As wrath flushed through her body, her voice rose with each word. The reins on her normally well-modulated emotions went slack while she fought to make any sense of it all. It was callous, and unlike the many crimes she’d reviewed, it was personal.
She shook her head. So ten thousand dollars is the going rate for a human life nowadays. Disgust settled in the pit of her stomach.
The detective didn’t seem put off by her reaction. He was in her position. She was the one who dealt with angry clients, who helped them deal with trauma and negative outcomes. And, as trying as some cases could be, there was a difference when the role was reversed.
He leaned forward, his hands steepled in front of him. “Unfortunately, yes. I know this is upsetting for you and there isn’t much I can do to change that, but I can say that our agency will do our best to find the person behind this attack. We take this matter seriously, and it’ll be a priority for both myself and the other investigators.” The corners of his mouth turned down as he continued. “I hate to have to ask you now, but it’s critical to the investigation that I get some additional information.” He reached into his front shirt pocket and withdrew a notepad and pen. “Is there anyone you might suspect would do something like this? Or is there anyone in particular you know of who’s angry enough or vengeful enough to consider resorting to this type of violence?”
It was all Jordan could do to suppress the bitter laughter caught in her throat. “If you’re asking if anyone in my personal life may be connected with this, then the answer is no.” She didn’t feel the need to expand on her skimpy private life. “In regards to people in my professional life, you can take your pick.”
She’d made enemies. It came with the territory.
“I’m involved in litigation on a daily basis. I regularly testify at child custody, competency to stand trial, criminal responsibility, personal injury, and sentencing hearings. Just to name a few.” Even though the ultimate decisions were often left to the trier of the fact, as an impartial expert witness, the scientific information and opinions she provided during her testimony usually loaned support to one side or the other. “The findings I offer in some of these cases can make people very angry. Angry enough to do something like this? I honestly don’t know. It would depend on the person.” She let out a breath, her shoulders sagging at this admission.
“Have you received any threats lately? Perhaps by telephone, as it seems this is how our guy communicates,” he persisted.
Her brow lifted. Truth be known, these types of calls were something she’d become accustomed to over the years, a regrettable indirect result of her role in the legal process. She often wondered if having an unlisted phone number only slowed them down a little. Searching her memory, she tried to remember the date of the last call. “It’s probably been about three months, and I can’t remember exactly what the caller said. I believe he spewed off a host of obscenities and references to, in his words, ‘shrinks meddling in marriages.’ It might’ve been related to a custody case. Those cases can be emotional for the parties involved.”
“Good to know.” The detective shook his head. “But that doesn’t help us much at this point. From now on, if you receive any of these phone calls, please keep a record and notify me.”
“I can do that,” she said wearily. Discussing the details was making her all too aware of the challenges they’d be up against in catching this guy.
“Also, is there any way I can get a list of the cases you’ve worked on and the individuals involved?”
Her eyes snapped fully open. “Now, that’ll be a problem. I can give you the names that are already listed in public records. Usually, I’ve been appointed by the court to conduct assessments in those cases, but I don’t want to reveal the identities of any other patients. They have a right to confidentiality, and I won’t violate that.”
He let out a sigh. “You are aware that, by not doing so, you’re precluding us from fully doing our job.”
“Right now, that’s the best I can do,” she said, her tone firm. “If we need to revisit this down the road, then I’m game. But I think the names you’ll get provide the best starting point in terms of potential suspects with motive.”
He hooked his index finger in the cleft above his chin as he considered the option. “Fair enough. One more question, then, in regards to your personal life. Are you currently having any type of relationship problems? I know it’s an intrusive question, but we need to eliminate everyone.”
“I’m not involved with anyone right now.”
“What about ex-boyfriends? Any conflictual breakups?”
“No.”
He looked at her, waiting for her to expand, his pen poised above the small, worn scratchpad.
“I haven’t dated anyone seriously for a while, since my early college years to be exact.”
The detective jotted down the information. She didn’t know how many pages could possibly be left in the dilapidated note-keeping device, but her list of romantic entanglements wouldn’t be the information to finally force it into retirement.
“My work keeps me pretty busy,” she added before he could lift his pen.
Her spontaneous rationalization caused her cringe inside. She was proud of what she’d accomplished by dedicating most of her time to her practice, but spelling out her dating history—or, rather, the lack thereof—to this detective made it obvious that she hadn’t developed much of a personal life outside of her work.
“Well, that’s it for now.” He pocketed his notebook.
He must have recognized he hit a dry well. She stood with him.
“We’re going to follow up on the leads we have, and I’ll let you know how the case is progressing,” he continued. “Until then, be careful. We still don’t know who’s behind this attack.”
Or if there would be any more. Although she could tell by the meaningful look he gave her that he was thinking the same thing, neither one said it aloud.
“I’d try to avoid going anywhere alone. Maybe have a friend go with you.”
“Thank you. I’ll be careful.” As she escorted him out, she passed Mike and Karen in the hall.
The aroma of tomato sauce and rosemary wafted from the brown paper to-go bags they carried, but this was the only time Rosella’s talents might be wasted on her. The revulsion that roosted in her stomach at the detective’s news had stomped out any embers of an appetite she may have had left.
I’ll be right there, she mouthed to them. They’d want to know the latest developments regarding the attack. If only she had better news to tell. This was worse than she’d ever anticipated. The event wasn’t some random attack, and the perp wasn’t a disgruntled relation to a previous case. Rather, it appeared it was the first in what might be a series of attempts on her life. No closure had come from the meeting with the detective.
As she entered the conference room, everyone was eagerly passing around the freshly baked bread and digging into the pasta dishes spread across the table. She grabbed her own order and sat down. Her colleagues’ gazes drifted toward her, and she looked up to meet their questioning stares. She busied herself by removing the top from the foil container while she contemplated what to say. Steam began to seep up from the red sauce.
For a split second, she debated not telling them what she’d heard, but that wasn’t the answer. If someone was truly out to get her, then they may be in danger too, even if by mere association alone. Besides, she had no idea how to cope with this type of situation by herself. She needed the support of her friends now more than ever.
“Well, don’t keep us waiting. What did he say?” Karen asked, tearing a piece of the focaccia in half while she spoke.
How do I tell them someone was hired to kill me? Her mind raced, trying to think of how to share the information she’d received. It seemed surreal, the kind of thing that happened only in the movies. Finally, she decided to be direct. There was no way to sugarcoat the situation, and she didn’t even want to try.
Sh
e took a deep breath. “That was Warren Larson, the detective who’s been assigned to investigate my case. He interviewed the guy who attacked me yesterday. His name is Henry Rigdon. From what this guy Rigdon said, it seems he was paid to do it. Detective Larson still isn’t sure who was behind it though. So, for now, he’s investigating potential suspects and the leads he gathered from his interview with Rigdon.”
Everyone sat frozen with stunned expressions. The room was so quiet that the whirring from the white-noise maker in the corner sounded more like a lawn mower. The contraption was normally discreet, serving its purpose by masking the conversation within the room. But today, there was no danger of private client details being overheard by someone beyond the closed doors. The threat was to someone within them.
Mike was the first to break the silence. The chair he’d been idly rocking back in prior to her announcement slammed forward to resume all four legs on the floor. “Who in the hell would do such a thing? Is the detective sure this Rigdon guy isn’t making this all up?”
“Why would he?” Jordan asked him. “He’s been caught in the act. He has absolutely nothing to gain from lying. He committed the crime either way. In fact, his admission will probably hurt him more than anything else. What’s more, they found the money where he said it would be, a little under five thousand dollars in a black duffel bag under his bed.”
Karen’s mouth dropped open. “What are we going to do until he’s caught? I mean, you aren’t safe until this guy is off the streets. Whoever he is.”
Her friend had abandoned her lunch. The torn bread pieces were steadily absorbing olive oil as they rested unattended in the shallow gratin dish.
“She’s right,” Derek said. “There’s no telling what that thug would’ve done if I hadn’t been there. It makes me sick, thinking about it.” He cast his eyes downward before continuing on. “As it is, I keep telling myself that I should have been there sooner, or walked you out, just done something different.”
Jordan patted his hand. “Hey, you don’t need to second-guess a thing.” Her voice was soft but firm. “You were awesome. I can never thank you enough for what you did.” She tried to avoid thinking about what might have happened to her without Derek’s help.
Derek gave her a curt nod, but the corners of his mouth remained turned down.
Mike spoke up. “Don’t look at it like that, Derek. It’s always easy to hash out the ‘should haves,’ but we’re damn lucky you were where you were.” He turned his attention back to Jordan. “Right now, we need to figure out how to handle this. Karen’s got a point. You’re not safe. Not with this maniac out there. And you definitely shouldn’t be alone. Maybe you should move in with Karen and me for a while.”
“Oh, Mike! I hate this. It feels like I’m trapped, waiting for something terrible and I have no idea what. I can’t plan my whole life around this. You three won’t be able to be with me every second of every day. Even though I know you’d try.” She gave them a weak smile. “It wouldn’t be possible, and it sure as hell wouldn’t be fair to anyone.”
Once again, the room was silent. Usually, staff meetings were filled with lively conversation and energetic debates. At times, it was hard to get a word in edgewise. Now, she could hear the sound of her plastic spoon scraping aluminum as she stirred her uneaten pasta around in the dish.
“Maybe if you took a vacation. You know, got out of town for a while until the cops get some idea as to who’s behind this,” Derek proposed.
“I don’t see how that’s possible. I have so many open cases and several court dates coming up. I can’t desert my clients. Besides, I’d rather not run away. I don’t think that would solve anything. I refuse to let this creep, whoever he or she is, win.”
“But Jordan, there’s too much at stake. You’re risking your life!” Pools of water collected in the rims of Karen’s eyes.
Mike took Karen’s hand and held it in his own. “I have an idea,” he said, his tone becoming more animated. “You’re right about the vacation. Maybe it’s not such a good idea. After all, whoever it is could just as well follow you. But there’s no way around it. It’s obvious this guy means business, and we need to figure out a way to keep you safe. I have an old friend I met during my undergraduate years at FSU. We had a few courses together and have stayed close ever since. He worked for the state police doing dignitary protection for a while, and now, he heads his own protection company. I can get in touch with him and have him select one of his close protection specialists to look after you until this situation is handled.” He sat back in his chair and laced his fingers behind his head.
Jordan dropped her spoon and stared at him in disbelief. “Are you talking about hiring a bodyguard?”
“I think it’s an excellent idea!” Karen exclaimed. “I’d feel so relieved to know that someone who’s trained to deal with this type of thing is with you.”
Jordan’s jaw fell. “You can’t be serious. How on earth could I do my job with some huge, overbearing powerhouse in a suit and sunglasses hanging over my shoulder?”
Mike laughed. “Oh, Jordan, you know as well as I do that the image you described is about as accurate as the ones out there of psychologists. I’ve known this guy for years, and he’s as professional as they come. He’s trained to blend into any type of environment and to stand out only when he needs to. I’m betting his team members are equally as good.” He crossed his arms loosely over his chest. “I’m sure you two could work out the particulars.”
She pinched her forehead around her temples where a dull ache had settled. Nothing about his solution sounded appealing to her, but she tried to approach it delicately. “Honestly, Mike, I didn’t mean to be offensive. But in all seriousness, even if I agreed to the idea, which I’m not, I couldn’t afford that type of protection. I have no idea how much it costs to hire a bodyguard, but I can imagine around-the-clock protection isn’t cheap.”
“I’ll talk to him. I’m sure we can figure something out. Besides, we can always use the money we’ve put aside for the additional marketing costs for the practice. We don’t need it. There’s already over a two-month-long wait to get an appointment as it is. And even if there weren’t, this is your safety we’re talking about here. You can’t even put a value on that.”
Mike’s last statement brought the reality of the situation back to her. It was ironic. Someone had assigned a value not on her safety, but on her life. Rigdon had tried to kill her for ten thousand dollars. Maybe she was being too hasty in rejecting Mike’s idea. There weren’t any better ones on the table. “I’ll sleep on it tonight and let you know tomorrow. Okay?”
“It’s a deal.” He leaned toward her, his eyes filled with empathy. “Jordan, I know the idea seems strange, but it’s the only thing we can think of that sounds reasonable,” he said in a matter-of-fact tone.
Derek and Karen nodded in agreement.
I’m definitely outnumbered on this one.
She locked her bedroom door and checked that the window latches were secure before she crawled into bed. A feeling of uneasiness lurked within her, like something was about to happen but she didn’t know what or when. She tossed and turned as she struggled to fall asleep, only managing to succeed in wrapping her sheets into a tight cocoon. As she straightened them out again, her thoughts led back to the staff meeting earlier that day. A bodyguard? Did she genuinely need a bodyguard?
Part of her wanted to laugh at the idea. On one hand, it sounded ludicrous. She’d always prided herself on being independent. She owned her own practice and her own house, and dealt with the related issues that came up for both. Although she worked long hours, she’d always managed to take care of herself. But would she be able to handle this threat alone? She remembered how close she’d come to being dragged away at the mercy of her attacker yesterday. The memory still made her queasy. There seemed to be no answer. Letting out a yawn, she finally felt herself being pulled into the gentle waves of sleep.
She was resting soundly when she heard
a noise. Torn between her demanding unconscious and the escalating need to rouse herself from slumber, she struggled to pry her eyes open. Someone was in her room. She didn’t see him, but she could feel his presence. Opening her mouth to scream, her panic increased when no sound emerged. She lay frozen as a figure emerged from the shadows and began to approach her bed. She could almost make out the profile of a man. And he was holding a knife.
Jordan sat up in bed screaming. Sweat poured off her body and the cotton nightshirt she wore was soaked. Taking in a slow breath, she felt her rapid inhalations become more regular. It was only a dream. A dream that had felt so real. In an instant, she’d made her decision. She’d have Mike call this friend of his tomorrow. She was used to making it on her own, but this was one time she’d have to admit she needed a little help, if not for her own sake, then for her clients. There was no way she’d be able to maintain her level of practice if she allowed herself to be in a continual state of fear or, at this rate, a constant state of exhaustion.
She sought Mike out as soon as she heard his voice in the main office the next morning. He and Nancy were hashing out plot holes from a popular television series they both watched when she walked in.
“Are you kidding me?” he said with exasperation. “You really think that could happen? The FBI isn’t going to engage a college student in a situation like that.”
“Mike, they use informants all of the time. Why not her?” Nancy countered as she slid the daily schedule sheets into the corresponding slots for each doctor. “Morning, Jordan,” she greeted her without missing a beat.
“Good morning,” she replied, dropping a letter into the mail basket. “I’m sorry to interrupt what sounds like a fascinating discussion—” she winked at Nancy, “—but I have an early client.” She eyed her friend. “Mike, do you have a second to talk?”
“Sure.” He grabbed his cup of coffee and began following her into her office. “I’ll catch you later, Nancy. We aren’t finished yet,” he teased over his shoulder.
Expert Witness: A Romantic Suspense Novel Page 3