Michael heard the words and felt them sink into his brain as a vice gripped his heart, squeezing, taking his breath. “Both of them?”
“Sir, are you all right?”
The coffee cup slipped from his fingers, numb with pain as the vice clamped tighter, shutting off the oxygen to his brain.
His senses seemed to be sharper. He heard the sound of the cashier’s footsteps as she rushed around the counter, catching his weight as he fell. “Somebody help me, please!”
He felt the floor rising up to meet him. It felt cool against the burning pain of his body.
“Out of the way, I’m a doctor. Everybody back.”
He felt his tie loosened, shirt unbuttoned, something cold pressed against his chest.
“We need an ambulance fast. This man’s having a heart attack.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Jenna woke to a pounding headache and the sounds of whispers. She kept her eyes closed and listened closely. A gentle rocking with an occasional bump told her she was in some type of vehicle.
“What do we do with the girl?”
Jenna didn’t recognize the voice, but she didn’t like the tone. She waited, breathing slowly and steadily.
“We’ll get settled in and then let her go, and we can stop whispering. She’s awake.”
Jenna opened her eyes and glanced at the two men sitting on the van floor beside her. She struggled to a sitting position. “Where are we, and what happened back there?”
Jordan pointed to the man sitting beside him and up front to the van driver. “Thanks to a couple of old friends, we’re alive. As to where we are, it’s better for you if you don’t know. The less you’re involved, the safer you’ll be.”
Jenna rubbed her shoulder where Jordan had pinched her earlier. “Better for me how? Two federal agents—or some men posing as federal agents—tried to kill me. Seems to me I’m already involved.”
“She’s got a point, Jordan. Besides, we can use her.”
Jenna turned to the second man and studied his face. A deep scar ran from his left eye down across his cheek and under his chin. “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name.”
He grinned at her, showing slightly uneven and yellowed teeth. “I didn’t give it. You can call me Tom. It’s a good name.”
“Okay, Tom, were those real federal agents?”
He nodded. “Far as I know.”
“So, what happened to them? Did you kill them?”
“Not exactly.”
Jenna turned to Jordan. “What does he mean, not exactly?”
Jordan shrugged. “We didn’t kill them, but whoever hired them wasn’t planning on any of us leaving there alive. Their car exploded when they tried to chase us.”
Jenna leaned back against the van wall. “This is crazy. I was taking you back to prison, why would they try to kill us?”
“Not you. It’s me they were after.”
“Why?” Jenna asked.
“Because my father knows I’m going to expose him for the criminal he is.”
Jenna shook her head. “Even if you’re right and he killed your mother, if it happened in their home with no witnesses, it would be impossible to prove.”
“That’s not the crime I’m talking about. I’ll settle that score myself. Haven’t you seen criminals walk on a technicality—people you knew were guilty, but the judge, for whatever reason, let them go?”
Jenna nodded. “It happens.”
“My father was a federal judge for more than twenty years. During those twenty years, he worked closely with Marcus Dade to keep certain criminal elements free. Evidence disappeared. Witnesses disappeared. He called a mistrial. Whatever it took.”
Jenna swallowed hard. She wasn’t unfamiliar with the name Marcus Dade, a lawyer for the upper echelon of criminals. He rarely, if ever, lost a case. Her one meeting with him still had her waking from nightmares occasionally. She had little trouble believing he and Elkins were in cahoots. “And you’re telling me you have proof of this?”
Jordan exchanged a glance with Tom, who nodded. “You’re looking at part of it. I also think my mother had documents. All we have to do is find them.”
Jenna turned her attention back to Tom. “Tell me what you’ve got.”
“Ten years ago, I was hired by Dade to do a job. He wanted me to kill a woman and a one-year-old child—said he needed to send a message to the husband. I refused, and he gave me this.” He pointed to the scar on his face. “Bastard left me for dead.”
Jenna frowned, trying to follow the conversation and put it into perspective. “I can see where that would implicate Dade, but what does any of that have to do with Judge Elkins?”
Jordan answered her. “The husband was the doctor that treated my mother after a bad beating that broke one of her arms. She begged him not to, but he filed a report with the police. Mom refused to prosecute but he wouldn’t let up. He kept calling and even stopped by the house once to check on her. Dade was doing my dad a favor.”
Jenna glanced from Jordan to Tom. She could believe the story, but would a jury? “So, how did you two meet?” she asked.
Jordan slapped Tom on the back. “Tom sold me the gun I used to threaten my father.”
Tom’s face darkened, causing the scar to stand out in the darkness of the van, a vivid white line. “Should have killed the bastard like I told you to. Never could stomach a wife beater or child abuser. I may be scum, but I’m not that low.”
Jenna continued to roll the possibilities around in her mind. She had enough to start an investigation but not nearly enough to get a conviction against Elkins or Dade. Not unless...
“Would the doctor be willing to testify?” Jenna asked.
“He’s dead. Two weeks after Tom turned Dade down, his car exploded. The entire family was killed,” Jordan said.
Jenna sighed. “I’m sorry, Jordan. It’s not enough—maybe enough to get an investigation started but not enough to get a conviction. As soon as your father caught wind of what we’re doing, he’d shut it down.” Jenna’s lips tightened. “Or he’d hire someone to finish the job he started at the airport.”
The van slowed, and Jordan pulled out a black hood. “I need to cover your eyes, Jenna. As I said, the less you know, the less danger you’ll be in.”
Jenna took a deep breath and allowed him to place the hood over her head. The van had been dark, but now the darkness was complete and more terrifying.
CHAPTER TWELVE
“Jordan!”
Jenna recognized the voice of Kamela Beaumont and turned her head. That explained a lot. Kamela must have called Jordan as soon as she left, and the two of them had cooked up his escape plan. That’s how he’d known she was a prosecutor. He just hadn’t counted on his father’s assassination plan. Or maybe he had.
Jenna couldn’t see, but heard the sounds of heels clicking on concrete. A cross breeze was blowing, and the heavy scent of fuel hung in the air. Jordan let go of her arm as Kamela exclaimed, “Oh my God! You’ve been hurt.”
“Kami, what you doing here?”
At any other time, the distinct sound of heavy kissing would have amused Jenna. She cleared her throat, reminding them they had an audience.
“If you two could break up the love fest for a few moments, I’d like to get out of this hood, and there’s some things we need to discuss.”
“Jordan, who is that?”
“Jenna James.”
“Why is she blindfolded?” Kamela asked.
“I’ll explain later. Stay here, Kami, and I’ll be right back.”
Jordan once again took her arm, guiding her across an open space and through a small doorway. Once the door was closed, he removed the hood.
Jenna studied her surroundings, noting the heavy metal walls, concrete floor, and single bunk in the room. Jordan might not want her to know where they were, but she was pretty sure it was an airplane bunker. She’d fallen asleep after they transferred her from the van to the plane. She’d known then that either Tom wa
s really well connected, or the Beaumonts were involved in Jordan’s escape.
She ran a hand through her matted hair and grimaced. “Any chance I could take a shower and get a change of clothes from somewhere?”
Jordan nodded toward a door on the left wall. “There’s the bathroom. You might want to wait, though. Kidnapped victims aren’t usually freshly showered and dressed. I’ll be back as soon as I convince Kami I’m okay and get her out of here.”
“Good luck with that,” Jenna stated sarcastically as she headed for the bathroom. She really wanted that shower, but Jordan was right. If he was going to let her go and she wanted to convince everyone she had been kidnapped, she couldn’t walk in looking... she caught sight of her image in the mirror. The hood had pressed her hair down around the top of her head and created static electricity in the rest. It stood straight up, as if she’d stuck her fingers in a light socket. “Where’s my purse?”
Jordan stuck his head in the bathroom door, a sheepish look on his face. “Sorry, Jenna. You dropped it when I knocked you out.”
Jenna turned back to the mirror. Take a vacation, Jenna. Go places; meet new people; have some fun. When—and if—she got out of this mess she was going to kick David Garcia’s ass.
~ ~ ~
Michael woke to the sounds of beeping monitors. Something had happened, but at the moment, he was too tired to try to remember. His gaze fell on his father sitting in the chair beside his bed. “What happened?”
“About time you woke up. You had a heart attack.”
His memory came back in a flash of words and thoughts. There was a shooting at the airport. Some woman and her boyfriend.
“What did you do, Dad?”
William Elkins laughed harshly. “What I had to. Knew you were too soft to do it right.”
Michael coughed, the effort causing pain to course through his chest. “I had it taken care of. The agents would have taken Jordan back to prison.” He struggled to sit up. “And from what I heard, your plan didn’t work out too well for you either. Have they found them?”
Elkins grunted. “Not yet, but they will.”
“Jenna is a very smart woman, Dad. And Jordan can be very convincing. If he has any evidence at all on you, by now he’s got her on his side.”
His father stood up, reaching for the cane propped against the wall. “We’ll have to kill them both anyway.”
Michael pulled himself up farther in the bed. The old man had finally lost his mind. “We’re not killing anybody. Jordan will go back to jail, and I’ll handle Jenna.”
The old man laughed, the sound bitter and harsh. He waved a document in front of Michael’s face. “I found this in your mother’s purse. She must have done it right before we flew to Kentucky. We’re broke, Michael. I’m broke. You’re broke. The bitch left everything we had to her bastard son.”
Michael stared down at the legal document his father had dropped on his chest. Someone had highlighted two parts:
To my husband, William Elkins, I leave the sum of one dollar. He has enjoyed forty years of squandering my family inheritance while spending the money he made on women and gambling.
To my son, Michael, I leave the sum of five dollars and these words of wisdom: “A woman’s place is with the man she loves. Not as a possession, but as a partner.”
Michael flung the document across the room. “We’ll fight it. It shouldn’t be too hard to find a couple of psychiatrists to say she was mentally unstable.”
William picked up the document and handed it back to him. “You better read the last paragraph.”
Should either my husband or my son, Michael, contest this will, I have placed certain documents in a safe deposit box with specific instructions that they would be delivered to the FBI, all major newspapers, and local law enforcement.
Michael lay back against the pillows. He’d worked hard to keep his hands clean while treading through the bloody messes his father left behind. But no one was ever totally clean. His mother must have found something—something he’d missed.
“I’ll get the doctor to release me in the morning. We’ll arrange something for Jordan. Killing Jenna would open a can of worms we’re not ready for.” He lifted his lips in a smirk he knew his father would appreciate. “Yet.”
The old man nodded. “I’ll call Marcus when we get back. He’ll know what to do about the will. Got a plane waiting, and your release papers are already signed. Transferring you to St. Mary. The quicker we get back, the better. Should be there by nightfall. We’ve got another problem. Kamela Beaumont is carrying Jordan’s bastard child. She’ll have to be taken care of too.”
Michael nodded, his eyes heavy. “Should make it easier. We can take them both out at the same time. Make it look like an accident.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Jenna woke with a start, sitting up abruptly on the small bunk. How long had she been asleep? And where was everyone? She stood up and crossed to the door. She needed a pen and a legal pad, and then she needed to talk to Jordan.
Reaching for the door handle, she was surprised to find it locked. Why lock her in? She couldn’t possibly go anywhere even if she wanted to. Banging on the door, she called out, “Hey, let me out of here!”
A few minutes later, the door opened, and Jordan walked in, carrying a cup of coffee and a plate of sandwiches. “I thought you might be hungry.”
“Starved,” Jenna stated, reaching for a sandwich. “What’s the odds of getting a pen and legal pad?”
He handed her the plate and cup of coffee. “I’ll see what I can do.”
Jordan returned a few sandwiches later and handed her a pen and notebook. He looked at the almost-empty tray and grinned. “I guess you were hungry.”
“I told you I was starved.” She looked him over, noting the paleness of his features. “How’s the arm?”
“Hurts like hell but reminds me I’m still alive.”
Jenna opened the notebook and started making notes, cutting straight to the point. “I’ve already told you without the doctor’s testimony, we just don’t have enough to make a case. Tom would be discredited even if we could get him to the stand. He’s a criminal, and he’s accusing a former federal judge and a well-respected attorney. The jury won’t buy it. What we need is a foolproof case with evidence beyond a reasonable doubt.
“When I get back to my office, I’ll make a list of cases that the judge dismissed. See if we can track down missing witnesses. You need to bear in mind that judges are provided immunity for almost all actions they take while on the bench. This mainly applies to civil lawsuits. Unless we find something criminal, we may not be able to prosecute him. We’ll concentrate first on your mother’s case, and hopefully we’ll be able to find that evidence you think she had.”
Jenna flipped the page and handed the notebook to Jordan. “I need a list of every time you can remember when your mother was taken to the hospital. There has to be a doctor or a nurse or someone out there that would be willing to testify.”
Jordan stared down at the blank page. “You don’t have to do this, Jenna.”
Jenna leaned forward and tapped the page. “I’ve had a really crappy day so far. Make that two days. A journalist smeared my name, my boss ordered me to take a vacation, and I’ve been shot at and kidnapped. So, yeah, I do have to do this. In trying to kill you, they also tried to kill me. I take that personally. Now, start writing and get Tom in here. I need to talk to him.”
Jordan dialed a number on his cell. “Can you join us?” He listened for a moment, a huge grin spreading across his face. “Yeah, bring in a pot of coffee and another plate of sandwiches.”
Jenna raised an eyebrow when he closed the phone. “Something funny?”
Jordan laughed out loud, the sound echoing in the confined space. “Tom said he needed a pot of coffee if you were going to interrogate him.”
The door opened, and Tom walked in with a fresh pot of coffee and a new plate of sandwiches. He placed them on the nightstand and pulled up a
chair. “Fire away, lady, but you may not like my answers.”
“I have no intention of interrogating you, Mister… Tom. For the time being, I’ll assume you’ve told me everything you know. If I’m going to track down this evidence, I’m going to need help. From what the two of you have told me, and what I’ve seen myself, Judge Elkins and Marcus Dade have a wide pull among law enforcement. What I need is an honest cop.”
Tom snickered. “And you’re asking me?”
Jenna gave him the same hard look she gave defendants on the stand. “Criminals know things the rest of us can only guess at. I’d say if there’s an honest cop out there, you know who he is.”
Tom eyed her, a glimmer of respect showing in the dark eyes. “Savior, at the twenty-third precinct. Rumor has it he can’t be bribed. Him or his partner. Some Indian by the name of Whitefeather or Redfeather.”
“Harry Redmond?” Jenna asked. An image of a young officer with dark-brown skin and vivid brown eyes flashed through her mind.
“Yeah, that’s him. Jake Savior and Harry Redmond. They call them Sherlock and Watson around the precinct. Good guys to have on your side if you’re straight. Real badasses if you’re not.”
“Good. I’ve worked with Redmond before. He was thorough, and I liked him.”
Jordan handed her back the notebook. “That’s the ones I can remember.”
Jenna stared at the two-page list. How could his mother have been beaten so many times and Michael not have known about it?
As if he’d read her mind, Jordan stood up. “Michael knew, Jenna. He’s always known.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Jenna studied the notes. She hadn’t been totally up-front with Jordan. Both of them were probably going to be arrested for what happened in Atlanta, and they’d never get the chance to prosecute anyone. Someone was going to have to answer for those dead agents, and the fact they had run made them look guilty. Of course, Jordan had to know that. A knock sounded on the door.
“Come on in.”
The door opened, and Tom stuck his head in. “It’s dark, and we should get on the road soon.”
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