Torrid Love - Caught!

by Lorie O'Clare

Roxanne pulled the drapes to the side far enough to notice Jordan’s Porsche remained parked in the lot. She saw no one outside however, and let the drape fall with a sigh.

  “So now what do I do,” she mumbled, and walked over to where her bag and laptop sat.

  She had packed so quickly prior to driving up there that she’d forgotten the plug for her laptop. She turned it on, and noticed the icon appear announcing the battery was low. Then to make matters worse, the room didn’t have a cable hookup for the Internet. This trip to Nebraska, which at first had seemed like a good idea, now began to feel like an utter waste of her time. She needed to do something to get Aaron out of jail, but if she walked into that jail Roxanne feared she would be behind bars with him.

  And that thought terrified her. Roxanne had always been the good girl. Even as a child she’d been crushed if her parents or teachers reprimanded her for the slightest thing. She’d been raised to carry her own weight, stand on her own two feet. For the life of her, she didn’t see why Joanie thought she needed a strong man. She was strong on her own. And somehow she would muddle her way through this mess.

  But it sure would be nice to have Jordan at your side while you figured things out.

  “Well, damn.” Roxanne stared at the laptop, virtually useless to her without Internet access.

  Someone tapped on her motel room door and her heart started a mean pounding in her chest. She stood, trepidation coursing through her, and slowly opened it, peeking out into the bright sunlight.

  “Hi, are you Roxanne?” The young lady smiled, and Roxanne remembered her as the waitress who’d served them at the café.

  “I left money for my food.” Roxanne would scream if she ended up in trouble in this small town for walking out without paying her tab. “Did the men I was with not pay my portion of the bill?”

  Roxanne turned and looked around for her purse, as a knot formed in her stomach.

  “Oh no,” the woman said behind her. “The bill was paid, and you all left me a very nice tip. Thank you.”

  Roxanne quit searching for her purse and watched the woman place a bag on the table.

  “One of the men you were with came back. Jordan Hall…that’s it. He paid me nicely to drive over here and bring you breakfast.” The young woman pulled a Styrofoam container from the bag, and also one long-stemmed red rose wrapped in pale green paper. “And he said to give this to you.”

  “He sent you over here to bring me breakfast?” Roxanne brought the rose to her nose and inhaled its fragrance. She didn’t think Jordan capable of such a kind act and she held the flower to her nose, not sure what to say.

  “You’ve got a keeper there,” the woman said, and opened the container to show scrambled eggs and bacon with sliced toast on the side. “I thought you stormed out of there all upset. Is he sending you all of this to make up for being an ass?”

  The woman looked at her, curiosity flaring in her expression.

  “I guess you don’t have strangers enter your restaurant that often and then make a scene,” Roxanne said, and took a step closer to inspect the food.

  “If there is new blood in Auburn, we locals notice them,” the woman agreed with a chuckle. “Where are you all from?”

  An idea struck Roxanne and she pulled out a chair, gesturing for the lady to sit. The woman did it willingly, and slid the food toward Roxanne. Roxanne wondered if maybe the woman would have noticed the thieves in town. But how could she approach such a subject with this stranger?

  “Has any other stranger shown up recently?” Roxanne sat down opposite the woman, and picked up the pack of white plastic silverware. She ripped it open. “Possibly in the last couple days?” she added.

  The woman chewed her lip, taking the question seriously and giving it some thought.

  “You all are FBI, aren’t you?”

  Roxanne was taken back by the question. “Hardly,” she muttered.

  “Then why are all three of you here?” The woman leaned forward, putting her elbows on the table. “I doubt you know anyone in this town or you all wouldn’t have been eating at the diner and staying here at the motel.”

  “You should be the detective,” Roxanne said, and the woman grinned broadly at her.

  “I’ve seen every Murder, She Wrote episode,” the woman said with pride. She held her hand out across the table. “I’m Emily.”

  “Hi, Emily.” Roxanne took the offered hand and was greeted with a firm handshake. Emily’s hand was cool and soft. Maybe Emily would be able to tell her if any strangers had been in town. She decided on a friendly approach. “I’m Roxanne Isley, and the man who ordered this breakfast for me is my boss.”

  “Just your boss?” Emily asked, and ran a fingernail over one of the petals of the rose that Roxanne had laid on the table in between them. “Shouldn’t we find something to put this in?”

  Roxanne glanced at the rose, more concerned with learning about anything that could get Aaron out of jail. Her mind fogged as she stared down at the red petals wrapped in the green paper. She fought the exhaustion that dared to creep up on her and ruin possibly her only chance at gathering information.

  “I’m not sure what this room has to offer,” Roxanne said, and gave a feeble look at the contents of the motel room.

  “You just sit there and eat,” Emily instructed. She hopped up out of her chair, and Roxanne envied the woman her energy. “I’ll call down to the front desk and see if they don’t have a vase you can borrow while you’re here. Now what was it you were asking me?”

  Roxanne waited while Emily picked up the phone and told the person at the other end what room she was in, and that she had brought over flowers. Emily had plopped herself on the edge of the bed, and motioned with her head and a smile that Roxanne should start eating. She continued to talk to the motel employee in a calm cheerful drawl that made Roxanne think there couldn’t be a soul in the town who wouldn’t love the woman.

  “They’re sending a vase over to you,” Emily said, and placed the phone on the cradle that sat on the small dresser next to the bed. “Now what were we talking about?”

  Roxanne slid her eggs around in the Styrofoam container as she swallowed a bite of bacon. “I drove up here,” she began, and then searched for the best way to begin her query. “A friend of mine is in trouble,” she started again, and then glanced up to see Emily watching her with a concerned expression. “He didn’t do anything wrong and I need to find out who really did do it.”

  “Who did what?” Emily asked, and her pretty blue-green eyes grew wide as she studied Roxanne with a look of pure fascination.

  Roxanne sighed, and scooped a small amount of egg onto her plastic fork then stared at it. She wondered if she should share the entire story with this stranger. What harm would it do? But then maybe in her sleep-deprived state she wasn’t thinking clearly. She swallowed the eggs and stared at the closed curtains.

  “Someone up here stole some money,” Roxanne began, deciding a vague summary might be best for the time being. “And my friend tracked them on his computer and then drove up here to find them. But now he is being charged with the crime and I need to figure out who really did it so I can get him out of jail.”

  “I don’t know a thing about computers,” Emily said, and pulled one of her legs up so that her knee pressed against her over-ripe chest. The woman’s faded blue jeans moved easily with her, and Roxanne felt somewhat homely sitting next to the relaxed waitress. “But my boyfriend is a whiz with them, although he doesn’t get off work until six. Maybe he can help,” Emily offered, grinning.

  “Thanks for the offer,” she said in between bites. “But I’m sure by now whoever took the money has left town.”

  “But you are sure they were here in Auburn?”

  “That is why my friend came up here,” Roxanne explained, and pushed the Styrofoam container to the side of the table. She felt the weight of the food in her stomach and hoped eating hadn’t been a mistake. “But now he is in jail and I can’t even find out from him what
exactly he did know.”

  “Why not?” Emily frowned. “They won’t even let you visit him?”

  She hated to admit that she hadn’t even tried.

  “They think I helped him steal the money.” Roxanne watched Emily’s expression to see her reaction to her words.

  Emily’s eyes grew wide. “Did you?” she asked.

  “No.” Roxanne answered a bit too loudly and then sank back in her chair, kicking her sandals off underneath the table.

  “I believe you.” Emily reached over and patted Roxanne’s hand. “So if you go talk to your friend, they are going to take you in too? Do the cops know that you’re here?”

  “I’m not sure.” Roxanne hadn’t thought of that and glanced again at the curtains, wondering if she should expect them to show up at any minute to arrest her. “The men I was with at breakfast might have told them.”

  Emily scoffed at Roxanne’s words and held up the rose wrapped in paper. “Why would a man send a lady a rose and then call the police on her?”

  Roxanne didn’t have an immediate answer for that one. Emily slid the Styrofoam container toward her, closed the cover, and then hopped up to deposit it into the small trash can.

  “Well, it sounds to me like you need some help. What I could do,” Emily began, and then turned to face Roxanne, “I mean if you are willing to let me help, I could go to the jail for you and ask your friend the questions that you want to ask him.”

  “Oh no,” Roxanne said, and shook her head. “You don’t need to bother doing that.”

  “So what are you going to do?” Emily asked.

  Roxanne didn’t answer right away. She really had no idea what to do at this point. She stared at the room, and the large bed covered with a royal green comforter beckoned her.

  A knock on the motel room door made Roxanne jump. Emily studied her for just a second and then stood up, since she sat closer to the door, and opened it.

  “Your vase is here,” she said, and Roxanne sighed with relief that it wasn’t the police arriving to read her the Miranda rights.

  Roxanne unwrapped the rose and placed it in the vase while Emily chatted with the person at the door. After putting water in the vase, Roxanne placed the pretty flower on top of the dresser and fingered it a moment. Where was Jordan right now?

  “Well, I’ll get out of your hair,” Emily said from behind Roxanne. “Here is my name and number,” she added, scribbling it on to the pad next to the phone. “Call me if you can think of anything that you might need help with.”

  “Thanks for chatting with me,” Roxanne said. “And if you think of anyone you’ve seen in the past couple days who wasn’t from around here…”

  “I’ll let you know,” Emily finished for her.

  Roxanne grabbed one of her business cards from her briefcase and handed it to Emily.

  “You’re from Kansas City?”

  Roxanne nodded and then held the door as Emily left the motel room, and walked across the parking lot. Roxanne noticed the Porsche wasn’t out there before she shut the door and turned to stare at the empty motel room. Maybe a quick nap would help her to think more clearly.

  Thirty minutes later, Roxanne woke out of a very deep sleep to the sound of her cell phone ringing. She stared at the local number that meant nothing to her.

  “Hello,” she said, stretching under the covers while she fought the sleep that had settled so deeply in her brain.

  “Did I wake you up?” A female voice on the other end sounded cheerful, but concerned.

  “It’s okay.” Roxanne had no idea who she was talking to. “May I help you?”

  “This is Emily,” Emily said. “And I know you told me I didn’t need to help but I didn’t have anything better to do so I went to the jail for you.”

  “What?” Roxanne stood up and stared at herself in the wide mirror that hung on the wall above the dresser. “Emily, that was nice of you but you didn’t need to do that.”

  “Well, you’re right.” Emily chuckled. “Your friend has been released. At least I assume he was your friend since he was the only person they had there who was from Kansas City. I was told that he is headed back home.”

  Roxanne absently ran a hand over her hair as she stared at herself in the mirror and tried to digest what Emily had just told her.

  “Aaron is out of jail?” Roxanne wondered if that meant they had found who really had taken the money. “Did they arrest someone else?”

  “I didn’t think to ask,” Emily said. “But I thought you would want to know.”

  “Yes,” Roxanne said quickly. “And thank you. I guess that means I can head home now, too.”

  “Well, it was nice meeting you,” Emily said. “If you’re ever up this way again, look me up.”

  “I’ll do that and you do the same if you’re ever in Kansas City.” Roxanne added her goodbyes, and then clicked her phone off and tossed it on the bed. She scratched her head, staring at herself in the mirror. She looked like shit. A shower was definitely in order. She looked down at the rose, standing tall and elegant in its vase, and then noticed a piece of paper next to it. Picking it up, she stared at the familiar handwriting.

  “Sleep, beautiful lady. I’ll see you back at the office.” It wasn’t signed but she knew Jordan’s handwriting by heart.

  Jordan had been in her room while she slept. And she hadn’t been asleep that long. He had stood in this room, possibly looking down at her while she slept, and had taken time to write her a note.

  She couldn’t believe she hadn’t woken up. A warm tingle rushed through her when she wondered if he’d touched her or simply had decided to let her sleep.

  There was a side to Jordan she hadn’t noticed before, a compassionate side. Bending over to sniff the rose, she wished she could get inside that man’s head, figure out his intentions—before he made her nuts.

  There wasn’t a cloud in the sky as Roxanne pulled into her driveway. She’d enjoyed an uneventful drive home, singing along to the radio, and even taking time to check in at the office and call Jeannette Tipley, who was full of tearful gratitude. “Did you miss me?” she said to Matisse, who all but tripped her as she walked through the house.

  The cat meowed a scratchy meow until Roxanne sat on the edge of her coffee table and indulged the cat in a nice back massage.

  Her cell rang and she left the cat to find it on her dresser in her bedroom.

  “Roxanne, this is Aaron,” the voice said through the phone.

  “Aaron.” Roxanne smiled. “Are you home?”

  “Yes, and we need to talk.” His serious tone caused Roxanne’s smile to fade.

  “That sounds good,” she said. “I want to know everything that happened.”

  “I think it would be a good idea if we met somewhere public, and discreet.”

  Roxanne frowned but hurried into her dining room for a pad of paper and pen when Aaron asked her to write down an address.

  “And Roxanne,” he said. “Don’t tell anyone you’re going to meet me there.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  The first thing she noticed as she approached Aaron, who sat in the last booth along the wall of the sandwich shop, was that he looked very pale and agitated. She couldn’t blame him since the man had spent the night in jail, and then more than likely came home to a very distraught wife. But she wondered why he had picked such a run-of-the-mill place to eat, in such a faraway location. Roxanne had driven almost forty-five minutes to the town of Gladstone, and then followed Aaron’s directions to the fast food sandwich shop located in a strip mall.

  “How are you?” she asked, and slid into the booth to face him.

  “I’ve quit my job,” he said, and stared at her with bloodshot eyes.

  “What?” she asked way too loud, and then looked around the establishment. The place was empty since the lunch hour had passed, and the after-work rush hadn’t arrived yet. Roxanne shook her head. “I can’t believe it.”

  “Mr. Hall called me while I was on my way home,�
� Aaron told her.

  “I’ll talk to him,” she said. “Did he ask you to quit?”

  “No.” Aaron met her gaze and then sipped through the straw of a large soda pop. “But I did the right thing. The firm can’t afford the scandal.”

  “But you didn’t do anything wrong,” Roxanne argued.

  “No, I didn’t,” Aaron agreed. “But my wife and I agree that it would be best if we went somewhere else, a new firm, a new city—somewhere where no one will know that I spent the night in jail.” Roxanne opened her mouth to protest, but Aaron held up his hand to stop her, and then continued with his explanation.

  “Mr. Hall and I had a good conversation, Roxanne.” Aaron attempted a smile, but his dry lips spread over his teeth making him appear weak after a long sickness. “He was the one who had me released from jail, the charges dismissed, and wiped from my record.”

  This surprised her, and she leaned back in the booth, crossing her arms, to hear the rest of Aaron’s story.

  “He didn’t offer me all of the facts, and I didn’t feel it my place to ask questions, but I think Mr. Hall never believed me guilty. It took a while to complete paperwork before my release.” Aaron paused and sipped at his soda. “And there was a heated argument going on somewhere in the jail while I was there.”

  “Now tell me why you went up to Nebraska in the first place,” she began, feeling a need to sort out everything from the beginning to the point where they were now.

  Aaron snapped open his briefcase, which sat next to him on his side of the booth, and pulled out a paper-clipped group of papers.

  “I printed what I found out, although the police arrested me before I could show it to them,” Aaron said, and pulled a couple sheets from the group, then handed them to Roxanne.

  Roxanne studied the printout of an account showing a withdrawal of thirty thousand dollars. She sucked in air as she realized how the amount disappearing from Hall Enterprises was growing to an ungodly amount.

  “And what is this?” Roxanne studied the other piece of paper Aaron had given her.

  Aaron’s grin looked sheepish. “A friend of mine is a hacker,” he began. “He was able to find out exactly what computer requested the transaction.”