Expert Witness: A Romantic Suspense Novel

by Luckourt, Nicole

  Grabbing his cell phone from his front pocket, Derek dropped down in the seat next to her and began dialing. Jordan could hear the voice on the other end.

  “Nine-one-one operator. What is your emergency?”

  “Yes, my friend has been attacked.” Derek rattled off the street address to their office. “We need an ambulance right away.”

  She looked over at the crumpled figure who lay on the ground not twenty feet from them. He was unmoving, still in the same position. Tearing her eyes away from the limp body, she realized Derek had ended the call and was speaking to her again.

  “Everything is going to be okay. An ambulance is on its way to take you to the hospital to get checked out.” He rested his hand on her shoulder.

  Jordan closed her eyes. She’d mistakenly thought Derek had requested the ambulance for her motionless assailant. Forcing the thoughts to become words, she stated, “I don’t need to go to the hospital. I’m okay. He didn’t cut me, only tried to drag me away…” She trailed off. Nothing she said felt real. She’d worked with trauma clients enough to realize she was suffering from shock.

  He gave a heavy nod. “I’m sure everything is fine, but it won’t hurt to check.”

  She didn’t have the strength to argue. She’d used up every bit of energy she’d had to fight her attacker.

  It seemed like an eternity had passed when they saw the blue lights cutting through the darkness though, according her watch, it’d been only a few minutes. Two squad cars and an ambulance simultaneously pulled into the parking lot.

  The officers exited the vehicles. One started toward them, while the other headed toward the figure on the ground.

  “Hey. Is everyone okay?” the closest officer called out as he surveyed the scene around them.

  Both she and Derek nodded as he came closer.

  “Who’s Derek—the guy who called this in?”

  Derek lifted his hand up midway. “I am.”

  “Tell me what happened. What’s going on here?” the officer questioned.

  Derek provided a statement on what he’d witnessed, while the paramedics checked the vital signs of the unconscious man. Jordan turned the other way, as the sight of him made her stomach churn. On the other side of the parking lot, several more squad cars showed up, and officers began taping off the crime scene.

  A new officer approached her and began to ask her questions. She was surprised at how calm she sounded as she answered him. It was as if her body were on automatic pilot and she were but a spectator. Watching from the safe place her mind had conceived, she saw her assailant being loaded onto a stretcher and into the ambulance.

  “Do you need medical attention?” the officer asked. “I’ll be glad to call another ambulance.”

  “I think that’s a good idea,” Derek said before she could reply, obviously done answering questions.

  She shook her head. “I don’t think that’s necessary. I’m just a little shaken up.”

  “All right. Will you at least let me take you, then?” Derek asked, his voice filled with concern.

  Giving in, Jordan nodded.

  “That’s about it for now, then,” the officer stated. He turned his head to run through a few ten codes on the mic affixed to his shoulder lapel. “I’ll be on my way to the hospital to interview the suspect. If he’s regained consciousness by then. You gave him one whack on the head he won’t soon forget.” He looked at Derek.

  “Yeah, well, I never thought our sports equipment for play therapy would be put to such good use,” Derek replied grimly.

  The officer gave a barely perceptible nod before turning his attention back to Jordan. “I’ll be getting in touch with you to let you know the outcome of all of this and possibly to get more information. In the meantime, if you remember anything else, here’s my card.”

  Jordan was relieved to see that the emergency room was almost empty. They waited only for a few minutes before being called back to an examining room. After undergoing a routine examination by a physician’s assistant, she was pronounced clear for discharge. However, it was apparent she’d have some hefty bruises around her abdomen and neck.

  All she could think of on the ride back was scrubbing herself clean in a long, hot bath. She wanted to wash the last six hours away. Wash away the feel of his sweat-soaked arms around her. The panic at being locked in his hold and struggling for every breath. The sour smell of his exhalations intruding into her precious air space. She knew it would never be possible. She hugged her arms tightly to her body.

  “Are you cold?” Derek asked, reaching forward to turn down the air conditioner.

  “No, not really. It’s just been a hell of a day. Would you mind taking me straight home? I’ll catch a ride with Mike and Karen in the morning. I don’t feel up to going back to the office tonight.”

  “Sure. No problem,” he said with a pensive expression. “I hadn’t even thought of bringing you anywhere else. Your car will be fine. I’m more worried about you. Are you sure you’ll be all right tonight? You’re more than welcome to stay at my place.”

  “Thanks for the offer. Actually, thanks for everything. I don’t want to think about what might’ve happened if you hadn’t come along when you did. But I just want to go home, take a long bath, and try to get some sleep.”

  Derek looked over at her, sympathy marking his voice. “I get it. But promise me you’ll call if you need anything,” he said, easing the car into the circular driveway.

  Jordan dipped her head in acquiescence then shifted to look at the familiar house in front of her. The pressure in her chest alleviated somewhat. She was home.

  Waving goodbye to Derek, she made her way inside. The soft glow coming from her living room illuminated her path. Normally, she left the lamp on to help her see the obstacles around her, but tonight she was more thankful she wasn’t walking into the unknowns born out of pure darkness. No telling what her mind would conjure up with no visual confines in her current state.

  Her movements felt mechanical. She headed into the kitchen. Retrieving a drinking glass from the cabinet, she discovered her hands were still shaking. She grasped the glass tightly as she filled it from the refrigerator’s dispenser. The cold water felt good on her parched throat.

  Fighting the urge to submerge herself in a scalding-hot bath and then crawl under her comforter, she searched for something to eat first. She hadn’t eaten since the energy bar she’d grabbed for lunch, so she should be hungry. Opening the freezer, she took out a dinner portion she’d previously frozen for occasions when she didn’t have time to cook. It was usually one she liked, but tonight, her stomach rejected all thoughts of food.

  The sound of her home phone ringing caught her by surprise. She automatically jerked back a step, hypervigilance from the night’s events bleeding into her reaction. Taking a long, deep breath, she tried to calm her nerves before answering. “Hello.”

  “Jordan!” Karen’s voice was filled with anguish. “Derek called and told us what happened. I’ve been worried sick since you didn’t show for dinner. I kept calling but got no answer. My God, are you all right?”

  “I’m fine. Just a little shook up. I must have accidentally left the ringer muted. I never even heard it ring.” She strained to inflect some feeling into her voice. Her effort fell flat. The words came out sounding wooden and hollow, a reflection, she assumed, of the numbness that coated her from inside. “Actually, I’m glad you called. I was wondering if you and Mike would swing by and pick me up in the morning. I left my car at the office.”

  There was a momentary pause on the other line. Karen had recognized the deviation from her normal tone. “Absolutely.” Another beat of silence followed. “Hey, are you going to be okay by yourself tonight? You know we can be there in a second if you want to stay at our place?”

  She didn’t want Karen to worry, but she needed time alone to even begin to process the events of the night. She tried to sound more like her usual self. “Thanks, but it’s okay. To be honest, I only want
to go to sleep. I feel like I’ve been up for days.”

  Karen released a sigh. “Okay, hon. We’ll be there around seven, then. If you don’t feel up to going in tomorrow, give us a ring in the morning. Work can wait. Taking care of you is more important right now.”

  Jordan pulled back the plastic wrapping from her dinner and stirred the sauce while contemplating her friend’s advice. “I know, and I will, but I have so many open cases right now, and it’ll help me to dive back in.”

  “I get it. But please don’t feel pressured—you know, because of the practice—if you change your mind and need some time.”

  “I won’t. I promise.” Her tone was solemn.

  “Good. See you in the morning then. And, Jordan—” Karen choked up, “—I’m so glad you’re okay. I don’t want to even think about…”

  Jordan could hear the tremble in her friend’s voice. “I know,” she said softly, “but I really am okay. So try to get some sleep yourself.”

  Upon hanging up, Jordan felt lighter. The attack was still at the forefront of her mind, but the numbness that blanketed her emotions had eroded somewhat. She was fortunate to have such supportive friends. As she speared a piece of broccoli, she was surprised to find that she was starving. At least something is back to normal.

  CHAPTER TWO

  The parking area appeared undisturbed in the early morning light. Mike maneuvered his car into his reserved parking space while Jordan craned her neck around, scanning for anything out of the ordinary. But there was nothing. Even the crime scene tape had already been removed.

  “You okay?” Mike asked, glancing back at her in the rearview mirror.

  “Yeah, I’m good. It just feels weird, I guess. Looking around now, it’s as if yesterday never happened.”

  Nothing that hinted of the horrible experience that had transpired remained. At the scene anyway. She tugged on the scarf she’d worn to cover the dark purple bruises scattered around her neck. Last night’s attack had left its mark on her physically and emotionally.

  Still deliberating on the motive behind the attack, she peered over at her car. It was there, exactly as she’d left it, the only difference being the addition of a few loose oak leaves as adornment. Karen’s voice tore her from her thoughts, and Jordan realized she’d been speaking to her. “I’m sorry. What was it?”

  Karen repeated her question. “I was wondering if you ever found out who the guy was?”

  “Not yet. He wasn’t in any condition to answer questions when the police arrived,” she said, shutting the car door.

  “Humph,” Mike interjected. “And I can tell you I didn’t lose a minute’s sleep over that fact, either. I wish I’d been here to help Derek out,” he said in a harsh tone.

  Jordan patted him on the back. Mike was mild-mannered in nature. His pitiless attitude now clearly stemmed from concern for her wellbeing. “Well, no worries. The officer at the scene said he’d be questioning him further when he regained consciousness.” She switched her briefcase to her other hand. “To be honest, not knowing makes it even worse. I keep playing it over in my mind trying to figure out why—maybe because it’s what we do.”

  “What are you thinking?” Karen’s brows fused as she processed the comment.

  “I don’t think it was money, because he never once asked for my purse or keys. I don’t ever remember seeing him before, so it wasn’t an angry former client. Maybe it could’ve been a relation to someone in a case? Or worst-case scenario, he’s a typical psychopath and I happened to be the victim he chose.” The last suggestion triggered a chill that seeped through her body. Of all the personality types, this would be the last she’d want to encounter alone in the dark.

  Karen put her arm around her friend. “I know it’s difficult, but I think you should try to put any thoughts about motive out of your mind, at least until the police are able to provide more information. Otherwise, you’ll drive yourself nuts trying to figure this out. You could be right on any of those, but for now, they’re only educated guesses. You of all people know that sometimes, the motivations behind these kinds of violence are so twisted that no sane individual is able to ever fully comprehend them.”

  “You’re right,” she conceded. Karen had a valid point. They’d all worked cases in which identifying with the offender was an impossibility. She tried to take her friend’s advice and shoved the thoughts aside. “Let’s head in.” She let Karen lead toward the back entrance to their office. “I have several calls to make before our staff meeting at noon. So I may be a few minutes late.”

  “Don’t worry. We’ll save you some of the rosemary focaccia rolls,” Mike gently teased.

  She perked up. “We’re ordering Rosella’s for lunch?”

  “Yeah. We figured we’d let you choose today.”

  Jordan couldn’t help chuckling. “And you didn’t even have to ask me what I’d pick. You guys know how to cheer me up. Mama Rosella’s cooking is exactly what I need right now.”

  “Yeah, well, whoever said the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach never met you,” he said with a grin. “A heads up though—it’s going to be a busy meeting. We have quite a few more cases that need to be assigned. Referrals have been coming in one after the other.”

  Jordan tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Well then, I guess I won’t have to try too hard to distract myself with work. Though I can’t say I’m not grateful for the business. We’ve been fortunate.”

  “No argument here,” Mike agreed. He hesitated before continuing. “Are you sure you’re up to this?”

  Her eyes softened at the concern etched on her friend’s face. “I’m sure. I know you guys are worried, and I won’t lie and say that I’m not still trying to deal with what happened. But being at work is therapeutic. It’ll help put it behind me.”

  The trio entered the office together. Jordan checked her personal mailbox on the way in. There were a few case files, some psychological testing that had come back, and a message from a detective with the police department.

  Hmm…so a detective is already assigned to the case.

  She skimmed over the message that indicated he’d like to arrange a meeting as soon as possible. Turning to Nancy, the secretary, in the main office area, Jordan asked her to schedule a meeting with the detective during her first open hour.

  “Actually, your eleven o’clock canceled a moment ago, so you’re free then. Would that be too soon?” she replied, her hands poised above the computer keys, ready to fill the gap in Jordan’s schedule.

  “If that works for the detective, then it will be fine for me. Thanks Nancy.”

  At eleven o’clock sharp, her office phone rang, and she hit the speaker button.

  “Detective Warren Larson is here to see you,” Nancy’s voice rang out.

  “Please, tell him I’ll be right there.” Jordan made her way to the waiting room to meet the detective.

  It was easy to pick the officer out of the clients who were waiting. He wore the traditional black uniform assigned to the local police department. His salt-and-pepper hair was cut short, and the lines around his face made him appear tired. Having to investigate these types of crimes would likely take its toll on anyone.

  He stood as she approached him.

  “Hi. I’m Jordan Clayton. Thank you for coming. We can meet in my office.” She shook hands with the detective and led the way back to her office. “Just have a seat anywhere,” she offered.

  The detective glanced between the leather sofa and the club chair available. He sank into the chair. “Reckon I’d better sit here. Don’t want to get too comfortable. But I’m sure many people are tempted to lie down on that couch. It only seems right when you’re in a psychologist’s office and all,” he said, his tone amicable.

  Jordan smiled. Over the years, many of her patients had made reference to the same stereotype. “Yes, it does.”

  Once they were seated, the light-hearted conversation dwindled away. He assumed a more serious expression, and
she wondered what had caused the change. Shifting uneasily in the chair, he cleared his throat.

  “Were you able to interview my assailant?” Jordan asked, trying to provide him with a lead-in.

  “Yes. Well, the officer on the scene interviewed him last night at the hospital after he regained consciousness. He was trying to get basic information regarding the incident. Because of what was reported, I was assigned to the case.” He glanced around the office and then continued on, meeting her gaze. “Guy’s name is Henry Rigdon. He was arrested last night. I’m not sure if he’ll make bond or not. He admitted to attacking you yesterday evening. Said he waited in the parking lot until he saw you come out alone.”

  Her chest tightened. “So, he was intentionally looking for me, but why?”

  “Well, by his own admission—and we’re still working on verifying this information—he was paid by an unknown source to commit the offense.” The detective waited for her response before proceeding.

  “Go ahead.” Emotions tumbled inside her as she digested this last piece of information.

  “It seems he was approached by a male via telephone. The man offered him ten thousand dollars to, in his words, ‘remove you.’ He was reportedly paid half of the money prior to the attack and was to receive the other half upon your death. The money was left at an agreed-upon location. Rigdon said he never got a look at the guy who hired him.”

  Jordan held her hand up. Her head swirled with questions and her turbulent emotions threatened her composure. Anger, sadness, and fear vied for a response to what she’d heard. Anger won. “You’re telling me that this guy, Henry Rigdon, was hired to kill me for ten thousand dollars, money being his only motivator? And there’s someone out there who intended for this to happen—no, intended isn’t the right word.” She paused, struggling again to wrap her mind around what she’d heard. “Someone who actively tried to make sure a plan to have me killed was carried out.”