Expert Witness: A Romantic Suspense Novel (12 page)

Nancy squinted her eyes when she saw the half-empty dish. Chase tried to distract her with more dubious advantages, but the damage was done.
 

Jordan took a few more swallows from her mug, not wanting to interrupt their jousting. It was quite entertaining. Her usually decorous secretary was now threatening to oust Chase from the office. He responded to her threat by hanging on to the desk while he promised to replenish her dwindled supply.
 

But although he participated in the amusement, he remained alert to his environment. When the door opened and a client walked in, he was all business, surreptitiously observing the new arrival. Nancy, on the contrary, wore a broad smile as she opened the glass window and passed the sign-in sheet through.
 

When the client sat down, Jordan had Nancy print out a copy of her schedule for the week. Scanning the names printed in the hour blocks, she was surprised to see her collateral interview with Bradley Lancaster’s son scheduled for today. She’d reviewed the statement he’d provided to the court, but today, she’d be able to gather more information directly from him.
 

As she walked down the corridor to her office, she couldn’t help but feel a little guilty. She’d intended to present the case and her working conceptualization at their last staff meeting, but addressing the detective’s news had taken precedence. Given the high stakes of the case, she planned to bounce her theory off her colleagues and hear their thoughts on it. She resolved to make time for the consultation before the day’s end.

The day wore on, and she was relieved to find she was able to focus on her work despite the anxiety that nibbled at her stomach. After an individual therapy session, she moved on to complete an assessment battery on a twelve-year-old for a custody evaluation. Though the case was going to court, the parents were on amicable terms with one another, and the approach was evident in how much more relaxed their child was during the testing process. She wished most of her custody work fell under this umbrella instead of the contentious canopy that sheltered more than its fair share.

The custody evaluation consumed the rest of her morning and by the time twelve o’clock rolled around, she was looking forward to eating with her colleagues. Every Monday, they made an effort to get together for a working lunch. Sometimes, things would come up that made it impossible. But, according to her schedule, everyone was available for consult today.
 

She popped her head into Karen’s office to find out where they were going. Mike was already in there. He was laughing at Karen as she struggled to pry his hand off her car keys.
 

She shook her head. Between Nancy and Chase this morning and Karen and Mike, now she was beginning to think half her day would be spent playing referee to her boisterous crew. She had to admit though, the comic relief eased some of the tension that had gripped her unendingly since Saturday.
 

 
“What’s going on here?” she asked Mike, her tone light. “Are you causing trouble for my best friend?”
 

“I thought we were both your best friends.” With an exaggerated frown, he gave her his finest attempt at a pout. His hand didn’t loosen from the keys though.

Oh, boy. She’d walked right into that one. “Of course you are.” She rolled her eyes skyward. He really was a terrible actor. “But since you appear to be the guilty party, I’m temporarily disowning you.”

A grunt escaped him. “Oh, you’re the model therapist. I do something you don’t like and I’m no longer your best friend. What ever happened to unconditional positive regard?” Mike waggled his eyebrows at her.
 

Jordan couldn’t stifle the smile that had been trying to form on her lips. “All right. You win. You know I have a soft spot for Carl Rogers,” she said. “But you still haven’t told me what you two are up to.”

“Mike said he won’t let me drive anymore after what happened this morning,” Karen said.

She was almost afraid to ask. “What happened?”
 

Karen’s driving performances were historically frightening events. Karen drove on the Orlando Expressways like she was in the Indianapolis 500 and had a tendency to take “shortcuts” that were actually opportunities to get lost in unfamiliar neighborhoods. She gathered that siding with Karen on this one wasn’t the smartest thing to do. They were all riding to lunch together, and she’d prefer that anyone other than Karen drove. She was still having flashbacks from the time Derek had let them borrow his Corvette.
 

“You need some help holding on to those keys?” The familiar voice came from the door.
 

Jordan spun around on her heel. She hadn’t even heard Chase walk up, but he’d obviously been standing there long enough to take in most of the conversation.
 

“I think I have it under control,” Mike replied. “But thanks for the offer.” He’d succeeded in getting the keys into his pocket, and Karen graciously refrained from pursuing them.

“Actually, it’d probably be best if I drove anyway. Sorry, Karen. I hope you’re not too disappointed,” Chase said. He looked her way. One side of his mouth was kicked up with just a hint of a grin.
 

Jordan regarded him as if he’d grown wings and donned a halo. She couldn’t help herself. He might not have made the suggestion to spare them from Karen’s driving, but he’d inadvertently rescued them by making the proposal.

“So, where are we going for lunch?” Derek asked, entering Karen’s office.
 

“How about Books, Butter, and Bagels?” Mike suggested.
 

“Never been there,” Chase said. “But I’m up for something new, if that’s the consensus.”

Karen filled him in, already having forgotten her quest for the keys. “It’s an antique bookstore with a café in the center. The food is usually pretty good, and they have the best bubble tea around.”
 

“Sounds good to me. Let’s go.” Chase led the way out of the office.
 

Jordan followed him out. Although it was a spacious room, the presence of the three sturdy men had suddenly made it quite cramped. Chase’s broad shoulders almost spanned the entire width of the door. It was a mystery to her how someone with such a significant presence managed to blend in so unobtrusively wherever they went.
 

Chase held the door for her as they entered the bookstore slash restaurant. The building itself wasn’t very large, but the interior was quaint. The walls were made up of cedar shelves lined with aged books on all subjects. In the center of the room were worn wooden tables for the patrons who came hungry. From the business attire the customers wore, it was apparent they weren’t the only ones who’d escaped the fast-paced office environment in exchange for a relaxed lunch in the cozy café.
 

Jordan trailed their hostess as she zig-zagged through the maze of tables. The place was packed. When the hostess stopped short, she felt herself being crushed back against Chase. The sharp smell of cedar from the bookshelves mixed with the familiar scent of sandalwood. Her pulse quickened as she felt his warm breath on her neck, and then they were inching forward again. She exhaled slowly and distracted herself with the titles on the shelf next to her.
 

“How is this?” their hostess asked, pointing to one of the few unoccupied tables now in front of them.

Jordan peered over her shoulder at Chase for direction. They’d be at a table adjacent to the wall. The table appeared less exposed than the ones centered in the room, but it was his call.
 

“This is great.” He nodded to the woman.
 

They all got situated with Chase choosing to sit with his back to the bookcases behind him. Jordan was seated next to him, feeling a weird combination of relief and disappointment that she could no longer feel him pressed up behind her. The hostess passed around leather-bound menus that resembled antique books.
 

“This is a cool spot,” Chase said, unfolding his menu in front of him.
 

“Yeah,” Mike said. “Karen came across it one day by accident. We’d all assumed it was only a bookstore. Now, it’s one of our usual places for lunch.” He glanced around the room. “But I think the secret’s gotten out.”

“I’ll say,” Chase agreed.

After they’d placed their order, Jordan brought up the guardianship case. She relayed what she knew of the case so far, careful to avoid mentioning any identifying information and making sure she couldn’t be overheard by the other restaurant patrons.

“So, do you think he’s suffering from some type of dementia?” Derek asked.

Her brow furrowed as she considered his question. It was the same one she’d asked herself at different points in the evaluation process. “I’m not so sure. It’s certainly a consideration.” Problems in thinking and memory related to some type of brain dysfunction were common symptoms of focus in guardianship cases. “In the court documents, the son is reporting memory issues that are interfering with his dad’s day-to-day activities. And the tests do reflect some level of cognitive impairment, but the deficits appear most centered around attention and concentration. His recent and remote memory weren’t notably impaired. No problems recalling names or uses of objects.”

“How about insight? Is he concerned about his current problems?” Mike asked.
 

She shook her head. “Not really. He did dismiss his cognitive problems, but he didn’t present with the lack of concern or denial we can see in dementia cases. He relied more on rationalization—it’s a big responsibility, a lot of money—that type of thing.”
 

“Mood?” Mike asked.
 

She nodded, following his line of thinking. These types of observations were essential in determining a patient’s current mental status. “I think his mood is an important component to consider. He seemed pretty apathetic about life in general, but expressed a lot of guilt and regret related to the past.”
 

“He’s depressed?” Karen asked.
 

She sat up straighter. “Yeah, that’s more what I’m leaning toward. The timing doesn’t necessarily match up with the death of his wife, but bereavement doesn’t have to follow a predictable course.”
 

“True,” Derek agreed. “Losing someone like that…he’s spent most of his life with…” His voice trailed off and he stared past them to the array of hardbound books on the shelves. Eyes glazed over, he appeared lost in thought for a moment. Then, shaking his head, he returned his attention to the group. “Anyway, I know from experience that kind of loss is hard to get past.”

“I’m sorry.” Jordan clasped her hand over his. “What happened?”

He hesitated but eventually continued in a low voice. “It was my brother. I lost him years ago.” His shoulders slouched and his face was solemn. “He was murdered.”

 
Her free hand went over her mouth. What a terrible way to lose someone you loved.
 
“That’s awful. I had no idea,” she said, the words coming out in a rush. “I can’t even imagine what you went through.”
 

“Yeah, it was a tough time. We were very close. He was a lot older than I was, so I looked up to him. He was the person I wanted to be. I got to know a therapist during that time, and that’s what led me to pursue this career. I already had a bachelor’s degree in business. I took a few additional perquisite courses, aced the Graduate Requisite Exam, and was accepted into a doctoral program. She—the psychologist—was definitely an inspiration to me. I keep meaning to contact her and let her know how much of an influence she’s been, but I haven’t taken the opportunity yet. Someday soon, I will…” He looked around the table then shook his head. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to monopolize your consult.”

“Oh, Derek. You know we’re here for you any time.” She squeezed his hand and then let go.
 

“I know. I can’t tell you how lucky I feel to be in practice with all of you.” He shot the three of them a look of gratitude, and then his eyes landed on Chase. “And that you came along to keep our girl safe,” he added, lightening the moment.
 

§

Chase lifted his glass and gave a nod.

Jordan and his friend had apparently created a group of practitioners who not only worked well together but also supported one another in the process. Being a business owner himself, he recognized that wasn’t an easy feat to accomplish. It’d taken him a lot more trial and error to get it right.
 
He’d hire someone, only to find out the employee enjoyed the partying more than the protection part of the work, or that the person could meet the physical demands but not the emotional ones.
 

People weren’t all what they seemed. He was glad he didn’t have Jordan’s job of trying to figure them out. Keeping them safe was much less complicated.
 

At least, it used to be.
 

CHAPTER EIGHT

Every hour block on her scheduled was filled after lunch, but she welcomed the pace. Anything to keep her mind focused on where it needed to be.
 

She removed the Lancaster file from the stack. Her eyes skimmed down the photocopied pages in preparation for her meeting with Keith. As she’d remembered at lunch, Keith acknowledged his father had been experiencing cognitive problems for over six months.