Indiscretions

by Barbara Winkes

  “Come with me?” Jordan’s tone was almost hypnotic, or so it seemed to Ellie. She could detect the uncertainty, the longing, interwoven with the unmistakable heat. If they both felt the same, would that count as an excuse?

  In any case, Ellie was glad to escape the picture on the mantel, showing Jordan in the arms of another woman.

  They sat down on the side of the bed, kissing with more urgency than before, starting to undress each other. The sound of the zipper of her skirt triggered an unwelcome flash of conscience.

  Jordan, sensing her hesitation, sat back, waiting patiently.

  “I can’t believe I…” No, that didn’t sound right. As she was struggling for the right words, Jordan pulled her own shirt back down.

  “I’m sorry, I got carried away,” she said. “This…it’s a difficult time for you. I didn’t mean to take advantage.”

  Ellie shook her head so fast the room was spinning. “No, no, that’s not it. It’s just that I’ve never been the other woman. I thought I was cool with that, and it seems that I overestimated myself.”

  Jordan’s expression was pained. “Believe me, you’re not taking anything away from anyone. It’s hard to break something that’s already broken.”

  This was by far not enough to be a justification, but Ellie decided she would take it. For all she knew, whatever happened, it would all be over once she went back to her division. They didn’t owe each other anything.

  “I can drive you home,” Jordan said. “I didn’t even have a sip of anything.”

  Ellie tugged on her shirt, hard, and the next moment, she was on top of her, letting her feel all of that gorgeous body of hers. Ellie gasped out loud before Jordan’s mouth was back on hers, and this was even while they still had most of their clothes on, boding well for the rest of the night. Ellie’s skirt came finally down with her panties. She was too impatient and sensitized for the teasing touch of Jordan’s fingertips, her hand closing around Jordan’s and directing her where she wanted her.

  Jordan obliged, fingers spreading the warm wetness and massaging her clit until Ellie was trembling, close. She had almost forgotten how good it felt to be at home in her own body. In the past weeks, she had used mostly work, sometimes food and alcohol, to numb uncomfortable sensations. Here and now, she had undeniable proof that she was still capable of feeling pleasure. Jordan Carpenter turned out to be a good choice after all.

  She sat back, gently pressing Ellie’s thighs open, then her fingers were back, inside, two, then more.

  “You’re beautiful,” Jordan said. Not that Ellie hadn’t wondered what she might look like, her back arching, and her head thrown back, but she didn’t mind hearing it. The words themselves felt like an intimate caress, never mind the pressure building, her body tensing sharply. This time, Jordan didn’t try to slow her down. She kept up the steady rhythm, skillfully reducing Ellie to quivers and whimpers until she stilled, aftershocks still running through her body.

  When Jordan pulled her close, she was satisfied to let her body rest in her embrace, even if it was in another woman’s bed. I’m sorry, Ellie silently directed at her. You may judge me if you know what it’s like to lie bleeding on the sidewalk, not knowing whether the next blow is going to kill you.

  * * * *

  For once, the haunted look Jordan wore so often was replaced with pure bliss. Ellie licked her lips, aware of the other woman catching her breath. Good. That meant despite the boredom with Rhonda followed by the sheer terror she’d been living with, Ellie hadn’t lost her touch either.

  She got her second beer after all, then, curled up next to Jordan in nothing but a bathrobe.

  “Thank you for staying with me,” Jordan said. Ellie regarded her for a moment, finding her with the relaxed and disheveled look one only had after great sex. Great, not just good. It gave her the confidence to tackle a question she’d wondered about the whole time.

  “Where is she?”

  Jordan flinched a bit, not in an exaggerated way, just enough for Ellie to notice.

  “Bethany is at a conference. She’ll be back tomorrow night.” While Ellie contemplated what this meant for her, if anything, Jordan continued, “I’ve been thinking about moving out. Not just since today, or last week. I think we’re at this point where we should take a break, which, I guess is always code for something else. I know this sounds like a sad excuse, but it’s all I can tell you.”

  Ellie didn’t feel terribly sorry, though she knew this was far from stating that they had any shot at a relationship. The truth was neither of them was ready. That little flare of hope…treacherous and inappropriate.

  “I’m a big girl. You don’t have to explain.”

  “I want you to know, I’m not mindlessly sleeping around. I’ve been…aware of you. I thought about buying you a drink that night.” She laughed ruefully, but Ellie, startled, detected something else in her tone.

  “That night…You mean when…?”

  Jordan tightened her hold. “I wish I had. I know it’s irrational, and bad shit happens to good people all the time, but still.”

  “It’s over.”

  “Not until we catch him.”

  “Great job ruining a perfect night by reminding me the asshole is still out there.” Ellie jumped to her feet, started pacing. “Do you know I never walked that way by myself again? I hate this. I hate him.”

  “You have every right to—and it’s probably wise to be careful.”

  “Careful is great. I’m sick of being terrified.” She had to be cautious or she’d be coming close to a confession that was way too early to make, for either of them. While the chemistry between them might be undeniable, they had also used each other. That was undeniable too. “There’s no point,” Ellie concluded. “We might never catch him. I can’t let my life revolve around this. Besides, we have other things to worry about.” That other case was one thing—or the fact that Bethany was returning tomorrow. All of a sudden, Ellie felt a surge of jealousy, thinking that come tomorrow, the other woman would stake her claim.

  Only that was irrational, because, as Ellie had so eloquently stated earlier, it was her who was the other woman in this equation.

  “I want you so much, it’s driving me crazy.”

  She must have said it out loud too, because Jordan’s eyes darkened at the blunt admission.

  “Don’t worry. You have me.” For tonight only, rang unspoken, but Ellie could work with that. She didn’t have any other choice.

  * * * *

  Another night, the same procedure. Lori Gleason dreaded being awake, just as much as she dreaded being asleep with the assistance of medication. Some help that was when every time, she was inevitably dragged back into her worst nightmare.

  The basement, blackness, the angry voice of a faceless man—and pain. She knew the police didn’t mean to put this much pressure on her, but she felt like the sole responsibility was on her, to make her brain work, to remember something she wanted to forget, to help them stop him. She was sick to her stomach thinking that he might do it to other women—hat there were others before her, who hadn’t survived. She wanted to help put this animal where the sun didn’t shine, but she didn’t know how. Whatever came back to her was like a code to crack, only fragments.

  With all the pain pills and sleeping aids, she often wasn’t sure what was real, and what was part of her overactive, hyper-alert imagination. Falling. Pain, again. The sound of the sliding doors of a van falling shut. The hours, the paradox of boredom and terror, waiting for him to come back, knowing that he wasn’t going to let her go, even if she promised to be better.

  Lori cringed, wondering if she had told that to the detective who had first taken her statement. She didn’t remember all of that either. Was it important? The woman, Harding, had said every detail was important. This one—probably not important enough to have the officer standing guard call her in the middle of the night.

  He’d never planned to let her live anyway. She closed her eyes, trying to block ou
t the noise on her mind, as usually, failing. It went on even after she slipped into a troubled sleep, interrupted by random intervals of darkness and silence, just like in that creepy place. Lori was afraid of bugs, and sometimes, the ghost sensation of fabric or hair brushing against her skin made her jolt awake, her heart racing. Silly she should be more afraid of such a small creature when she was held captive by a man who had broken her arm, and promised to keep hurting her until she understood. The scream, the breathlessness, waking in a cold sweat. Always the same.

  “If you promise to be good, I might let her live.” She could hear the soft whimper.

  Her?

  With a shaking hand, still only half awake, Lori reached for the call button, before the doubts crept in and she’d change her mind, believing this was all in her imagination. When the nurse came rushing in, she asked her to go and get the officer who was standing guard. Outside, the day was dawning.

  Chapter Four

  Ellie had declined breakfast, but let Jordan talk her into a cup of coffee. It was still dark outside. Neither of them felt much like sleeping any longer. At least, Jordan reflected, this wasn’t as painfully awkward as she’d feared. They’d go back to working together, as long as Sergeant Bristol would lend Ellie to the unit. That was priority. All else…Jordan was as much at a loss as she’d been before, but perhaps she should look into finding another place. As the guilty party, she owed Bethany that much, and most of the furniture and décor had been her choice anyway. Bethany cared about appearances.

  She wasn’t feeling too crappy yet, but Jordan knew without a doubt, the emotion would come, sooner or later. You could say it took two to ruin a relationship. She was doing her part, wasn’t she? She cast a quick look at Ellie, feeling a guilty, pleasant wave of affection for the younger woman. Ellie had been beaten, but she refused to stay down. She might be a tad reckless and ambitious, but her record suggested she was an excellent cop who cared about her job and the people she’d sworn to serve and protect. She reminded Jordan of a younger version of herself. Jordan almost laughed at her line of thought. Ego tripping, much? She liked working with her. Ellie was smart and intuitive. She had caught Jordan’s eye the first time she’d noticed her during roll call, then at the bar, and finally having her had been so much better than Jordan had imagined. Flattery, in words and every one of her looks, didn’t harm either.

  Ellie had gathered her coat and purse. She walked over to Jordan and kissed her on the cheek. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

  “Yes. Of course.”

  Jordan turned her around, cupping her face in both hands. Their kiss might feel like desperation, but it was possibly also the last one, in a while, or forever.

  When the door fell shut behind Ellie, she stood in the same spot for almost a minute before she turned for the bedroom. She should have so much decency as to wash the sheets before Bethany returned. What would happen after that, she wasn’t sure.

  * * * *

  Bethany was back early, much earlier than Jordan had expected her.

  “Hey, honey, I’m home.”

  For the life of her, Jordan couldn’t determine if her words were meant to be sarcastic, even though they sounded friendly enough. So much for her detective skills. Then again, Bethany had always found a way to outwit her instincts—maybe they taught you that in profiler school.

  “Hi. Did you have a good trip?”

  She studied the woman who had shared her life and bed for the past nine years. No, that description didn’t seem to fit. What they were in each other’s lives could better be said with a term like guest, or maybe hostage.

  Bethany, as usual, looked impeccable even after the four hour flight. She claimed to never suffer from jetlag. It was all in the mind and habits—except when she was a bit more short-tempered and frustrated after those trips. She could meet someone, someday, at one of those conferences. That wasn’t like Bethany though. She wasn’t the cheater. Jordan was.

  “Well, you know. As long as it gets me from A to B.” Bethany’s tone and expression softened. “I missed you.”

  “I missed you too,” Jordan said automatically. Bethany smiled as if she’d just won an argument, and maybe that was an appropriate assessment. They shared a brief kiss before Bethany reached for the handle of her suitcase. “I see there’s coffee, good. I just put this away, and we can have breakfast.”

  “Sure.”

  Listening to the sound of her walking around in the master bedroom and the adjourning bathroom, Jordan began to set the table, bracing herself. Sure enough, after a few minutes, Bethany returned.

  “Laundry day,” she remarked.

  Jordan wasn’t sure if Bethany was waiting for any further explanation, her stomach tensing as she anticipated the exchange of words to come. She tried anyway. “Yeah. I thought I’d get it done before you come back…I expected you later.”

  “You’re not working today?”

  “Yes…I will. Later.”

  This was all Jordan’s fault, she realized. This wasn’t the first time she felt like a kid who’d been called into the principal’s office around Bethany, but of course, this time, she had a reason. She could have walked away years ago. Maybe.

  Bethany came to the table, sat. Waiting. Jordan recognized the tactic. She used it herself often enough, in the interrogation room. Here inside their home, the tables were turned on her. Bethany wasn’t trying to stare her down though. She was deeply disappointed.

  “No. Damn it, Jordan, not again.”

  Jordan could feel the heat creep up her face. “What are you talking about? You’re tired. Why don’t you lie down for a bit, and I’ll come pick you up for dinner later?”

  “Right. Two cups in the sink, you washing the sheets at six in the morning. It’s not the welcome I imagined, but why am I even surprised?”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Nothing. I don’t feel like sleeping,” Bethany said. “However, I’m starving. How about toast, could I have some? Can you handle that, Jordan?”

  Jordan supposed she deserved that. If Bethany let it go, if they could just not talk about this right now, she’d be okay. The moment she put two slices of bread into the toaster, the phone rang.

  “I’m sorry, I’ve got to get that.”

  Bethany made a dismissive gesture, and Jordan picked up.

  “Detective, it’s Officer Morrison. Lori Gleason says she remembers more details. There might have been another woman with her.”

  “Oh f—” Jordan held back the expletive, for whose sake, she wasn’t sure. Mostly, it was because it wouldn’t serve anyone. “I’ll be right there.”

  To Bethany, she said, “I need to go.”

  “Sure you do,” Bethany said indulgently, taking a sip of coffee.

  “Look, this woman has been through hell.”

  “It’s fine. Go. I can make my own breakfast, and operate the dryer.”

  “Thanks.” Somewhere between closing the door behind her and starting her car, Jordan made the transition from her desolate private life into her work persona. She needed to focus. The clock had started to tick faster.

  * * * *

  Lori was crying, apologizing, as if the other woman who might or might not be still alive was her responsibility. In some strange way, that line of thinking gave her the illusion she might be able to control something, anything…Jordan thought it was becoming hard to draw the line between the two of them—the victim who survived, and the investigator expected to solve the case. If they, God forbid, found another body, who would be responsible?

  She couldn’t fathom the idea. She couldn’t fail. Jordan had almost resigned to the fact that she wasn’t very good at handling her life. She relied on the job being the one thing she was good at, but now there was a woman out there, whose chances of surviving were diminishing by the minute. Had she been kidnapped before Lori? That wasn’t good. If he’d taken her after, it meant he was getting bolder.

  “I remember more of it now,” Lori said, her v
oice hoarse with tears and despair. She was hanging on by a thread. “He was talking crazy, like all of this was some sort of training. He’d spare her if I succeeded, but I never knew what he wanted from me!”

  “Relax, it’s okay. You’re safe now.” Jordan wasn’t sure if her words were a comfort to anyone, let alone the distraught woman, but she had to try. “Was that the only time you heard the woman? Do you think she was in the same room?”

  “Close by. I think he brought her in. Did you find the collar?”

  Jordan, taken aback, searched Henderson’s gaze, and he shook his head. For a moment she wondered if they’d come here in vain, that the other woman, and everything else, might be a product of drug-induced nightmares.

  “What collar, Lori?” she asked softly.

  “Didn’t you find it? He made me wear it, real tight. He said he’d make it tighter for every time I didn’t learn. I could never figure out what the damn lesson was!”

  Training. Lesson. Without a doubt, there was some significance in that. Jordan wasn’t too sure about the collar. All the victims had shown bruises in the neck area, but the place where Lori had been kept was pretty bare. Something didn’t add up. She’d figure it out, she always did, but until then, it would be driving her crazy, especially knowing that lives depended on her making the connection. This perp was just getting started, and he wouldn’t stop until they caught him.

  “We’ll follow up on that, Lori, I promise.” She thought of something else. The All Colors wasn’t quite the venue for this audience, but maybe Lori and Bella—Isabel—had known more. After a moment of contemplation, she asked Derek to leave, hoping Lori might be more comfortable answering her question. Ellie should be here. She seemed to have formed a good rapport with the woman. Ellie, however, wasn’t fleeing her home on a Sunday morning.

  “Lori, did you and Bella ever look for partners in the BDSM scene?”

  She shook her head. “Believe me, it’s not what you’re thinking. It wasn’t our thing, but we had some friends…There was no safe word for me in that basement. It doesn’t work that way.” Jordan thought some more research might be in order, but she trusted that Lori had a different kind of expertise in that area. However, he could have been some imposter, involving S/M elements in his fantasies. “What about your ex-husband?”