The young agent scrunched his nose. The older man rubbed his hands across those long, thin hairs. Jordan shrugged it off. He’d done that as his own code, a sort of protection if anyone were to try to find his files. Not that anyone would, but “rev48” didn’t sound as if it could be that important to the casual looker.
“Got it,” the young officer replied. An expletive passed through the man’s lips. “What’s the password?”
Jordan looked to the senior officer. “Can I type that in privately?”
“Can’t you just change it when we’re through with it?”
Jordan sighed.
“Jordan,” Sheriff McKean said. “Give it up, son.”
“You do realize I am aware of all my civil rights being violated here. I have the right to refuse to help. I have the right to call a lawyer. The least you could do is be respectful of my privacy.”
“Mr. Lamont, we’re not trying to violate your rights. We’re simply trying to find a child who has been kidnapped.”
“Yes, and you believe I’m a prime suspect. In which case, I have the right to seek legal counsel and to refuse to let you search my computer openly without a warrant.”
The young agent slid the computer away from him. “Fine. Call the judge.”
“Look—I am simply asking to keep my password a secret—” Jordan stopped himself. “Fine. The password is ‘rjjakm79.’”
“What does that stand for?” Sheriff McKean asked. “I’m not familiar with that biblical book.”
“It stands for Roger, June, Jordan, Adam, Katie, and Michael, and seventy-nine is the year my parents got married.”
“Ah.”
“I’m in.” The young agent rubbed his hands together. His eyes sparkled. He truly believes I’m guilty, Lord.
“Now go to April of this year. You’ll see a listing of all the pictures I took according to the series. If you read them off, I’ll be able to tell you which set that picture came from.”
“Flowers, trees, birds, shore, mountains, family at play—”
“That’s it.”
“It’s not linked to the photos.” The agent’s shoulders slumped.
Jordan closed his eyes and prayed for the Lord’s grace one more time. “No, they are not linked. I simply keep an accounting in this file of what series I took that month. Now find ‘fapme.’”
“What is this, Fort Knox?”
“No, but it is my livelihood. Open the folder ‘fapme’ and select to read the group as a list.”
“There’re about two hundred photos here.”
“I honestly can’t tell you from here which photos to look at. But you can select them all and hit the open apple key and the letter O key, and it will open all of them so you can simply click through them.”
“You’d think with you being a professional photographer you’d use the better software.”
Jordan resisted the cutting remark he wanted to say and simply replied, “It’s on there. I don’t upload all the raw files to it.”
“Oh,” the younger agent mumbled.
“Now, while Agent Wilkes is looking, would you mind going over the details one more time with me?” the older agent asked.
Yes! he wanted to scream in frustration. Jordan turned toward the sheriff, who was putting his hat back on his head. “I need to go out on patrol.”
“I want you here!” Jordan demanded. “I’m here of my own free will, but I need a witness, just in case.”
The sheriff removed his hat and sat down again. “All right.”
“Now as I was asking …”
Randi fought with herself all day knowing she should give Jordan a chance to explain what happened. But why go through that kind of misery? Would she ever be able to trust someone again? Had Cal robbed her of being able to trust people? No, she still trusted many people. But men, especially single men, or rather men she wanted to date, were the problem. Jordan was the only man she wanted to date.
Randi huffed as she lay down on her bed for the night. Jordan hadn’t called. Not that she expected him to. But then again she did. She wondered if he was still down at the police station and fought the desire to check after Jess went home.
She wanted to trust him. She prayed he was the man she thought him to be. But then she had prayed for Cal, too. And what did she and Jordan really have in common with one another? She loved to run; he hated to exercise. He spent hours in the mud just for a picture. She wouldn’t be caught dead playing in the muck of low tide.
She woke to the same thoughts the next morning. After a hearty run, she went past the studio and saw no evidence of Jordan being awake. Back at home, she readied herself for work. Just as she was about to leave, her phone rang.
“Hello.”
“Hey, Randi. It’s Cal.”
“Cal?”
“Yeah, look—I’m in the neighborhood, and I wanted to speak with you.”
Randi thought it odd that Cal would be in the area a couple of days after Brenda moved down to Portland. Obviously his parents or someone was keeping him well informed. “What do you want to talk about?”
He hemmed and hawed. “I’d prefer to speak in person.”
“Cal, I don’t have anything to say. And if you’re thinking I might be interested in getting back together with you, you’re sadly mistaken.”
“No, no, it’s nothing like that. I heard Brenda spoke with you before she left town.”
Randi rolled her shoulders to work out the building stress. “I have nothing to say about that.”
“Come on, Rand. It’s me. I need your help here.”
Her mind flew back to the issue of his parents trying to get custody of the baby. “No, Cal. I’m not getting involved.”
“But, Rand, I’m not allowed to see my own kid.”
“Maybe you should have thought about that before you ran off and left Brenda and the baby alone. Cal, for once in your life, be a man. Support your child and do the right thing by Brenda. Stop fooling around and take responsibility for your own actions.”
An expletive flew through the phone lines. “I knew I couldn’t count on you—a woman scorned and all that.”
“Cal, stop it. This has nothing to do with you and me; this has to do with you and how you treat people. You’re a spoiled kid who’s never grown up. Try growing up and being a man.” She hung up the phone and ran out the door and headed for the car. She knew his pattern. He would call again. He would continue to badger her until she did what he wanted her to do.
Getting behind the wheel, she turned the ignition and drove off to nowhere in particular, ruminating over how her personal life couldn’t get more miserable. She prayed Cal would not continue his normal pattern and move on.
She thought about calling her mother and telling her about Cal’s call. She thought about calling Jess. Instead she called Jordan. On the fourth ring, the answering machine picked up. Randi snapped her phone shut. Could she really trust him anyway? Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted Jordan’s vehicle at the police station.
Randi’s entire body shook. She tightened her grasp on the steering wheel and headed out of town. Why couldn’t life be simpler?
Four hours later, the lunch rush was in full swing at the restaurant. Randi’s feet ached. Her mind buzzed about Jordan, Cal, and Brenda. She knew without asking Cal that he wanted Randi to give him some kind of information that would allow him to get custody of the baby. Or rather for his parents to get custody. No judge in his right mind would give custody to a father who had deserted his wife and child, would he? No. Any parent who could do that once could do it again. At least she hoped such logic would prevail in the courts and not Cal’s parents’ way of paying for what they wanted.
Randi said another prayer for Brenda and the baby. Brenda was changing. Cal showed no signs of change.
The bell over the restaurant door rang. Jordan stood there with two men dressed in black business suits. All she could think of was the movie Men in Black. “Miranda.” Jordan came up to the co
unter. “Honey, it’s good to see you.”
“Who are your friends?”
“They’re with the FBI. They’d like to talk with you.”
Me? She wanted to scream.
“They have some questions for you.”
“Miss Miranda Blake?”
“Yes.” She nodded and balled up the dishcloth she held in her hand.
“Please advise your superiors that we need to speak with you.”
Randi stepped back to the kitchen. “Jake, there’re some men—”
“We know.” Jake slapped the spatula on the grill. “Send them in to me.”
“Okay.”
Randi went back to the FBI agents. What could Jordan have done to get the FBI involved? “My manager wants to speak with you. He says to go back there.”
The counter bell rang. “Randi, pick up for table four.”
“Excuse me.”
Jordan couldn’t believe Miranda’s manager had convinced the agents to sit down for lunch and wait until the rush was over. They ordered Reuben sandwiches and ate without saying a word to one another. Jordan also couldn’t believe they still didn’t trust him. Once they sit down with Miranda, I hope they’ll see I’ve been telling the truth.
Miranda came to the table. She looked worn-out and suspicious. She must have heard they’d taken him to the police station yesterday. Squabbin Bay was a small town, and news traveled quickly. Unfortunately the truth about why he’d been brought in would not spread. Only rumors. He’d been ordered not to talk about it.
“Mr. Lamont, would you please excuse us?” Agent O’Malley rubbed the crumbs off his white shirt.
“Sure.” Jordan stood.
“Don’t go too far,” Agent Wilkes added.
Jordan nodded and left the restaurant. He’d wait outside for them. The piercing look he’d received from Miranda when he left gave him a good idea what she was probably thinking.
He couldn’t blame her, with what had happened between her and Cal. On the other hand, doesn’t she know me well enough to know I’m not like that?
Jordan leaned against the black sedan. They hadn’t even allowed him to drive his own vehicle. He scanned the area looking for a telephone booth. He spotted a phone on the corner of a building a half block away. He wanted to talk with Dena. The sheriff had promised him he would call her, but she should hear everything from him.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out two quarters then tapped out Dena’s number. On hearing her answering machine, he left a detailed message of the events over the past couple of days. Jordan still hadn’t been arrested, but he wasn’t free to leave either. He was heading back to the restaurant when he noticed an art supply store down the street. He could use some more oils for his painting. He rounded the corner in time to be tackled to the ground.
Wilkes whispered in his ear, “I told you not to run off.”
Jordan groaned. “I was going to the art supply store.”
“Yeah, right. I know you’re involved here. I just can’t prove it. Yet. You’re not going anywhere—got that?”
Jordan had had enough. “I want a lawyer. Now. I’ve had enough. I’ve cooperated with you all the way. I’ve given you more information than you had. And yet you still suspect me. I want a lawyer now. I know my rights.”
Agent Wilkes pulled him up from the ground. “You gave up your rights when—”
Agent O’Malley had followed Wilkes out and gave the younger agent a stern look of reproof.
“I did not kidnap her,” Jordan repeated.
“We’ll see.” Wilkes slapped handcuffs on his wrists and started back to the restaurant.
“What are you doing, Wilkes?” Agent O’Malley demanded.
“He was running away.”
“I doubt it. Take off those cuffs.”
“But, sir.”
“Wilkes!” Agent O’Malley bellowed.
Agent Wilkes removed the cuffs. “I’ll get you yet,” Wilkes whispered. Then he added in full voice, “He lawyered up.”
“I would have done it yesterday. Let’s get back to Squabbin Bay.”
He could see Miranda standing near the window, her eyes filled with tears. She turned and ran toward the back.
“May I make a call?” Jordan asked.
“Sure,” Agent O’Malley said. “We’ll wait for you in the car.”
Jordan went to the payphone by the door in the restaurant and dialed his parents. “Dad, I can’t explain right now, but I need a criminal lawyer ASAP.”
Jordan scanned the room for Miranda. “No, Dad, I’m fine. I’ll explain later. Just contact who you can and have them send a lawyer to the Squabbin Bay police station.”
“Are you sure you’re all right?”
“Yes. It’s a misunderstanding. But one man is convinced I’m guilty. I really can’t talk right now, Dad. Please call one of your lawyers and have them connect with someone in my area.”
“All right, son. You be careful, okay?”
“I will. I’ll be fine. But please pray for the situation. An innocent life could be in danger.”
“Son, I wish you hadn’t said that. Now I’ll be fretting all afternoon until you can explain.”
“I will as soon as I’m able. But I’m all right. I’m just tired of the nonsense from this one agent.”
“Agent?”
“Please, Dad, no more questions. I have to go.”
“Oh, all right. I’ll get Larry right on it.”
“Thanks.”
Miranda stepped from the back kitchen with a tray of entrées.
“Miranda—”
“Stay away, Jordan.”
“What?”
“Just stay away. I can’t handle this right now.”
Jordan lifted his hands in surrender. Deep in his heart he’d known she would respond this way. He had to trust that the Lord would work things out. Unfortunately God’s timing was always slower than his own, or so it seemed.
sixteen
Wild thoughts ran through Randi’s mind. Why would the FBI want to question her for putting a picture on Jordan’s Web site without his knowledge? Why didn’t they believe him? She’d found the picture of a child playing on the beach with the mother watching in his files of photographs and uploaded it. It was a touching picture. She’d even taken just the face of the child and blown it up to a full-size print. But the agents said the little girl had been taken from her parents. They obviously suspected Jordan of being a part of the kidnapping, which didn’t make sense.
When she got home, she searched the Internet. After hours of hunting, she found a Web site with a picture of the girl Jordan had photographed then followed up on that information and found news releases about Lucy Tomisson’s abduction. Randi’s stomach twisted just thinking about it. Why would anyone steal a child?
One thing was clear—it was not an act Jordan would have participated in. No matter what Agent Wilkes said. Jordan wasn’t that kind of man—which made her wonder if she should be questioning his actions, either. “Father, bring clarity to this situation.”
She reached for the phone to call Jordan then pulled her hand back. As much as she wanted to talk with him, she was still unsure if it was the wisest move to make. And why hadn’t he called her? Shouldn’t he be home by now? Glancing at the clock, she decided it was too late to call anyway.
Instead of going to bed, she worked for a few hours on some of her clients’ Web pages. By midnight, she finally went to bed and fell into fitful slumber. The battle of trusting Jordan waged on in her dreams for a second night.
The next morning, she woke tired and sore. Today she would run the full five miles before getting ready for work. Yesterday she’d run only three. She needed the release of endorphins in her brain to kill off the pain. She finished her five miles, showered, dressed, and ran out the door to go to work when she saw Cal sitting against the hood of her car. “Cal?”
“Hey, Randi.”
She walked to her car door. “Excuse me, but I have to go to wor
k.”
“Rand, I really need your help.”
You really need the Lord’s. “I can’t help you, Cal.”
“Don’t you understand? I won’t be allowed to see my son.”
Then you should have thought about that before you left your wife. “I can’t help you, Cal. Speak with Brenda. She’s your wife.”
“That’s the problem, isn’t it? You won’t help me because I wouldn’t marry you.”
Anger rode up her spine. “To be honest, that is not why. Your problems with Brenda are your problems, not mine. I don’t want to and won’t have anything to do with you.”
“I don’t get it. All those thoughts and plans we put together for years. How can they die just like that?”
“Cal, you have a problem. First of all, you couldn’t be faithful to me in our dating relationship.”
“I—”
She held up her hand to stop him then continued. “Second, you’re forgetting you’re married to the mother of your child. What have you done to try to make that relationship right? How can you fix your marriage? I’m not interested in marrying you and haven’t been for a long time. You and I were a mistake. I just assumed we’d naturally get married when we were older. But that wasn’t meant to be.”
“But, Randi, I still love you.”
“You don’t love me. You love yourself. Put your wife and child first. Try that and see if your life changes.”
“I am thinking of my child first. If he comes and lives with me, I’ll see him almost every day.”
“Almost? Just listen to yourself. You aren’t thinking straight. Who’s more important, you or the child?”
Cal opened his mouth then stopped.
“I know you were going to say you then thought I wanted to hear ‘the child.’ You don’t get it. Why don’t you go talk with Pastor Russell? Maybe he can help you understand.”
“I don’t need God.”
“Oh, yes, you do. Look how wonderful your life has turned out without Him. You’re a man who would run out on his family. You’d leave your wife and child hungry rather than be responsible for them.”
“I knew there was a reason we never got married.”
“Exactly. We weren’t meant to.”
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