Christmas Cover-Up

by Lynette Eason

  Mrs. Johnson looked at Katie. “Did you ever find your sister?”

  * * *

  Katie blinked. So Mrs. Johnson did remember. Katie had almost decided fourteen years would be too much for the elderly woman. “Do you remember the day she was taken?”

  “Like it was yesterday.” She snorted and coughed. “Can’t remember what I had for breakfast, but I’ll never forget that day. If only I hadn’t asked you to help me carry in those groceries.” A tear leaked down her lined cheek. Katie grabbed a tissue and wiped it away.

  “It’s not your fault, Mrs. Johnson.”

  A trembling hand lifted to rub her nose. “Well, sometimes I feel like it was.”

  Jordan shifted. “We think the man who took Lucy was watching, just waiting for an opportunity. If it hadn’t been that day, it would have been another time.”

  That seemed to settle her. “He was watching?”

  Katie said, “We think so. Do you remember seeing a strange car parked on the street a couple of weeks before the day of the kidnapping?”

  “A strange car? No, I don’t think so.” She sniffed. “I remember wondering what that police car was doing out there day in and day out, but that’s the only car I remember thinking was strange.”

  “Police car?”

  “Uh-huh. Lucky it was so close that day, wasn’t it?”

  “Yes, very lucky. Mrs. Johnson?”

  “Hmm?”

  “Who was the man that came to see you, and why did they think he was your son?”

  “Guess he told them he was.”

  “What did he want?”

  Her eyes clouded and drooped. “To tell me to be quiet, but I’ll talk if I want.” Her words slurred, her eyes closed and a snore slipped out.

  Katie’s eyes met Jordan’s. “I think she’s done.”

  He tapped Mrs. Johnson’s shoulder. She snorted and her head lolled over to her left shoulder. Jordan sighed. “I think you’re right.”

  Katie stood and winced as her sore muscles protested. She ignored the pain and made a mental note to take some more ibuprofen. “Why hasn’t anyone else said anything about a police car being there?”

  They walked from the room together. Jordan shook his head. “There were so many police cars there that day most neighbors probably didn’t think anything about it.”

  “Maybe.”

  “And maybe the police car wasn’t really parked. Maybe it was just doing drive-bys, you know?”

  “That’s possible, I suppose, but she did say ‘parked there day in and day out.’”

  “You think it’s the same car Mrs. McKinney saw?”

  “I don’t suppose there’s any way to know. Mrs. McKinney didn’t identify it as a police car, though. Just a gray sedan. And the picture is too unclear to determine if the vehicle is actually an unmarked car.”

  “You think the man who came to see Mrs. Johnson was the man after me?”

  “I don’t see how. He wouldn’t know we were coming today.”

  “Right.”

  “It does seem strange to me, though, that she would get a visitor telling her to keep quiet.”

  “Did you tell anyone that we were coming here?”

  Katie thought about it. “Just Gregory.”

  “You don’t think that was him at the home, do you?”

  She frowned. “No way. He was tracking down Norman Rhames. And besides, why would he do that?”

  “I don’t know. It’s just weird. I think we should get the video footage and see who Mrs. Johnson’s visitor was.”

  Katie nodded. “Good idea.” She made the required calls and was promised a return call when she could go see the videos.

  Once outside the building, Jordan hovered, placing his arm around her shoulder and tucking her close to his side. While she relished the proximity, his touch set her bumps and bruises to screaming. She eased away from him and he shot her a look with a big question mark in his eyes. “Sorry, it hurts.”

  Realization dawned and regret flickered. “Stay next to me then.” Warmth flickered in her midsection. She liked being close to him, wanted his arm around her. He glanced around. “If someone’s going to shoot, I want to make you as small a target as possible.”

  Laughter burst from her before she could choke it back.

  Jordan helped her into the car and shut the door, then climbed in his side. He looked at her. “What in the world are you laughing about?”

  “I’m sorry. I was just thinking how I was enjoying being close to you, that it was sweet you wanted me tucked up under your arm and you’re just worried about me getting shot.” She laughed again until tears formed. She swiped them away. “I think I’m hysterical, because it’s really not that funny.”

  He kissed her. She leaned in and felt her emotions even out. Her tears stopped and she hitched a breath and kissed him back.

  When he pulled away, his eyes held soft compassion as well as other emotions she wasn’t sure she could identify. He said, “I want you close, Katie.”

  She bit her lip, then gave him a watery smile. “Good.”

  “I’m taking you back to your hotel room. You need some rest.”

  Katie leaned her head back against the seat. Exhaustion swamped her. “I think I won’t argue with that.”

  * * *

  Jordan slept in the car outside her hotel room from 3:00 a.m. to 7:30 a.m. Saturday morning. Gregory had taken the first shift. Jordan’s five hours of protection duty gave him time to think. And he’d made a decision. One he had to run past Katie. He texted her.

  Sitting outside your room. Ready when you are.

  Coming. Slowly.

  Sore?

  To say the least. Be there in a few min.

  Ten minutes later, Katie emerged from her room, and he smiled in sympathy as she climbed into the car with a grimace.

  He handed her a mug and poured her a cup of coffee from the Thermos. She took a sip and sighed, a grateful sound that made him glad he could do something for her. “You’re my favorite person this morning,” she murmured.

  He laughed. “Glad I could help you out.” He turned serious and gripped the steering wheel. “I want you to go with me somewhere.”

  “Where?”

  “You know that errand I said I needed to run yesterday?”

  “Yes.”

  “I want you to run it with me.”

  Wary now, she glanced at him from the corner of her eye. “And where might that be?”

  “To talk to my parents. I’m going to tell them what really happened with Neil.”

  A long pause. She finally said, “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Jordan. If their reaction at the restaurant is any indication of how they still feel—”

  “Please.” His fingers tightened on the steering wheel. “It is how they feel, and it needs to be addressed. I think they need to see you’re not some monster.”

  “I don’t know. They may never speak to you again if you bring me around.”

  “It’s something I think we need to try.”

  “Jordan, they’re hurting. It’s only been a year.”

  “I know, but they’re not healing. That’s the problem. I understand it’s only been a year. I still hurt when I think about him, too, but the anger they still hold toward you…” He shook his head. “At the restaurant, you would have thought Neil died two weeks ago, their anger was so fresh and raw. It’s not right.”

  “Exactly. Which is why I don’t think it’s a good idea for me to go.”

  “Please.” He kept his voice low, his tone convincing. “I’ve already thought about the safety issue. Max is going to follow us.”

  “Jordan…” She drew his name out and he sensed capitulation.

  Jordan took her hand and squee
zed her fingers. “I want them to see you as you. Not as the woman they believe killed their son.” He drew in a deep breath. “I think they need that as much you do.”

  She sat still and looked at him. “I’m still not sure it’s the best idea, but if it’s that important to you, I’ll do it.”

  He lifted her hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. Her eyes met his. “Thanks,” he whispered.

  She nodded and he dropped her hand. “I’ve already called them. They’re expecting me.”

  “They’re early risers.”

  “Obscenely early. Mom’s already started baking.”

  As Jordan drove, Katie stayed quiet, lost in her thoughts. He left her alone and silently rehearsed how he wanted to break his news of Neil’s drug involvement to his parents. Nothing he came up with sounded right. He had a feeling nothing would.

  Jordan pulled into his parents’ drive, but didn’t cut the motor. From the vehicle behind them, Max waved, indicating they were in the clear. No one had followed. Jordan waved back. For several long minutes he simply sat there, staring at the house he and his brother had grown up in.

  “It’s nice,” Katie said.

  The house was a modest two-story cottage-style home. His favorite feature was the wraparound balcony on the second floor. Christmas lights wove in and out of the spindles like kudzu. A white wreath hung on the door and bright-eyed reindeer graced the lawn.

  “Yes. I had a great childhood. Ideal, really.” He gave a slight smile.

  “What are you thinking?”

  “That my mother always worried we’d play airplane or try to parachute off that balcony and break our necks.”

  “But you didn’t?”

  “No way. I had a pretty good sense of self-preservation.” He frowned. “Too bad Neil didn’t.” Neil had found another way to break his mother’s heart.

  Jaw clamped against his rising emotions, he pulled all the way into the two-car carport that was enclosed on three sides. He twisted the key and silence fell between them. Jordan opened the car door and climbed out. “Could you wait here for a few minutes?”

  Katie slid him a glance from the corner of her eye. “You did tell them I was coming, right? You said you’d already called them, that they were expecting us.” He moved to the back of the carport, and Katie climbed out of the car to follow him. “They know, right, Jordan?”

  “I said they were expecting me.”

  Her face lost all color. “You can’t spring me on them.”

  “I know. But I didn’t want to tell them over the phone. I couldn’t think of a good way to explain it. Could you hang back a little until I tell them?” He glanced around. “And stay down. We weren’t followed, but that doesn’t mean you’re safe.”

  “That’s why you parked in the carport? To give me cover while you broke the news to your parents?” She shot back into the car and slammed the door, glaring daggers at him.

  He grimaced and didn’t blame her. He’d taken the coward’s way out by not telling his parents she was coming with him and not telling Katie he hadn’t told his parents. “I’m sorry. You’re right. I’m a big coward when it comes to this kind of thing.”

  Her eyes softened slightly. “I’ll just make some phone calls.”

  “Thanks, Katie.”

  Jordan went around to the front door and tried the knob. Locked. His lips twisted into a smile in spite of his roiling emotions. Maybe all of his preaching about safety had sunk in. He knocked, and his dad opened the door. Pleasure lit his features. “Jordan, good to see you, son. Come on in.”

  Jordan entered the small foyer and breathed in the scent of his childhood. Depending on the season, he always knew what his mother’s house would smell like: December meant homemade chocolates, pies and cakes. His mouth watered. “I need to talk to you and Mom, but first I’m going to have a taste of whatever she’s cooking in there.”

  His dad grinned at him, and Jordan felt a surge of remorse at the pain he was about to put them through. He studied his father. In his late fifties, Paul could still pass for mid-forties, in spite of his heart issues. Jordan hoped he aged as well—without the heart problems. He shucked his coat and hung it on the rack by the door as he wrestled with the reason he’d come over.

  Jordan’s mother stood at the oven, placing another pan of goodies on the rack. “Hi, Mom.”

  “I thought I heard you.” She turned and crossed the room to give him a hug and a peck on the cheek. “How are you doing?”

  “I’m doing all right.”

  Jordan snagged a sweet treat from the cooling rack and popped it in his mouth. The sugary concoction melted on his tongue. “Mmm. Delicious as always.” He smiled. “I heard you were in your Christmas baking mood. I could smell this stuff all the way from my apartment.”

  Her eyes twinkled up at him. Jordan noticed time hadn’t been quite as kind to her as it had to his father. Fine lines radiated across her forehead and around her mouth and eyes. Grief had added more than her fair share, he supposed.

  Anger at Neil surged and he bit his lip. “I need to talk to you and Dad. Do you have a minute to sit down?”

  “Sure I do.” She pulled off the red-and-white checked apron with the big red heart that said 50 and Fabulous. He’d given it to her four years ago when she’d bemoaned her fiftieth birthday for six full months. He noticed she wore it every time she worked in the kitchen.

  The three of them sat at the kitchen table. Jordan snagged another chocolate, scrambling to find the words he’d practiced on the way over. They’d deserted him.

  He took a deep breath and for one frantic moment wondered if he was being selfish. Were his words necessary? Would they do more harm than good? Would his parents even believe him?

  Maybe not at first. But eventually they would. And that was when it would hurt the most. When the truth of Neil’s actions finally sank in.

  “What is it, son?” His dad clapped him on the back.

  Jordan rubbed his forehead. “I need to tell you guys something and I’ll just tell you straight up, it’s not going to be easy for you to hear.”

  Matching frowns immediately appeared on their faces. His mother covered his hand with hers and her eyes narrowed, searching his expression. “What is it you don’t want to tell us?”

  She could always read him. Jordan shook his head. “I’ve been thinking—and praying—long and hard about telling you this, but the fact of the matter is, I don’t think you—” he looked at his father “—most especially you, Dad, are healing from Neil’s death.”

  “Healing?” His father’s eyebrows came to a V at the bridge of his nose. “Healing? How are we supposed to heal when the cop who helped kill your brother is out there free to kill other kids?”

  Jordan held on to his temper with effort. He hadn’t come here to argue with his parents. He knew just mentioning Neil’s name was enough to set his dad off on a tangent.

  “They did an investigation, Dad, thanks to your insistence. There was nothing to prove she’d been negligent. Neil was drunk. He was arrested for driving under the influence and he was placed in a holding cell. End of story.” He clasped his hands between his knees and prayed for wisdom.

  “It’s not the end! She placed him in a cell with a killer!”

  Jordan thought his head might explode with the effort of holding in his temper. “She didn’t do anything wrong. Neil was drunk when he chose to drive. He ran a stop sign going fifty miles per hour right in front of Detective Randall. What else was she supposed to do? She did her job. It was Neil’s stupid choices that killed him, not her.”

  His father stood and jabbed a finger at Jordan. “I refuse to sit here and listen to you defend her. I can’t believe you would come into my house—”

  Jordan slammed his palm onto the table. His father jerked, and his mother gasped. Jordan
took a deep breath. “Stop. Okay? Just stop.” He looked at his dad. “And sit down, please. I’m not done.” His father, still staring at Jordan’s uncharacteristic outburst, slid back into his chair.

  “Why do you say she didn’t kill him?” his mother whispered, her stricken expression zinging straight to his heart.

  “Because I know the truth about Neil. Truth I’ve kept from you, thinking to spare your feelings, your memories.” He looked at his dad. “Your heart. But I—”

  “What truth?” His father’s voice was low, the question, wary.

  * * *

  Katie sat in the car and felt her anger dissipate with each passing moment. She understood Jordan’s reluctance to tell his parents over the phone that she was coming along. If Jordan had told his parents he was bringing her by, most likely they would have flipped out. His father would have stewed and stressed over it. She wasn’t exactly sure how his mother would have reacted.

  She understood Jordan’s thinking. When he told his parents she was sitting in the car outside, they might be a little more likely to see her. If only out of good manners.

  Although good manners hadn’t stopped Jordan’s father from heaping his grief and anger on her head in the morgue. Or at the restaurant.

  Katie moved the rearview mirror to give her a good view of the area behind her. Max and Jordan seemed confident they hadn’t been followed, but Katie wasn’t going to relax her guard. She called Gregory, who’d followed up on the receipt they’d found in the shooter’s wrecked and abandoned car.

  “Are you in or out of the hospital?” he answered by way of a greeting.

  Katie grimaced. “Out.”

  “Try and keep it that way, will you?”

  She heard the concern in his voice and appreciated it. “I’ll do my best. It’s been so crazy, I haven’t had a chance to track down that receipt. Did you?”

  “I did.”

  “And?”

  “And our shooter had on sunglasses and a ball cap along with a scarf wrapped around his neck.”