Beyond A Reasonable Doubt (4 page)

CHAPTER EIGHT

The jolt of the plane woke Jenna from an uneasy sleep. She felt Jordan’s eyes on her, turned, and grimaced as the plane jolted again. “I hate flying.”

Jordan didn’t answer but stared straight ahead at nothing in particular. “Have you met my father?”

Jenna struggled up in the seat. She wanted a shower, a warm bed, and eight good hours of sleep.

“Only once. He was the judge in a case I was prosecuting. He let the bastard out on bail. He was killed before we could get the matter to trial.” She smothered a yawn. “Michael has told me a lot about him.”

Jordan’s laugh was a scratchy, ugly sound. “Yeah, I bet he has.”

Gone was the scathing, teasing personality. Facing her now was a man with dark, angry features, venom in his voice, and hatred in his eyes. She had no doubt Beaumont would blame her for anything that went wrong. If she wanted a career, she needed to control Jordan’s anger quickly before they landed. “Let’s assume Michael didn’t tell me the truth. So why don’t you tell me about him?”

Jordan turned, meeting her gaze. He studied her face for a long time before settling back in his seat. “I’d rather tell you about my mother.”

Jenna relaxed. That was probably a much safer topic. “All right. Tell me about your mother.”

Jenna watched as his posture softened, the shadows disappearing from his eyes for just a moment. “Mom was great, one of those sweet Southern ladies. She’d grown up with money, nannies, and parents that indulged her every wish. I think the first time my father hit her was over the nanny issue. She wanted to raise us herself, but he gave her the speech about a woman’s place being beside her husband. He had an image to uphold, and that meant she had to be at his beck and call when he wanted her.

“She tried her best to live in both worlds: mother and wife of the notorious Judge William Elkins. Sometimes it worked. Sometimes she’d hide in her room for days until the bruises healed.”

Jordan stopped talking, his eyes glazed with memories. Jenna watched as his hands clenched and unclenched. She needed to keep him talking, to cool the anger.

“How did they meet?” Jenna asked.

He relaxed slightly, his voice whimsical as he repeated the story his mother had told him. “She met my father when she was eighteen, fresh out of school. He was handsome and charming. It wasn’t until after she married him she discovered his true nature. Most people think our money comes from him, but the truth is, mom was the one with money. Everything he has, everything we ever had, came from her family inheritance.” The anger was coming back.

“Listen, Jordan, I don’t care what you think of your father. I would probably agree with you that he’s a cold-hearted, mean bastard. But that’s not important right now. I did this so you could say goodbye to your mother. Clifford Beaumont did this so you could say goodbye to your mother. That’s what we’re going to do, and then we’re getting back on a plane, and you’re going back to serve your sentence. Is that understood?”

Jordan glanced at her, a hint of admiration in his dark-brown eyes. “I bet you’re one hell of a prosecutor. Never lost a case, have you?”

Jenna sat back in the seat, stunned. That was the second time he’d referred to her as a prosecutor. She hadn’t told him what she did, and she was pretty sure Michael hadn’t either, so where had he gotten that information? And when? Something was wrong—seriously wrong. The intercom buzzed, and the voice of the pilot blared overhead.

“Ladies and gentlemen, please return to your seats and fasten your seat belts. We’ll be beginning our descent into Atlanta right on time.”

Jordan smiled at her. “Well, at least we won’t have to run to catch our plane.”

Jenna felt a sense of foreboding settle over her—like the unknown witness or the unasked question she didn’t know the answer to before she asked it—tragedy in the making.

“He killed her, you know.” Jordan’s voice was soft, delicate, and almost vulnerable.

“That can’t be true,” Jenna whispered, afraid to raise her voice, afraid of setting him off again. “I haven’t talked to Michael, but I’m sure it was an accident.”

Jordan patted the hand clutching the armrest. “You’re smart, Jenna. If it was an accident, why is he having her buried so fast? What happened to the autopsy to prove it was an accident? And why did he need Michael there just to have her body flown back to Texas?” He paused, his words sinking in slowly, reinforcing her fears. “What do you think money and power can buy, Jenna?”

Jenna shook her head, taking a deep breath. Damn it, they were all good questions, ones she had been asking herself. The next few minutes were crucial to her case and crucial to convincing him to behave.

“They can’t cover up a murder,” she said with conviction, sure of her stance and sure of the verdict.

“But they can buy a long prison sentence for your youngest son, who knows the truth of your crimes—a long sentence for what was clearly at most a misdemeanor,” Jordan said.

“You stole a gun, Jordan, with the intent to kill.”

Jordan smiled at her again. “I didn’t steal the gun. It wasn’t even loaded. So, if you had been prosecuting me, Jenna, would I have gotten twenty-five years for my crime?”

Jenna blinked, the reality of his case settling over her.
The gun wasn’t loaded? Twenty-five years.
He had been nineteen, emotionally upset, no prior record; a member of a prominent family; a straight-A student in college; and a brilliant young man with a promising career ahead—two years with shock probation.

“I didn’t know. I’m sorry.” She squeezed his hand.

“You’re not a good liar. So, if I could convince you he killed her, would you prosecute him?”

Jenna swallowed the lump in her throat, her mind picturing the end of her career, the public disgrace, the humiliation. She met his serious gaze, fixed on her face.

He was watching her, analyzing and studying the play of emotions he saw there.

The proof wouldn’t matter. No matter how brilliant a prosecutor she was, she would lose the case. Money and power together could buy anything. She swallowed again and closed her eyes. None of that really mattered. She’d become a prosecutor to take criminals off the street, to protect the innocent. She’d taken an oath, and no matter who the criminal or what the crime, she would uphold that.

“Yes. I would prosecute him.”

CHAPTER NINE

Jenna checked her phone and sighed—still no message from Michael. Also, if Jordan had used her phone while she was sleeping, he’d been careful to erase all evidence.

The Atlanta airport was hopping with people heading one way or another, luggage tugged behind them as they hurried to catch the next flight. For some reason, that made her nervous. The more people around them, and the more time Jordan had on his hands, the greater the chance of something going wrong.

“We’ve got twenty minutes before we board. Do you want to get a cup of coffee?” Jenna folded her jacket over the handcuffs to hide them. To the world, they would look like a couple walking hand-in-hand.

She felt tension in Jordan and heard his sharp intake of breath just before a shot rang out. He grabbed her, shoved her to the floor, and covered her with his body.

“Stay down.” He grunted, twisting around, eyes searching the crowd now screaming and darting for exits, open doorways, or any place of cover.

A second shot rang out, that time closer, and Jordan grunted and moaned.

“Oh, God,” Jenna exclaimed, “you’ve been hit.”

“Flesh wound,” Jordan stated through gritted teeth, “but if we don’t get out of here, I’ll be dead.”

She struggled to see around him. “You think they’re trying to kill you?”

Another shot rang out, striking near where Jenna’s head had been positioned only moments before.

“They’re sure as hell trying to kill one of us.”

Sirens erupted as speakers blared, and the sound of pounding feet filled the air as security raced down the corridor.

“Drop your gun!” The voice was clearly one of authority, someone used to issuing orders and, even more important, used to having them followed.

Jenna managed to peek over Jordan’s shoulder. “Well, at least the cavalry has arrived.”

Jordan was staring at the gunman, now less than twenty feet away. “They may be a little late.”

Jenna followed the direction of his gaze as the shooter pulled out a second gun. “Oh, shit.”

“I said, drop it, mister.” The voice rang out again.

“Go to hell.”

Jenna’s gaze was glued to the shooter’s face, and she could swear he smiled as bullets riddled his body. Blood sprayed across the clean, shiny floors of the airport corridor, tiny particles flying upward, downward, and sideways.

Jordan rolled off of her and struggled to his feet, pulling Jenna up with him.

“Put your hands in the air and don’t move!”

“I think we’d better do what he says,” Jordan said, raising their joined hands, his other arm limp, hanging loose at his side.

“You lied to me; that’s not a flesh wound.” Jenna moved but stopped at the sound of guns cocking.

Jordan trembled, and a glaze slowly crept into his eyes.

“People lie, Jenna. Get used to it,” he mumbled, just before he passed out.

Jenna sipped a lukewarm coffee, hands trembling as the anger that had been brewing for the last half hour finally erupted in full force. “I told you, I’ve never seen this man before. I don’t know who he is or why he would want to kill us. What part of that is too complicated for your pea brain to comprehend?”

The door opened, and Jordan was ushered in, arm in a sling, face pale. “Thought I’d join the party.” He gave her a lopsided smile, flopping onto the nearest chair. “Hear it’s a hell of a lot of fun in here.”

“I’ll be back in a few minutes.” Federal Agent Derek Simms glanced at the two and picked up his paperwork before leaving them alone.

“Are you okay?” Jenna asked, leaning across the table, searching his face, concern filling her eyes.

“Doctor says I’ll be good as new in a month or two. Bullet went straight through the fleshy part, nipped a muscle or two.”

“God, these people are driving me crazy.” Jenna shoved back her chair and roamed around the small room. “We haven’t even been allowed a phone call.”

“It’s federal. Whole different ballgame. Guy starts shooting in an airport, they take it pretty seriously,” Jordan said.

“I’m very familiar with the federal game, Jordan, and I’m taking this pretty damn seriously myself.” She slammed her fist against the old, scarred table. “Someone tried to kill us out there, and instead of trying to find out why, they act like we’re the ones responsible.”

A different agent entered the room, glanced from one to the other, and took a seat at the head of the table. “Please sit down, Miss James.”

Jenna glared at him but took her seat.

“I’m Special Agent Joe Treadmore. We’ve verified your identities as well as your story of why you were here. Miss James, you can pick up your things at the front desk. You’re free to go.”

She couldn’t believe her ears. Free to go? With no idea of who had tried to kill them or why?

“Just like that?” she asked, standing up. “Someone tried to kill us, Mr. Treadmore. We don’t know why, and we really don’t know who… or if there are more of them out there. I think I’d like some answers before I just go.”

“I understand how you feel, Miss James. We’ve found out that four other people were shot before the shooter reached the area you were in. We don’t feel you were a target, just in the wrong place at the wrong time. We’ve spoken with Judge Elkins, and he’s arranged protection for you just in case, but I assure you you’ll be perfectly safe. As I said, you’re free to go.”

Judge Elkins’s arranging protection for her didn’t leave her with a warm and cozy feeling. If Jordan was right, Judge Elkins was the one that had tried to kill them.

“Come on, Jordan, let’s get out of here.” Jenna grabbed her jacket and headed for the door.

“Mr. Elkins will be staying with us. We’re returning him to prison.”

Jenna stopped, her hand on the doorknob, so close to freedom, her life, her career. She turned, meeting the light-brown eyes across the room, awareness dawning.

Jordan shook his head, his eyes darkening, flashing her a warning. “It’s okay, Jenna. Go on, get out of here.”

Jenna walked back to the table and sat down, her legs weak. Judge Elkins was a vindictive bastard, from what she’d heard. He wouldn’t take it lightly that she’d gotten Jordan released. And if he was behind the shooting, he wasn’t going to be happy the two of them were still alive. She was going to hate herself later, but she uttered the words she knew would end her career and possibly her life. “This man was released into my custody. Where he goes, I go with him.”

CHAPTER TEN

Jenna flopped down in the chair next to Jordan. She was tired and restless and beginning to doubt the sincerity of Agents Simms and Treadmore—if they were even federal agents, which she was also beginning to doubt. She’d checked their badges, and airport security had turned Jenna and Jordan over to the agents as soon as they arrived. Surely security would have checked their credentials.

“You should have left while you had the chance,” Jordan whispered.

“And read about your death in tomorrow’s paper? And why are we whispering?”

Jordan nodded toward the door. “Do you think they’re really going to take me back to prison?”

Jordan’s story was beginning to make sense to her, or maybe his paranoia was rubbing off on her. Either way, she needed to find a way to save him and herself before it was too late. She ran a hand through her ruffled curls, which she was pretty sure were now standing up after hours of running her hands through them.

“Maybe your father wants you dead, but killing me is a risk I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t want to take. Too many questions would be asked.”

Jordan shrugged. “Me alone or you and me, Jenna. It makes no difference to them. I somehow grabbed a gun and shot you. They shot me. Old news in a week or two.”

“Damn,” she whispered, her mind racing, searching for avenues of escape.

The door opened, and Simms and Treadmore entered. “Let’s go.”

Jenna helped Jordan to his feet. “I really think you should take him to a hospital, and I’d like to make a phone call.”

Treadmore motioned toward the door. “The prison infirmary can take care of him.” He grinned maliciously. “If you’d left when I told you to, you could have called anyone you wanted. Get moving.”

The hallway was dark, and for a moment, Jenna considered making a run for it. She glanced at Jordan.

He shook his head. “Do you trust me, Jenna?”

“Yes.” The word slipped out without any thought. At the moment, Jordan Elkins was the only one she trusted.

They passed through double doors and into a basement area. A black sedan was parked just outside.

“Hold it,” Treadmore called.

Jenna drew in a ragged breath.
Damn it.
She didn’t want her life to end in a dirty basement without even knowing why she was being killed.

“Trust me, Jenna.”

His voice was low, almost a whisper she didn’t catch, but she caught a movement in the shadows, the slight swish of clothing brushing against clothing. She felt his hand at her neck, squeezing hard. Her mind exploded in a burst of light just before the darkness claimed her.

~ ~ ~

Michael Elkins glanced again at his watch, sighed, and headed for the Coffee Shack. He’d known the plane was going to be late. Still, he had to be on time. Alibis were the nectar of free men. Everything had to have an appearance of normalcy. He’d had less than three hours of sleep in the past thirty-six hours, and caffeine was all that was keeping him on his feet. If all had gone as planned, Jenna would be arriving with the news his brother had been carted back to jail by federal agents. She would be mad and upset that she’d let him down. He’d console her, his grief for his mother overwhelming, and then he’d put a ring on her finger. He became excited just thinking about it. After they were married, he could put her in her place and keep her there. Women were all alike. Jenna was determined and confident, but she’d break. They all broke eventually.

“Large black, please.” Michael waited for the coffee, his thoughts jumbled and tangled. His father was an asshole, but he was still his father. The old man would never change, and he needed that endorsement when he ran for judge.

“Here you go, sir.”

“Thank you. Keep the change.” Michael took the coffee, handing her a five-dollar bill—too large a tip, but it insured she would remember him fondly. A perfect witness.

“Thank you. Are you flying out today, sir?”

Michael blew softly on the hot coffee and took a sip.

“No, I’m picking up someone. The flight’s late.”

“Oh, I hope they weren’t on the Atlanta shuttle,” she said, her voice filled with concern.

Michael turned back, just the right amount of apprehension reflected in his eyes. He had to play the part, continuing to get her to notice him, remember him. “What happened to the Atlanta shuttle?”

“It’s all over the news. There was a shooting at the airport. Some woman and her boyfriend. There’s a huge manhunt going on right now. Airport security killed the shooter, but two federal agents were killed, and the woman and her boyfriend disappeared.”

Michael heard the words and felt them sink into his brain as a vice gripped his heart, squeezing, taking his breath. “Both of them?”

“Sir, are you all right?”

The coffee cup slipped from his fingers, numb with pain as the vice clamped tighter, shutting off the oxygen to his brain.

His senses seemed to be sharper. He heard the sound of the cashier’s footsteps as she rushed around the counter, catching his weight as he fell. “Somebody help me, please!”

He felt the floor rising up to meet him. It felt cool against the burning pain of his body.

“Out of the way, I’m a doctor. Everybody back.”

He felt his tie loosened, shirt unbuttoned, something cold pressed against his chest.

“We need an ambulance fast. This man’s having a heart attack.”