by Mary Eason
He studied her expression for a moment. No doubt about it, Deb was dead serious. “What aren’t you telling me?”
Her gaze fell to the plate. She picked up her coffee cup with nervous hands, sloshing the hot liquid onto the table. “Nothing. I’ll do what I can to help, but I can’t make any promises. What I’m telling you, is watch your back. You’re off the case, remember. If Thomas finds out you’re working this on your own then…” She didn’t finish. She didn’t need to. The implication was clear. Losing his job would be the least of his worries.
Chapter Five
“I told you to let me handle this.” The contempt in Caesar’s tone served to put an even deeper wedge between them. He’d been furious that she’d refused to sleep in his bed the night before. That resentment still simmered in him.
“I’ll stop by the apartment and pick up something for the viewing.” Renewed anger flared in his eyes like a lit match.
“No.” She managed to catch herself before she said something more and gave too much away. It wouldn’t do to show him the disgust that burned deep within her. “No, you’ve done enough. Besides, I need to do something. Keep busy, otherwise I’ll go out of my mind. I just don’t understand any of this -- I feel so helpless. I can’t sit around here all day and think about what Jeremy must have gone through. You have…everything else taken care of.” She smiled briefly and watched as his narrowed gaze raked her face. Did he suspect that the change in her had nothing to do with his unfaithfulness?
“Caesar, I’m grateful for all you’ve done. Really, I am. I just need to get out of the apartment for a while. The walls feel as if they’re closing in.” After a moment, he accepted her answer with a curt nod. Still there was a certain wariness in the depths of his dark eyes.
For so long, Caesar had been the closest thing to family she and Jeremy had. Part of her still loved him in some twisted way.
But she no longer trusted him.
“Alright. As you wish. You’ll call if you need anything?”
“Of course.” He turned away. Acting on an impulse she couldn’t begin to explain, Jordan reached for his hand. “Caesar.” It was at times like this that she could almost convince herself he was still the knight in shining armor she’d once seen in him. Pain squeezed at her heart. Maybe Detective Donovan had been mistaken. Surely this gentle, caring man standing before her now couldn’t be responsible for Jeremy’s death as the detective seemed to imply.
“It’s okay.” His smile took some of the chill from those dark eyes. “I’ll stop by the office for a bit. There’s a new shipment of diamonds coming in this afternoon. I know Ruggerio can handle it without me, but…”
“You love inspecting the gems. I know.” She answered for him. “Go. Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.”
Still he hesitated. In the hours following her brother’s death, Caesar made sure she was never alone. Almost as if he didn’t trust her not to run. Or maybe he was just afraid of what she might uncover if left on her own. She hadn’t dared try to call Riley although she was desperate to hear his voice. Have him reassure her she hadn’t imagined him or what happened between them.
Caesar had insisted on checking in with the detectives working Jeremy’s case and been told by Detective Burbeck that the investigation was still on-going. He couldn’t comment on any of the details other than someone would be in touch soon.
Since that time, the silence in the apartment became unbearable and Jordan’s doubts had been limited to as far as her imagination could take them. She knew, if she didn’t get away from Caesar for a little while, she’d tip her hand. And if he knew what she suspected, would she end up in the same position as Jeremy?
Once she was certain Caesar had gone into the office as he’d indication, she grabbed her purse, making sure her cell phone was inside then left the apartment.
Caesar didn’t approve of her walking alone in the city. Not a native New Yorker himself, he didn’t understand the pleasure of strolling the streets. He’d be furious with her for taking a cab. But now more than ever she needed to feel the city’s heartbeat, interact with fellow New Yorkers, absorb its energy. The city could be brutal at times, but it could also be healing.
The warmth of a late fall afternoon assaulted her with senses with an array of flavors. The street vendors peddling their wares of hot dogs and soft pretzels. The heat of the city, rising up from concrete and asphalt. The dozens of passer-bys bathed in a kaleidoscope of perfumes and colognes.
In the past, this had been one of Jordan’s favorite times in New York. Now, the beauty and color of the changing leaves would forever remain marred by the death of her brother.
The small apartment she and Jeremy shared was some ten blocks away from Caesar’s modern brownstone and light years away in social standing.
Jordan took her time, wanting to make sure Caesar hadn’t changed his mind and followed her.
She forced herself to wait until she was safely inside the apartment before trying to reach Riley.
Within the space of a few hours, her life as she knew it had been reduced to a series of insignificant, forced actions. Sleep. Get dressed. Eat. Finding out the truth was the most important thing in her life. Nothing mattered more than learning who was responsible for taking Jeremy’s life.
She unlocked the apartment door then forced herself to go inside. Everything looked the same as it had when they’d left it that morning and yet nothing was the same. The people who lived here had no idea what lay ahead for them.
In their tiny kitchen, the evidence of a hurriedly prepared meal remained scattered everywhere. Two-day-old coffee had turned to sludge in the pot. An opened cereal box sat on the counter. Cereal spilled out. A dirty bowl in the sink.
Jordan took a deep breath and struggled to keep back the tears. She couldn’t cry. Since learning the news of Jeremy’s death she’d cried so many tears. She felt all cried out. She’d need to be strong if she were going to get through this thing. Tears were for the weak. Her father had taught her that lesson only too well.
She fished out Riley’s business card from her purse and dialed the number listed for his cell.
“Detective Donovan.” The sound of his voice carried strength and confidence. Like those moments following Jeremy’s death, she found just hearing it brought a strange measure of comfort.
“It’s Jordan.” After an awkward moment of silence, she rushed on, “Doctor Scott – Jeremy’s sister--”
“I know who you are, Jordan,” he assured her quietly. Even grief-stricken, his voice still sounded sexy as hell. “I’m glad you called. How are you?”
“I’m okay. I’m not sure,” she admitted with a shaky sigh. She didn’t know she was doing anymore.
“It’s okay. You’re scared. I understand. You’ve been through an awful lot in the pass twenty-four hours. Let me help you.”
God, she wanted to believe he meant it. Jordan shook her head then realized he couldn’t see her answer. “How do I know I can trust you?” The question leapt out before she could yank it back.
Two heartbeats and a thousand doubts passed before he answered. “I guess you don’t. But I can prove it to you if you let me.”
Outside of her living window, a noise from down below startled her, jerking her attention from the call. A car backfiring? A gunshot? Her frayed nerves stretched a little bit closer to the breaking point.
Suddenly, not even Riley’s quiet strength was enough any longer. “Maybe this was a mistake…”
“Jordan, please just trust me.”
Around her, the silence of the apartment became even more oppressing. She could hear every creek. Every hum. Every beat of her heart. “I don’t think I can. Not yet. I’m sorry. I’m not sure why I called. It’s just, well you seem so…and I thought…after what happened yesterday… I-I just can’t believe Caesar would do the things you’ve suggested.” God, she hated this war raging within her. She felt frustrated and confused. Exhausted beyond measure.
“Jordan, do you kn
ow something? Did he tell you anything?”
“No…I don’t know, I’m not sure…I’m sorry. I know I’m not making any sense, am I?”
A minute went by before he responded. His voice had grown gentle. “It’s okay. You called. That’s a start. I understand you still have doubts. You need more time, but you have to realize I can’t give you much.”
“Why? Has something new happened? Do you know more about Jeremy’s—“
“No. Not exactly…” Another beat passed before he continued. “Is there somewhere that we can meet in private, we really need to talk face to face, Jordan? I need to see you,” he added and some of her resistance melted.
Jordan wasn’t sure why she hesitated. She wanted to know who was responsible for Jeremy’s death, didn’t she? “I’m not sure—“
“Think about it. This is very important, Jordan. I really need to speak with you in person about what we discussed last night.”
What we discussed last night? Was he trying to tell her Caesar might be listening in on their conversation even now?
“There’s a coffeehouse not far from the hospital. But I’ll have to call you.”
She realized this wasn’t the answer he wanted from her, but he’d accept it for the moment. “Okay. But make that call. Don’t stand me up. Whatever you do, Jordan, please don’t stand me up.”
She closed the cell phone and glanced at her watch. If she left now, she might be able to meet Riley without arousing Caesar’s suspicions.
She headed for the door then remembered the excuse she’d given for coming here today. She couldn’t show up at Caesar’s place without Jeremy’s clothes.
Facing Jeremy’s empty bedroom was hard to do. For the first, she noticed what must have been there all along, right before her eyes. She’d been too caught up in her own worries to notice.
Jeremy’s closet was filled with expensive, designer shirts, shoes. Jeans that she knew cost several hundred dollars each. Stuffed in one corner, hidden under a pile of discarded sweaters and pullovers, most of which still contained their price tags, was a fifty inch 3-D TV, DVD player, IPad, and a very state-of-the-art laptop still in its box.
As far as she knew, Jeremy was getting by on the small allowance she provided him and yet there was no way he’d been able to afford those types of luxuries on such a small amount of money. A quick search through Jeremy’s desk didn’t turn up any receipts for the items in question or any further insight into the last days of Jeremy’s life.
Slowly, Jordan sank onto the bed. “What had you gotten yourself involved in, Jer?” she whispered as if he could still hear her. She had to believe that somewhere in this room there would be some clue as to what Jeremy had gotten mixed up in that had ultimately cost him his life. She needed some explanation for her brother’s death because she still didn’t want to accept that Caesar was capable of such brutality.
Jeremy’s college books lay stacked haphazardly on the edge of the bed as if he’d dumped them there in haste. She picked the top one up and flipped through the pages. There were no notes. No turned down pages. It was almost as if Jeremy had never touched the book. She looked through the rest of them and found the same.
On an impulse, Jordan went back to his desk and booted up the inexpensive laptop she’d bought Jeremy his first year of high school. She searched through all the files and yet not a single homework assignment could be found. No class notes. Nothing. Jeremy had barely made it through high school. His grades had been marginal at best. He studied endless hours each night after school as well as most weekends just to pass. Without Jordan’s help, he’d never have gotten into NYU.
She dug through the papers on the desk until she found the number for NYU’s administration and ended up on hold. Once she’d gotten a live person and told her she needed to check on Jeremy’s schedule, the harried assistant put Jordan back on hold to look up Jeremy’s name.
Several minutes past while Jordan listened to MUZAC before the assistant came back on the line. “I’m sorry, but our records indicate Jeremy Scott dropped out last year.“
Jordan couldn’t believe what she’d heard. “That can’t be. Are you sure? Could you check it again, please? Jeremy Scott, S-C-O-T-T. He’s enrolled this fall. There must be some mistake.” She could hear the sound of the assistant’s fingernails clacking against the keyboard.
“No ma’am, there’s no mistake. I’m sorry. In fact, the tuition money was refunded over three months earlier. You should have received it by now.”
Jordan’s thoughts reeled. Why hadn’t Jeremy told her he’d dropped out? And where had the money gone that she’d given him just recently for fall tuition.
After rummaging through Jeremy’s desk drawers, she found what she was looking for. An envelope from NYU’s accounting department. A letter explaining that the sum of money represented a refund for two classes canceled last spring.
The check she’d written at the beginning of the school year was stuffed inside the envelope as well.
Jordan’s gaze went to the designer labels hanging in Jeremy’s closet. Where had he come up with the money to buy three hundred dollar shirts not to mention all the electronic gadgets that would have cost a small fortune? The money refunded from NYU would not have been enough. Had Jeremy started stealing as Caesar suggested? Sure, Jeremy’s behavior had changed dramatically in recent weeks, but she couldn’t believe he’d resorted to stealing for money. Which brought her back to the question of how Jeremy could afford such extravagant items?
She did a thorough toss of every square inch of the room, but didn’t uncover a single clue as to how Jeremy had spent his days or what caused him to simply drop out of a life she thought he wanted.
Chapter Six
Riley figured it was best not to return to the precinct after his meeting with Deb. He needed to lie low for a bit. Frank had left him at least half a dozen voice messages warning him that the Lieu was mad as hell and had been looking for him for hours.
Unfortunately, his time with Deb hadn’t proven as insightful as he’d expected. Instead of gaining anything useful as to why the FBI had taken interest in a seemingly routine murder case, their meeting produced more questions than answers.
The one person who might know something, however insignificant it might seem, was Jordan. While he hoped to convince her to at least talk to him, there’d been no communication between them since her last call. Did he risk further distancing her by calling back? Riley had a feeling time was running out for the both of them.
If he couldn’t convince her to talk to him or give him any information about her brother’s last days, then there was only one other person left to talk to.
Caesar Santiago.
He knew very little about the man other than what he’d read in surveillance reports from the past. More recently in the local papers. The press seemed to love Santiago, declaring him the next Donald Trump of the diamond business.
He was smart. Good looking -- if you like the dark Latin type. Apparently, Jordan’s tastes ran along those lines.
Most significant was the fact that Santiago hadn’t attempted to hide from his past from the press. He’d been open and honest – or so it appeared on the surface – with a female reporter who’d interviewed him a couple of months back for the lifestyle section of the ‘Times’.
Santiago’s family operated the largest Columbian drug cartel in the country. But by accounts the thirty-three-year-old Columbian had walked away from the money and power and made a name for himself in the diamond community.
Riley’s partner told him Santiago had made numerous calls to the precinct over the last hour or so, checking on the progress of the Scott kid’s murder. A red flag as far as Riley was concerned. The man was fishing for information about the case. Which was why Riley was betting Santiago would be more willing to talk than his fiancé had been.
When he called ahead, Santiago’s assistant told him Santiago was agreeable to the meet.
In fact, he seemed eager. He was waiti
ng for him in the lobby of his office building when Riley ducked in.
“Detective Donovan. Thank you for stopping by. Come, we can talk better in my office.” The Columbian moved with pent up energy past several elegant display cases probably containing millions of dollars in diamonds. Instead of crossing the Italian marble lobby to the bank of elevators, Santiago veered down a short hallway to a door marked ‘stairwell’. Riley wondered if this were deliberate or part of the man’s normal workout routine.
The thirteenth floor opened into a waiting area where a young woman sat working on the computer. Santiago retrieved several messages from the girl, then proceeded through another door that led into a stylish but somewhat cavernous office.
Riley refused coffee while trying to remain polite. He couldn’t afford to piss off his only means of gaining insight into Jeremy Scott’s final days, but time was of an essence, and he’d been skating on thin ice for hours. The Feds would have his job if they found out about this meeting.
“No thanks. I’d like to get straight to the point if I may. There are a few questions I’d like to ask you about your relationship with Jeremy Scott--”
Riley’s cell vibrated at his waist. He unhooked the phone and glanced at its small illuminated screen. Jordan’s cell number popped up on the ID.
“Do you need to take that, detective?” Santiago’s gaze narrowed when Riley ignored the call and retuned the phone to his belt clip.
“No. It’s nothing that can’t keep.” God he hoped that proved to be the case. He couldn’t risk talking her call in front of Santiago and possibly endangering her life even more than it was already.
Santiago indicated one of the chairs across from his desk. “Of course. Please. Sit.” The Columbian waited until Riley was comfortable before sitting.
“I take it there’s no news on Jeremy’s case yet?”