Shadow Dance (Buchanan-Renard 6)

She didn’t have to wait in line at the store. As soon as she walked in, shoppers scurried to get away from her. They stood in clusters staring at her while they whispered. She heard one woman say, “She’s the one.”

Jordan plastered a smile on her face and continued on to the photocopy machine. There had been a line—one woman and two men had been waiting—but as soon as they saw her coming, they scattered. Jordan was mortified. Noah thought the attention she was receiving was quite funny. She didn’t. After all, she hadn’t done anything wrong. She made that comment to him once they were back in the car.

“People do tend to die around you,” he pointed out.

“Just two.” She sighed. “Oh, God, did you just hear what I said? Just two? I’ve become insensitive about the death of two men. What’s happened to my compassion? I used to have some.”

She finished separating the professor’s papers from the copies and handed Noah the originals. “Would you please put these back in the empty box?”

“You’re afraid to open the trunk, aren’t you?”

“No, of course not. Just do it, please.”

She really wasn’t afraid, she told herself. She was just skittish. She didn’t want to admit it though. She stuffed the copies into her tote, put it on the floor, and sat back.

She was suddenly weary and feeling out of sorts. “Nick should be back in Boston by now,” she said when Noah got back into the car.

He started the engine before he answered. “I’m sure he’ll call when he gets home.”

“And when he does, you’ll tell him about Lloyd?” she asked and then promptly answered the question. “Of course you will.”

“You don’t want me to?”

“I don’t mind. I just don’t want him to get on another plane and come back. I also know he’ll tell the rest of the family, including my parents, and they have—”

“Enough to worry about,” Noah finished for her. “Jordan, it’s okay for them to be concerned about you every once in a while.”

She didn’t comment. Instead, she stared out the window at the desolate landscape. The yards on the street they drove down hadn’t weathered the heat well. All the lawns had burned patches of brown weeds and dirt.

What had Jordan been looking for when she came to Serenity? Her brother and Noah had both challenged her to step outside her comfort zone, but she wouldn’t have paid attention to any of their suggestions if she hadn’t been so discontent in the first place.

Her life was so regimented, so organized…so mechanical. She knew what she wanted. The wow factor. The problem was, it didn’t exist. At least not for her. She needed to get back home and stop thinking such crazy thoughts. Her life was mapped out for her. Structure. That’s what she was used to and what she needed. Everything would be in perspective once she was in Boston again.

There was just one little problem.

Noah noticed her disheartened expression. “What’s the matter?”

“I’m never going to get out of this town, am I?”

PROFESSOR MACKENNA HAD LIVED ON A QUIET, DEAD-END street about a mile off Main Street. It was a dismal setting.

There were no trees or shrubs or grass to soften the ugly tract houses, most of which were in dire need of repairs.

Chief Joe Davis was waiting for Noah and Jordan. The front of his shirt was soaked through. As Jordan and Noah walked to the front door, the chief pulled out a handkerchief and wiped the back of his neck.

“Were you waiting long?” Noah asked.

“No, just a couple of minutes, but damn it’s hot. Pardon me, ma’am, for using a curse word in your presence.” Joe unlocked the door. “I’ll warn you, it’s even hotter inside. MacKenna kept all of his windows closed and his shades down, and he never turned on the air conditioner far as I can tell. It’s a window unit, but it wasn’t plugged in.” He held the door open and cautioned, “Watch your step. Someone really trashed the place.”

Jordan fought the urge to gag as she entered the living room. The smell of overcooked fish mixed with some kind of metallic odor permeated the air.

The entire house couldn’t have been more than eight hundred square feet. There was little furniture. A gray plaid sofa, so dilapidated Jordan thought the professor must have found it on a curb somewhere, had been shoved against the wall facing a picture window that had been covered with a white flat sheet. A square oak coffee table sat in front of the sofa, and there was one small round table with a lamp and a torn shade. An old Philips television set was on a crate in the corner.

She couldn’t tell if there was a rug in the living room or not. The floor was covered with newspapers, some yellow with age, and there were also ripped notebooks and shredded textbooks everywhere. Some piles of papers were a foot high.

They waded through the trash to get to the dining room around the corner. A large desk was its only piece of furniture. The professor had used a wooden folding chair, but someone had hurled it against the wall. It lay in fragments on the floor.

A power strip on the desk had five cell phone charge cords plugged into it. The cell phones were missing. Jordan nearly tripped over an extension cord. Noah grabbed her around the waist before she went headfirst into the desk.

“Whoa there,” Joe said.

She nodded as she pulled away from Noah and walked toward the light-deprived kitchen. The smell was getting stronger, even fouler. There were dirty dishes in the sink, a feast for the roaches crawling over the counter, and trash overflowed from a shopping bag the professor had been using as a trash can near the back door. Garbage was decomposing in the sack.

Jordan backtracked through the living room and went down the hallway. There was a bathroom on one side—surprisingly clean, considering the condition of the rest of the house—and on the other side was a small bedroom. The drawers in the dresser had been ripped out and dumped on the floor. The double-bed mattress and box springs had also been overturned, both shredded with a knife.

Noah came up behind her, looked at the mess for about five seconds, turned around, and strode back into the dining room.

“Do you think whoever trashed the place found what he was looking for?” Jordan asked as she followed him.

“He? There could be more than one,” Joe said.

“What’s missing, Jordan?” Noah asked.

“Besides cleaning supplies? The professor’s computer.”

“That’s right,” said Noah.

“The cables are still here,” Joe said. “See? On the floor behind the desk. And look at all those phone chargers. I’ll bet the phones he was using were untraceable.”

Jordan thought she saw something moving under one of the newspapers. A mouse maybe. She didn’t freak. She wanted to, but she didn’t. “I’ll be outside…getting fresh air.”

She didn’t wait around for permission. Once she reached the sidewalk, she rubbed her arms and shivered over the thought that one of the insects might have gotten into her clothes.

Noah and Joe came outside ten minutes later. As Noah walked past her he whispered, “Mouse spooked you, didn’t it, Sugar?”

Sometimes Jordan wished Noah wasn’t quite so observant.

“Hey, Jordan, you want to open the trunk?” Noah called from behind the car.

“Not funny,” she called back.

His grin suggested otherwise. After he opened it, he turned to Joe. “Are you sure you want to store the boxes here? They’re going to be covered with bugs in no time.”

“I’ll seal them up tight,” he said. “A couple of deputies will help me go through everything in the house including the boxes, page by page. I’m not sure what we’re looking for, but hopefully something will stick out.”

Jordan suddenly remembered. “Chief Davis, I have a flash drive the professor gave me to take home. Will you need that?”

“I’ll need everything that will give us a clue to the professor,” he answered. “I’ll see that you get it back.”

He picked up one of the boxes and starte

d up the sidewalk. “I guess when we’re finished with all this, I’ll send it to a relative. That is, if I can find one,” he added.

“He’s part of the MacKenna clan,” Jordan said, “but I can’t imagine any of them would claim the professor. He was kind of a nutcase.”

She immediately felt guilty talking about the dead that way, but she was only being honest.

Joe paused at the doorway. “Did you get a chance to read all of those papers?”

“No, I didn’t. I read a few accounts from each of the boxes, but that’s all.”

Noah opened the car door for her and handed her the keys. “You go ahead and turn the air on. I’m gonna be a minute.”

“You sound angry.”

“Not angry, irritated. I’ve been real accommodating, and as you know, that’s a stretch for me, but I pulled it off, didn’t I?”

She didn’t smile, but she wanted to. “Yes.”

“I know Joe talked to Sheriff Randy Dickey, but he still hasn’t said a word to me. That means he’s made some kind of deal. So…”

“Uh-oh.”

“I’m through being accommodating. Get in the car.”

Joe came outside then. Noah headed toward him as he locked the front door.

“Did you forget to tell me what Randy Dickey had to say?” Noah asked.

“No, I didn’t forget. I thought maybe we could talk about it over a beer later.”

“Tell me now.”

“You’ve got to understand. Up until the time his brother got paroled, Randy was doing a good job as sheriff. Folks were happy with him. But J. D.’s a hothead, and Randy would like to give him a second chance to redeem himself. I agreed with him.”

“That’s not your call.”

“Yes, it is,” Joe said. “Unless Jordan presses charges against J. D. for that hit she took, there’s not a whole heck of a lot you or she can do. I’m not being contrary. I’m just telling you the way it is. And like I said before, I have to live in this town, and that means I’ve got to get along with people in authority. Sheriff Randy can make my life miserable. It doesn’t matter that he’s in another county. He’ll still do it.”

“Oh, yeah. He sounds like a real good sheriff.”

“That’s not what I mean. He just wants a favor, that’s all.”

“And if he doesn’t get that favor, then he’ll make your life—”

“Okay, okay,” he said with his hands up. “I know what I said. But J. D.’s his brother,” he repeated. “And he’ll get bounced back to prison before you can snap your fingers if she presses charges, and Randy will be beholden to me if she doesn’t.”

“I thought you didn’t want this job to be permanent.”

Joe looked sheepish. “My wife says I shouldn’t let my ego get in my way. I did get passed over before, but now I’m chief,” he said, “and I could be talked into staying on if that’s what the council wants.”

“I want to talk to Randy.”

“I mentioned that to him, and he’s okay with it.”

“He’s okay with it?” Noah could feel his neck getting hot.

“Where is he now?”

“The truth?”

“No, Joe, lie to me.”

“Hey, no need to get your back up. Randy’s out looking for his brother right now. Honest to God, he really doesn’t know where J. D. is, and he told me he’s worried sick that J. D. might do something foolish.”

“J. D.’s way past the foolish stage.”

“He’s going to turn up, and when he does Randy will bring him over to have a sit-down and work this out.”

“Work this out? J. D. is a suspect in a homicide investigation.”

“But it’s my homicide investigation,” said Joe.

Noah ignored the statement. “The timetable hasn’t changed, Joe. Randy has until tomorrow to bring J. D. in.”

“And if I can’t find him?”

“Then I will.”

FOR THE FIRST TIME IN HIS SORRY LIFE, J. D. WAS TRULY AFRAID. He’d dug himself into a hole so deep he didn’t know if he was ever going to be able to climb out.

The problem was his employer. The man scared the hell out of him. All he had to do was look at him in a certain way, and J. D. felt his blood run cold. He’d seen that look back when he’d been in prison. Lifers with nothing to lose had that attitude. Kill or be killed. That’s what the look meant.

Cal had taught him to steer clear of those men, and on too many occasions to count, he’d protected him from them. No one went up against Cal—no one in his right mind, anyway.

Cal couldn’t protect him now. J. D. was completely on his own, and his boss was no different from the killers he’d hidden from in prison. The boss carried that same attitude all right, and he was more vicious than most. J. D. had watched him pick up the professor and throw him like a Frisbee into a wall. It wasn’t so much his strength that scared J. D., it was the look in his eyes as he squeezed the life out of the man. J. D. knew that look would haunt his dreams for the rest of his life.

Greed had gotten the MacKenna man killed, and greed had made J. D. a willing accomplice to a murder. Now was too late for regrets. He was in that hole, and he could feel the dirt pouring in to bury him.

The boss had made J. D. get rid of the body and had ordered him to keep the woman in town until he could find out what she knew. J. D. could only think of one way to do that. He’d frame her for murder. His brother would keep her in jail then. That had been J. D.’s plan, anyway, but it all went south when the woman found the body while she was in the wrong county. He knew he’d overreacted when he saw the phone in her hand, but all he could think of was getting it away from her. No, that wasn’t true. He hadn’t been thinking. If he had been, he never would have hit her.

Like a fool, he thought Maggie would be able to fix things his way. She was the chief of police after all, and he knew she would do whatever he told her to do.

Bad luck followed bad luck, Cal used to say. J. D. understood what that meant now. Maggie couldn’t fix anything after she got fired. Her power was gone. As if that wasn’t enough bad luck, the Buchanan woman was connected to the FBI.

He had dreaded telling the boss about the woman’s brother and the other FBI agent, who was sticking to her like bad perfume on a new jacket.

Fortunately for J. D., the boss already knew about the FBI. He told J. D. that it didn’t matter how many FBI agents were in town, J. D. still had to keep her here until he could get her alone and interview her. The way he’d drawn out the word “interview” made J. D. wish he could run away. But it was too late for that. Much too late. The incident with Lloyd had seen to that.

It was no coincidence that J. D. had run into Lloyd as the mechanic was packing his car to get out of town. Maggie had tipped him off that Jordan Buchanan was telling everyone who would listen that Lloyd had acted mighty suspicious when she’d picked up the car. She’d even suggested Lloyd knew the body was in the trunk.

J. D. had only wanted to talk to Lloyd to find out what he’d seen, yesterday, but the second Lloyd spotted him, he ran inside and tried to barricade himself in his house.

“I just want to talk to you, Lloyd,” J. D. had called out.

“Go away or I’ll call the sheriff,” Lloyd shouted. “I ain’t fooling! I’ll do it.”

“Did you forget where you live?”

“What kind of question is that?”

“You live in Jessup County, you moron, and that means if you call the sheriff, you’ll be calling my brother. And you know he’ll do anything I ask him to,” he lied.

Lloyd cursed.

“That’s right,” J. D. shouted. “You let me inside and we’ll have us a talk. I’ll wait real patient right here until you make up your mind. I’m not going to hurt you, Lloyd.”

“You hurt that other man.”

“No, I didn’t. I swear I didn’t. He was already dead when I found him. Someone…I’m not saying who, told me to put him in the woman’s car. That’s all I did.”  “If I believe you, will you let me leave town?” Lloyd asked. “Just until this blows over and that FBI man leaves Serenity.”

“That’s exactly what I was hoping you would do. You know, leave town until the FBI gets out of here.”

“So why do you need to come inside?”

“I don’t,” said J. D. “And I’ll tell you what. If you want, you can call me and tell me where you’re holed up, and if it isn’t too far away, I’ll send over one of my best girls to keep you company. She’d spend at least one whole night taking care of you. I can give—”

“Okay, I’ll call you,” Lloyd eagerly blurted.

J. D. knew Lloyd was watching him through the peephole, so he didn’t smile. Convinced that he wouldn’t call Chief Davis or the sheriff, he sauntered back to his pickup. Then he drove around the corner, turned off the motor, and waited for Lloyd to leave so he could tail him.

He hadn’t killed him. He’d simply made a phone call and told the boss where Lloyd could be found. As far as J. D. was concerned, he had done nothing wrong. He’d just shared some information.

CRIPPLE CREEK BAR AND GRILL HELD THE OFFICIAL COUNTY record for having the most animal heads hanging on its walls. A couple of stuffed rattlers even hung from the rafters. At one time there had been more, but the ceiling fans had played havoc with them, and the customers didn’t appreciate chopped snake skin occasionally raining down on them while they drank at the bar.

Agent Street had given Noah directions to the bar, suggested he and Jordan ignore the décor, and promised the pizza at Cripple Creek was the best in the state. The chef, he explained, was a transplant from Chicago.

The façade resembled a large log cabin big enough to accommodate Paul Bunyan. The interior reminded Jordan of a ski resort. High, open ceilings with exposed beams and a balcony that overlooked the dance floor were all constructed from knotty pine. The air was heavy with the scent of pine air fresheners, and a band played twangy country-and-western songs from a small, raised platform tucked in the corner.

As though it were the most natural thing in the world to do, Noah took hold of Jordan’s hand and pulled her along as he threaded his way through the crowd.