Simple Misconception (Jordan James, PI Series)

by Rachel Sharpe

  “Who’s that?” Jon demanded, his voice suddenly curt.

  “No one,” I muttered, glancing at Zane sideways. He had a smug smile on his face. I did my best to ignore it and him. “Unless I'm mistaken, Denmark and Estonia both have borders on the Baltic Sea.”

  “What’s with the weird geography lesson?” Jon snapped, agitation still evident in his voice. Thank God he’s fifteen hundred miles away. I can’t handle much more drama right now.

  “I’m trying to make a connection.” I prayed Jon would calm down. I hoped Zane wasn’t paying attention. Something told me neither prayer would be answered.

  “What?”

  “Just stay with me,” I pleaded. “So, he’s been back and forth to East Europe a lot in the last year. And he uses different names?”

  “Right.”

  “Did Sophie show anything with his name, or names like, you know, red flags? Smuggling drugs or illegal goods or getting searched by TSA?”

  “She’s not gonna get red flagged herself by looking up too much.” His response was abrupt. I remained silent. “Trust her, okay? She’s doing her best to help. She always does.”

  “You both always do,” I corrected. “I’m sorry, Jon. I’ve been up all night. Last night sucked. It’s just been one bad thing after another since I got home.” I glanced at Zane. “I just want to make sure Natalie’s safe.”

  He clicked his tongue. “She’s a piece of work herself.”

  For some reason, his comment aggravated me. “That’s kind of harsh.”

  “Kind of true,” he retorted. “I don’t know who you think she is, but she’s bad news.”

  “You’re right. You don’t know her,” I snapped. “Natalie was one of my best friends growing up.”

  “I thought that was Heather.”

  “My other best friend.”

  “Funny you’ve never mentioned her.”

  “So?”

  “When was the last time you saw this girl?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe six years?”

  “So she was one of your best friends, but couldn’t bother to keep in touch with you after high school?” His words were jarring, but true. I didn’t answer. “What do you know about her?”

  “I heard different things from different people,” I glanced back at Zane.

  He had gotten back onto the interstate. I suddenly realized I had no idea where we were going. I don’t know why this hadn’t struck me until that moment. I didn’t recognize that I, too, could be in danger. My face heated and my heart began pounding in my chest. I fought to remain calm. That little voice inside my head, the one that would keep me from doing stupid things like getting into cars with strangers, had failed me. Again.

  I knew enough to defend myself. I had used my training before, but this was different. Fighting off an assailant on the roof of a high-rise building and a lone gunman within close quarters in a London flat in no way resembled stopping a large, muscular man driving a car at high speed. In my intense fixation with finding Natalie, I might have set myself up for my own kidnapping. Or worse. Only one other thought crossed my mind: I had to keep Jon on the phone.

  “Why do you say she’s a piece of work?” I demanded, swallowing hard. My throat felt dry and scratchy.

  “Well, she’s not exactly Miss Goody Two Shoes like your other friend.” I heard some banging around in the background then what sounded like his Keurig machine whizzing. “Girl’s been in a whole mess of trouble.”

  “Like what?” I pressed, out of both curiosity and concern.

  “I did tell you I had a late rehearsal last night, right?” I didn’t reply. He groaned extra loudly for effect. “I don’t remember everything. First, you call me at I don’t know what time. I managed, somehow, to text the info to Sophie. Then she calls me an hour later with way too much information to remember on half an hour’s sleep. Just something about a couple DUIs and possession charges.”

  “Possession? Possession of what?”

  “Dimwitted high school friends.” After a pause, his tone changed. “You’re acting really weird. Your voice is off too. Is something wrong?”

  My heart pounded in my ears. I tried to think of something I could tell Jon that would make him realize I could be in trouble. Nothing came to mind. I must have sounded like a babbling lunatic. When I realized we were heading toward the Crescent City Connection, my nerves were on fire. I muttered, “Just keep talking.”

  “What?”

  I shot another sideways glance at Zane. He appeared either deep in thought or focused on the road. Outside the window, I saw the sun rising above the distant horizon. Massaging my neck, I felt beads of cold sweat at its base. It may have been another mildly muggy Louisiana Christmas, but that sweat had nothing to do with weather.

  “You said possession charges. Drugs, right? Were they here? I mean, in the States? Or were they in Estonia? Somewhere else?”

  “Again. You’re asking way too much of me. The fact that I have anything for you is miraculous. A Christmas miracle.”

  “Jon, this is important.” I held up my hand to shield my eyes from the sun’s bright beams. I couldn’t remember the last time I watched a sunrise, especially in New Orleans. As we drove across the Mississippi River, I stared at the dark, flowing water. A steamboat was docked with her crew anxiously hurrying about before the day began. A ferry landing was oddly empty. Two joggers in neon orange and red sweats made their way along the levee. The sun shone upon them, giving them a vibrant, rosy glow. The scene was strangely beautiful.

  “Yeah, yeah. When has something you’ve called me about not been important?”

  I clenched my jaw. I felt myself getting more and more irritated with Jon’s usual antics. It was becoming harder to ignore them. Zane had done nothing to cause me legitimate concern. I might have been wasting time. It was beginning to seem more likely that I was overreacting.

  “So what you’re telling me is you don’t have anything for me, right?”

  “You catch on quick.”

  My face grew warm again. “Right,” I said, gritting my teeth. “Well, if you hear from Sophie or if you remember anything, call me?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Thanks. Bye.”

  “Wait. Jordan?”

  “Yeah?”

  “You said something about Estonia, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Come to think of it, she said one of the flights might have been to Tallinn. Did I say that already?”

  “You know how they say nothing good ever happens after two in the morning?” she had asked. “Yeah, that goes double in former Soviet republics.”

  My mind flashed back to the moment I ran into Natalie at the coffee shop. She had the biggest, carefree smile on her face. It had only been a couple days, but it felt like a lifetime ago. I frowned.

  “Did anything about that flight stand out as unusual?” I asked Jon, feeling excited at the prospect of an actual, real connection.

  I heard him exhale a frustrated sigh. After several moments of silence, he groaned, “Sometimes, I feel like I may as well be speaking a different language. Do you ever listen to me?”

  I clamped my teeth together. I counted to ten. It should have been a comfort that he was behaving like his normal, obnoxious self. But I didn’t have time to focus on that.

  “I know. I know. I’m lucky you answered the phone before noon and had something to tell me. I’m not trying to harass you, but this is—”

  “Important?” He used an irritating singsong voice.

  “Right.”

  “Look, that’s Sophie beeping me. I’ll call you back.”

  I hadn’t heard a beep. Even if he was lying, I didn’t feel much like talking to him anymore. Having ended the call, I stared down at my phone. When I finally g
lanced up, I realized we were on the Westbank.

  That anxious feeling, that had made my flesh burn like I was being pricked by thousands of red-hot needles, returned. I swallowed hard. I tried not to let my imagination run away with me. I leaned my elbow against the car door. I cleared my throat.

  “Uh, where are we going?” I asked, trying to sound disinterested.

  “My place.”

  I felt another cold sweat wash over me.

  “Uh, why?”

  “You’re being kidnapped.”

  20

  I felt a lump form in my throat the size of a golf ball. The knot in my stomach tightened. I licked my lips, chapped from the cold, dry New England winter air. I tried to swallow the lump. No such luck. I cleared my throat.

  “Um, what?”

  “I'm kidnapping you.” His eyes were focused on the road.

  The longer we drove, the more cars appeared on the interstate. It became more and more congested. Zane was forced to pump his brakes. Soon, he began weaving through the traffic. His recklessness would have bothered me more on any other occasion. At that moment, it was the least of my concerns. My mind was reeling at his words.

  “You’re joking, right?”

  “What do you think?”

  There was less emotion on his face than in his voice. I slowed my breathing to keep it even and steady. I considered how to answer him. Before I could, he let out a low snicker. He glanced at me.

  “Really?” A smirk saturated in amusement and contempt appeared on his chiseled face. “If I were gonna kidnap you, why the hell would I announce it? Especially while you have a cell?”

  My face flushed. My heartbeat slowed. I sat in silence. I was beyond embarrassed. I looked like an idiot. Here I was, the same woman who had solved an international kidnapping and cold murder cases. Yet I couldn’t tell when a jerk was being sarcastic.

  I decided it had to be because I was home. Whenever I came back here, everything fell apart. It didn’t help that my relationship, actually all of my relationships, were a mess. I needed to get my mind right. Fast.

  “Where are you really going?” I crossed my arms, hoping to play off the awkwardness.

  “I need caffeine.”

  “Okay, so, like, a coffee shop or something?” I paused. “You wouldn’t be willing to stop by Dunkin’, would you?”

  He furrowed his brow. “Dunkin’ Donuts? Only Dunkin’ I know of is in Metairie. I’m not driving that far. Plus, Dunkin’ sucks.”

  His comment, after everything else he had said and done, left me ready to jump across the center console. I wanted to strangle him. I was tired of him being here. I was tired of dealing with his attitude. I was tired of him. Period. I was about to tell him when my phone rang.

  “What?”

  “Jordan?”

  “Rick?” My heart leapt into my throat.

  “Is everything okay? You sound upset?”

  Zane slammed on the brakes so hard I was propelled forward in my seat. Looking up, I saw we were in front of a local coffee house. Posters on the tinted, glass doors promoting a Christmas concert at West Jefferson High School probably meant we were somewhere in Harvey. He didn’t look at me as he parked the car, opened the door and walked inside. For a moment, I thought he might have left the keys. Unfortunately, no such luck.

  “Jordan? Are you okay?” Rick repeated. His voice sounded strained. “You’re starting to worry me. What’s wrong?”

  “Just bad luck.” I sighed as I shut my eyes.

  “What’s going on? Is there anything I can do?” I didn’t reply. “Jordan?”

  I thought about telling him. Rick had always been a calming and rational presence in my crazy life. The worst issues seemed simpler after I shared them with him. I knew that even with our relationship on hold, he loved me. He would do whatever he could to help. It was one of the millions of reasons to love him. And I did. But he was forty-five hundred miles and one giant ocean away. I couldn’t rely on him to fix this. I had to do this on my own.

  “It’s okay,” I forced a smile so he could hear it in my voice. “I was out with a friend last night. She kind of disappeared on me.”

  “Kind of? Is she all right? Are you? Do you need anything?”

  Still wearing the fake smile, I lied. “I’m fine. I’m sure she is too.”

  “Heather never struck me as the type to run off.”

  “It’s not Heather. Another friend. Natalie. You never met her.”

  “Oh.” His voice sounded flat. “Well, are you sure there’s nothing I can do?”

  “Not when you’re thousands of miles away,” I answered. He didn’t reply. “Sorry, Rick. It’s been a long night, but it’s fine. Really.”

  “Okay.” He sounded unconvinced, but also unwilling to push me.

  I ran my fingers through my hair. After making it through a few choice knots, I massaged the base of my neck. It was as tender as it was stiff. I really need to have Alicia refer me for physical therapy. My neck pain is getting worse.

  “Jordan? What do you think?”

  Crap.

  “Uh . . .”

  “If you’d rather I wait . . . I just thought, why spend Christmas alone in London when I could be with you in New Orleans? Then we could fly back to Boston for a few days before I have to head back.”

  I didn’t mind the idea. “But what about your job?”

  “What about it? I’m the boss. If I want to take a few extra days, no one is going to stop me.”

  “What about your mom? I mean, if you’re coming back to the States early, don’t you think she would like to see you at Christmas?”

  He was silent. Then, in a voice barely audible, he said, “If you don’t want to see me, just say so.”

  I felt like I had been punched in the gut. “What?”

  “Jordan, last week I felt like we hit a turning point. Like, things were getting better. I don’t know. I know long distance isn’t easy. I hate this. I didn’t want this.”

  But you took the job.

  “I’m trying to make it work,” he continued. “But, I don’t know, the last few days, since you’ve been back in Louisiana, things seem more . . . strained. I just want to see you. I just want to be with you.”

  I was silent. Things had been better. It was rough for a little while, but it felt like within the last week or so, things were improving. It’s not that they were terrible to begin with. But when your boyfriend of two years decides to propose to you and follow that up with an oh, by the way, I have to move to London to start a new branch of my accounting firm, it kind of knocks the wind out of you.

  I had suggested we take a break to figure things out. For both our sakes. I liked London. It was a nice city. Rick had connections there so it didn’t feel foreign. But my life was in Boston. I had worked really hard to start my private investigation firm and Boston was home. It felt more like home to me than New Orleans ever did. The idea of leaving it, of leaving my career, and of leaving my friends, like Jon, caught me off guard. That was why I suggested the break.

  Rick hadn’t been thrilled. I think he assumed such a romantic proposal would be met by a starry-eyed and heartfelt “Yes!” Not an awkward “We should take a break.” Still, I knew I couldn’t do it. I loved him, yes, but something was holding me back. Ever since that night, I had been trying to figure out what that was.

  Jon was certain that he was the reason I couldn’t say “I do.” That theory led to another awkward encounter. This one was between Jon and me, right before my flight home earlier this week. But that’s another story. Before I had a chance to respond, Zane climbed inside the car. He slammed the door with such force the whole vehicle shook. All I needed was to discuss my turbulent love life in front of him.

  “Rick, I’m sorry,” I said. In Zane’
s hand was a cup of what appeared to be straight, black coffee. “I want to talk about this, I need to, but it’s just not a good time. Can I call you back? Please?”

  “Fine.” He ended the call.

  I was stunned. Rick had never been rude to me. I knew he had a temper, but it was hard to believe. When I first heard about his troubled youth over the summer, I was shocked. I learned a lot more about him last summer. He was related to ambassadors and prominent politicians. He spent time abroad. And he had some run-ins with the law a long time ago. Still, none of that matched the man I had spent the last two-and-a-half years falling in love with.

  “Trouble in paradise?” Zane took a long sip.

  “Bite me,” I muttered.

  “Tempting, but no.”

  Before I could say another word, my phone rang again. It was Jon.

  “Aren’t you popular?” Zane quipped.

  “Tell me something good.”

  “That was Sophie.” Jon let out a long yawn. “Man, it’s early. I really don’t know why I’m up right now.”

  “Jon!”

  “Yeah, yeah.” Another yawn slipped out. “Okay, not gonna lie. Last night took a whole lot out of me. I mean, that director . . . he may be a creative genius, but he can’t organize a dress rehearsal to save his life. It was abysmal. Possibly the worst one I’ve ever had. Should have taken two hours, tops, with a few breaks for corrections. We were there five. Five! I’m thinking about writing a letter. I’ve used two K-cups so far this morning. I'm still not really awake. But I’ll tell you what she said.”

  “Please,” I replied, trying hard to keep my cool.

  “All right. So, Sophie said—I don’t know— she’s never seen anything like this. I mean, she doesn’t see this kind of stuff often because, you know, national security, jail time, blah, blah, blah, but she said she’s going to have to keep looking into it.”

  My heart sank. “So you don’t have anything?”

  “Did I say that?” I knew he was challenging me to argue. I just waited. “She said she’s going to have to keep looking ‘cause there’s a whole lot to this. The stuff she’s come across . . . She thinks it’s huge.”