Haunting Jordan (40 page)

She didn’t have to fake her confusion. “How?”

“You moved! Did you really think you could just relocate up here and I wouldn’t be upset?”

“But you were the one who invited me up here last year—”

“For the goddamn festival, not to buy some run-down old heap!” he shouted, straightening his arm and shoving the gun at her.
“You
belong at my side, in L.A. You’re perfect for me—you are the person I need to help me in my career.”

Charlotte hissed and swooped, and Jordan shot her a warning glance. “I have a career of my own, Ted.” Falling into therapist mode, she kept her tone even, her reasoning rational. If she persuaded him of his flawed logic, she might be able to get him to give her the gun. “How did you think that would work?”

He snorted, his expression derisive. “Other people don’t need you—
I
do. You told me you were taking a
sabbatical, and that you needed to
reassess
. I assumed you understood.”

Malachi’s barking stopped. In the ensuing silence, Jordan forced herself to keep her eyes on Ted. “What about Didi? You’re dating her, aren’t you?”

“I
told
you, she’s just staying up here this summer. Why won’t you
listen
to me?” Ted’s agitation was clearly escalating.

Hattie floated forward, her expression alarmed, and Jordan put up both hands. “Okay, okay—I’m listening now, aren’t I?”

Ted ran a hand over his face. “I just can’t make you
understand,”
he muttered, resuming his pacing.

Keep him talking
. “The private investigator says Didi lied about her alibi,” Jordan said. “Do you know anything about that?”

“Yeah, I heard you two on the phone with him at the pub. That’s when I knew I had to do something. If you’d just left well enough alone. But
no
. You had to
investigate.”
Ted laughed, the sound unnaturally harsh. “Didi was sleeping with our agent that night. He told her if she did, he’d get her a big movie contract. She didn’t want anyone to know about it.” He gave Jordan an accusing look. “She wouldn’t have needed an alibi if you’d just stayed away from that asshole you married—he wouldn’t have dumped her. Why’d you have to invite him out to your condo, Jordan?”

Jordan’s stomach clenched.
“You
killed Ryland?”

“What choice did you give me? I wasn’t about to let him move back in, but I could see you were wavering. He was in our way.”

“You followed him that night.”

“I’d been following him for
weeks
. I listened to everything, and I could tell you were waffling. So I cut the brake lines.”

Jordan felt a sharp pang for Ryland. “And then you told Drake about our argument to point the cops at me.”

“Of course. Clever of me, I must admit.”

Jordan took a calculated risk. “But your logic just isn’t holding up at all, is it, Ted? You murder Ryland, then you implicate me in his murder by telling the cops about our argument? If I’m in jail, I can’t be with you, now, can I?”

Ted shook his head. “No, no—you just don’t get it, do you, Jordan? I’m beginning to wonder whether you’re as smart as I thought you were.”

She spread her hands. “Tell me what I’m missing, because from where I stand, your logic sucks.”

“Don’t
you dare criticize
me
!”

“Do you think it’s wise to provoke him, Jordan?” Hattie asked.

“Let me throw books at him!” Charlotte screeched, flying toward the bookcases.

“
No
, wait!” Jordan said.

“Don’t order me around!” Ted snapped, waving the gun. “Do you really want to piss me off right now? I’m still thinking about shooting you.”

“No, no,” Jordan said hurriedly. She thought she heard a slight movement in the hall. “Listen, Ted, just explain it to me, why don’t you? How am I supposed to be with you when I’m rotting in jail for my husband’s murder?”

“Well, I can come and visit you, right?” Ted’s tone indicated he thought he was reasoning with a five-year-old. “And no one else can have you if you’re locked up. Plus, you would’ve been convicted in California, so you’d be brought back to a California state penitentiary. I can work with that.”

Jordan gaped at him, stunned. Rational Therapy hadn’t done a damn thing for him. If she decided to go back into counseling, she
seriously
needed to reassess her chosen discipline.

Ted suddenly moved toward her, and she jogged backward. He stopped, shaking his head. “See? Now
that’s
the problem—you just don’t get that you belong to me. Despite all your mistakes, I still loved you, you know. My world would have been complete with you in it.”

He was using past tense.
Not a good sign
.

“I don’t have to shoot you, if you’ll just come with me.” He leaned forward, his tone confidential. “I can call the cops off, you know. I’ve got contacts. I’m important.”

Jordan acted as if she were considering his offer while her mind raced. “Well,
hell
.” She made herself glare at him. “Get a clue, Ted.”

Ted’s face turned red. At that moment, Jase edged around the library door, his expression grim, just outside of Ted’s line of sight.

Jordan signaled with her hand for him to wait. “You know why some people become therapists, Ted? No? It’s because they’re so messed up, they need to figure out how to fix themselves. And I’m
that
messed up, believe me.”

He scowled. “No, you’re
not
. You’re just a little off track right now. We can fix that.”

“Off track?
I don’t think so. I’ve got a Four-Point Plan for Personal Renewal, did you know that? Around here, we call it the FPP for short. And you know what? It’s in shambles.”

“What’re you talking about?” he asked, confused. “You’ve always run your life perfectly. And you can do the same for me—”

“Oh, please.” She threw her hands up in the air. “I can’t even handle my own life, much less someone else’s.”

“That’s not true!”

“I’m the laughingstock of the town.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Ted said.

“You are
not
the laughingstock of this town,” Charlotte said loyally. “How could you think that?”

“Shut up and wait.”

“Don’t use that tone with me,” he snapped, but he seemed less certain of himself.

Jordan turned back to him. “Here’s the thing, Ted—I’m delusional.
I see ghosts.”
His eyes widened. “That’s right,” she nodded, smiling triumphantly.
“Ghosts.”

Jase again took a step forward, looking alarmed. She gave a slight shake of her head. She’d counseled Ted for months, and she knew every one of the jerk’s hot buttons.

“You’re just trying to trick me,” Ted said nervously.

“It’s no trick—I not only
see
ghosts, I can tell them
what to do
.” She turned her head slightly. “Charlotte, go for it.”

“Who are you talking to?” Ted’s voice rose.

Charlotte stopped pulsing spastically, her expression confused. “Go for what?”

Jesus
. “Take him out,” Jordan rephrased.

“Out where?”

“Shut up, or I’ll shoot,” Ted shouted, his eyes wildly darting around the room.

“Attack, for God’s sake!”
Jordan yelled.

“Well, why didn’t you just say so?”

An entire wall of books flew at Ted, and he screamed, dropping the gun and putting his hands up to protect his face.

Malachi and Jase launched from the doorway, and all three of them went down in a heap of flying fur, growls, and thudding fists. Jordan dove, scrabbling for the gun. More books flew off the shelves, hitting her in the back, almost knocking the wind out of her.

“Charlotte, stop!” she yelled, rising.

No one listened. Jase and Ted rolled, locked in combat. She jogged backward, avoiding being flattened by them while she fumbled with the gun.

Ducking more books, she closed in and stomped her running shoe on the back of Ted’s right wrist, pointing the gun.
“Freeze
, or I’ll shoot your
hand. You’ll
never caress the valves of your horn again.” Steadying the shaking gun with her other hand, she added as an afterthought, “You fucking creep.”

Ted froze, and Jase landed a solid punch that had his eyes rolling back in his head.

Malachi grabbed Ted’s neck and held, growling. More books flew.

“Charlotte!”

“Okay, okay!”

“It’s easier to start than it is to stop,” Hattie explained apologetically.

“Call off the damn dog!” Ted screamed.

“Malachi,
come.”

Jase shoved books aside and flipped Ted over, planting a knee in the middle of his back. He yanked Ted’s arms up and back, holding his wrists with one hand, holding out the other. “Give me the gun, and then go get Darcy’s handcuffs.”

Darcy
. Jordan did as he said, then ran into the hallway and knelt beside Darcy. Blood soaked her chest, and when Jordan pressed fingers to the side of her neck, her pulse was fast and thready. Jordan felt her pockets for the handcuffs, tossing them to Jase.

“Hattie! Dish towels from the kitchen.” She grabbed her cellphone and dialed 911, praying the phone was still functional. Towels flew at her. She snagged them out of the air with her free hand and pressed them to Darcy’s wound.

“Nine-one-one operator. State your emergency.”

Jordan babbled out her address and something about an officer down.

“A neighbor already called it in, ma’am. Units are on their way. Describe the location of the shooter.”

Blood immediately soaked through the towels, and she pressed harder. “He’s facedown, in the library, cuffed.” She craned her neck, then added, “He’s crying.”

There was a moment of silence. “Crying’s good,” the
operator finally said, her tone wry. “Stay on the line, ma’am, until the police arrive. Can you do that for me?”

Jordan could hear the sirens in the distance. She let out a sob, giving Jase a wobbly smile. “Yeah. I can do that.”

Amanda took that moment to come strolling down the hall from the kitchen. “Hey, there’re cop cars all over the place. What’s up?”

Chapter 18

JUST after dawn the next morning, Jordan sat in the hospital room next to Darcy’s bed, punch-drunk from lack of sleep. She, Jase, and Tom had spent the night at the hospital, helping each other stay positive while they awaited word of Darcy’s condition.

After four hours of surgery, she was stable. The bullet had entered her upper right chest, then bounced around a bit, nicking her lung and shattering a rib. After another two hours of recovery, Darcy had been moved to the ICU, and the nurse had consented to Jordan’s request that she be allowed to stay in the room, even though she wasn’t family.

A number of Darcy’s officers and administrative staff had been in and out during the long night, waiting to find out whether their police chief would recover. The mayor had even supposedly stopped by, though Jordan had been in the cafeteria at the time, trying to find coffee while she called Carol to give her the news that they’d caught Ryland’s murderer.

According to Tom, a detective by the name of Bert Park had taken over the logistics of contacting Detective Drake. Drake had made arrangements to fly to town later today, to retrieve Ted and transport him to the L.A. County lockup, to be arraigned on murder charges. Tom had told Jordan that Drake had not been pleased to find out he’d been investigating the wrong person all along.

Jordan stretched. Closing her eyes, she rolled her neck to relax the muscles that were giving her a screaming headache. Or maybe it was the fatigue and the gallon of coffee she’d ingested in the last sixteen hours. She’d seen better dawns, that was for sure.

“You’ve been a pain in the ass from the very beginning.” Darcy’s voice cracked on the words, but they were lucid.

Jordan’s head jerked up. She tried to smile but failed. “Taking out the chief of police within days of hitting town definitely constitutes a personal best for me,” she agreed, then added, “This is all my fault.”

“I was kidding, for chrissakes,” Darcy tried to shift one hand and winced. “You know that stalkers, once they reach that level of violence, can’t be rehabilitated. And the smart ones cover their tracks. There was nothing you could’ve done.”

“I could’ve recognized his pathology.”

Darcy managed to snort. “At least tell me that jerk is either dead or in a jail cell where I can get to him and beat the crap out of him.”

“It might be a while before you can do that.” Jordan held a spoonful of ice slivers to Darcy’s lips.

Darcy glared as she sucked on the ice. “Just give me a
couple of days. I’m
motivated,”
she grumbled. “Talk to me—what’s happening?”

Jordan brought her up-to-date. “Jase demanded that Drake immediately hold a press conference and announce that I was no longer considered a suspect.”

“Good man.” Darcy closed her eyes, starting to drift.

“As I hear it, Drake was
not
pleased.”

“Even better.”

Tom appeared in the doorway, holding a large bouquet of flowers and looking embarrassed. “She awake yet?”

“I’m here,” Darcy mumbled. She opened her eyes and saw the flowers. “You must’ve been
really
worried.”

“Just shut up.” Tom placed them at her bedside. “You scared the crap out of us. Couldn’t you have gotten shot in the leg or something?”

“Hard to control the shooter’s aim.” Darcy looked at Jordan. “You tell him yet?”

“You mean about Hattie’s killer?” Tom nodded. “I told Jordan to contact a reporter with the newspaper and see if she can get a human interest story published. The community needs to know the truth about Michael Seavey. It’s not right to keep the information from Holt, either. My family can weather the hit.”

“Good.” Darcy shifted uncomfortably, wincing. “So tell me how you stopped that son of a bitch after he shot me.”

“I didn’t—Charlotte did.”

Darcy’s eyes shot wide open.
“I don’t friggin’ believe it!
Are you telling me I missed a teenage ghost taking out a violent stalker, just because I was out cold?”