03_Cornered Coyote (8 page)

"Mrs. Brooks," the portly female uniformed guard said, "You're free to go. Bond has been posted for you. You'll be arraigned day after tomorrow in Judge Adam's courtroom. There's a man named Jordan Kramer waiting for you in the visitors’ waiting room."

Maria walked out the holding room door and saw Jordan. He stood up and crossed the room in three long strides, holding her tightly against him for several long moments. "Maria, Maria," he whispered, "I’m so sorry. I honestly believed you wouldn't be arrested. I heard the only reason the DA did it was because of calls he got from voters who had read an article written about us in some tabloid. Let’s get out of here and go home."

She turned back to the guard. "Thanks for your kindness. I really appreciate it."

Jordan led her to the parking lot and with his remote, opened the trunk of his silver Lexus. Maria stared at it and decided that the art consulting business must be doing better than she’d thought. She was pretty sure he couldn't afford a car like this on a detective's salary.

“Did you post bail for me? I have enough money and I could have done it."

"No. I got a call from Slade Kelly, a private investigator who works for Darya. She put up the required bail in cash. He also told me he’d made arrangements to have an attorney represent you. I know of him and have no idea why he agreed to take the case. I’m really quite surprised. He's well-respected in legal circles and I was told he wasn't taking any new cases. You're going to meet with him tomorrow. There's a lot I need to know, but it can wait until then. I think it would be a good idea if you taped your conversation with him. That way you’d only have to tell your story once. Okay?" he asked, looking sideways at her.

"Jordan, I'm still in shock. I knew this was a possibility, but I never let myself believe it would happen. My poor parents. What if I'm convicted and have to spend time in prison, maybe for the rest of my life? I don't want to live if that happens. Maybe I should just do everyone a favor and fade into the sunset."

"Stop it, Maria. That's not funny. We're going to fight this with everything we've got. On the plus side you've got a great attorney."

"Jordan, you know what really scares me? I've read about some of the things that happen to women in jails and prisons. If the guards don't want them, there are a lot of women who do. I’ve heard they make women their sex slaves and gang-rape is pretty common.  I can’t go through that. The thought of being raped by a bunch of women makes me sick. I’ve never told you about how I was gang-raped when I was twelve.”

“What? You’ve got to be kidding! Who would do that to a twelve-year old child? That’s really sick.”

“No, I’m not telling you about it tonight. I’m too tired to go into it right now. I promise I’ll tell you all about it, but I can’t go through a gang-rape again,” she said, as tears streamed down her cheeks.

"Slade said something about how he’s pulled some strings to get you assigned to a cell in isolation the first few weeks. Evidently the judge who's going to hear your case never grants bail when it's a murder case, so it looks like you’ll be in jail until your trial.”

"Jordan, I’m not sure I can do this. And if I’m convicted, I’ll go to prison and then what?”

"Things will work out, sweetheart. We'll have to wait and see what your attorney says. I know this is a living hell for you, but for the next day and a half let's just enjoy each other. I've waited so long for you to come back and even with all of this, Maria,” he said, “my body has a mind of its own. Remember, no matter what happens, I love you."

Jordan drove down the alley next to his house and pressed the remote control button, opening the garage door of his red-tiled home. As he pulled into the driveway of his Sunset Beach oceanfront home, Maria noticed a man standing behind a tree with what looked like a camera. She sensed he was looking directly at her and she felt the hair on the back of her neck stand up.

It's nothing. I'm overly sensitive because of everything I’ve been through. He's probably just taking a walk with his dog.
She looked to see if he had a dog with him. He didn’t.

Jordan didn't notice the man. “I'll run the car in after I get your bags out of the trunk." he said. "This is where I live. Lupe was here yesterday and cleaned the house. She's really looking forward to meeting you. Do you want a tour of the house now or later?"

"Now," she said, opening the door that led from the garage into the house. She walked past the laundry room and into Jordan's office, mesmerized by the view of the moon lighting up the ocean directly in front of her. "This is incredible. You told me you lived on the beach, but I didn't realize you meant that you actually lived right ON the beach. Oh Jordan, it's beautiful."

"Come on,” he said, taking her by the hand. “Let me show you the rest of the house." He led her up to the second floor. The great room was painted in Tuscan shades of soft mustard with accents of sienna. Just as in Jordan's office, the room had a wide expanse of floor-to-ceiling windows which looked out onto the beach. The kitchen area was huge. Jordan may not have cooked much, but he’d spared no expense when it came to the kitchen appliances. There were beautiful hand-painted tiles covering the counter tops. Four kitchen stools were situated at the counter overlooking the ocean. Behind the kitchen was a guest bedroom with a full bathroom.

A large oak dining table that could easily seat twelve was situated between the kitchen and the windows. On the opposite side of the room were comfortable looking couches and chairs upholstered in mustard, sienna, and sky blue plaids. Oak tables and brass lamps warmed the room. Piles of art books and magazines covered every square inch of table space. Deeply fatigued, all Maria wanted to do was stretch out on one of the couches and never leave.

She turned to Jordan, "I'm glad the dining table’s so large. I don't think I’ve ever told you that I'm the oldest of eleven children. When we have my family over for dinner, they'll fill it up."

Jordan gave her a hug and whispered in her ear, "Yes, we'll definitely have them over for dinner.”

“Now for the upstairs,” he said. The third floor had two bedrooms at the rear of the house with a huge master bedroom on the front side overlooking the beach and the ocean. Wall to wall bookcases were separated by a king size bed and headboard which had been built between them. The grey tiled master bathroom had a large bathtub with water jets and a separate shower with five jets spaced vertically, a very luxurious arrangement. The color scheme upstairs was the same as downstairs. It was one of the most beautiful homes Maria had ever seen, but other than the profusion of art books, it didn’t look very lived in. She decided the first thing she’d do when she got out of jail was give it a woman’s touch.

Jordan walked over to her and pulled her close to him. “God, I've missed you," he said, taking her into his arms and kissing her deeply. She put her arms around him and gently began to work her tongue into his moist mouth. He groaned with pleasure, bringing his hands around in front of her and unbuttoning her blouse. She arched her head back as he reached behind her, unzipped her dress and unclasped her bra, letting them both fall to the floor. His mouth worked its way down her throat. One hand gently caressed her nipple as his mouth found her other nipple. "Oh, Jordan, I've missed you so much. This is all I've thought about for weeks."

Edging her back to the bed, he unloosened his belt and unzipped his pants. He lowered his face to her stomach, covering it with soft butterfly kisses, then took her lace thong in his teeth and pulled it down, exposing the soft velvet black mound between her legs. He could smell her and knew she was wet. Jordan gently spread her legs apart, and teased her clitoris with the tip of his tongue. She arched her back, spasming. “Jordan, Jordan, please, I can’t wait any longer for you. Take me, damn it. Take me now,” she moaned.

He stepped back, pulled his pants off and gently lowered himself directly into her, thrusting in and out, slowly at first, then faster and faster as he started to lose control. Each stroke brought him closer and closer to the brink. Finally, he couldn’t stand it any longer. "Maria," he said raggedly, "Now! Now! For God’s sake!" Her climax matched his as thoughts of jail, prison, and the future were lost in the overwhelming passion of the moment.

A few minutes later he rolled off and pulled her to him. They lay there for a long time, holding each other, bodies covered with fine beads of sweat although it was winter in Southern California. "Welcome home, Maria," he whispered. He looked over at her and saw that she was already asleep. Even with all of the bad things that had happened that day, it was the happiest he'd been in a long, long time.
It’s so simple,
he thought,
when I’m with her, I’m complete
.
All I want is for her to be in my arms like this.
As he was drifting off it suddenly struck him that he hadn't used a condom, he’d gone bareback. He swore inwardly and promised it would never happen again.

CHAPTER 13

Maria woke up and looked around the room, trying to figure out where she was. Then it all came back to her. She remembered she was in Jordan's home and the warm and comforting hand resting on her breast was his. The events of the prior day came flooding back to her like a bad nightmare - landing in Los Angeles, being arrested and taken to the Riverside County Jail, and being treated like a common criminal. Her mug shot had been taken. She'd been fingerprinted and run through the criminal computer database to see if she had an arrest record. As if that wasn’t bad enough, the finishing touch was the phone call she'd made to her mother from jail.

Mom, I have some bad news. I've been arrested for Jeffrey's murder and I’m in jail. Fortunately, a friend of mine was able to post bail, so I’ll be able to get out of jail tonight. I'm going to be arraigned day after tomorrow and they tell me the judge almost never grants bail in murder cases, so I'll probably be in jail until my trial.

Please don't cry. I'm innocent and I'm sure I won't go to prison. I just have to get through the next couple of months. Give my love to Dad. I'll call you tomorrow morning. You want me to come early in the morning? Do you really think you and Dad can be late for work? I don’t want you to lose money on my account. All right. I won’t bother to call you. I’ll be there at 7:00 a.m.

Yes, I know it’s the Christmas season and I wish they would have waited until after Christmas, but they didn’t. Say a novena at Mass in the morning for me. God knows I need all the help I can get, and a little extra prayer for my well-being can’t hurt. I’ve got to get off the phone. The jailer’s waving at me, telling me my time is up. I love you. Goodbye.

Maria looked at the bedside clock, surprised to see it was already 5:30 in the morning. Even though she'd slept soundly in the large king-size bed, she was still exhausted, physically and emotionally. She removed Jordan’s hand and quietly slid out from underneath the sheet and blanket. She took a deep purple silk robe out of her suitcase and tied the sash as she walked to the kitchen, desperate for coffee. She found the coffee and filters, figured out how to work Jordan’s expensive machine, and the aroma of coffee soon filled the kitchen. Minutes later Jordan walked into the kitchen, a white towel secured at his waist.

"I'm surprised either one of us slept, given everything that happened yesterday," he said, nuzzling her neck as he wrapped his arms around her. "I'd like to take you back to bed for a repeat performance, but I’ve got an urgent message from Captain Randolph. Any chance you can make some breakfast for us while I shave and get dressed?"

"Sure. I'll find something, but I do need to call that lawyer. We can resume where we left off last night when you get home this evening. Might as well make the most of our time together, because I think it's going to be awhile before we can do any of this again. When we got here last night, I noticed another car in the garage. Can I drive it to go see my parents?"

"Of course. I've had it forever. That old Ford isn't much to look at, but sometimes I don't want to drive the Lexus. It’s got an automatic shift. You'll be fine. I’ve got to get dressed. Be back shortly."

She picked up the large tote she’d carried on the plane and found the phone number for the attorney, Brian Meeks. She left word on his voicemail that she was free after nine that morning, but would prefer it he could come to the house in the early afternoon, about one. She gave him Jordan’s address and asked him to call her back and confirm the appointment. Meeting with her attorney the day before she went to jail was not the way she’d planned to celebrate the days leading up to her first Christmas with Jordan.

A few minutes later he walked back into the kitchen, kissed her again, and watched while she broke eggs into a bowl and whisked them. "Jordan, did I tell you about the dinner they gave me last night in the jail? Now I’m kind of sorry I lost that weight I’d gained in Provence. I might starve to death in jail."

"No, I've always heard how bad the food is, but in my line of detective work, I don't spend much time in jails. I'm never the arresting officer, just the one who does the groundwork on the art thefts. Was it that bad?"

"Beyond. There was some unidentifiable meat with gluey gravy on it and peas that looked so mushy they must have been cooked all day. Seriously, they’d lost every bit of their green color and the only way I could identify what they were was by their shape, plus the bread had mold on the crust. I felt like throwing up. I couldn’t eat any of it.”

"That sounds horrible. Sorry to leave you with the kitchen mess, but I’ve got to go. Here's the tape recorder I told you about. Good luck with the attorney and tell your parents I said hi. I’ll call you later." He kissed her again. She smiled as she looked at his work outfit - jeans, white shirt, sport coat, and a gun in its holster on his hip underneath the coat.

When she drove the old red Ford onto her parent's street, she felt a sense of déjà vu. Nothing had changed in the years since she'd left, married Jeffrey, and ultimately fled to Provence. There were bars on the windows, paint was peeling, more weeds than grass were in front of the run-down houses, and gang graffiti was everywhere. No matter how many years had gone by, every time she thought about the house or something reminded her of it, she could still feel the rats on her, licking her blood. She shivered, remembering when she was gang-raped.