Jan Coffey Suspense Box Set: Three Complete Novel Box Set: Trust Me Once, Twice Burned, Fourth Victim

by Jan Coffey

  “Come on, Sarah. Think of what the FBI will be asking you. Do you expect them to believe that you have a friend coming all the way from California, and you hadn’t mentioned it to anyone? That you had done no planning, whatsoever, to introduce her around to your million other pals in Newport?”

  “Despite what you might think from the newspaper reports, before this disaster I led a quiet life here in Newport.”

  He pushed his plate away and considered her answer. “Okay, so you didn’t tell any friends. How about your co-workers? Office staff?”

  She shook her head. “It’s August. We always shut down the office for the month. And there was no reason to say anything to anybody.”

  He rose to his feet and refilled their coffee cups.

  “What about your trip? Who else knew about you going to Ireland?”

  Her fingers tightened around the cup. “No one other than Tori.”

  “You know, if you try to sell them a story this lame, they’re going to lock you up for her murder.”

  “What do you mean?” A look of horror spread across her face.

  “You had the opportunity to do it, Sarah. And believe me, they’ll dig into your past until they find a motive. You’re a lawyer, you know how it works. The fact that you left the country for two weeks, and the fact that you can’t even come up with reasonable answers to the simplest questions will cook your goose, for sure.”

  “I told you, the news about my father came out of the blue. I thought the only person that had to know was Tori. She was the one I was leaving high and dry. And then I was busy. Busy making airline reservations and packing and everything else a person does when they get a call telling them that their father is dead. I wasn’t thinking about developing a solid alibi.”

  Silence fell between them. Owen watched her as she gazed into the blackness of the coffee. Her face didn’t show any grief. Only concentration.

  “Who made your airline reservation?”

  “I did,” she answered after a moment’s pause. “And as for the rest of your questions, originally I planned to be away for a week at the most. I thought Tori could tell whoever asked...”

  “But you stayed away longer.”

  She shrugged. “Things happened. The funeral got delayed. And then there was the family. My father’s family and property issues with the will. I just couldn’t walk away so soon. I tried to call Tori.”

  “How about getting in touch with your co-workers...your boyfriend...when you were away?”

  Owen didn’t know why he’d added that last part of it, but it was already out and that was that. Her green eyes lifted and searched his own.

  “Being away for two weeks is not too long.” She pushed the cup and the plate away. She was all business when their gazes locked again. “As I mentioned before, the office was closed. Tori was supposed to let the judge and whoever else might call know where I was. And to answer your next question about why didn’t I worry when I couldn’t get a hold of her? The answer is that my friend is...was...a free spirit. I knew she would use the house as her base, but she’d come and go as she pleased. She had a lot of charisma. She attracted men.”

  “Had the judge and your friend ever met?”

  His question threw her for a moment, and she paused before answering. “Yes, they met about two years ago. She came to visit me around the holidays. I took her to the Christmas party Avery, the judge’s late wife, threw every year. It was the last party she threw because of her illness.”

  “Is it possible that something might have developed between your friend Tori and Judge Arnold?”

  “No!” Temper brought a flush to her cheeks. “Absolutely not. Judge Arnold was devoted to his wife.”

  “From what the papers say, she was increasingly ill. Now, don’t you think it’s at least possible for a wealthy, middle-aged man to have a fling or...”

  “Not this one.”

  “How can you be so sure?” Owen cleared the area before him. “Think of it the way the police might look at it. Suppose, just suppose they did have something going before, dating from that party. Suppose Tori called him about your departure for Ireland, so he came over and things got started again. The judge is no longer married, so your friend sees him as fair game.”

  “I don’t care for your insinuations in any way, Mr. Dean.”

  “I don’t either. I’m just playing devil’s advocate here. Suppose something happened, an accident, and Tori is killed.”

  “No! This is real life, not one of the episodes from your show.” Anger blazed in her eyes. “Judge Arnold didn’t have anything going with Tori. Not now, and not two years ago.”

  “And how can you be sure?”

  “Because he is not one for a frivolous fling.”

  “You don’t know much about men, do you, Ms. Rand?”

  “I know that the judge would not have cheated on his wife.”

  He leaned toward her. “Why?”

  “He is an honest man. He is a loyal man. A truly upright and good man.” Owen watched her trying to keep her emotions in check. “I was there. I saw the way he suffered during Avery’s long and painful illness. I saw the way he stayed with her to the end, never giving up hope. Never letting her spirits flag. Always showing his love to her.” She shook her head. “No. I’ll never believe that he acted improperly with Tori or anyone else.”

  He waited a moment, giving her a chance to get her emotional legs under her. In that second’s pause, he decided not to ask the question that was burning his tongue. The question about her own relationship with the judge. He changed tack. “What about you?”

  “What about me?”

  “Would the judge have a reason for wanting you dead?”

  “We were friends.”

  “That’s not what the papers said!”

  “What did they say?”

  “That you and the judge had been having some heated arguments in the days preceding your supposed murder. That there are witnesses who are coming forward and talking to the police about the extent of the quarrels. There is talk of you storming out of his office two days before the shooting, threatening to leave him.”

  “Not leave him, but the office. And I didn’t ‘storm’ out.” She rose to her feet and took both of their dishes to the sink. “None of this is new. Judge Arnold and I always argued. And as far as ending our association, I’d been considering that for a while.”

  She didn’t want to talk about her relationship with the judge either. He drained half of the cup of coffee and studied the square cut of her shoulders, the silky blonde hair that was starting to curl at the ends as it dried. His gaze moved down over the graceful arch of her back. And she said this Tori attracted men.

  As Sarah bent to put the dishes in the dishwasher, Owen’s eyes riveted to the gentle swing of her breasts beneath the robe. Frowning, he forced himself to look at her profile before speaking. “Are you and your friend very much alike?”

  She straightened up and tugged at the belt of the robe as she faced him. “We...we were roommates in college.”

  “And?”

  “I finished, and she...well, she dropped out. We stayed friends.” Sarah crossed her arms over her chest as she leaned back against the counter. “She hated order of any sort. I was always fairly organized. When I decided to go on to law school, she was totally disgusted with me. Later on, we grew apart to some extent. But every now and then, out of the blue she would call.”

  “Actually, I was wondering about your looks. Did the two of you look very much alike?”

  “Not so much when we were younger, but this trip, she had cut her hair, and she was a blonde. She’s always gone with the color of the month, but I was surprised to see that her hair was about my color. Actually, it looked good on her.” Sarah glanced down at her bare feet on the white tile. “We were both about the same height, but she was much better endowed in certain places, if you know what I mean.”

  Owen kept his eyes on her face. “So, then, is it safe to assume no psy
chotic boyfriend chased her all the way from California?”

  Sarah considered for a moment. “I believe it’s safe to assume that.”

  “And I think we can assume that this was not just a simple robbery gone bad, because they never would have gone to the trouble of getting rid of the body.”

  “Okay.”

  “Then your comment that someone might have murdered your friend, thinking it was you, is not inconceivable. Certainly the police think it was you.”

  “Someone who had only been given a description, perhaps. But I don’t know why anyone would want to have me killed.”

  She was the picture of concentration, but his mind clicked over, registering more provocative images. He shifted in his chair a little before drinking down the last of his coffee. “So what’s next?”

  “I have to get to the information inside our offices.”

  “You were just there.”

  “No, the law offices downtown. That’s where most of the law firm’s current files and schedules are kept.” She pushed away from the counter and padded back and forth across the kitchen floor. “I think I mentioned to you before about something, some case, that the judge was all stirred up about in the weeks before I left.”

  “You think there’s a connection?”

  “I don’t know. But whether or not I was the intended victim, or the judge is being used as a scapegoat, the answer might be found at the office. That’s the only place I know to start.”

  “All right.”

  She hesitated by the table. “I can call a cab and have them take me downtown, but there’s a slight problem.”

  He was already getting to know that ‘I’m brave and grateful but I need a favor’ look. It was a powerful tool.

  “What’s the problem?”

  “My keys to our downtown offices are on the same key chain as my car keys. They’re in the ignition of my car, I think. Also, I need to have my laptop for some files. I left that in the car, too.”

  “You want me to take you to where you ditched your car?”

  She gave a small nod. “You’ve already done so much, and I can’t thank you enough.”

  Owen came to his feet. “Save it. You’ll be able to return the favor by giving me the name of a good lawyer. I know I’m going to be needing one.”

  She nodded guiltily and then hesitated before turning to go. “Oh, I need another favor.”

  It would be too much to ask, he thought, for her to want to have sex with him right there on the kitchen table.

  “My clothes are wet. Could I borrow something, anything, until I can get my suitcase from the car, as well?”

  “Absolutely not. You want a ride, you’ll have to come as you are.”

  As he walked toward her, Owen saw her eyes widen, her lips parting. Sarah only took a half step back when he stopped right in front of her. Her breath caught in her throat as he ran his finger from the hollow of her throat downward into the valley between her breasts and beyond, stopping only when he reached the belt at her waist. He looked from her stunned face down to the inside curve of her breasts. She wasn’t breathing. Then again, neither was he.

  Looking away from her, he crossed the room as her hands quickly drew the front of the robe together and tightened the belt.

  “Go through the drawers and the closet and get what you want. I’ll be taking a cold shower before we leave.”

  Chapter 7

  “Allahu Akbar!”

  Amir bowed to the east, straightened, and cupped his hands before him.

  “Allahu Akbar!”

  Jake stared at the knit cap covering the shaved head of the black man, and started to whistle, “When You’re a Jet,” from West Side Story. His cellmate ignored him, continuing to pray loudly. It was a kind of tradition they’d established.

  Because Amir woke him up two hours before he had to, Jake would normally curse out the son of a bitch when he started, then move on to whistling. Today, however, he decided to wait until Amir was finished before hurling some select and particularly vile epithets at the Muslim and his Allahu Akbar.

  After all, he thought generously, today he’d already been awake when his cellmate had rolled off his bunk.

  “Allahu Akbar!”

  Jake, lying on the top bunk with his hands tucked behind his head, continued to whistle as he glanced over at Amir’s scarred hands stretched to the ceiling.

  “Allahu Akbar!”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah.” A devious smile broke across Jake’s lips. He rolled onto his side and reached under his pillow, dragging out the bootlegged printout of the photo he’d taken off the Internet the day before. Starting to whistle his tune again, Jake stared at the picture of the couple on the page and felt himself go hard.

  Amir’s face appeared over the printout.

  “You filthy mick. How you think Allah is gonna hear me, when you’re whistling up the devil and jerkin’ off while I pray?” He pulled his small knitted cap off his head and threw it disgustedly into the bunk below.

  “That’s one ugly buzz, Amir.” Jake looked past the picture at his cellmate’s shaved head. It was nicked in half a dozen places. “What did you do? You didn’t let that faggot Jerome take a blade to your head again, did you?”

  “Not your damn business.” Amir pulled the picture out of Jake’s hand and stared down at it. Jake sat up in the bunk and hung his legs over the side, watching his cellmate’s face.

  Amir hit the paper with one hand. “Hey, that McKee guy from Internal Affairs.”

  “And you’re a frigging genius.” Jake jumped down from the bunk and, stepping in front of the toilet, started to relieve himself. “Owen Dean. His real name is Owen Dean.”

  “Whatever, man. More important, who’s the bitch with tits?”

  Jake walked over and snapped the page out of Amir’s hand. He looked down again at the picture of the movie star having sex with the woman.

  “As a matter of fact, my friend, her name is Tori Douglas. And it just so happens that I know this bitch.”

  ~~~~

  Riding up and down the state road, Sarah found it impossible to identify the place where she’d left her car after the shooting. They did a U-turn and slowed again at the place where Sarah remembered the police car initially pulling her over. Even here, it was difficult to find anything to support her story.

  No glass on the road. No skid marks. Nothing.

  Sarah could feel the skepticism growing by the moment in the Range Rover.

  “It has to be one of the first two or three gravel roads,” she said.

  “Okay, but do we want to get arrested for trespassing on a dismal Thursday morning?” Owen frowned. “I don’t think so.”

  In spite of his words, Owen abruptly turned onto one of the side roads, and she glanced over at him in surprise.

  “This is the drive I was coming out of when I saw you last night.”

  Sarah tucked a loose strand of hair behind an ear and pulled a baseball cap on her head as Owen brought the car to a stop.

  “Here we are. This was exactly where you came out of the woods.”

  Sarah looked uncertainly into the woods, dark and forbidding beneath a shroud of morning mist. Try as she might, she could see no break in the thick undergrowth. No place where her car had entered the woods. No gap were she’d come out.

  An icy chill had formed a permanent pool in her belly. She glanced at the man sitting silently behind the wheel and found herself momentarily distracted by the memory of his touch in the kitchen.

  Owen’s short black hair was still wet from his shower. The muscles in his jaw continued to flex as his eyes probed the scene before them. She felt a shiver run through her, and this time it had nothing to do with fear.

  “Ready?”

  She looked at him and again felt her treacherous pulse leap at the way he glanced at her. The gym shorts she’d borrowed were way too big, but with a draw string, she’d been able to gather the waist enough to keep them up. The T-shirt with the logo for his television sho
w on the back was hanging a little limply over her breasts, but tucking it loosely into the shorts had helped. She should have opted for a sweatshirt, but she hadn’t seen one in the drawers and didn’t want to ask. Her shoes—black suede, muddy, and still wet—made for a perfect match to the ensemble.

  “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

  They both stepped out of the car, and Sarah jumped at the bleep of the car alarm. She pushed into the heavy underbrush.

  As soon as the branches closed behind them, she had a sense of being in another world. Damp and dripping in the early morning gloom, the trunks of the trees looked black and ominous. She slipped on a wet rock and recoiled at the feel of some fungus growing on the side of a tree.

  “Real nature girl, eh?” Owen stood beside her.

  “It’s these shoes, and this place. How do we know the men who attacked me aren’t still around?”

  Owen looked around and frowned. “No way we can know for sure. But we saw no sign of them out on the main road.”

  “I realize I probably should have asked this before, but you don’t have a gun, do you?”

  He fought back a smile. “Do you want me to shoot somebody now?”

  “No, I just thought, if they’re waiting for us at my car...”

  “Then they’ll be pretty wet sons of bitches.” He peered ahead. “Probably with the storm and all, there is no way you remember which direction you ran from.”

  “This way, I think.” She led him through the tangles of vines and suckers that cluttered the forest floor. “I remember trying to keep my distance from the main road.”

  In a few minutes, they reached a small clearing. She stopped and looked around her.

  “I think I came through here.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “We’re not far from the car.” She turned around and looked again at the tall trees, at the denseness of the woods. “Even with the storm howling as it was, I could have sworn I could see...”

  She hesitated, gauged where the main road was, and then pointed in the direction that she remembered seeing the lights from a house. “Yes. In fact, it was from right here...I could see lights coming through the trees as the wind blew them. A house, I remember thinking. I didn’t know whether I should go toward it, or stay clear of it. I just couldn’t think straight.”