Expert Witness: A Romantic Suspense Novel

by Luckourt, Nicole

  He ran a hand through his already-disheveled morning hair. It wouldn’t surprise him if his hair began to grow in rows commensurate with his finger widths, he found himself raking through it so much lately. It wasn’t that he didn’t enjoy talking to her—it was more that he tried to reveal as little about himself as possible while on the job. Disclosing too much led to becoming personally involved, something he was determined not to do.

  What was worse, Chase knew Mike hadn’t missed the interplay between them. He was sure he’d hear about it next week. Mike had stipulated that Jordan was hands-off when he’d contacted him. He wanted her safe from her assailant but with her heart left intact.

  Chase had laughed at his friend’s nerve and immediately assured him he didn’t get involved with the clients he protected. And nothing would alter that. He’d meant it then, and his feelings on the matter hadn’t changed. He wouldn’t jeopardize her safety.

  He could hear Jordan moving around in the living room, so he shut his laptop down and headed out there. He’d gotten dressed in his workout clothes when he’d woken up so he’d be ready to go when she was.

  When he walked in, Jordan was pulling on her running shoes. He took in a sharp breath as he laid eyes on her. He’d grown accustomed to seeing her in conservative clothing that only hinted of her svelte form beneath the layers. Her choice of garments usually left his quite-willing imagination to fill in the curves of her figure. But as she stood in front of him now, wearing spandex shorts and a tank top, he realized his imagination hadn’t done her justice.

  Holy hell. She had a body straight out of a fitness magazine. Her arms were cut with well-defined triceps and biceps, and her long legs were shapely and toned. Yet, despite her powerful physique, she possessed an hourglass figure that was utterly feminine. The swell of her chest and gentle outward curves of her hips were all woman. A perfect blend of softness and hardness.

  “Lord have mercy,” he mumbled to himself. If he didn’t know Jordan better, he’d have thought she was testing his resolve to keep their relationship strictly professional. But from what he did know, he was convinced she had no idea how she was affecting him. Nevertheless, that was what he was—affected. And not at all pleased by the fact.

  “Morning,” she said, oblivious to the reaction her attire had elicited. “I can’t tell you how happy I am to get outside. It’s been too long for me. Are you ready?” she asked, her sentences rushed together in her excitement. Her dark hair was fastened into a secure ponytail that bobbed around as she stretched from one leg to the other.

  “Ready when you are,” he said with a scowl.

  He’d thought it had been bad last night when he’d lost himself in the process of scrubbing a counter so he could gather his composure. Composure he’d lost over the briefest of contact with her. The touch had been totally unintentional, but his body hadn’t cared. And a new day hadn’t changed much in that regard.

  “Not a morning person, huh?” she replied, noticing his glower. “Are you sure you’re up for this?”

  “I’m fine,” he said more neutrally as he headed for the door. He was trying not to be unreasonable. It wasn’t Jordan’s fault her mere presence threatened his long-term resolve.

  They jogged side by side through the streets surrounding her house. It was a beautiful fall day, and the view through her neighborhood was gorgeous. The sun was reflecting off the lake, and the air was still crisp. In Central Florida, it was almost impossible to jog during the day because the temperatures were stifling. That left mornings or nights for running, and despite the misimpression he’d given Jordan, he most definitely preferred getting out early.

  “Have you always been a runner?” she asked, breaking the companionable silence.

  “I’ve enjoyed running since high school. I started training in martial arts, and the sensei was big on physical conditioning. I never really minded though.”

  “What type of martial arts?”

  He could tell from the expectant expression she gave him that she was genuinely interested. “Shorin-Ryu. It’s an Okinawan martial arts form. One of the older styles of karate.”

  “Did you stick with it?” Looking both ways, she led him onto a different street. She was keeping a nice pace despite the steady conversation.

  He fell back into step next to her. “I still practice when I can. It’s kind of hard to explain, but I draw from it a lot in what I do now. The practices and philosophies have become a foundation.” He didn’t didn’t mention the tournament trophies or the black belt hanging in his closet. Those were the less important things he’d gained from his training.

  She pursed her lips, and it was evident she was thinking about what he’d said. “I can see that.” She nodded in agreement.

  He watched her facial muscles relax as she comprehended what he’d been trying to say and his strides lightened in response. It was incredible how well she could extract the underlying meaning in the things he shared with her. For a few seconds, he felt like he was running on air. Until the dawning crept upon him that he was divulging parts of himself again. Damn. It was like she was a neodymium magnet with a pull so powerful he didn’t even detect the divide. He ignored the gratifying stirring her acuity had generated and steered the conversation back to less personal ground.

  If she noticed the shift, she didn’t let on, and before long, she was telling him about a prank she and Karen had played on Mike while they were working on their doctorates.

  “So, you know how he is about football?” She shot him a glance, checking for confirmation as they headed up a small hill.

  He tried to focus, pulling his gaze away from the small dimple in her left cheek that accompanied her mischievous grin. “Yeah, saying he’s a fan is a bit of an understatement,” he said dryly.

  Jordan’s brow rose. “A bit?”

  “Okay. In your world, it might even be diagnosable,” he conceded.

  “Hmmm, you’re probably right.” She looked up like she was considering his suggestion.

  He lightly elbowed her in the ribs. “So get on with it. I want to hear this.” She’d piqued his curiosity when she began laughing before the first words of the story even left her mouth.

  “Well, when they lost the big game against Florida, he was devastated. Moped around the entire night, like it was the last game they’d ever play. Karen and I had early clients at the counseling center the next morning. While we were there, Karen came up with the idea to fill out a fake client intake form for him. We listed the presenting problem as grief related to FSU’s loss the night before. We even got the secretary to go in on it with us, and she completed the form so it’d look authentic down to her handwriting.”

  “Did he buy it?” Chase wasn’t sure if he was smiling about the prank or because she looked so cute completely lost in the funny memory.

  “I didn’t think he would. I mean, that would be pretty ironic. But sure enough, he drifted in later, still looking like he’d lost his best friend, and pulled the intake form out of his box. When he read the client description, he got this look of panic.” She stopped for a minute to catch her breath, not from the running but from her laughter. “Turned on his heel and was about to run to the secretary to say he couldn’t see the client. He was sure there would be too much countertransference.”

  “He said that?”

  She nodded. “Oh, yeah. In his own words, ‘There’ll be so much countertransference, I won’t be able to tell if it’s his issue or mine.’”

  “What stopped him?”

  She pressed her lips together but her eyes were still lit with amusement. “My face. Later, he said I reminded him of the cat who’d eaten the canary.”

  Chase snickered. “I can see that.”

  “Yeah. I’m sure I did. A joke like that is something I never would’ve done on my own. Karen and Mike are good for me in that way.”

  They circled back toward her house. The jog had done wonders for his mood. Looking over at Jordan, he felt sheepish about his behavior e
arlier. He wasn’t a moody guy. Maybe he needed something more than a change. Maybe he needed a vacation from work. Days lounging around outside and nights spent without his laptop within his reach. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d done that.

  Jordan flipped through the mail she’d retrieved from her mailbox. A few wisps of hair had escaped from her ponytail, and small beads of sweat dotted her hairline. If possible, she looked even hotter than when he’d first laid eyes on her this morning.

  “I completely forgot to check it yesterday,” she said without looking up as she tore open an envelope.

  Her eyes widened when she unfolded the bottom half of the paper. A car whizzed by them, but she didn’t seem to notice. The contents of the envelope had her full attention. She inhaled a sharp breath. Whatever it said couldn’t be good. Her focus continued to move back and forth across the page. With each return, her face blanched until the color had completely drained from her complexion.

  He was immediately by her side. She shifted her weight against him, and his eyes dropped to the letter she clutched in her hand. The message was printed on plain white paper.

  Did you get your run in this morning? You know you need to. I can see it on your face when you leave. You move with such purpose. Setting a steady pace until you’ve completed your route. It’s how you do everything. Like you’re ticking items one by one off a never-ending list. You make it so easy for me to study you. I’ve often wondered if you don’t enjoy it? Knowing I’m out there. Feeling my eyes on you. Speculating as to what I’ll do next. Maybe I’ve made this better for you than I’d intended. In truth, I’ve grown so used to watching you that my life will be dull when I finally get the justice you owe me. After all, you’ll be gone. But the end will be worth it. You don’t deserve to be here. And don’t worry, I’m going to make sure you get everything you deserve.”

  There was no signature or anything else that would indicate the identity of the author.

  Chase surveyed their surroundings while positioning his hand on the small of her back. The road was empty now. He caught a hint of movement from a neighbor across the street. She was putting gas into a lawn mower, her back toward them. No danger there. Oftentimes, these jerks got off on seeing the victim’s reaction to their threat, but he didn’t see anything out of the ordinary. Keeping his weapon holstered, he urged her toward the door.

  Once inside, careful not to touch any more of the surface, he had her put the letter and envelope on the entrance table. “It’ll be all right,” he said, helping her to the couch. Her body was quivering so fiercely, he could feel his hand bouncing alongside the concave arch of her spine.

  “I know.” She wrapped her arms around her midsection. Her eyes were moist. “I feel like such a coward. It’s just…I’d thought maybe…”

  Chase saw the emotions play across her face. He knew she’d thought the danger might’ve passed. It was wishful thinking on her part, but he hadn’t tried to dispel the notion. There was no reason to. Despite her denial, she was following his instructions completely. He didn’t need to constantly remind her that her life was in jeopardy. She needed to maintain some semblance of normalcy in her life. Unfortunately, that would be even harder to do now. Her protective shield had been shattered, and it incensed him. He wished he could get his hands on the bastard who was responsible. There’d be no more need for threats. No, only one encounter.

  “Jordan, look at me,” he said, taking her hand. “You’re not being a coward. Truth be known, you’re handling this situation better than a lot of the people I’ve dealt with. But it’s okay to be scared. It doesn’t make you a weak person if you admit that.”

  Jordan shot him a look of gratitude. “Thanks. I guess I’m not used to admitting that something is beyond my control. I’m usually pretty independent.”

  “I never would have guessed.” He gave her a sympathetic grin, then squeezed her hand before letting it drop into her lap.

  The corners of her mouth lifted shakily.

  “Why don’t you stay put while I go call Detective Larson. He’ll want to collect the letter so they can try to lift fingerprints and DNA from it.”

  She nodded, leaning back into the couch and closing her eyes.

  Chase came back carrying a cup of hot tea. “Here. I thought this might help,” he said, handing her the cup. “Larson said he’s on his way over.”

  “Thanks,” she said, taking the steaming cup from his hands.

  She brought the warm liquid to her lips and inhaled the peppermint fragrance. Her hands had finally stopped shaking, and the color was back in her face. It didn’t make him want to catch the bastard any less. Maybe he should have made himself a cup too.

  By the time the detective arrived, Jordan had composed herself enough to speak frankly about the letter.

  “You got it today? Regular mail?” he asked as he placed the letter and accompanying envelope into an evidence bag.

  “Yes, I’m sure it came today. And there’s a postmark, so I don’t think someone just stuck it in there.”

  “Yeah, I saw that too. That’ll give us the postal receiving facility it was processed at. Not much to go on. I’ll send it to the lab and have it checked for fingerprints and DNA. Unfortunately, we haven’t uncovered anything new related to your case. Maybe this will offer us a better lead.”

  “So, what happens next?” she asked.

  “Well, we’ll continue to investigate. I’ll be honest with you. At this point, we don’t have any strong leads.” His gaze moved to Chase before continuing on. “You were an LEO, so you know the drill.”

  Chase nodded, encouraging him to go on.

  “We acquired a court order to search Henry Rigdon’s cell phone records, but the calls he received to coordinate the attack and payoff were all made from throwaway cells. You can purchase those almost anywhere. Wal-Mart, groceries stores, even gas stations, and they aren’t traceable. I’ll continue to investigate people you’ve had contact with. Maybe we’ll be able to lift some prints or genetic material from the letter. I’ll let you know. If you think of anything else, no matter how remote it may seem, don’t hesitate to call.”

  “Sure. I’ll call you if I think of anything,” Jordan said distractedly.

  “You still okay?” Chase asked her as he closed the door behind the detective.

  “Yeah. I have no doubts the department is doing the best they can.” She massaged circles into her temples as she spoke. “I’ve reviewed thousands of pages of criminal investigative reports for evaluations, and I know things don’t always come together as easily as they do in the half-hour crime shows we all watch. I’m just racking my brain trying to make sure there’s nothing I’ve missed that would help.”

  “You’re right on all accounts. If there is something, it’ll come to you. One of the problems, no offense—” he looked at her ruefully, “—is that in your case, there are quite a few potential suspects. Maybe not as bad as a needle in a haystack, but enough that it’s going to take some time.”

  “Do you think this letter was written by the same person?” she asked.

  “I don’t know. Your guess is as good as mine. The modus operandi is vastly different. I mean, typically, these guys don’t go down in their level of threat—from hiring a hitman to writing a threatening letter. Seems the reverse would be more logical if it was the same guy. But who knows. You’ve been inside the heads of them too. Not everything is logical.”

  “That much is true. Damn it, it’s frustrating to feel like I’m sitting back and waiting for him to make the next move.” She brought her hands down on her knees with the last word. “If it weren’t in the heat of the day, I’d probably go for another run. But since it is, I’m going to go clean the bathtub. Maybe I can scrub out some aggravations.”

  Watching her go, he decided now wasn’t the best time to tell her that Saturday morning runs were a thing of the past until they caught this creep. Anger had apparently chased away some of the fear that had initially struck her. He hadn’t hear
d her curse since he’d been around her. Though he didn’t fault her. Seeing her struggle with this and being unable to stop it were causing a few expletives to run through his head as well. He heard a bucket hit the floor. Yeah, best bet was probably to wait and let the bathtub take the brunt of her frustrations first.

  Fortunately, the remainder of the weekend was uneventful. He tackled the rest of his books, while Jordan spent the majority of the time catching up on work, bills, and stuff around her house.

  On Monday morning, she was dressed and ready to go earlier than usual. The purple shadows beneath her eyes were absent, and a plate of steaming eggs and bacon greeted him as he joined her in the kitchen. The distraction method obviously worked for her.

  He was more on guard. Whoever was out there had sent them a message to make sure they both knew he was watching. What he didn’t know was what the perpetrator planned on doing next.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  She and Chase entered through the back door of the practice. Catching a whiff of freshly brewed coffee, she made a beeline for the conference room. Chase took his place at the vacant desk, and Nancy began ribbing him about taking up too much of her workspace. Jordan sputtered over her first sip of joe as she listened to Chase kid back with her. In his own defense, he was relaying the countless merits of his company. Oh, geez. Someone to keep a watchful eye over her candy dish? She snorted as she carried her steaming mug back into the main office. He’d made a mistake when he’d volunteered that one. Nancy hadn’t spotted that all of her mini-chocolate bars had disappeared into said company. Knowing that the woman relied on chocolate as her afternoon pick-me-up, Jordan waited for the fallout.