The clock pushed toward two o’clock. She climbed from the car and looked around. Jordan approached and she asked, “I didn’t see anyone following, did you?”
“Not a soul.”
“That almost makes me nervous.”
“I understand that completely.”
Mr. Young’s neighborhood was on a cul-de-sac with five other houses. Large lots and a lot of trees gave it a feeling of privacy and community at the same time. Katie nodded. “Nice place.”
“Very.”
Jordan walked up the steps to the porch of the traditional ranch and rang the bell. Katie kept an eye on the area around them. Right now, she didn’t like being too exposed. The middle of her back between her shoulders itched.
No one answered the door.
“Not answering his phone, not answering the door. How old is he?” Katie asked.
“Sixty-four.”
“He could be working or retired. Do we know?”
“I have his statement on my phone. Let me see if that information came up. Hold on a second.” He pressed a few buttons. “Retired.”
“Retired usually means not at work, but never at home if the retiree is in good health and active.” She pointed to the flag hanging from the porch. “A golfer’s flag. Might be on the course. We have another number for him?”
“Nope. That’s his cell phone. He doesn’t have a landline.”
Katie pursed her lips and walked to the garage. The double door was closed, but had four windows at the top. “I’m too short to see in. Wanna take a look?”
Jordan obliged. “A single car parked on the right side closest to the entry to the house. It’s not the car from the wreck. Can’t see the tags, but I’m willing to bet it’s a rental.”
“Then if his car is in the garage, why isn’t he answering the door or his phone?”
Before Jordan could answer, his phone rang. He listened for a few minutes then hung up. Katie lifted a brow in silent question. Jordan said, “We got a hit on the guy at the bank who made the deposit into West’s wife’s account.”
“Who is it?”
“A guy by the name of Norman Rhames.”
“Never heard of him.”
“Apparently he’s got some ties to a terrorist group, but basically keeps his nose clean except for crimes that don’t keep him behind bars for very long.”
“We need to track down this Mr. Rhames and find out who had him deposit that money.”
“Help you folks?”
*
Jordan turned to see a well-groomed lady in her mid-seventies standing in the drive next to Mr. Young’s. She shut her mailbox and headed their way.
Jordan said, “We’re looking for Mr. Young.”
“He should be there. Although I didn’t see him take his usual morning walk.”
“He walks every day at the same time?” Katie asked.
“Pretty near every day. He’s got a touch of arthritis but even when it’s acting up, he doesn’t let it keep him down for long.” She pushed her glasses a little farther up on her nose. “You’re not his daughter, are you?”
Katie said, “No, ma’am. I’m Detective Katie Randall with the police department. Mr. Young was involved in a wreck a couple of days ago. We just needed to ask him a few more questions.” She flashed her badge and the woman placed a hand over her heart.
“He told me about that when he got home. He looked awful. I’d come outside for a short walk, and he pulled into the drive. His son Hunter picked him up from the hospital. Bobby had blood all over his clothes and everything. I asked if he needed anything and he said no, he just wanted to change and get to the police station. He’d seen the carjacker and needed to meet with the sketch artist. Sounded like something right off the television.”
So he’d arrived home from the hospital and had planned to meet with Tracy.
“You’re pretty good friends then?”
The woman smiled, her white teeth straight and even. “I’m Janice McDowell. And yes, Bobby and I are friends as well as neighbors. We try to look out for each other since we both live alone.”
“How did Mr. Young plan to get to the police station?” Katie asked.
“He has another car. It was his wife’s. He’s never been able to sell it. Thankfully he wasn’t hurt more than a scratch and a couple of bruises. And that carjacking! Why, what this world is coming to—” She shook her head.
“Do you have Hunter’s number?” Katie asked.
“I might have it somewhere. Would take me a while to find it, probably.” She looked at the phone in Jordan’s left hand. “Or you could look it up on that fancy toy of yours. I even know the name of his street because it’s my daughter’s name. Laurel Street.”
“Hunter Young. Laurel Street. Got it.” Jordan hit dial. “Nate, hey, I need some information.” Jordan had bypassed the white pages and gone straight to his information specialist at Quantico. Nate gave him what he needed within seconds. Jordan dialed the number that flashed up in his text message box.
“Hunter Young.”
“Hi, Mr. Young, this is Special Agent Jordan Gray with the FBI. I met your father when he was involved with the wreck a couple of days ago.” Had it only been two days? “He was supposed to come down to the police station to meet with a sketch artist, but he never showed up and we’re having trouble getting in touch with him.”
Silence greeted him.
“Mr. Young?”
“I’m just thinking. I’m working at home today. I can run over and check on him and let you know.”
“We’re actually at his house.”
“Oh. Stay there, I’m on the way.”
Jordan hung up and passed on the information.
“Oh, dear. I do hope everything is all right.”
Katie gave the woman a reassuring smile. “We can let you know if you’d like to wait in the comfort of your home.”
“That’s a very nice way of saying I need to stay out of the way, hmm?”
Katie gave a low chuckle. “Yes, ma’am.”
Mrs. McDowell nodded and gave a light laugh, but it didn’t cover her worried glance at Bobby Young’s house.
“Does he have any animals?” Katie asked.
She shook her head. “No. He likes to travel too much. Said an animal would tie him down.”
“Thank you, Mrs. McDowell, you’ve been very helpful.”
“Please let me know when you talk to him?”
“Of course. We’ll have him call you.”
She nodded and walked slowly back up her driveway.
Jordan looked at Katie. “I’m going to walk around to the back and see if I see anything.”
Katie nodded. Jordan headed around the side of the house but turned back at the sound of a vehicle approaching. A classy white convertible Mercedes with a black top. Hunter Young must do well for himself. The Mercedes pulled to the curb and a tall man in his early forties climbed from the car. A worried frown creased his forehead. “I’m Hunter Young.”
Jordan shook the man’s outstretched hand. “FBI Special Agent Jordan Gray. This is Detective Katie Jacobs.”
He blanched. “Since when does the FBI investigate a car wreck?”
Katie flashed her badge and said, “He was with me working another case when it happened. He’s not officially investigating, but we were both concerned when your father didn’t show up like he promised, so thought we’d check on him.”
Hunter nodded. “You’ve every reason to be concerned. If Dad said he’d be there, he would have been. I brought him home from the hospital, and that’s all he talked about. Once all the excitement was over and everyone was okay, he thought it all a great adventure. He was excited about working with the sketch artist to find the guy responsible.” Hunter walked toward the house, pulling a set of keys from his pocket. “I tried calling his cell all the way over here. He rarely doesn’t answer. And usually calls me right back if I do get his voice mail.” He opened the front door. Cold air rushed out at them. “Dad?”
>
Jordan had a bad feeling growing in his gut. Why was the house so cold? It was the middle of December. Everyone had the heat on. Especially with the temps dropping into the low teens at night. He placed a hand on the man’s arm. “Do you mind waiting here and letting us check it out?”
“Yes, I mind.” He stepped inside. “Dad?” He looked at them. “Why is it so cold in here?” He gave a shudder. “He didn’t say anything about the heat pump giving him trouble. Dad?”
“Sir,” Katie said. “If we find something, this could be a crime scene. We need to keep it as undisturbed as possible. Wait here.”
Her words were an order. Hunter flinched, but stopped in his tracks. “Crime scene? You think—”
“I don’t think anything,” Katie said with a more gentle tone. “I just want to cover all my bases. For your father’s sake.”
Hunter swallowed hard and Jordan could tell the man wanted to go tearing through the house. He didn’t blame him. If it were his father, he’d feel the same way. But Hunter stood still and clenched a fist. “He could be lying hurt or sick. Hurry. Please.”
*
Katie stepped lightly, wishing for crime scene booties. Bobby Young might not even be here, but her gut cried out that he was and it wasn’t going to be good. She stepped into the den and noticed the wide-open French doors that led to the back deck. Cold air blew in.
“Jordan.”
“Kitchen’s clear.” He came up beside her. Spotted the doors. “Uh-oh.”
“Mr. Young?” Katie called. They cleared the first floor, then headed for the second. “Bedroom one, clear,” she called.
“Bedroom two, clear,” Jordan echoed.
Katie stepped into the next room and came to a halt. Even through her heavy down coat, she felt the cold in the house to her bones.
This was his office. The desk faced the window, looking out to the wooded area behind the house. Katie stepped closer and walked around for a view of the chair.
Katie sucked in a deep breath and dropped her chin to her chest in despair. “Jordan!”
She heard his footsteps on the hardwood. “What is it?”
“I found Mr. Young.”
NINE
Jordan hated this part of the job. And this wasn’t even officially his job. But Katie had asked him to do it while she secured the scene. She already had a crime scene unit and the medical examiner on the way as well as uniformed officers who would canvass the neighborhood, questioning everyone they could find.
When Jordan escorted Hunter from the house and told him the news, the man broke down, his sobs heart wrenching. Jordan didn’t blame him. He simply stood there, hand on Hunter’s shoulder, until the man could gain some control.
It didn’t take him long. Jordan had a feeling Hunter’s personality wouldn’t let him be emotional for any extended period of time. Within minutes Hunter had wiped his face with his expensive silk tie and hardened his features. Pure fury now blazed from his green eyes. “Who did this?”
Jordan had his suspicions. Unfortunately, he didn’t have a name to go with those suspicions. “I don’t know, sir, but I promise we’ll find out.” He paused. “Did your father have any enemies that you know of?”
Appalled, Hunter looked at him. “No. None.”
“Did you notice anyone following you home from the hospital?”
Hunter blinked. “No.”
And why would he? He had no reason to even think about being followed.
Jordan nodded and as law enforcement arrived. He asked Hunter a few more questions, then did his best to fade into the background. After all, this wasn’t his case.
He had to keep reminding himself of that. His case was Katie’s case. And while he had a feeling Mr. Young’s murder had everything to do with the fact that he’d seen the shooter from the diner, Jordan wasn’t going to put his nose any further into the investigation unless he was invited.
He sent a text message to Erica to let her know what was going on. She shot one back.
Come when you can.
An hour later, Katie emerged from the house and veered toward the Mercedes, where Hunter was sitting. He got out of the vehicle, shoulders stooped and looking shell-shocked, his initial fury overshadowed by his crushing grief. For the time being. The anger would return. Jordan knew this from experience.
His phone rang and he recognized the number as the McKinneys’. “Special Agent Gray.”
“Hello, Mr. Gray, this is Eileen McKinney. You left a message for me to call you.”
“Yes, ma’am. Thanks for calling me back.”
Jordan explained what he wanted and Mrs. McKinney clucked. “I don’t know what more I can tell. I told that detective the day of the kidnapping everything I could think of—and trust me, that wasn’t much.”
“I understand, but sometimes talking to a different person can spark something.”
“Well, if you want to come on out, I’ll be here for the next forty-five minutes or so.”
Jordan hesitated, then said, “I’ll be there in about fifteen minutes.”
“I’ll be looking for you.”
Jordan hung up. Katie still talked to Hunter, who leaned his head back against the headrest and scrubbed his eyes. He saw Hunter nod, and Katie gave his shoulder a squeeze.
She walked toward him. He said, “You look like you’ve been hit by a truck. You’re not doing yourself any favors by pushing yourself like this. You’re supposed to be on leave.”
She grimaced. “Tell me what you really think.”
“Sorry. I’m concerned.” Her gaze warmed for a minute and she looked like she might like to fall into his arms and let him shelter her from the world. He almost held them out to her so she could do it. She blinked and the moment was gone. “You think he was killed by the shooter?”
“I do.”
“Because he saw him at the wreck. He was the only one who got a really good look at him, but I’m worried about the others.”
“I’ve contacted my lieutenant, and he’s putting extra patrols on the others involved in the wreck. The young mother and the girl, Miranda.” She glanced around. “I’m going to be here a little longer. I’ve got a few more things to take care of. Why don’t you head on over to Erica’s?”
“I just got a call from Mrs. McKinney. She wants me to come talk to her now.”
Hope dusted her expression. “Good. I’ll meet you at Erica’s as soon as I’m finished here.”
“Leave you to come alone? I don’t think so.”
She rubbed a hand down her face. “Seriously, I’ll be fine. I’ll get in my car and head over there as soon as we’re done. I’m surrounded by cops. The killer is long gone.”
Jordan looked around. Strange faces lined the sidewalks, neighbors vying for a glimpse of the action. “You hope.”
“I’ve got the photographer discreetly taking pictures of the crowd. We’ll take a look at the pictures and see if anyone jumps out at us. Now go on. I’ll be fine.”
“I can ask her if tomorrow would be better.”
Katie sighed. “Jordan, I’ve got a job to do. You can’t be with me twenty four–seven. Your job is to find out about Lucy. It’s what I’ve hired you to do, not babysit me. I’m a police officer. I’m trained to take care of myself.”
Frustration filled him. She was right, but he didn’t have to like it.
Gregory stepped from the house. “Katie, can I see you for a minute?”
“Sure.” She looked back at Jordan. “Go. I need to know if she has anything to add to Lucy’s kidnapping.”
Against his better judgment, he nodded. “All right, text me when you’re leaving, what route you’re taking and anything else I should know.”
Katie nodded. “All right. If it will make you feel better.”
“It would.”
Jordan headed for his car. Reluctantly. But she was right. She was a cop. She was surrounded by cops. He sent up prayer for her safety and pulled away from the scene.
*
&nb
sp; Katie watched Jordan go and prayed he’d come back with some answers. Something. Anything that they could grasp and run with to find Lucy. For the next hour, Katie finished working the crime scene and kept an eye on her back.
By the time she texted Jordan, she was exhausted. All she wanted to do was go to the hotel room and collapse in a heap. In fact, she seriously considered just staying where she was and sleeping in her car.
A tap on her window made her jump. When she saw Gregory’s concerned face staring at her, she ordered her pulse to slow down. She lowered the window. “Hey.”
“You all right?”
“Hanging in there.”
He nodded, his brow still creased. “You heading over to Erica’s?”
“I’m thinking about canceling and going to crawl into bed.”
“You need an escort?”
Katie tried to discern if there was any sarcasm in his tone, but didn’t detect any. He was concerned. And she was too touchy.
“No. I’ll be extra careful.”
He pursed his lips. “I like working with you, Katie. See that you stay in one piece, will you?”
She shivered as a gust of cold wind blew across her face. “I’ll do my best.”
Gregory nodded. “Text me when you’re locked in your hotel room, okay?”
Katie smiled. She was glad to know she had people who cared whether she was safe or not. Too bad her parents weren’t nearly as concerned. She frowned and ordered herself not to go there. She was tired and didn’t need to get maudlin. “Sure.”
Gregory walked toward his vehicle and she wondered why the tall, handsome detective didn’t spark any romantic interest in her. Immediately Jordan’s face came to mind and she knew why she wasn’t attracted to Gregory. Jordan was the one who set the butterflies loose in her stomach. He was the one who made her palms sweat and her heart race.
Gregory was a great guy, but he wasn’t Jordan.
She sighed and sent a text to Jordan.
I’m going back to the hotel. I’m going to call Erica and tell her I’m not coming.
He replied in a moment.
All right. I’m almost done here. Let me come back and take you back to the hotel.
She ditched the texting and dialed his number. “Hey. You’re all the way across town. I’ll be at the hotel and locked in my room before you get back here.”
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