The Southern Comfort Prequel Trilogy Box Set

by Lisa Clark O'Neill

  “The truth is that she was nervous as a cat in a room full of rocking chairs last night. We all saw it, and if you didn’t, you’re either blind or a liar. She’s hiding something.”

  “That’s a classic Othello error.”

  “What the hell does Shakespeare have to do with anything?”

  “Points for knowing your English bards,” Jesse said. “But Othello error means that we’re conditioned to see what we expect to see. Interpreting as evidence of guilt the nervous behavior of someone who has a reason to be nervous – like a woman who’s already had bad experiences with cops and finds them on her doorstep basically suggesting that she has knowledge of a heinous crime – says more about your need to confirm your bias than it does about her truthfulness.”

  “Please.” Gannon snorted his derision. “Spare me the psychobabble.”

  “It’s an elementary mistake in reading body language,” Jesse said with a kindness that he knew would rub Gannon the wrong way. “Don’t take it too hard.”

  “Speaking of taking it hard, maybe you see her behavior as proof of innocence because you have a boner for her.”

  When Jesse took a step toward him, Axelrod once again inserted his hefty bulk between them. “Hey. Hey now. Let’s all just calm down.”

  Realizing that he’d allowed the other man to push his buttons, Jesse held up his hands in a conciliatory gesture. Stepped back.

  Gannon stared at him for several tense moments. “I don’t guess you heard about the two college kids who came into the ER early this morning, bruised and bloodied?”

  Confused by the non-sequitur, Jesse frowned. “No. Should I have?”

  “Seems these two – while having their various injuries tended and broken bones set – were real keen on admitting to getting drunk and performing some acts of vandalism in Ms. Montgomery’s neighborhood. Including busting out the window in her car. Mostly for shits and giggles.”

  Jesse wasn’t entirely sure where Gannon was going. “How helpful of them to confess.”

  “Wasn’t it? From what I gathered after talking to the officer who took their statements, somebody beat the hell out of them and scared them into spilling their guts. They were apparently afraid that if they didn’t confess and face the consequences, this guy might come back and do something even worse.”

  “Does your department have a suspect?”

  “Nope. Because the two idiots insisted that their injuries were the result of an accident. A playful skirmish between the two of them that got out of hand. And that their consciences simply had gotten the best of them.”

  Which of course was a load of bullshit. Any law enforcement officer with even an ounce of seasoning wouldn’t believe that.

  “So someone who figured out that they were the guilty party decided to take justice into their own hands,” Jesse said. “I can’t support vigilantism, of course, since it’s usually more about revenge than it is justice. But at least those two won’t be causing any more property damage.”

  “I find it interesting that the vandalism has been going on for a couple of weeks now, but the day after Ms. Montgomery became a target, someone big and strong enough to kick two decent sized twenty-year-olds’ asses put a stop to it. And made a threat frightening enough that confessing seemed preferable.”

  Jesse crossed his arms. “Exactly what are you suggesting, Detective?”

  Gannon shrugged. “Nothing in particular. Although you may want to give Agent Parker’s knuckles a glance if he ever decides to show up.”

  Jesse actually laughed. “You’re kidding me, right?”

  Gannon plucked the toothpick from his mouth, tossed it in the trash. “If this little meeting is adjourned, I’ve got some actual work to do. Like finding a killer.”

  He walked out the door, slammed it behind him, without waiting for a by-your-leave.

  Axelrod dragged a hand down his jowly face. “He’s a good cop,” he said. “He’s just a little… brash.”

  “If I was the type to throw my weight around, I’d point out that acting brash toward the person directly above you on the food chain is a good way to get your ass chewed. Not to mention that accusing a fellow task force member of criminal activity based on no evidence whatsoever is not exactly the best way to build rapport. ”

  Axelrod nodded, sending pockets of excess facial flesh quivering. “I know.”

  Jesse sighed. “I’m sure neither you nor Detective Gannon appreciates my casting stones at the inner workings of your department, but your superiors invited us in. And deflecting blame won’t change the fact that somewhere along the line, you have a real problem. The guard at the jail mistakenly leaving Irena unattended with another inmate, an inmate who just happened to be carrying a shank. Somebody overlooking the fact that laundromat was built before current codes were in place, so instead of a solid firewall between it and the neighboring building, there was shared attic space that left a point of access to Losevsky’s apartment unmonitored. Those are a lot of balls being dropped at exceptionally convenient times. And even if the preponderance of ball-dropping is in fact an unfortunate series of miscommunications – a problem in itself – the fact that Ghostbusters was playing on a loop in Losevsky’s apartment should clear up any doubt that you have a leak. Somebody, somewhere along the line overheard someone on the original task force refer to this guy as The Ghost. And passed that information along.”

  Axelrod ran his hand over his face again. “I know. You’ve made your point there already. The autopsy on Losevsky is scheduled for today. You gonna be meeting us there?”

  “Agent Parker will be.” Unfortunately for Brian and his delicate stomach.

  “Alright.” More diplomatic than his partner, Axelrod stuck out his hand.

  Jesse shook, and then watched the other man amble out. As soon as he heard their car start, he pulled a glove from his pocket, slipped it on.

  Then retrieved Gannon’s toothpick from the trash can.

  He was just dropping it into an evidence bag when Brian came through the door.

  “Hey,” he said, shaking water off himself like a dog. “Made the mistake of walking under a tree when the wind blew.” He stopped when he saw what Jesse was doing. “What’s up?”

  “That’s the question.” Jesse climbed to his feet, pulled another evidence bag, already labeled, from the pocket of his windbreaker. “I found this on the ground beneath the rear basement windows at your sister’s place.” He showed him the bag containing a toothpick. “And this is the one Gannon discarded about five minutes ago. I don’t know if you’ve noticed that he has a habit.”

  “I have. Always chewing on wood like a damn beaver.” Brian stared at the two bags. “You think he came back last night, snooped around?”

  “I’m going to have the lab test the two, see if we have a match.”

  “Since you’re not one to waste resources,” Brian said “I’m guessing you have a reason for doing so aside from the fact that Gannon is kind of an asshole.”

  “I do.”

  “Judging by the look on your face, this can’t be good.”

  Jesse sat the two bags on the battered and scarred desktop. “When I went over there this morning, Jillian was a little freaked out.”

  “I knew she would be. I told you she has that reaction to cops, especially the locals. That’s one of the reasons I wanted one of us there when they talked to her.”

  Jesse nodded. “And I saw that firsthand.” She’d been trembling like a damn leaf. Gannon thought it was a sign of guilt, but Jesse was withholding judgment until they had more information. And not because he wanted to have sex with her. He simply tried to examine the evidence with an impartial eye, and there was a large body of evidence which suggested that people telling the truth often acted far more jumpy and nervous than skilled liars, especially when they feared the consequences of their story – however true – not being believed.

  “Aside from her interview with the detectives,” he told Brian “there was a… situation this morn
ing.” He filled the other man in on the details.

  “Shit.” Brian’s hands flew up, linked behind his head. “Shit. You don’t think Gannon actually broke into the house, bypassed the security system?”

  “At this point, I can’t imagine why he would want to take that kind of risk. He certainly seems to want Jillian to be guilty of something, but going to that length would suggest some sort of personal stake. Do you have reason to believe it’s personal?”

  “He wasn’t one of the cops she had the run in with, if that’s what you mean. But there’s bad blood there. You know how it is. Maybe Gannon knew one of the guys, or maybe he’s just the type to take issue with anyone who’s gone against a fellow officer.”

  “I’ll check him out.”

  Brian paced back and forth. “If he did break into my sister’s house to snoop around, I’ll kill him.”

  “Let’s not leap to any conclusions. I saw no evidence of a breakin, and Jillian says that nothing was disturbed as far as she could tell, aside from my missing shirt.”

  “So it was a breaker trip and a battery failure, happening simultaneously? No. No, that’s stretching coincidence a little too far. And that stuff about Jillian sleepwalking, turning off the alarm and hiding your shirt someplace – you don’t really buy that, do you?”

  “Not really. But no one was home with her last night, so we can’t know what did happen. I told her and Katie both to call a technician, have them come out and check the alarm system. But since you’re more familiar with the house, you may want to swing by before the autopsy, have a look and see if there’s anything I missed.”

  Brian’s head dropped back on his shoulders. “Why do I have to witness the autopsy? Why me, God?”

  “Just be thankful you’re not full of your sister’s French toast. You’d probably lose it.”

  He leveled a disgusted look at Jesse. “You got French toast? You got to eat my sister’s famous French toast, and I have to go to an autopsy?”

  “Some days suck like that.”

  “You’re such an asshole. On second thought, I kind of hope it was Gannon snooping around. I hope he broke in and took your shirt so that he could make a giant voodoo doll with it.”

  “If I start to feel strange stabbing sensations or my hair catches on fire, I’ll let you know.”

  Brian looked at the bags on the desktop. “This is too close to home,” he said with no trace of levity. “Finding Jillian’s card among Losevsky’s possessions? That was like finding a bomb in the middle of your living room.”

  “I know. But like I told Mateyo,” their boss “it’s too early to tell. Everything so far is circumstantial. We need to collect some solid evidence before we can determine the best course of action.”

  “You went to bat for me,” Brian said, still staring at the desk. “With Mateyo. He wanted to yank me off the case.”

  “Well, you did kind of lose it there for a little while.”

  “After seeing what we saw that morning in Losevsky’s apartment, wouldn’t you?”

  “I don’t even like that it happened in the same city as my family. So yeah. If I thought my little sister’s housemate might be connected, I’d lose it, too. If I had a little sister. Which I’m feeling pretty thankful that I don’t. Having three younger brothers is bad enough.”

  “It’s hell man, sometimes, worrying about her. Them. Because you know Jillian’s like my sister, too. I don’t care if that sounds sexist or whatever. It’s in the DNA when you’re the big brother.”

  “You must have put Katie’s boyfriend through the wringer.”

  A look of tolerant disgust overtook Brian’s face. “His record is pretty squeaky. Guy’s nice enough. But I still want to punch him every time I go over there and he’s… there. Making himself at home. Like hey, want a cup of coffee? But what he really means is I’m banging your sister.”

  “Yet another benefit of brothers,” Jesse considered. “When I stop by to see one of them and they have a woman over, I’m delighted if she offers me a beverage. And if she intimated that she’s banging him, I’d probably give her a high five.”

  “You’re really trying to make me hate you today.”

  “Buck up, Buttercup.” Jesse glanced at his watch as he grabbed the bags. “I have to take these to the lab. And you’ve got an –”

  “Yeah, yeah. Don’t remind me.”

  Jesse chuckled at Brian’s back as he walked out, but quickly sobered when he looked at the bags. He didn’t particularly relish the idea of going behind Gannon’s back, despite the fact that the guy was a dick. But he needed to know what they were dealing with here.

  And though he tried to stick with evidence-based assessments as much as possible, sometimes he got a feeling in his gut.

  And this time his gut said that a whole boatload of trouble had just sailed into port.

  CHAPTER SIX

  JILLIAN smiled at the receptionist as she handed the woman the signed credit card slip. It had been a while since she’d taken a self-defense class, and though she liked to think that she would know what to do if she were attacked, she had to admit that her skills were probably rusty. She’d begun to… relax over the past couple years, she guessed you could say, and while she wouldn’t complain about her life becoming calm enough that she’d been able to let down her guard, she also didn’t want to be lulled into complacency.

  Especially given the events of the past few days.

  It was entirely possible that it was an unfortunate coincidence that she’d once again pinged on the Savannah law enforcement radar. It was also possible that in her subsequent nervousness she’d taken too many Tylenol, sleepwalked, visited the basement, turned off the alarm and then went back to bed.

  But it made her uneasy. It made her very uneasy. And because she believed in being proactive rather than curling into a ball and hiding – a reaction with which she was all too familiar – Jillian had done an internet search for a self-defense refresher course and then walked over to the West Broad Street YMCA to sign up and pay. It didn’t start until after the holidays, but at least it was something.

  The receptionist glanced at her information as she handed Jillian the receipt. “Oh. You’re going to be taking the class with the new instructor.”

  From the tone of her voice, that was significant. “Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”

  The woman looked at Jillian over the top of her glasses, ebony eyes dancing. “It’s about six feet plus of good thing, if you know what I’m sayin’.”

  Jillian couldn’t help but smile. “Sounds like a lot to take to the mat.”

  “Honey, if it were me and him on a mat, he wouldn’t have to toss me over his shoulder. I’d just lay right down.”

  It felt good to laugh. “Not quite the skill I was hoping to refresh, at least not in a public classroom.” She glanced at the information sheet again. The instructor’s name was listed as Jordan W. “Well, I’m looking forward to class even more than I was before. Thank you.”

  “My pleasure, believe me. You have a nice day, y’hear?”

  “Same to you.”

  Feeling lighter, Jillian stuffed the paperwork into her bag as she turned the corner. She bumped right into someone coming from the opposite way.

  “Oh, I’m so sorry. I wasn’t looking… Jesse,” she said, when she realized whose hands were grasping her arms. She looked up, up into those beautiful eyes. The receptionist’s description of six plus feet of good thing came to mind.

  Jillian was tempted to find the nearest mat.

  “You might not want to get too close,” he said, stepping back just a bit and wiping his forehead with the towel around his neck. “I’m sweaty.”

  So he was. Which made Jillian even more tempted to look for unoccupied rooms.

  And okay. Maybe her libidinous drought was finally coming to an end.

  “If I say do you come here often, does that put us right back where we started?”

  “I’m afraid I don’t have any wine to spill at the
moment.”

  His gaze drifted down, lingered briefly on her chest, and then flirted with hers when it snapped back up. “A shame.”

  Really, a utility closet would do.

  “So what are you doing here?” he asked. “I don’t think I’ve seen you around before.”

  “Oh.” Jillian hefted her mind out of the gutter. “I just signed up for a self-defense refresher course.”

  “A self… really.” He looked slightly disconcerted, possibly because she was wearing the red striped dress and high-heeled boots she’d worn to her earlier meeting with clients, and looked more like a holiday confection than someone who knew her way around a wrist hold. But then he smiled. “Good for you.”

  “I’m not always the blubbering mess you’ve been witness to the past several days.”

  “I’d hardly say you were blubbering.” He grabbed hold of the edges of his towel. “So what did the security technician say?”

  “No problem with the system and the backup battery appears to be functioning. User error was his diagnosis. Either I thought I’d set the alarm and didn’t, or turned it off and don’t remember. Which still seems really unlikely to me, but…” She shrugged. “I can’t be too upset, because nothing was missing.”

  “Except my shirt.”

  “Except your shirt,” she agreed. “I still haven’t found it.”

  “Strange,” he said, frowning. “Can I walk you to your car?”

  “I appreciate the offer, but my car is still in the shop. I walked here.”

  He cast a dubious look at her boots. “In those?”

  “Walking in heels doesn’t bother me,” she said. “Although I usually choose more sensible footwear. But I had a meeting with clients – they’re getting married this weekend – and this wasn’t too far out of the way.”

  “Give me five minutes to hit the shower and change and I’ll drive you home.”

  “That’s not necessary.”

  “I insist.”

  She studied him a moment. “Okay, but at least partly because I want to see if you can really shower and change in five minutes.”