Dream Caller (13 page)

“Lie to me?”

His expression turned harder. “Did you ever tell anyone that your parents and sister died because your father was a drug dealer?”

She shook her head. “Of course not. It was no one’s business.”

“Exactly. It shamed you, so you didn’t speak of it. You were stubborn as hell. They tried to change your name and you refused. They wanted to cut your hair and you went crazy. We feared if you knew your dad was FBI and died in the line, you’d talk about it or ask questions.”

“I’m thirty years old. It never occurred to you to find me and tell this information once I grew up?”

“What are you going to do with the information now?”

“What the hell do you think I’m going to do with it?” she lashed back. “I’m going to find the asshole who ordered the hit on my family.”

“Yes, and then you’re going to end up just like your father. The man who shot your family is dead. It’s over, Jordan. Move on.”

“I don’t think so.” Jordan slid the picture of Anton Linder out of the folder she’d carried in with her. “My dad’s case file say’s this is the guy who killed Mom, Dad, and Katy.” She turned the picture around on the table and slid it toward her uncle.

Bill nodded. “Yeah, that’s him. The neighbors heard gunshots and called the police. The cops chased him. He ran and jumped in a car. He was doing about ninety when he wrapped himself around a light pole a few miles from your house.”

“It wasn’t him. That’s not who I saw do it.” Jordan’s hand had an ugly tremble in it as she grabbed the picture back.

Her uncle reached out, wrapped his larger, steadier fingers around hers. Until a few minutes ago, she’d have bet his touch would have spurred anger or an outburst. Maybe even hatred. Instead, she felt nothing more than the bone-deep sorrow that had just about eaten her alive over the years. Only this time, it wasn’t her sorrow that pounded at her. It was Bill’s.

“He’s the one. He had the gun in the car. Your mom . . .”

“Just say it,” Jordan lashed out. She yanked her hand away. “What?”

“Your mom apparently scratched him. His skin was under her nails.” Bill nodded toward the picture of Anton Linder. “There was never any doubt that he was the one. But no matter how many times the police showed you mugshots and pictures, you kept insisting it was someone else. We never understood why.”

“You weren’t there. The police weren’t there. I was there, and I saw a tall guy with long black hair and a scar.”

“Did you really see him? Because you told the police you were hiding in a closet the whole time. And the man you just described couldn’t have killed your family, Jordan. The man who fits that description was your father’s partner, and he was already dead. The cartel had murdered him the night before.”

“But . . .” The air in the small house turned thick and murky, as though she were inhaling through a dirty filter. She tried like hell to take in a few steadying breaths, but her chest felt crushed under the weight of the shock. It was nearly impossible to breathe, think, or talk. “But the other man, I’ve seen him over and over in my . . .”

 . . . 
dreams.
No, not going there.

“In my mind, I can still see him.”

“Probably because he worked with your dad. You must have met him. You were just a child and under so much stress, no one blamed you for having the details mixed up.”

Could she have had the details
that
mixed up? She thought back to the dream. She hadn’t actually seen the man with the long black hair and the scar pull the trigger, but he’d been there. Always with a fierce expression and panicked movements. Had he been trying to warn her of what was coming instead of being the one who’d killed her family?

Closing her eyes, she thought back, tried to make sense of all the scrambled memories. Had she once again spent years hating the wrong man?

She stared at Bill and managed one last question. “Was his name Ben Steel?”

Her uncle blew out a long sigh. “God, Jordan. That was twenty years ago. I don’t know if I remember all the names, but yeah, Steel sounds right, I think.”

She cleared her throat. “Thank you for talking to me.”

“Jordan, stay for a while. I can get you some coffee and we can call Jessica—”

She shook her head. “I have to get back.” She was cool and professional now, so maybe he wouldn’t guess that he’d ripped one more piece of earth right out from under her. She stood and headed for the door.

“Jordan,” he said

She stopped.

“You’re always welcome here. I hope you come back. I’d like to see you again. I think Jessie would like it, too.”

She turned back to him. “How is Jessie?”

“Good. She graduated with a psychology degree, works with troubled kids.” His proud smile was impossible to miss. “Seems to love it.” 

“What happened to Aunt Allie?”

“She died about four years after you’re family died. The cancer just kept coming back.”

So neither of them had had a particularly easy go of it. “I’m sorry.” She reached into her pocket, pulled out a business card, and laid it on a small table near the door. She didn’t know if they’d ever keep in touch like family, but she no longer wanted to blow up and sever the bridge to his knowledge about her father, either.

He’d provided more answers than anyone else had so far. Unfortunately, they just spurred more questions.

***

Ty managed to avoid Isobel most of the morning. He went back to the sorority house to speak with Hailey King’s roommate again. He needed to be absolutely sure it was David Benson that Gena had seen lurking outside the sorority house the night of Hailey’s death.

Gena still swore she saw David at the exact same time five other guys claim to have carried David back inside the frat house. But David Benson sure as shit hadn’t been in two different places at the same time. Something about the whole damn case didn’t sit right with Ty.

He pulled into the parking lot at the precinct, then made his way to his office to find Isobel behind his desk.

“About damn time you showed up,” she said. “I’ve been trying to call you all morning.”

“A fact I’m well aware of,” he grumbled. He tossed the box to his new cellphone down on his desk. “My phone broke.”

“Ah.” She raised a brow. “And you never thought to call me with one of the other million phones in town? Is it just me who has this problem with you, or don’t you bother to call anyone when you should?”

He worked hard to bite back a smartass response about blocking her number altogether. Jordan should know how committed he was to their relationship, but Isobel’s ridiculous flirting and incessant phone calls were stopping now.

“Let me ask you something. What did you need at six this morning?”

She looked taken aback by his tone. “You know the coat we found in David’s trunk? Labs show that it was Hailey’s blood on it. The DA wants us to arrest David Benson.”

“Damn. I can’t believe that.” Ty said. Then he cocked his head and looked at Isobel again. She was lying. He knew damn well she didn’t have that info when she’d called before dawn. “Wow. They called you before six a.m. to tell you that?”

“No,” she shot back. “I had a flat tire. I needed a lift. Jonesy gave me a ride. He’s such a sweetheart. And,” she added, “he answers his phone.”

Ty sat in one of the chairs in front of his desk. He prayed to God she wouldn’t use Jonesy as an excuse to hang around the precinct.

She leaned back in the chair. “Is there a problem?”

“Not at all.” In fact, if they arrested Benson today, Isobel should be gone by tonight. He just wished he were positive Benson killed Hailey. “Do you think David Benson is stupid enough to kill his girlfriend and then stuff the coat he was wearing into his trunk?”

“Uh, yeah, I do. Maybe not if he’s sober and thinking with a clear head. But I’m pretty sure he got angry and drunk, killed Hailey, and then barely managed to stumble back to the frat house before he passed out in the snow. The fact that he had the presence of mind to stuff the coat anywhere is impressive.”

Isobel’s scenario was plausible, he supposed. Still, his gut wasn’t one hundred percent on board with the arrest. “I’m not sure I buy it.”

“Hey, if you’ve got some other smoking gun in your back pocket, feel free to call the DA and hash it out. But I’m not looking in the other direction so that David Benson can strangle the next young woman who denies him sex.”

Ty thought about Tara for a minute. And then thought about Hailey King’s family. Maybe Isobel was right. If Benson killed another young woman because he got away with it the first time, that blood would be on Ty’s hands. “All right,” he said, “grab your coat. Let’s go pick him up.” 

Chapter 10

Jordan made it back to Saunders Cemetery just before dark. The drive had given her enough time to sort through what her uncle had told her. Ben Steel was the man in her dream. And he hadn’t murdered her parents and Katy, he’d been trying to save them.

All she had seen was his face and then the murders. She’d been too young, too inexperienced, and too hard-headed to figure out what the dream had really meant.

After a little digging, she found out that Ben Steel and his wife were also buried in Saunders Cemetery. They were several rows away from her family, but she needed to see his grave. Needed to apologize.

She placed a single red rose on Steel’s headstone. “I’m sorry.” It was perhaps the most inadequate apology ever. Unless she counted the one she was about to make to her father.

Turning from Steel’s headstone, she thought about how a whole cemetery of truth had existed less than five minutes from where she worked every day. And yet she hadn’t been a good enough cop, psychic, or daughter to figure it out. The guilt was like a living, breathing beast inside her.

She made her way over to her family and looked down at the four headstones, all that was left of a family who’d appeared almost normal at one time.

They’d gone to the movies. They’d camped. She remembered playing softball and eating ice cream, just normal stuff. Until one day, normal no longer existed.

Maybe Ty was right. Maybe normal never existed. And maybe chasing normal had been her biggest mistake of all.

She squeezed the stalks of flowers in her hand. Roses for her mom and dad. Colorful daises for Katy. Still unsure if having graves to visit was a blessing or a curse, she kneeled and arranged the flowers carefully against the headstones.

Day after day, year after year, there’d been so many people and spirits and cases she’d opened herself up to. But the case that mattered most, she refused to see, like a vindictive child. How many times over the years had her father tried to connect with her? Time and again he’d tried to show her the truth, and she’d been too stubborn to pay attention.

“I’m so sorry, Daddy.” Her chin quivered, and she clamped a hand over her mouth to quiet the sob. “Maybe I needed someone to blame,” she whispered. “Someone to hate more than I hated myself.”

The tears came in a rush. “Please don’t hate me. Please don’t . . .” She sucked in a ragged breath.

I’ve always loved you.

I loved you then.

I love you now.

And I’ve loved you every day in between.

Her eyes opened. She looked around. No one else was there. Correction: no person was there. But she recognized the sensation and the overwhelming heartache of her father’s spirit trying to communicate. And this time, she let him.

So much anger, she realized. So much energy spent blocking all his attempts at communicating for so many years.

“I’m sorry, Daddy. I’m so stupid. I should have—”

You’re anger kept you going. You believed exactly what I needed you to believe to survive. Now believe there’s a reason you’re still alive.

She sat quietly for a minute. “If there is, I don’t know what that reason is.”

Yes, you do.
You’ve found the truth, now let it go. We’re gone, but we aren’t the only family you have. Find your family and then move on.

“Find my family?” She was playing the game, breaking all her rules and allowing free communication—no blocking and no resenting. So why did it all still feel so cryptic?

Let someone into your life.

“I have. I let Ty in.”

Have you? Have you really?
You and I are such similar creatures, Jordan. But don’t make the same mistakes I did. Your mom would tell you it’s incredibly hard to love someone so deeply and yet always be on the outside trying to get in.

While the sky faded to black, Jordan sat on the ground and thought about her father’s words. Was that how her mom had felt? Always on the outside trying to get in and become a part of her father’s life?

Is that what she was doing to Ty?

After a few deep breaths, she stood. Her father was right. Ty was too good a man to be stuck with someone who couldn’t give him everything he deserved. He’d asked for the truth and he’d asked for her faith, and she’d given him neither.

Jordan looked down at her mom’s grave. “I hope Mom forgave you. And I hope Ty forgives me.”

***

Ty picked up his beer bottle and tapped it against Isobel’s. “Here’s to being completely wrong.”

“You were just doing your job.” Isobel took a long pull of her beer. “You still try to see the good in people. I’ve learned better.” Isobel set her beer down and leaned back in the booth. “But you’ve been a bear all day. Seems to me you knew we needed to arrest David even before we got the call. Now I’m sitting here wondering why. When we left the station last night, you were certain he was innocent. I’m curious. What tipped the scales?”

He shrugged, wondering what Isobel would say if he told her that it was Jordan’s dream that had swayed him. “I just kept going over the evidence last night. David being the killer was the only thing that made sense.” Interesting to see how it felt to be on this side of the dreams. “It wasn’t any one thing. I guess it was everything together. Opportunity. Motive. And I’m betting that if we’d gotten a blood alcohol around the time of the murder, we’d have been shocked he remembered as much as he did.”

“Agreed,” she said. “But we knew all that before your sudden change of heart. Even so, I thought you’d be happy, run home to your girlfriend. Instead you’re in a bar with me. What gives?”

Ty scrubbed his hands up and down his face. Isobel wasn’t too far off base. At this particular moment, he
was
miserable. Walking out the door without trying to make things right or kissing Jordan had made his chest feel wonky all day, like it wanted to cave in on itself. He knew the dreams were hard for her to talk about, but still, they had to learn to work this shit out because— 

“Hello.” Isobel waved a hand in front of him. “Still here. What’s going on, Ty? My detective skills are telling me your attitude has more to do with your domestic bliss, or lack thereof, than the case we just closed. Am I wrong?”

Ty shook his head. “Jordan and I had a fight, but it was nothing.”

She leaned forward with her elbows on the table, laid a hand on top of his, and gently squeezed. “Are you happy in this relationship, Ty? Because you’ve acted like a nervous wreck since I’ve been here. Did you ever think that the right relationship shouldn’t be this hard?”

Fuck. Why the fuck had he come here? To set Isobel straight, that was why. “It’s a bit more complicated.”

“Maybe it shouldn’t be.” She brushed her calf against his and slid a seductive finger over the back of his hand. “Maybe you need some fun, a night to relax and loosen up. I seem to remember we do that pretty well together.”

Ty pulled his hand away. “Issy, you’re a great cop. And you’re beautiful.”

They were quiet, the sounds of clinking glasses and laughter growing loud around them.

“But?” Her playful expression had turned sober.

“But I’m not playing house with Jordan. I love her. I love everything about her. I have no interest in a life without her in it.” And he certainly had no interest in any other woman. Especially not Issy.

There was heat in her expression now. “Then why do you look so miserable?”

“Probably because the first big case since the Titus bust has me teamed up with a woman I’ve slept with.” He raked his hands through his hair. “Look, Jordan’s had a rough time. Her family died when she was small, and she grew up in foster care. She’s already had a lot of pain in her life. I’d never do anything to hurt her. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” She sighed. “I always knew you were one of the good guys. Guess I should have made my move quicker, huh?”

There was no possible way for this day to go farther downhill. He might as well just lay it all on the line. “After you and I were together, I should have called, but I didn’t think it was a good idea to get involved. Still . . .”

She attempted a smile, held up a hand to cut him off. “I get it.”

They sat for a minute in uncomfortable silence before Isobel cocked her head. “What’s Jordan’s last name?”

“Delany. Why?”

“You said her family was killed? How?”

Ty didn’t think there was any real sympathy in the question; Isobel was fishing for information. The last thing he needed was for her to go poking around in Jordan’s past. Jordan had managed to keep the murder of her family a secret for years, and it sure wasn’t his secret to spill now. “A car wreck.”

“Well, tell her I’m sorry. Walk me out to my car?” she asked.

“That’s a good idea.”
Thank God.
He threw some a few singles down on the table and followed her outside.

She turned and looked at him. “Will you promise me something? If it doesn’t work out . . .”

“I’ll give you a call.”

They both knew it was a lie, but under the circumstances, it felt like a kind one.

Isobel put her arms around his neck and pulled his cheek close to her lips. “Good luck with your lady,” she whispered before kissing him.

A car stopped behind Isobel’s.

Ty glanced up, knowing—just fucking knowing—it would be Jordan’s furious gaze he’d be meeting. He looked in her eyes and saw the flash of raw ache before the rage kicked in.

She revved the engine and spun the tires. Gravel and dust churned up like a storm blasting through the parking lot. What were the fucking odds Jordan would be passing by at that precise moment? Fate had to be a female. A female scorned by some dumbass man.

He pulled Isobel’s arms away from his neck. “Issy, I’m sorry. I’ve got to go.”

“Was that your girlfriend?”

“It was.”
Was
being the operative word. Because he’d bet every last dime that Jordan wasn’t rationally trying to figure out why she’d found him with a redhead pressed against him. A redhead he had a history with.

Hell, it sounded bad, even to him. And he knew nothing had happened.

Jordan’s car was long gone by the time he made it to his truck. He maneuvered the back roads much faster than he knew was safe. The fact that he didn’t catch up with her car told him she’d been driving way too fast. He held his breath on a few of the tighter curves, hoping he wouldn’t find her wrapped around a tree on the other side.

Relief rolled through him when he turned into their drive and saw her car in front of the house. He blazed through the door, thoughts and explanations rambling through his head.

He found her in the bedroom closet, staring at her clothes.

“You got the wrong idea in that parking lot,” he started. “We made an arrest in the case. You didn’t answer your phone when I tried to call. Isobel asked me to grab a bite before she headed out.”

The words were spewing fast and furious, as though a geyser of guilt had erupted deep in his belly. Maybe he should have stayed away from Isobel. He knew how Jordan felt about her, but he really had intended to set Isobel straight. And that was what he had done.

Jordan strode past him and back into the bedroom. Beauty followed her like a four-legged shadow.

“Come on, Jordan. Do you honestly think I took another woman to a bar tonight with the intention of cheating on you?”

She shook her head, didn’t bother to make eye contact. “No, I don’t think that. At first I did.” She pulled on a jacket, zipped it up, then turned and graced him with a look. “But that was me being stupid, and you don’t deserve that. I don’t believe in much.” She paused and swallowed and, he was pretty sure, she was choking back emotions. “But I believe in you. I’m not entirely sure what I saw, but you’re not a cheater or a liar.”

Strange how the compliment felt like the kiss of death. “And?”

“And nothing. I’m taking Beauty for a walk; she’s been cooped up all day.” The dog pranced, her tail flailing like a whip when Jordan grabbed the leash.

Completely at a loss, Ty could only watch as Jordan pulled on her shoes. He knew damn well things weren’t fixed between them. “You don’t want to talk about anything?”

She managed a laugh, or a sob—he wasn’t sure which. “I can safely say that, no, I have no intention of talking about anything tonight.”

“Okay, we don’t have to talk.” He moved behind her. As she bent to clip the leash on Beauty, he slid a hand across the small of her back.

“I’ll go with you. It’s supposed to storm, and I don’t want you out there—”

She jerked upright and away from his hand. “I just . . . no,” she said, tugging on the leash. She turned back to him when she reached the door. “I told you there’d be times I’d need to be alone. We’ll be back in a while.”

For several minutes he stood trying to figure out how a day that had started so crappy still managed to end up worse. Neither of them was particularly good at talking through their feelings. But then, they didn’t have to be. The physical connection was enough.

So now he just needed to convince himself that Jordan hadn’t recoiled from his touch like he was toxic.