Indiscretions Page 3

  “We’ll deal with Mr. Gleason first, but yes, the All Colors is definitely on the list, to see if anyone can confirm what Chambers said. Have any plans tomorrow night?”

  They had arrived on the department’s parking lot, and Jordan turned to her, waiting for an answer. That moment, Ellie could see the future rather crystal clear. Based on what she’d just witnessed, she was in trouble. Apparently, Jordan could brush aside the subject of her relationship easily. In her question was an unmistakable double entendre. This was wrong, even if both of them wanted it.

  Ellie had no illusions. If Jordan had asked her to make out with her right here in the car, she might have said yes. Jordan Carpenter was tough, she had to be to make it where she was now. Without a doubt, that part of her was attractive to Ellie. At a closer look, Jordan had a startling vulnerability about her that she found irresistible. If she needed someone to hold her, Ellie wanted to be that person, among other things.

  “Ellie?”

  “Yes, sure. I mean no. I don’t have plans. What do you want me to wear?”

  Something would have to give. She wasn’t sure she’d survive the week otherwise.

  * * * *

  “Mr. Gleason, thank you for coming in. Derek, how about you take a break?” Jordan advised the other detective. Derek Henderson joined Ellie in the observation area, nodding to her before he turned his attention back to the two-way mirror.

  Gleason was sweating, and angry. “Ma’am—Detective, could you tell me what’s going on here? I’m between flights when I’m hearing that my ex-wife was kidnapped. I do everything I can to help you, come here right after I set foot on the ground, and you’re treating me like a suspect! I want to talk to my lawyer, now.”

  “I don’t think there’s a need for that at this point, but of course you can. I’m sorry if there was a misunderstanding. We needed to follow up with a potential witness and ran a little late.” Jordan’s voice was warm and seductive. “I can have my colleague get you something to drink if you want.”

  “No. I want to get this over with. No one is telling me anything! Is Lori…will she be okay?”

  “Lori is safe, don’t worry. You came back from Spain today?”

  “I told Detective Henderson already. I came straight from the airport. My suitcase is even still in the trunk of my car, if you want to check that.”

  “Thanks so much for your cooperation.” Jordan leaned towards him. “We checked something else though. There’s no record of you flying into or coming from Spain.”

  Ellie’s jaw dropped.

  “That’s odd, wouldn’t you say?”

  Gleason looked startled for a moment, but he caught himself. “That’s odd indeed. There must be a mistake. Besides, I know what you’re thinking. Lori and I had a good relationship, even after the divorce. I encouraged her to go out—as I did during our marriage. We had an open relationship. At some point, we drifted apart, and we decided we should end it. We’re still friends.”

  “You didn’t mind she was meeting other men, and women?”

  “Why would I? I’ve had my share.”

  Jordan let the silence linger. Gleason returned her gaze with a cordial smile, but underneath the table, he was tapping his foot on the floor nervously.

  “She’s good. Pay attention, you can learn something.”

  Henderson’s jovial tone amused her. Ellie was paying close attention to everything that was happening in the room. He had no idea how close.

  “Okay. There’s still the matter of your flight. You are not on any list. Did you think we wouldn’t find out?”

  “I told you, they must have made a mistake, and there’s no way you can hold me on this. I’m not going to talk to you any longer, and I want to call my lawyer right now. He will tell you the same. This is ridiculous.”

  “All right. Just one more question. Do you know either of those women?” She laid a picture of Eleanor Campbell in front of him. He actually took his time to study it, then shook his head. “Not that I can remember, no.”

  “This one?”

  “No.”

  “Are you sure?”

  Ellie had noticed it too, a minute reaction, a small flinch before he denied. So had Detective Henderson.

  “I don’t know either of these women, and you are starting to tread on dangerous ground, legally speaking.”

  Jordan put the pictures back into the folder. “Thanks for the advice. Mr. Gleason. Please, make that call now.”

  * * * *

  Without a doubt, she’d be in for another long night. Usually, Ellie was good at distancing herself, not letting the workday seep into her off time, but her recent experiences had shaken her boundaries. The crime scene photos, Lori Gleason torn between fear and anger, wondering if she’d ever sleep through a night again, the thought of what could have happened—all of it hit too close to home. Never mind the still unanswered question.

  At 11:00 p.m., Ellie wandered around her bedroom, trying to figure out what would be the right outfit for going to All Colors with Jordan. Probably no girls’ night out gear, she thought, faintly disappointed. Asking around was not the same as being undercover, and Jordan hadn’t mentioned any of the kind. For a moment, she allowed herself the idea that they might have to play a couple, flirting, kissing…no. That was unlikely to happen tomorrow.

  What happened to taking what she felt life owed her?

  Ellie lay down on her bed, staring at the ceiling. She was so tired. She had gotten her wish, working upstairs, but if she was honest, she’d wish it could have been any case but this. Masked men lurking in the darkness to prey on someone they considered vulnerable, whom they had been watching, probably for weeks—it was too depressing a thought. There had been no other attacks reported. Maybe he had given up. Maybe he was just waiting, like the man Lori Gleason had escaped from.

  Chapter Three

  “He’s got something to hide.” Jordan was still frustrated due to the dealings with Gleason’s lawyer the previous day. Indeed, a lack of alibi didn’t look so good, but there was no way yet to tie him to the rope fibers or the locations where any of the women had been found. Ellie watched her pace the confines of the office, wishing she had anything useful to contribute. She couldn’t imagine a reason why Gleason would fake a business trip in the first place, when he knew it would come out the moment they checked passenger lists. Unless it was never meant to function as an alibi, and his secret was unrelated to Lori’s abduction. Ellie realized she had tumbled into a world that was completely alien to her. She liked to go out, flirt, test the boundaries, but chat rooms, open relationships and threesomes were not something she had envisioned for herself.

  “Nothing on the couple who bought the house?”

  Jordan shook her head. “Upstanding citizens, excellent credit, have never gotten in trouble with the law. They didn’t even know there was a trap door. Apparently it had been covered with a rug when they were visiting. Damn it!”

  Ellie flinched though she felt the same, restless, angry. It seemed like the investigation had come to a halt, when the perpetrator they were looking for might have set his eyes on the next victim.

  She got up to join Jordan at the board, once more forcing aside her visceral reaction to the gruesome photographs.

  That could have been me.

  Where the hell did that come from?

  Location. Eleanor Campbell. The office building, abandoned. Lori Gleason, another soon-to-be-occupied empty house. How did the killer know? Was he about to move Lori to another place, or kill her there, in the new owner’s basement? It was like trying to put together a giant puzzle with only given a handful of pieces at the time. Her gaze wandered back to Isabel Hayes. Unlike Eleanor (almost four weeks) it had been only about ten days between the date she went missing and a driver of the garbage truck had had the worst start into his workday ever. The intervals had gotten shorter. Lori’s ordeal had ended on the eighth day.

  Lucky.

  “He leaves them alone for long hours a day, pr
obably has a day job, stalks potential victims in bars and maybe, chat rooms. How does he choose them?”

  “Good question,” Jordan said. “I hope tonight we get a bit closer to answering it. As for your question, casual clothes will do. I’d like to show around some pictures…it might help if we don’t scream cops at first sight.”

  “I’m okay with that.”

  “How are you holding up?” Jordan asked, only for Ellie to overhear.

  “It’s my job. I’m fine.”

  “Fortunately,” Jordan cast a quick glance at the board behind them, “this is not part of the everyday job. You don’t ever get used to it, and it would be bad if you did. You just came back from something horrible.”

  “I’m aware of that. It sucks. The department shrink told me all about it, but I still thought I might be smarter about it, get over it.” Ellie caught herself. “It is what it is. Once we’re off duty, would you like to take me up on that beer you said I owe you?”

  “Why not? Although, you know that was a joke, right?”

  Ellie held her breath for a moment, before Jordan said, “You could come to my place instead. It’s not that far from the All Colors.”

  * * * *

  They had a crime to solve. Ellie kept the thought at the forefront of her mind, though she couldn’t deny the excitement when she entered the club with Jordan. Even on a weekday night, it was packed with the hopeful and the hunters, few of them sober. If that had been the objective, they could have probably made a few easy drug related arrests. Tonight, their hope was to connect a few of the loose puzzle pieces. Lori. Chambers. Bella.

  Gleason, and maybe a tie to the other women. If they could identify the killer’s hunting ground precisely, they were one step closer to identifying him. He wasn’t a ghost. Somebody had to have seen the women with him.

  Another thing Ellie became soon aware of were the curious, and in some cases, jealous, looks that followed them. Jordan seemed oblivious or plain used to it, but Ellie returned each of them with a smug smile.

  She wondered if Jordan’s girlfriend was working out of headquarters, and if she was away often—often enough to bring another woman to their home. Did they even live together? She was about to find out.

  The bartender, a blonde with tattooed arms, shook her head regretfully when Ellie showed her the picture of Eleanor Campbell. “Doesn’t seem like the right clientele for the place,” she mused out loud. “Is that all?”

  At the sight of Lori Gleason’s photograph, her eyes went wide. “That’s the girl they found in the basement, right? I read about it in the paper. I was wondering when you might come by. She was here a few times.”

  “Do you remember who was with her? Did she go home with anyone?”

  The young woman looked uncertain. “You know, the faces blur after a while. There were a few guys, but mostly she was with this other chick, what’s her name…Bella. That’s all I know. They had a few drinks, danced, whatever else, don’t ask me.”

  “How about this one?”

  “You’ve got to be kidding me,” the bartender said when Jordan laid the picture of Hayes in front of her. “You didn’t know?”

  “Didn’t know what?”

  “That’s Bella!”

  Isabel. Bella. Ellie wanted to slap her hand against her forehead.

  “Is she okay? In the paper, they said there was only one woman in that basement…oh my God. The others are dead?”

  “I’m afraid so,” Jordan said. “If you can remember anything about either of them, who they met, who they left with, please, let us know.”

  “Of course. Why don’t you wait for a bit? Sheila will be here in half an hour. She’s been here longer than I have, and she works most of the weekends. Maybe she can help you more.”

  Ellie cast a questioning look at Jordan and got a nod in return.

  “Thank you. We’ll wait.”

  For the next thirty minutes, there was nothing to distract them, from the atmosphere around them, the pounding music, the people seeking and finding a connection that might not last longer than tonight. Hope, desire, with a dash of danger. Ellie caught Jordan’s gaze on her, speculative. She was all too aware of the heat coursing through her body, pooling between her legs.

  Life owed her. Jordan owed her, for all the times she looked at Ellie with that undisguised want in her expression. She wished they could have a drink, take the edge off inhibitions and guilt, but of course that was impossible. Later. If there actually was a later.

  Sheila came in earlier than expected, fortunately, and she confirmed her colleague’s observations. She had something to add though.

  “There was this guy, one time, tall, good-looking, salt and pepper hair, early fifties maybe. I don’t know his name.”

  It didn’t sound like Chambers at all, but it wouldn’t be surprising that a killer on the prowl had altered his appearance, Ellie thought as she listened to Sheila.

  “They were talking, and Isabel seemed pretty pissed afterwards,” the bartender continued. “She left early. I haven’t seen him since.” She looked apologetic. “I’m sorry, but I’m not sure I’d recognize him. Bella and Lori—that’s her name, right?—They kept to themselves mostly.”

  “Can you think of anyone who might have seen something?” Jordan kept her tone as light and relaxed as it possibly could be, given the subject, but her tense composure revealed her frustration, at least to Ellie. Hopefully she’d let her do something about it. Sheila surveyed the crowd thoughtfully. “You might have more luck on the weekend, with one of the regulars.”

  “One more thing. A guy, blond, around forty, uses the same dating website to hook up with women and couples.”

  “Oh, you mean Graham? He was here on the night of the fifth, hooking up with someone. They left together. If you want my impression, he’s harmless, but a lousy husband.”

  “Okay. Thank you,” Jordan said and turned to Ellie. “I think it’s time to call it a night. Come on.” Ellie didn’t need any more prompting.

  * * * *

  Yes, she had known where this would lead all along, probably from the moment Jordan had given her the once over at the bar. Ellie remembered her gaze traveling up her legs, pausing a bit around the neckline of the low cut top, meeting her eyes with an inviting smile.

  Ellie had burned those clothes once she got them back from evidence. She wouldn’t let the sorry excuse for a man burn anything else in her life. She’d managed to hold Jordan’s interest as well. She was excited, and curious. She was finally feeling something again that didn’t make her want to scream—well, not that way, at least. It had to be a good sign.

  When they walked up to the apartment building that housed Jordan’s home, she craned her neck, curious. The high rise held several condos that, she assumed, would be as modern the inside as the outside suggested.

  “This is pretty cool,” she said. “Did you rent or buy?”

  “We rented, but the company wants to remodel the units and sell them by the end of the year. I guess we’ll have to make up our minds pretty soon.” Jordan’s tone made it clear this decision wasn’t a priority now. Her use of “we”, reminder of the third party, silenced Ellie. She took in the clean and spacious lobby, the elevators. The building had the vibe of a luxury hotel.

  “It’s nice,” she finally said. Jordan shrugged.

  “Thanks.”

  Ellie studied her reflection in the mirror wall, a woman troubled, beyond attractive to Ellie, wearing a substantial weight on her shoulders. This wasn’t just about the consequences of what they were about to do, she realized. Ellie had been assigned to the case for a week only, and she could feel the tension in her body caused by the confrontation with those pictures and what they meant, every day. She’d seen her share of violence in her day job, but not every day. There had been silver linings, like the child wandering away in the mall found and reunited with the happy mother an hour later. The accident victim who was saved, the grandmother who miraculously convinced the burglar to give
himself up and stay until the police arrived. There had been losses. Nothing like this, a criminal deciding he should be judge, jury and executioner to the “crime” these women had committed in his twisted mind. It had to take a toll at some point.

  Jordan opened the apartment door, and Ellie could help the “wow” that escaped her. From the granite countertop of the kitchen to the light grey sectional with the red pillows, it looked like something out of a catalogue. Every piece of decoration was tasteful and fit into the surroundings. In the dining area sat a massive wooden table with chairs around it, a modern light fixture overhead.

  “You want a beer?” Jordan asked, heading for the fridge.

  “Sure. Thank you. That means I owe you two.”

  Jordan smiled before she opened a bottle for each of them. “Would you like a glass?”

  “No thanks. This is fine.” Ellie sat on the barstool at the kitchen island, wondering what subjects were left for conversation. She could ask another question about the rent versus buy dilemma, but that would inevitably bring up the subject of the other person living here. It was obvious for someone looking around with a trained eye. She didn’t want to talk about the case anymore, at least not tonight. Jordan seemed okay with the silence, and so Ellie drank, faster than she maybe should have.

  “Would you like another one?”

  Ellie contemplated the question, which was harder than the trivial subject suggested. Jordan was standing close next to her, and when Ellie failed to give her an answer, she reached up to brush a strand of hair back from her shoulder, exposing her neck. Ellie shivered. This was what she wanted, wasn’t it? Here it began. She craved the touch of a person who would handle her body with respect. She wanted to do something about that warm, pulsing arousal, but all of a sudden, she wasn’t sure if this was the right way to go about it. Jordan kissed her, very softly, before her hands wandered down her shoulders, gently closing around her breasts. Ellie drew a sharp breath.