Don’t Look Now, page 32
“She ended up in your treatment program.”
“It’s a small world.”
“And then I came to you. Our random meeting after Avery’s attack wasn’t an accident, was it?”
“No. I worried Avery might remember me, so I made a point to see you.”
He had said all the right things, and she had fallen into bed with him. He had been a tender, patient lover, and Jordan struggled to reconcile those memories with this raw violence. “And then I left you. Again.”
“Yes, you did.”
Aware of each passing second, she pushed aside this deep betrayal. “Were there others before Laura and Tammy?”
In the silence she felt his gaze burrowing into her. “Maybe.”
“Who? Where are they?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“Why did you keep Casey alive?”
“You tell me.”
“To torture me,” she said.
“Yes. That was a big part of it. But she also looks the most like you.”
“The tape on Emma’s eyes was meant for me,” Jordan said.
“Did you pick up on my clue? I wasn’t sure.”
“Why me?”
“You’re an amazing woman, Jordan. You have a strength few possess. I still dream about being with you, being inside you. I thought maybe with you, I could be a better man. And after you lost your sight, I even thought we might have a second chance.”
A chill slithered down her spine. “You killed Walker.”
“He threatened to tell the police about my connection to Laura, Tammy, and the others. Tried to bribe me. I couldn’t let that stand.”
The seconds ticked by. Avery’s breathing grew slower, shallower. She was preserving her oxygen. “And Rawlings?”
“Rawlings and I had a good working relationship through the food bank. He was an easy mark.” More silence, but this time delight mingled with arrogance. “Turn on the breaker, Jordan.”
“It won’t take the police long to figure out you killed those women,” she said. “Your DNA was on two of them. Sooner or later it’ll be traced to you. And the police already have their doubts that Rawlings killed himself.”
“Cops give themselves too much credit. Besides, I can justify the DNA. I can admit to consensual affairs with the women. All the real evidence linking Rawlings to the killings is in his apartment.”
“Why kill him?”
“He was a means to an end. By the way, your sister’s head tipped forward. She’s losing consciousness.”
Jordan moved toward the sound of Rogan’s voice. She curled her fingers into a fist and hoped Avery still had access to her knife. “You’re attracted to addicts who are like you. Your drug is killing. Sexual heroin.”
Footsteps advanced quickly toward her, but she was able to sidestep, and his wild swing missed its mark. Still, even in the darkness, he had the advantage. He reached out, but she dodged his hand.
Avery had grown too silent, and Jordan’s hope that she could provoke Rogan was crumbling.
“Let Avery go. Work out whatever shit you have with me. And stop hurting the innocent.”
“They aren’t innocent. They gave in to weakness, and now they’re dead because of it.”
“You give in to weakness!”
“It’s ironic, isn’t it?”
“Avery isn’t using drugs. You forced her.”
“How do you know she wasn’t high when I arrived?”
“Because I know my sister.”
This time his arm shot out with lightning speed. He grabbed her right arm and then her left. He roughly hauled her toward him, his familiar scent warring with this reality. He dragged her toward the fuse box and switched on the main breaker.
Faint flashes of lights appeared around her.
He yanked her into the living room, and she tripped over a strip of plastic. Shoving her down, he drove his knee into her chest and anchored her to the ground. She struck out aimlessly, hitting him on the legs, belly, and arms.
“Showing me how much you love me?” Jordan demanded.
He grappled for her left hand. “No more love here, Jordan. I’m truly going to enjoy watching you die.”
Jordan swung her fist, connecting with his jaw. He howled a curse, but the blow was only enough to enrage him. She drew her knee up, tried to connect with his groin, but missed.
Out of the darkness that was always with her came a rush of energy and mass. “Bastard!” Avery howled like a wild animal.
Rogan yelled, “Bitch, you’ve cut me!”
Avery grunted and then her knees dropped to the ground. A knife clinked against the floor and was swallowed by the shadows.
When Spencer pulled up to Jordan’s house, all the lights were glowing bright. She had said she liked to keep the lights on so if she woke up with sight, she would know it.
So why didn’t it feel right?
His phone rang. “Spencer.”
“This is Santiago. I couldn’t find Avery.”
“I’m at Jordan’s house,” Spencer said. “Avery’s car and Jordan’s SUV are in the driveway, but this doesn’t feel right.”
“I’m on my way.” Santiago ended the call.
Out of his car, Spencer settled his hand on his weapon. As he moved toward the front door, he heard Jordan’s anguished cry of pain. Standing back, he unholstered his weapon.
He stepped back and kicked the front door hard with his booted foot. The hinges gave partway. He kicked a second time, and a third, and then the doorframe cracked, and the door fell inside the house.
He saw Jordan on the ground, covered in blood, Rogan Malone straddling her and raising a knife above her as she raked her hand down his cheek. Lying nearby was an unconscious Avery. He drew in a breath, praying he was not too late.
Spencer fired, hitting Rogan in the shoulder. The bullet tore through his body and threw him off balance. He struggled to right himself as he scrambled for the knife.
Jordan rolled to her side, drew her fist back, and struck Rogan. The blow grazed his jaw. Not enough to stop Rogan but enough to distract him.
Spencer fired a second round. This one struck Rogan at center mass in the chest. He stared down at his injury with a mixture of shock and fury. The man fell backward, hitting the floor.
Spencer was on top of him immediately, rolling him to his belly. He unhooked his cuffs and clicked them on Rogan’s wrists.
“She needs to die,” Rogan wheezed.
“Jordan, are you okay?” Spencer asked.
“I’m fine.” Her voice sounded ragged.
Her shirt and pants were covered in blood, and automatically he ran his hands over her body, searching for injuries. “The blood.”
“It’s his.”
Spencer reached for his phone and called for backup.
“I need to get to Avery,” Jordan said. “He hit her. She’s on the floor.”
Jordan tried to rise on wobbly feet and then fell to her knees. Her face tightened with frustration as she fought against her body’s weakness.
Moments like this for any cop passed in painfully slow seconds as they struggled to overcome an injury. “Stay,” he said. “I’ve got this.”
He gently rolled Avery on her back and pressed his fingers to her throat. Her skin felt hot to the touch, and her pulse was weak but present. He pushed open her eyelids and stared into oversize pupils. She was high.
“Avery,” he said. “Can you hear me?”
She did not respond to his voice, prompting a fear that she had overdosed. He rubbed his knuckles into her breastbone. The distant sound of sirens grew louder. “Avery!”
Jordan crawled toward them, and she took her sister’s limp hand in her own. “Is she okay?”
He did not have the heart to tell Jordan he was not sure. “Avery!”
Jordan squeezed Avery’s hand until her own knuckles whitened. “Open your eyes. Look at me!”
Avery’s eyes slowly opened. Black pupils swallowed up blue irises. She stared at him blankly.
“Can she see us?” Jordan asked him.
“Avery,” Spencer said. “Can you see?”
“I’m not sure.”
Jordan cupped her sister’s face in her hands and turned it toward her own. “Avery!”
Avery’s gaze focused, and she sat up suddenly. “Where is he? He’s going to kill us.”
“He’s cuffed, Avery,” Spencer said. “He can’t hurt you or Jordan anymore.”
Avery’s eyes filled with tears of anger and defeat.
“What did you take?” Spencer asked Avery.
“I don’t know. He shot me up.” Her gaze dropped to the needle mark at the crook of her arm, and she shut her eyes. “He’s killed me.”
“No, he has not,” Spencer said. “Jordan, take care of Avery. The cops are here.”
When he turned back, Jordan had dropped her tear-streaked face to her sister’s. “It’s okay. It’s okay. We will survive this, I swear.”
EPILOGUE
Thursday, July 1
1:30 p.m.
Jordan stood in the lobby of the medical building. Today her neurologist had evaluated her recent MRIs and brain scans and updated her on the status of her ocular nerve.
She had not needed a doctor’s test to tell her what she knew. A small amount of vision had returned in the last couple of months. Some of the shadows were not as dark, she could make out people if they were standing in front of a bright window, and her sensitivity to light had diminished. But her vision was not what it had been, and the chances of it improving enough to get back on the force were slim.
She could hope for a miracle. And maybe one day there would be more progress in nerve regeneration. But for now, that was not an option for her.
The front door opened, and determined footsteps moved toward her across the medical building’s lobby. Spencer. He always walked as if he were racing toward a crime scene.
He had offered to attend this meeting with her. “Two sets of ears are better than one” had been his justification. Avery had also offered, but Jordan wanted her sister’s focus to remain on her new fight to remain sober. The poison Rogan had injected in her was a challenge to overcome, and it was taking all of Avery’s mental strength to stay the course.
In the end, Jordan had decided to take Spencer up on his offer. He’d listened to the doctor’s prognosis, asked questions, and held her hand when the answers were not what she wanted to hear.
Spencer kissed her on the lips. “I’ve pulled the car around. It’s out front.”
“Thanks.” She hooked her arm in his. Outside, the hot summer sun warmed her skin, chasing away the chill of the doctor’s office. She tipped her face to the sky.
They crossed the sidewalk toward the idling engine of his vehicle. Now familiar with its layout, she reached for the handle, opened the door as Spencer moved around to the driver’s side. That had been a number one rule when they’d both agreed they were in a relationship. She did not want to be babied. Sally certainly had not cut her any slack during the months of therapy sessions, and she appreciated that.
She closed up her cane, climbed into the front seat, and shut the door. She hooked her seat belt with relative ease.
As Spencer began to drive, the seat’s warmth, coupled with the cool air-conditioning, allowed her mind to wander back over the last couple of months. It was not good to live in the past, but Rogan Malone had been impossible to forget.
Rogan had survived his injuries and was in jail. Bail had been denied, and he would wait in jail until his trial later this summer. So far, Rogan had refused to speak to anyone about any other possible victims.
Jordan had worked with Spencer over the last month to unravel Rogan Malone’s killing spree. The therapist had put the women in Walker’s path, knowing the temptation of using was too much for them to resist. After Jordan had broken up with Rogan, he’d taken only the women who looked like her.
When Walker had accidentally killed his girlfriend, his hold on his drug operation had started to slip. His money had dried up, and he had tried to blackmail Rogan. Rogan had realized if he wanted to continue, he needed to kill Walker and find other sources for his victims. He had shot the drug dealer up and hanged him from the light fixture. He had also admitted that Emma had been clean when he’d taken her. He had injected her as he had Avery.
He had not expected Jordan to find Casey alive the first time, and his attack on Jordan had been unplanned. They believed he had kept Casey alive, realizing she satisfied his relentless addiction.
The forensic evidence backed up this theory. Not only had Rogan’s DNA matched all the samples that had been collected from the victims, but he had been spotted near Jordan’s hospital room multiple times. No one had noticed him because he was on staff, and he knew Jordan. When Spencer had reviewed more recordings, he’d spotted Rogan in the crowd the day Jordan was released from the hospital, and an eyewitness placed him near the hospital in a hoodie around the time when Emma was taken.
When Spencer had dug into Rawlings’s past, he’d also discovered that Rogan had been his counselor years ago. Rogan had built a connection with Rawlings via the food bank, and he had sent Tammy and Casey to interview at Rawlings’s store, knowing he might one day frame the man. The world of addiction was a small one.
Spencer slowed, shifted gears. “How are you feeling about the appointment?”
“You heard as well as I did. My sight might be as good as it gets.”
“And?”
“It stinks,” she said. “I want to see again. I want my old normal again.” She smoothed her hands over her jeans. “But I’ll deal with what I have in front of me, not what I wish was there.”
The car accelerated again. “Did Captain Lee speak to you about the new job?”
Captain Lee had called her this morning. He was transferring her to victim assistance. The idea had appeal, but she had asked to consider the offer.
“You’re well connected, Ranger Spencer. I only received the captain’s call this morning.”
“I didn’t mean to pry. But he ran it past me when he first came up with the idea.”
“I’m really considering it. I love working, and this job would allow me to use what I know. It’ll mean getting a master’s in social work, but that’s doable.” She had already looked into returning to school and learned that until she mastered braille, she could use audiobooks and readers.
“You haven’t said yes yet?” he asked.
She shrugged. “It’s always best not to say yes right away.”
“That the way it is with us?” he asked.
“My life is changing faster than even I can process,” she said. “I don’t want you making a promise that could end up being a burden to you.”
“There’s nothing burdensome about it, Jordan. I know what I’m getting into.”
“I’m not sure I do, but I’m stuck with it. You’re not.”
“I’m not going anywhere, Jordan,” he said.
“You’re a good guy, Spencer, and you’re loyal to a fault. Even if I became a burden, you wouldn’t leave.” His loyalty to Vickie was the proof.
“I’m crazy about you.” His voice was rough, heavy with emotion.
“I’m crazy about you,” she said.
“Then why are you worried about burdens? I’m exactly where I want to be.”
She knew he believed that, but she did not want his future self ever looking back on this moment with regret. “Why don’t we take it one day at a time? That’s about all I’m really good for right now.”
“I’m in it for the long haul, but I’m patient. And I’ll wait.”
She turned toward him, feeling that rock-hard determination that etched the deep frown lines she still remembered on his forehead and around his mouth. However much time they ultimately had together was incentive enough for her not to waste a second of it. “Seeing as we both have today off, it would be a shame to waste it.”
“What would you like to do?” he asked easily.
Grinning, she smoothed her hand over his thigh. “I have a few ideas.”
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Photo © 2015 StudioFBJ
New York Times and USA Today bestselling novelist Mary Burton is the popular author of more than thirty-five romance and suspense novels, as well as five novellas. She currently lives in Virginia with her husband and three miniature dachshunds. Visit her at www.maryburton.com.
Burton, Mary, Don’t Look Now
