Chapter 2
Jordan picked up a note from the kitchen counter.
Don’t forget dinner at my parents’ house tonight. Love you. Ty.
She frowned. Like she didn’t have enough anxiety just trying to figure out how to be in a relationship. Why did she have to meet the parents? At least he hadn’t invited them to the ranch; thank God she didn’t have to fake her way through cooking a meal. Not that she could actually find the stove under all the crap.
She and Ty had moved into a big old estate and horse ranch with the intention of restoring it. Apparently, Ty had thought about purchasing the vacant property for years. Knowing his determination to once again see the house and stables vibrant and alive, she believed the end result would be spectacular. Right now, the place was a disaster.
The cluster of odds-and-ends junk was driving her mad. She eyeballed Ty’s trash on the countertop. “Breakfast of champions,” she murmured, picking up the empty milk carton and throwing away his Heath candy wrapper. Ty’s dream was to own horses, but the man needed a damn dairy farm the way he went through milk.
She didn’t consider herself compulsive about cleanliness, but she’d never had to live with anyone else’s candy wrappers and milk cartons piling up, either. Not to mention the staggering number of tools the man left everywhere. In one fell swoop, she shoved all the tools and junk into an empty drawer and wiped down the countertops and table.
Friend and co-worker FBI Special Agent Ted Bahan was on his way over to check out their new home. At least that was the excuse he gave for the impromptu visit. After this morning’s dream, Jordan knew it was very possible her vacation was about to get cut as short as Ty’s. She’d lay money on Bahan having a new case for her.
Either that or he had information about her dad.
A week ago, one of Bahan’s FBI buddies made an offhand remark about working with a Special Agent named Jack Delany. Jack Delany had been Jordan’s father’s name, and Jordan was still attempting to blow off the remark as nothing more than a coincidence.
Beauty must have heard Bahan’s car, because she began barking. It was the first time Jordan had heard the sound. More of a lazy
roo-roo-roo
than a bark, but she decided it counted all the same.
“Hey, you do have a voice. I was beginning to think that mean old coyote had chewed out your barker.” Jordan patted the dog’s head and made her way to the front of the house.
Bahan was walking up the porch steps when she opened the door.
Beauty stepped out in front of her.
Bahan stopped abruptly. “What is that?” He flashed an amused smile. Most days, his normal blond-haired, blue-eyed GQ-ness made lesser FBI agents appear downright frumpy. Today’s dress code was a rare event. He wore jeans in lieu of one of his expensive suits.
“What do you mean? It’s my dog, Beauty.” Jordan fought off a smile. Beauty’s name was more ironic than accurate. And would likely remain so until her hair grew back.
“What happened to it?”
“She ran into a coyote out in the woods behind the house. The vet had to shave her so he could stitch her up.”
“The man was no artist with a razor, was he?” Bahan chuckled and scratched Beauty’s head. “Why does it not surprise me that
your
dog would go off half-cocked and pick a fight she couldn’t possibly win?” He shook his head. “The FBI gives classes on how to properly evaluate a threatening situation. Maybe you and your dog could both benefit from the course.”
Jordan snickered. “Shut up, dickhead.” Still, she couldn’t deny that a couple of months ago her face would have made Beauty appear downright pretty in comparison. A three-hundred-pound drug dealer had beaten the hell out of her and left her to die in a deserted field. Ty had saved her life, but she had to admit that she and Beauty both
looked like they’d been knocked around with the same ugly stick.
Bahan followed her inside. “Where’s McGee? I thought he’d be here. I brought him a case of beer as a house-warming.”
“He was planning on it, but he got called in on a case this morning. A murder. Which almost never happens around here, so it was a pretty big deal.”
She gave him the tour of the house, let him poke around, and then led him into the kitchen.
He walked to the back window. “Man, when you go all domestic, you do it right—house, dog, a big chunk of land. This place is huge.”
“I know, right? Who’d have guessed?”
“And look at the size of that barn.”
“Don’t let Ty hear you call it that. It’s a stable, not a barn. Meant to house race horses, not keep chickens and tractors. Apparently, there’s a difference.”
She fired up the coffee maker and Bahan leaned a hip on the counter and smiled at her. “You look good. Like you’re really happy.”
She paused and thought about Bahan’s observation. She did feel more alive, more like a normal person—with real hope of having a normal life—than she ever had before. “I really am happy, I think.” She turned away from Bahan’s assessing stare, embarrassed by how huge those words felt.
“Are you blushing? Jordan Delany, warrior cop of the drug world?” he teased. “Holy crap, McGee’s made you soft. You’re like a schoolgirl with a crush.”
She grabbed a kitchen towel and snapped it at him. “I’m a schoolgirl who will kick your ass.”
He dodged her attack. “Yee-haw, bad-ass Jordan Delany is now a ranch mama. You’ll probably be pregnant and barefoot the next time I visit.”
She flipped him off and turned to grab the coffee mugs.
“I’m just joking around.” His voice was softer now, more sincere. “I’m happy for you. Everybody deserves a little domestic happiness, I guess.”
She shot him a sideways glance. “Yeah. What about you?”
“Everybody who wants it, that is,” he said, quickly backtracking. “I know nothing about domestic happiness. The only family time I ever enjoyed was when my old man passed out before he stumbled his way home. I’ll take bad guys and bullets any day over this domestic crap.” He stared down at Beauty. “No offense.”
They went to the table and sat. “Well, don’t tell Ty, but sometimes all this domestic crap scares the hell out of me, too. But if I’m ever going to give it a shot, I think now’s the time. And I think now might also be a good time to pull back on some of the long-term undercover. Don’t get me wrong, I still want to do the job. It’s just—”
Bahan held up his hand. “I get it. It’s a hard life. Especially when you’re starting a relationship. Technically I’m not your boss, though. I only put the task forces together. You’re going to have to run this by your commander.”
“I’ve already mentioned it to him.”
Bahan shook his head. “Jordan Delany in love. I never thought I’d see the day. You are
really
screwed.”
She smiled over the top of her mug. “Seems that way, doesn’t it.”
Bahan reached into his computer bag and pulled out a file folder. He slid it toward her. “I was hoping McGee would be here when I gave this to you.”
Neither of them spoke. The innocent manila folder sent Jordan’s heartbeat into a wild, racing rhythm. A file folder wasn’t how Bahan typically got her up to speed on a new case. She turned it enough to see the label.
Jack Delany
.
Her stomach churned as if the coffee had been tainted with spoiled milk. “So it’s true?” she murmured.
He nodded. “It’s true.”
“My dad was FBI?”
“For about seven years,” he confirmed. “He was a St. Louis city cop before that.”
She swallowed, choking down a lifetime of believing her dad had been a drug dealer. “So I’ve hated my dad for twenty years, called him every name in the book because I thought he was dealing drugs. But in reality he was doing the same job I do?”
“I’ve only had the file since yesterday, so I haven’t had time to comb through every detail yet. It looks like he was in deep cover with a cartel when things went south for him and another agent. The case file has been sealed for twenty years. It only became available a month or so ago. It’s all on this disk.” He held up the plastic case. “But I’d like to keep the disk.”
Puzzled, she looked at him. “Why would you keep it?”
“I could put together a better picture for you if you give me some time. Some of the information I’ve printed for you to see, some I haven’t. If I keep the disk, you could ask questions any time you need answers. I can help you—”
She pushed back from the table. “I don’t need you to go through the file for me. Do you think I need a damn keeper?” She stood and stomped over to the sink, then slammed down her coffee mug.
“I didn’t say you needed a keeper.” He followed her. “There are reasons cops aren’t allowed to investigate cases related to them. Realistically, if it were my family, there might be things I wouldn’t care to know or see.”
“That’s bullshit. You’d want to know every last detail, just like I do. I mean seriously, I already tried and convicted my dad. Spent twenty years convinced he was nothing more than a drug-dealing loser only to find out he was a cop. Is there really anything else that could make me feel like a bigger shit right now?”
“Believe it or not, I think so.” He paused until she made eye contact. “There are crime scene photos on the disk.”
She shrugged. “So?”
“So?” he repeated. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
“You think I haven’t seen crime scene photos? How long have you known me?”
“I think you haven’t seen them of your own family’s murder.”
“I was there, Bahan.” She slammed a hand down on the old ceramic countertop. “What part do you think I don’t remember? The gunshots? Hiding in the closet with the smell of vomit and piss all over me? Crawling through my dad’s blood to try to shake him awake? And you’re going to stand there and tell me I can’t take whatever is on that disk?”
Bahan went still for a moment, then rubbed at the back of his neck. “I’m not saying you can’t take it. I’m saying you don’t have to take it, at least not alone.”
She closed her eyes and took a breath, reminded herself he was trying to help, trying to be a good friend. He didn’t deserve her wrath. “I’m sorry. I know you’re trying to protect me from an ugly truth.” She laid her hand on top of his. “It’s way too late for that. I need to know what really happened that night.”
“Do you? Do you need to know every little detail? Because it seems like you’re happy now. What if that folder takes you back to a place that you’ve spent a lot of years trying to get away from? Digging up the past could make everything worse.”
She thought about the reoccurring nightmares, about all the questions, about the twisted resentment for her father that had been based on a lie. “It could also make everything better. I think I need to take that chance.”
He studied her face, her posture. She made no other pleas. Finally, he nodded. “Okay. Since McGee’s not here, I’ll stay. We can go through it together.”
***
“So what do you think?” Ty asked Isobel as they stared down at the lifeless body of the young blonde nursing student.
“Well, whoever it was did a number on her. Her face is covered in blood. But ultimately, I think cause of death was strangulation.” Isobel bent down and looked closer at the victim’s neck. “Could be a head trauma we can’t see, but I doubt it.”
“I agree. Someone was angry and gave her a few good blows to the face, but I’d also wager that whatever caused those marks on her neck is what killed her.” Ty gently turned one of her hands over. “She wasn’t wearing gloves. Hopefully she’s got enough DNA under her nails to fry someone.”
“All right.” Isobel stood. “Pictures are done. Diagrams are done. I’ll tell the coroner he can have her if you’re okay with it.”
Jonesy approached with an evidence bag in his hand. “If she had any cash, it’s gone, but her iPhone and iPad weren’t touched.”
“Yeah,” Ty said, “this wasn’t a mugging gone wrong. Even if she dropped the purse somewhere back there and he didn’t see it, a thief would’ve taken those diamond earrings. If they’re real, you could pawn them for a good chunk of change.”
“You ready to talk to her roommates?” Isobel asked.
“Lead the way, Detective Riley,” Ty answered.
She waited until they were out of earshot of the other cops. “You can still call me Issy. Detective Riley is a bit formal, considering.”
“I was trying to keep it professional.”
“That’s your loss,” she said with a flirty smile.
“Isobel.” He stopped walking and waited for her to turn around. “There’s something I should make clear. I’m seeing someone.”
“Seeing someone the way you saw me that night? Or is there more?”
“A lot more,” he said. “We’re living together.”
“I guess that’s your loss, too,” she said and winked at him. “That doesn’t mean you don’t still owe me a meal.”
“Fair enough,” he said with a great deal of relief. Isobel had taken the news well, and he felt better for being upfront. Still, no need to shoot himself in the foot. The less Jordan knew about Isobel Riley, the better.
***
“The thing about losing someone when they’re young is that they never age in your mind. I don’t have any memories of him ever being in a uniform. Mom told us he was a salesman.” Jordan ran a fingertip over the picture of her father in his dress blues. “I wonder what he’d look like today, twenty years later? And what my mom and Katy would look like?”