I'm Watching You (7 page)

"I've said all I'm willing to say to you."

"Don't hang up. Please, we need to talk about Harold."

"There's nothing to say. The police were just here. They
told me about him."

Harold Turner may have abused his wife but that didn't mean Jordan
didn't love him or wasn't feeling a great sense of loss. "Are
you okay?"

"I'm fine. Now, leave me alone. I can't talk to you
anymore." Jordan's voice sounded brittle, more tense than usual.

"We need to talk about Harold."

"I have nothing to say about him."

The questions had to be asked. "Jordan, you said a couple of weeks
ago that you could handle him. Did you kill him?"

There was a long pause. "Why would you ask me a question like
that? Harold was found behind
your
shelter."

"Because I think whoever put him there was sending me a message. I
think you might have been telling me that you'd handle him by killing
him."

"He was worth more to me alive than dead. And I was handling
him." A heavy silence followed before she added, "Did you kill
him?"

Lindsay felt dizzy. "No."

"It makes sense that you would. I saw the way you looked at him at
that charity party. You hated him."

"Jordan, I didn't kill Harold."

"Who else would? Harold was right about you. He said you hate
men."

"I don't hate men, Jordan. I hate it when men hit the women
they say they love."

"Harold did love me."

"Jordan, you told me he held a gun to your head and played Russian
roulette."

"I also told you the gun was empty. If he'd wanted to kill
me he would have, but he didn't. He said he was just kidding."

Lindsay nearly cried out her frustration. "Jordan, you have to
understand that a man shouldn't treat a woman that way."

"Don't tell me any more of your lies. I don't want to
hear them. Harold and I would have been fine if you'd just stayed out of
our lives."

"Jordan, you're the one who came to me."

"You killed my husband."

"I did not!"

"I'll never forgive you for what you did to me." The
line went dead.

Lindsay shoved out a breath and closed the phone. Frustration ate at
her. Jordan had decided Lindsay was the cause of her problems.

Lindsay tapped her pinky ring--her mother's high school
ring--against the steering wheel. She clicked on the radio, hit
"scan," and hoped for some kind of news about Harold.
Nothing.
Each station played a collection of songs and
advertisements, but no news.

Aware that her breathing had grown shallow, she drew in deep breaths.
Slowly the muscles in her chest eased.

What had Harold been doing behind the shelter? Sanctuary was the kind of
place he despised and he had no reason to be there--unless Jordan really
had lured him to the shelter and killed him as some kind of message to Lindsay.

"Jordan, please tell me you didn't do anything
stupid," Lindsay whispered to herself.

The deluge of rain slowed. Streets glistened with rain. Steam rose from
the hot pavement. Puddles collected on the shoulders of the road.

Lindsay flipped open her cell phone and redialed Jordan Turner's
number. The phone rang once and then went straight to voice mail.

"This is Jordan. Leave me a message and
I'll get back to you."

"Jordan,
it's
Lindsay O'Neil.
I need to talk to you again. You've got my number."

Lindsay clipped the phone back into its holster on her waistband. Ten
minutes later she parked in front of Sanctuary. The downpour had just stopped
but it had chased away the forensics team and the curiosity seekers. A squad
car with a lone officer in the front seat remained parked in the driveway and
two television news trucks lurked across the street. The reporters huddled
inside the front cabs.

A streak of lightning shot across the sky. Lindsay flinched. She counted
to five. Thunder boomed. Another storm was close.

Grabbing her purse, she hurried across the muddy front lawn and climbed
Sanctuary's front steps. She darted in the front door.

The morning calm had been replaced by a buzz of video games and
children's chatter. Jamal and Damien Greenland had arrived home from
summer school. Damn. They shouldn't be here. Ruby should have picked them
up at school.

"Ruby!"
Lindsay shouted. She pushed open
the pocket door that portioned off Ruby's small office.

Ruby sat behind her desk, a phone cradled under her chin. When her gaze
met Lindsay's she hung up. "How was the hospital?"

Lindsay brushed the rain from her face. "Time will tell.
Planted a few seeds.
Why are the Greenland boys still
here?"

"The school wouldn't release them to me and I couldn't
get hold of their mother. I had no choice but to let them ride the bus home.
The bus just dropped them off. I decided to plant them in front of a video game
until you got back."

Lindsay sighed. "Now that the rain has let up, the cops are going
to return soon to salvage what they can from that backyard. I'll run the
boys over to Riverside now. I don't want the kids around when they
return."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I'll be back in an hour."

Lindsay headed into the front family room, where the boys were playing
the video game on the television. Ruby had closed the shades to block all views
of the police car and news vans parked out front. "Hey, guys, how's
the game going?"

Damien glanced up from the screen. "This game is kinda lame,
Lindsay. No guns, no bombs, no fun."

The video game system had been anonymously donated to the shelter two
months ago. She was grateful for the donation but had immediately sifted
through the stack of games that came with it and tossed the violent ones. The
kids who lived there saw enough violence in real life. "That hasn't
stopped you fellows from playing it nonstop."

Damien had a concerned look on his face. Usually during the day she was
too busy to chat. "Is Mom okay? I saw the cop outside."

She could have sugarcoated the whole issue, but she'd hated it when
adults had condescended to her after her mother's death.
It's going to be fine, dear. Don't you
worry.
"Your mom is fine but we're going
to have to move you, your brother, and your mom to another shelter
today."

"Because of
him
."
Damien's voice wavered even
as he jutted out his chin. His brother set down his video controller and looked
at her.

Him
was their father--Marcus Greenland.
He'd been a star linebacker in college. During his junior year,
he'd gotten involved in drugs and trouble with the local police.
He'd been suspended from the team. Then he'd hooked up with another
college but hadn't lasted the season. From then on, he had been on a
downward spiral. Frustrated by his own failures, Marcus took out his anger on
his wife and children.

Lindsay laid her hand on Damien's shoulder. "No, your father
has nothing to do with this."

Suspicion narrowed Damien's eyes. "Are you being straight
with me?"

"I promise, Damien. I can't give you details but I swear
that this has nothing to do with you, your mom, or your dad."

Finally, the anxiety eased from the boy's shoulders.
"Thanks, Lindsay."

"No problem, kiddo."

"Can I save the game to the memory card?" Damien said.

"I thought it was lame," she teased.

"Not too lame," he added.

Unless this murder was resolved quickly, the shelter would close, and
she had no idea if and when it would open again. "You can take it and the
game with you."

He grinned.
"For real?"

"Absolutely."

"Thanks!" Jamal exclaimed.

As the boys finished up their game, she grabbed a plastic grocery bag
from under the kitchen sink. Jamal pocketed the disc and memory card as Damien
unplugged the game and tucked it in the bag. The three headed outside.

"We can really keep this?" Jamal said.

"Until you and your brother get settled in a real home with your
mom. When you guys are feeling comfortable in your new place, I'd like it
back for the next kid."

Jamal frowned. "Damien and I aren't the last kids?"

Sadly, there would always be a next kid in her line of business. It was
the main reason why she was there. But Jamal didn't need statistics or
grim predictions of the future. He needed hope that his life would one day be
happy and normal. "I sure hope you are."

Lindsay ushered the boys outside to her car. They buckled in and soon
were headed across town. Fifteen minutes later, they rolled into the Riverside
parking lot. The shelter was also in a residential neighborhood and looked much
like the other trilevel houses around it. Toys now damp from the rain littered
the front yard. The front door was open. Inside, lights glowed.

Aisha Greenland came outside, her shoulder-length braids brushing her
wide shoulders. She grinned when she saw Lindsay and the boys. The boys
scrambled out of the backseat and ran up to their mother. She hugged them
close.

Lindsay followed with the video game system in hand. "How'd
the interview go?"

Aisha grinned. Hazel eyes flashed with genuine happiness. "I got
the job."

Lindsay knew Aisha had been terrified of the interview. It had been
eight years since she'd worked out of the home. "That's
great."

Jamal cupped his mother's face in his hands. "You got a
job?"

Aisha kissed her son. "I sure did, baby. I sure did. I'm
gonna be working as a cashier at the supermarket." She lifted her gaze to
Lindsay. "Thank you."

"Happy to help."
Moments like this made all the bad
stuff
fade
.

"I have just a little something for you," Aisha said.

"You don't need to give me anything."

Aisha shook her head and from her pocket pulled out a small wrapped box.
"I heard Ruby saying it was your birthday on Wednesday."

Emotion tightened Lindsay's chest as she slowly opened the box.
Inside was a plastic butterfly. Clearly it wasn't expensive, but that
didn't matter. "You know butterflies mean rebirth."

Aisha shook her head. "I just liked the pretty colors."

Lindsay hugged her. "So
do
I. Thank
you." Unshed tears burned the back of her throat. "Good luck. You
guys take care. I've got to get back to Sanctuary."

Inside her car, Lindsay turned on the radio, found a good song, and
cranked it. She felt good and wanted to savor this small victory. To celebrate,
she went to a drive-thru to treat herself to a milk shake, burger, and fries.
The delicious smells made her stomach rumble for she couldn't remember
the last time she'd eaten.

Twenty minutes later, when she parked in front of Sanctuary, she'd
eaten the fries and drank half the milk shake. A little food on her stomach had
settled her nerves and she felt steadier.

The cop car was still parked out front, as well as the forensics van.
Only one news van remained. And that was a good thing as far as she was
concerned. She prayed the press would lose interest and this whole thing would
just go away.

She was halfway up the shelter's front steps when she heard a
woman shout, "Lindsay O'Neil!"

Turning, she saw a tall woman with dark hair pulled back into a low,
tight ponytail. She was wearing a sleek sapphire silk blouse that accentuated
flawless porcelain skin expertly made up and black pants that showed off long
legs and a narrow waist. Kendall Shaw, former cover model and now a reporter
for Channel 10, was perfectly dressed as always.

One look reminded Lindsay that she'd barely had time to run a
brush through her hair this morning.
"Hey,
Kendall."

Kendall grinned and held out her hand. "It's good to see you
again. I guess it's been a couple of months."

Lindsay shifted her fast-food bag and drink to one hand so she could
shake Kendall's with the other. "Since you interviewed me a couple
of months ago for that freelance article for
Inside Richmond
."

Kendall's grin broadened. Her grip was strong and firm.
"That article was well received. The paper said that their sell-through
for that month was eighty percent. You were a hit."

"It wasn't me. The other gals you profiled were pretty amazing."

Kendall let her gaze travel over the white vinyl siding and the trimmed
boxwoods. "So this is Sanctuary. I always wondered what Sanctuary
actually looked like. Those couple of times we met at the coffee shop, you
never said where it actually was."

"That's the idea. We need to keep our location secret. We
still do."