Deadly Touch - Heather Graham Page 0,75
life. His grandparents on his dad’s side came over from Cuba and the family was close and very tight.” She hesitated. “Jordan is a good guy, Axel. He really is.”
“You never dated him?”
She shook her head. “We were always just good friends.”
“But you did date Tate Fielding.”
“He’s not a bad person, either. Just a little full of himself.”
“You said you stayed friends when you split up.”
“It was never much of a romance. We were just together. I don’t think he was ever particularly into just one person. Tate likes being adored. It’s just the way he is. And he was cool in middle school and high school and college, and he stepped right into his father’s firm. That might make him an ass. It doesn’t mean he’s evil.”
“I’m just asking.”
“And now you’re going to want to know about Lucia, Elly and Mya?”
He looked at her. “You think women can’t be evil?” he queried, a slight curl to his lips.
“No. Of course not. Anyone can be evil,” she said. “But again, when Fran Castle disappeared, we were kids. Thirteen and fourteen years old.”
He nodded. “Yes.”
“What does that mean? Hey, I was on the bus with those guys. And through every lecture. Plus, we were at school all day before we got on the bus. In the same class. I saw all of them.”
“Right.”
“What does that mean?”
“Sorry—nothing. It doesn’t mean anything.”
“Yes, it does!”
“I need the address.”
“What?”
“Jordan’s address.”
“Oh!” She gave him the address, watching him suspiciously.
“What are you getting at?” she demanded.
“I think I’ve told you. Angela is checking, a zillion techs are checking, looking for something that might in any way connect our victims. We’re not finding anything that matches up, anything all of them might have been doing, or that they might have been associated with. All we have is they were killed in the exact same way.”
“And?”
“That suggests they were murdered by a hired killer.”
She was quiet a minute. “And you think one of my friends might have been a hired killer—thirteen years ago?”
“Not then. No.”
“Okay, so one of them might be a hired killer now? But somehow, they’re killing in the same way someone did years ago?”
“It’s a quick and easy method,” Axel said.
They turned off US 1 on Twenty-seventh Avenue and headed down to Tigertail. Raina told Axel where to turn.
Jordan’s house was a pretty Mediterranean, built in the late 1930s. It was two stories, and maybe about twenty-five hundred square feet. Not massive, but nice for a single man.
“His car is here,” Raina said, surprised.
“Maybe he fell asleep and just hasn’t been answering his phone,” Axel suggested.
“Let me try him again.”
Raina did and, yet again, her call went straight to his voice mail.
“So, we try the door,” Axel said.
They did. They rang the bell, then pounded on the door, and there was no answer.
“You don’t know of any secret way in there, do you?” Axel asked.
“Uh, maybe.”
“Don’t tell me there’s a key under the mat.”
She shook her head. “Nothing so obvious. But his aunt always left a key in the flowerpot by the porch that opened the back door. But...is it legal?”
“No. But do you want to check on your friend? Would Jordan have you arrested?”
“I sincerely doubt it. I don’t know if he still keeps a key there.”
“We won’t know unless we try.”
They walked around the house. A flowerpot was next to a little cement porch at the back. Raina felt around in the dirt.
And found the key to the back door.
They went in.
“Jordan!” she called as they entered.
Axel quickly went through the downstairs rooms—kitchen, dining, living room and office. He headed for the stairs.
“Stay down here!” he warned Raina.
She did.
Jordan’s home was nice, but not ostentatious. He had a large leather couch and wide-screen TV in the living room, and his kitchen held good modern appliances. His dining table had been his aunt’s and it was a handsome, carved piece with chairs to match.
She wandered into the office.
“Anything?” she called up to Axel. “You know if he’s just out, and he left his phone in the car or something, he’s going to be pretty ticked at me for searching his house.”
“He’s not in his room, the guest room or bathroom,” Axel called down.
Raina wandered over behind his desk.
She wasn’t sure why—maybe curiosity. They had come this far; they were in the man’s house.
She hit a key to bring his computer to life.
And a picture showed up on the screen.
It was a picture of Jordan and Jennifer Lowry, lovely, happy and smiling with all the life