Revelations (47 page)

“See something you like?” Jordan asked in a low, eerie voice.

“Jesus!” Jane said.

He smiled and chuckled. “Did I scare you?”

“I didn’t hear you come in.”

“That’s because I was already inside.”

“Then why didn’t you respond when I called out?”

“I wanted to see what you were up to. I like to observe people…just like you do.” He stood back, reading her
I LIKE BOYZ
T-shirt. “Thanks for clarifying your sexual preference. Now I can sleep peacefully at night.” Jordan sauntered to the cluttered kitchen table, still laden with stacks of books, and eyed Jane more closely. “You look different, Jane.” His eyes bored into her. “You’ve been awakened by the blue lily, haven’t you?” Jane remained stone-faced. “Yes! I’m right. You’ve had an otherwordly experience.” He smiled a knowing grin. “You’ve been awakened! You’ll never be the same again, Jane.
Never
! Awareness is
a demanding mistress. Once she wakes you up, she won’t let you go back to sleep.” He walked around the table. “It’s nice to meet a fellow compatriot on the path. There aren’t many of us brave souls. There’s
too
much ignorance out there. Ignorance is bliss but the ignorant are too stupid to recognize their bliss by virtue of their ignorance. If that ain’t irony, I don’t know what is!”

Jane tired of Jordan’s chatter. “We have to talk.”

“Patience, Jane. Patience. I promised I would tell you my big secret on Monday.”

“I gotta know now.”

Jordan tilted his head, probing Jane’s psyche. “Oh, dear. Did he slip up?”

“Who?”

“Your kidnapper. Did he? They always do. Did he reveal something quite by accident? Or…maybe
not
by accident?” Jane remained stoic, but Jordan seemed to read past the exterior. “Yes, of course.” Jordan’s eyes drifted, appearing suddenly remote. “He really wants attention, Jane. He needs you to listen to him. You’re the only one who will listen. As much as we work to hide our secrets, the unconscious mind prods our soul to reveal all. The unconscious mind is
relentless
. We leave a trail of mistakes that can only be deciphered by the truly aware and gifted…like you, Jane.”

Jane was never one to succumb to flattery, whether genuine or done to manipulate. Her eyes drifted to the disorderly kitchen table. She saw a deck of cards splayed in an uneven arch hidden between two stacks of books. Her stoic façade evaporated.

“What is it, Jane?”

She felt her heart beating harder. “Where were you the night of March 22
^nd
?”

He slipped out of his altered state. “I already told Bo Lowry that story. He got it on video. Why don’t you watch it?”

“I did. Tell me again.”

“You want to see if the stories match? Checking for inconsistencies? Smart people like myself can maintain the
consistency of lies better than the dumb fucks out there. You know that, Jane.”

“Why were you covered in mud? Why were your hands bloody? Why were you wandering on the Highway in a daze?”

Jordan appeared legitimately troubled. “I was outside… walking…I could smell spring in the air, but I also smelled death. Yet, it was more in the ether.”

“The
ether
?”

“The world around us! But this was far away.”

“How far away?”

“I don’t know,” Jordan replied, his eyes shifting to that night in his memory. “But I smelled it and then I felt it… right here.” He struck his fist into his chest near his heart. “It stabbed at me. I started to run but the more I ran, the more I felt the tentacles of death coming closer. It was the same way I felt that night so long ago.” Jordan’s chin trembled. “When Daniel died.” He shook his head. “But this time…this time, it was stronger… It was closer to me. It was
part
of me!”

“What do you mean,
part of you
?”

He looked at her, his eyes wild yet tortured. “
I don’t know
!” he yelled emphatically. “I’ve never felt anything as profound as this in my entire life.”

“Except the night you killed Daniel?”

He dismissed her statement with a toss of his hand. “It was twenty times stronger than that. I tried to fight them off. Honestly, I did!”

“Fight who off?”

“The demons. At least, I think they were demons. The storm was so fierce, I can’t be sure. I hid under a scrub oak and saw the blood on my hands. I didn’t know where it came from. But it was like a nightmare. And that stabbing pain in my chest was unyielding. I had to run. I had to get away. But I fell down the embankment that leads to the river. That’s how I got muddy, I guess.” He turned his head, as if he were back in that moment and reliving it. “There was a squeal… or maybe a scream. I’m
not sure. From over there…” He pointed outside his cabin and in the direction of the infamous bridge. “That’s all I remember until one of the deputies picked me up the next morning on the road. Somehow, I’d walked out there. But I don’t remember how.” Jordan came out of his daze. “And then they told me a boy named Jake Van Gorden was missing. Last known location was on the bridge where he’d left a noose.” He shook his head. “Jesus Christ.” For the first time since Jane had known Jordan, there was an indubitable sense of sadness regarding the missing boy. “I knew it was obvious to them.”

“Obvious how?” Jane asked carefully.

Jordan looked at her with a knowing stare. “What in the hell do you think, Jane?”

“That you killed another boy, Jordan?! Is this what you’re saying?!”

“Fuck, Jane! You’re better than that!”

“Jordan, we’re pissing away time here! If you took Jake or if you know who did and where he is, you have to tell me now!”

Jordan hung his head. “I know what it feels like to want to die. I recognize what it takes to get to that point. I understand the emptiness… the desperation and the sorrow. Jake felt he didn’t have a choice anymore.” He looked up at Jane, his pupils screened in a ghostly glaze. “But you know all about suicide, don’t you, Jane?” Jane swallowed hard. “You reached that point a couple years ago but you didn’t pull the trigger.” He shook his head. “Oh, Jane…but
he did
. And you’re the one who found his lifeless body.” This was impossible. There was no way Jordan could know any of it. “You’re just shy of your twenty-second year and on your way to a better life. But there’s a man who can’t follow you. His conscience is dark and damaged and he turned a corner a long time ago.”

Jane shook her head. “Stop it…”

“He sits in a wingback chair and he puts the cold steel under his chin and he hesitates. Yes, you wondered if he ever hesitated…whether he thought about you before he did the deed?
Oh, yes, Jane. He did. But he was too lost down that pit that has no soft surface.”

Jane felt trapped. She backed up but the ladder to the loft stopped her progress. “Stop it, Jordan!”

Jordan moved closer to her. “And when you found him, he was there, sitting on the couch watching you and realizing that he’d fucked up. And he was with you later that night in bed, holding you, but you were too drunk to feel his ghostly touch. But he was there and still feeling the pain he thought he killed.”

Jane bolted for the door. “Shut up!”

Jordan stood in her way. “It wasn’t his time, Jane. He still had life in his veins. It was still pumping and meant to vibrate on this plane for many more years. So, he hung around you… haunted you. He lay between your thoughts.” Jordan moved within inches of Jane, his hot breath stinging her face. “He woke you in the middle of a dream with his scent. You felt him inside you and his breath against your skin. You heard his heartbeat in your throat. And you thought you were going crazy but he was tearing at your etheric body, begging to be seen and heard.” Jane reached for the door, but Jordan grabbed her arm. “Then one day, he left you for good. He slipped into the silence and dragged his memory with him. But he still hovers on the edge of your consciousness…especially when you think there’s a chance of finding him again in another man. The
good
part of him—the part that was true and noble and who loved you desperately no matter your faults. You want that but you’re scared that it’s impossible to attain. As if love were only for the fortunate.”

Tears welled in Jane’s eyes. She shook off Jordan’s grasp. “You have no right!”

“Jane…”

“Fuck you!” She opened the door and stormed to the truck. Peeling out of his property, she caught Jordan’s reflection in the rear view mirror. He was standing in the cabin doorway with a cruel glare.

Jane parked Hank’s truck in front of the B&B and walked upstairs to her room. But even after a long shower, she couldn’t shake Jordan’s incisive dive into her buried past. Nobody was allowed there.
No one.
You talk about sacred territory? Even her brother knew better than to utter his name. And this crazed, wild-eyed child killer had the audacity to not only bring the ragged memory to the surface but to validate all those weird, sentient encounters she’d had after he died. No, it wasn’t acceptable to Jane. There were lines you simply didn’t cross. There were dark memories that needed to stay buried. But now they were bubbling to the surface again and the pain was as potent as it was fifteen years ago.
He had no right.

Weyler knocked on her door, but Jane was still wrapped in a towel. “Hank brought your car around front and left your key on the entry table,” he said outside the door. “Here’s the two clues that weren’t dispatched to CBI.” Weyler scooted two envelopes under the door. “I’m going to dinner.”

Jane acknowledged Weyler and retrieved the two envelopes. Inside the first was the one sentence note and, in the other, the lone Chesterfield cigarette. She hung the duo in their respective spot on the clothesline and grabbed one of the three nearly identical blue poplin shirts. But before she finished buttoning it, she stared at her reflection in the bathroom mirror. The woman staring back at her looked drab in that far too sensible shirt. Jane fingered through the girlish offerings Mollie had loaned her and stared at the long sleeved, plunging necked, cream number that skimmed the hips with its silky fabric and lacey embroidered accents. It was so unlike anything she’d ever wear, but she removed the navy blue poplin number, tossed it on the bed and slipped the feminine frock over her head. Turning back to the mirror, she didn’t recognize her reflection. It wasn’t that it was unattractive. On the contrary, it was close to stunning. The fabric clung to her breasts and defined a waist
she’d hidden for years. But it just wasn’t who Jane was. Who
she
was, was lying in a wrinkled, indigo heap on the bed. Her eyes glanced between the two shirts—one embracing the past and the other whispering of where she could go. Jane grabbed the poplin shirt and put it over the new one and headed downstairs. Grabbing the keys to her Mustang off the entry table, she headed outside. As she caught her reflection in the Mustang’s side window, she recognized how clearly ridiculous she looked. She removed the poplin shirt, tossed it into the backseat of her car and walked across the street toward The Rabbit Hole.

After knocking several times on Hank’s house door, Jane meandered around to the front of the sports bar. The chairs were on top of the tables and the place looked vacant. It seemed odd for an early evening on a Sunday night. The door was unlocked so she walked in and called Hank’s name.

“Over here,” he replied, standing in the recesses of the far stage.

Jane walked across the dance floor toward him. “Why are you shut down?”

Hank had his back to Jane momentarily. He was dressed in a knock-around denim shirt, with a frayed collar and cuffs, and a pair of jeans that framed his backside perfectly. “We close down for a few days during the off season to clean.” He turned around and looked at her. “Well…you sure can’t hide your Glock under that, can you?”

Jane felt exposed, a sensation that didn’t set well. “Yeah… well...it was the first thing I grabbed off the hanger.”

“Really?” Hank wasn’t buying a word of it. “Lucky hanger.”

She threw him his truck keys. “Thanks for the loan. What do I owe on the Mustang?”

“Nothing. I had some favors coming so it’s a wash.”

Her back went up against the clingy silk. “Now, wait a second…”

“Jane, he didn’t charge me. Don’t worry. You don’t owe me anything.”

This was the most ridiculous thing she’d ever heard. “Can we just cut to the chase?”

“Who’s chasing who?”

“It’s a term,” Jane said with a humorless look.

“I’m aware of that.” Hank moved to the rim of the stage. “Maybe I look like a dumb puck, but I’m not.”

“I never said you were dumb.”

“Are you hungry? You look hungry.” Hank jumped off the stage and headed toward the kitchen.

Jane stood flabbergasted. “When did I lose control of this relationship?” she murmured to herself before following Hank into the kitchen.

Hank donned a chef’s apron and brought down a fry pan from a hook. “You like shrimp?”

Jane sidled up to the stainless steel center table. “Sure.”

“Good. I’m going to make you the best shrimp, tomato, garlic, and basil stir-fry you have ever tasted. Have a seat.” He pointed to a wooden stool next to the table.

Jane reluctantly sat down. “You know, I can find food on my own. You don’t have to feel the need to feed me all the time.”

He heated olive oil in the pan and then plopped what looked like homemade tomato sauce into another saucepan. “I like cooking for you. I like talking to you.” He smiled at Jane before walking to the refrigerator and bringing out several cloves of garlic and a handful of fresh basil leaves.

That feeling came back to Jane—the one she’d had when they were standing outside The Rabbit Hole the night before; that comfortable sense that she was meeting an old friend for the first time. She’d never felt anything like it before.
Comfortable
was not in her standard repertoire. But here she was, sitting in a commercial kitchen of a sports bar wearing a silky shirt with a plunging neckline and having a man cook shrimp for her. None of it made any damn sense. And she couldn’t blame the effects of the blue lily this time. She wanted to say something to break the sudden silence. “By any chance, did you translate that
Patois
sentence I gave you?”