already told you why I’m here. Hobbs came by, and, as you can see, not for a friendly talk. ”

  She winced at his reference to the previous night. Of course she couldn’t have hoped to keep it a secret—then so be it. Finding Hobbs was more important, though something about this story felt off to her.

  “I came to you in the hope that your memory would improve over time. So you fed us a load of shit, like you did when you told us Hobbs was on his way to Mexico?”

  “That’s what he said at the time, hey, I’d prefer if he’d stuck to it. The son of a bitch wanted to kill me.” Pratt shrugged. “It doesn’t matter anymore. I want protection before I tell you anything else.”

  “Protection? For what?”

  “You’re serious? I went out for a couple of drinks last night as you know, and when I came back, he had broken into my house. The place was a mess, and I knew what that meant. Before I could get out, he jumped me. If it wasn’t for that kid, I would be dead!”

  Jordan sent a questioning look towards the two-way mirror. A witness? She still wasn’t convinced that Pratt was the innocent victim in this story.

  “Two days ago, you went out of your way trying to convince us that there’s no connection between him and you. Why would he come back here when you two hardly ever talked? If you have nothing to share with the police, why would he take the risk?”

  “Are you stupid?” For the first time, his composure
was slipping. “That guy is nuts! This means something, and I can assure you, it’s not good. Him doing this, a couple of days after you guys showed up, I don’t think that’s a coincidence.”

  “Why are you so sure it’s Hobbs and not one of your neighbors?” Jordan knew she was risking to be called stupid again, but based on her own memories, it wouldn’t be such a surprise in the neighborhood. She thought it was likely that Hobbs was sending a message to his former cell mate, but she wanted to be sure.

  “You know this crowd. I assume you know the difference between a simple break-in and one that has a deeper meaning, sending a message—or else you’re just a lousy detective. I might just remember more of what he said when we were in the joint if you make sure he’s not going to kill me.”

  Jordan shook her head. “Nope, doesn’t work that way.” She got to her feet.

  “Hey, wait, where are you going? I thought you want this guy!”

  “I’ll be back in two minutes,” she said. “Then you’re going to tell me everything you know, and we can talk about what we can do for you. You try to play games with me now, there’ll be no deal. In fact, I’m still not sure whether he just didn’t come back to touch base with an old buddy who could help him hide.”

  “You are crazy!” he exclaimed.

  Jordan smiled at him. “Hey. You came to me.” Then she left the room.

  Outside, Henderson stood with his arms crossed over his chest. He didn’t need anything else to convey his disapproval to Jordan. She sighed.

  “I know, not my best, but I swear, we’re getting there. You believe him?”

  “He looks pretty beaten up, that’s for sure.” Derek’s answer was slightly evasive. “Fact is if Hobbs came back, he has a reason.”

  “What about that witness he’s talking about?”

  “Dean Johnson, a kid who lives in the park.”

  “Okay, let’s go talk to him. If a crime occurred like Pratt says, and I’m still not convinced of that…maybe find something else, related to Hobbs or not.”

  “Related to Hobbs or not,” he repeated. “What is it about this guy? He’s rattling you.”