Expert Witness: A Romantic Suspense Novel (3 page)

There was a momentary pause on the other line. Karen had recognized the deviation from her normal tone. “Absolutely.” Another beat of silence followed. “Hey, are you going to be okay by yourself tonight? You know we can be there in a second if you want to stay at our place?”
 

She didn’t want Karen to worry, but she needed time alone to even begin to process the events of the night. She tried to sound more like her usual self. “Thanks, but it’s okay. To be honest, I only want to go to sleep. I feel like I’ve been up for days.”
 

Karen released a sigh. “Okay, hon. We’ll be there around seven, then. If you don’t feel up to going in tomorrow, give us a ring in the morning. Work can wait. Taking care of you is more important right now.”
 

Jordan pulled back the plastic wrapping from her dinner and stirred the sauce while contemplating her friend’s advice. “I know, and I will, but I have so many open cases right now, and it’ll help me to dive back in.”

“I get it. But please don’t feel pressured—you know, because of the practice—if you change your mind and need some time.”

“I won’t. I promise.” Her tone was solemn.

“Good. See you in the morning then. And, Jordan—” Karen choked up, “—I’m so glad you’re okay. I don’t want to even think about…”

Jordan could hear the tremble in her friend’s voice. “I know,” she said softly, “but I really am okay. So try to get some sleep yourself.”

Upon hanging up, Jordan felt lighter. The attack was still at the forefront of her mind, but the numbness that blanketed her emotions had eroded somewhat. She was fortunate to have such supportive friends. As she speared a piece of broccoli, she was surprised to find that she was starving.
At least something is back to normal
.
 

CHAPTER TWO

The parking area appeared undisturbed in the early morning light. Mike maneuvered his car into his reserved parking space while Jordan craned her neck around, scanning for anything out of the ordinary. But there was nothing. Even the crime scene tape had already been removed.

“You okay?” Mike asked, glancing back at her in the rearview mirror.
 

“Yeah, I’m good. It just feels weird, I guess. Looking around now, it’s as if yesterday never happened.”
 

Nothing that hinted of the horrible experience that had transpired remained. At the scene anyway. She tugged on the scarf she’d worn to cover the dark purple bruises scattered around her neck. Last night’s attack had left its mark on her physically and emotionally.
 

Still deliberating on the motive behind the attack, she peered over at her car. It was there, exactly as she’d left it, the only difference being the addition of a few loose oak leaves as adornment. Karen’s voice tore her from her thoughts, and Jordan realized she’d been speaking to her. “I’m sorry. What was it?”
 

Karen repeated her question. “I was wondering if you ever found out who the guy was?”
 

“Not yet. He wasn’t in any condition to answer questions when the police arrived,” she said, shutting the car door.
 

“Humph,” Mike interjected. “And I can tell you I didn’t lose a minute’s sleep over that fact, either. I wish I’d been here to help Derek out,” he said in a harsh tone.

Jordan patted him on the back. Mike was mild-mannered in nature. His pitiless attitude now clearly stemmed from concern for her wellbeing. “Well, no worries. The officer at the scene said he’d be questioning him further when he regained consciousness.” She switched her briefcase to her other hand. “To be honest, not knowing makes it even worse. I keep playing it over in my mind trying to figure out why—maybe because it’s what we do.”

 
“What are you thinking?” Karen’s brows fused as she processed the comment.
 

“I don’t think it was money, because he never once asked for my purse or keys. I don’t ever remember seeing him before, so it wasn’t an angry former client. Maybe it could’ve been a relation to someone in a case? Or worst-case scenario, he’s a typical psychopath and I happened to be the victim he chose.” The last suggestion triggered a chill that seeped through her body. Of all the personality types, this would be the last she’d want to encounter alone in the dark.
 

Karen put her arm around her friend. “I know it’s difficult, but I think you should try to put any thoughts about motive out of your mind, at least until the police are able to provide more information. Otherwise, you’ll drive yourself nuts trying to figure this out. You could be right on any of those, but for now, they’re only educated guesses. You of all people know that sometimes, the motivations behind these kinds of violence are so twisted that no sane individual is able to ever fully comprehend them.”
 

“You’re right,” she conceded. Karen had a valid point. They’d all worked cases in which identifying with the offender was an impossibility. She tried to take her friend’s advice and shoved the thoughts aside. “Let’s head in.” She let Karen lead toward the back entrance to their office. “I have several calls to make before our staff meeting at noon. So I may be a few minutes late.”

“Don’t worry. We’ll save you some of the rosemary focaccia rolls,” Mike gently teased.
 

She perked up. “We’re ordering Rosella’s for lunch?”
 

“Yeah. We figured we’d let you choose today.”

Jordan couldn’t help chuckling. “And you didn’t even have to ask me what I’d pick. You guys know how to cheer me up. Mama Rosella’s cooking is exactly what I need right now.”

“Yeah, well, whoever said the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach never met you,” he said with a grin. “A heads up though—it’s going to be a busy meeting. We have quite a few more cases that need to be assigned. Referrals have been coming in one after the other.”
 

Jordan tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Well then, I guess I won’t have to try too hard to distract myself with work. Though I can’t say I’m not grateful for the business. We’ve been fortunate.”

“No argument here,” Mike agreed. He hesitated before continuing. “Are you sure you’re up to this?”

Her eyes softened at the concern etched on her friend’s face. “I’m sure. I know you guys are worried, and I won’t lie and say that I’m not still trying to deal with what happened. But being at work is therapeutic. It’ll help put it behind me.”
 

The trio entered the office together. Jordan checked her personal mailbox on the way in. There were a few case files, some psychological testing that had come back, and a message from a detective with the police department.
 

Hmm…so a detective is already assigned to the case
.
 

She skimmed over the message that indicated he’d like to arrange a meeting as soon as possible. Turning to Nancy, the secretary, in the main office area, Jordan asked her to schedule a meeting with the detective during her first open hour.
 

“Actually, your eleven o’clock canceled a moment ago, so you’re free then. Would that be too soon?” she replied, her hands poised above the computer keys, ready to fill the gap in Jordan’s schedule.
 

“If that works for the detective, then it will be fine for me. Thanks Nancy
.”
 

At eleven o’clock sharp, her office phone rang, and she hit the speaker button.

“Detective Warren Larson is here to see you,” Nancy’s voice rang out.

“Please, tell him I’ll be right there.” Jordan made her way to the waiting room to meet the detective.
 

It was easy to pick the officer out of the clients who were waiting. He wore the traditional black uniform assigned to the local police department. His salt-and-pepper hair was cut short, and the lines around his face made him appear tired. Having to investigate these types of crimes would likely take its toll on anyone.
 

He stood as she approached him.

“Hi. I’m Jordan Clayton. Thank you for coming. We can meet in my office.” She shook hands with the detective and led the way back to her office. “Just have a seat anywhere,” she offered.

The detective glanced between the leather sofa and the club chair available. He sank into the chair. “Reckon I’d better sit here. Don’t want to get too comfortable. But I’m sure many people are tempted to lie down on that couch. It only seems right when you’re in a psychologist’s office and all,” he said, his tone amicable.

Jordan smiled. Over the years, many of her patients had made reference to the same stereotype. “Yes, it does.”

Once they were seated, the light-hearted conversation dwindled away. He assumed a more serious expression, and she wondered what had caused the change. Shifting uneasily in the chair, he cleared his throat.

“Were you able to interview my assailant?” Jordan asked, trying to provide him with a lead-in.

“Yes. Well, the officer on the scene interviewed him last night at the hospital after he regained consciousness. He was trying to get basic information regarding the incident. Because of what was reported, I was assigned to the case.” He glanced around the office and then continued on, meeting her gaze. “Guy’s name is Henry Rigdon. He was arrested last night. I’m not sure if he’ll make bond or not. He admitted to attacking you yesterday evening. Said he waited in the parking lot until he saw you come out alone.”

Her chest tightened. “So, he was intentionally looking for me, but why?”
 

“Well, by his own admission—and we’re still working on verifying this information—he was paid by an unknown source to commit the offense.” The detective waited for her response before proceeding.

“Go ahead.” Emotions tumbled inside her as she digested this last piece of information.

“It seems he was approached by a male via telephone. The man offered him ten thousand dollars to, in his words, ‘remove you.’ He was reportedly paid half of the money prior to the attack and was to receive the other half upon your death. The money was left at an agreed-upon location. Rigdon said he never got a look at the guy who hired him.”
 

Jordan held her hand up. Her head swirled with questions and her turbulent emotions threatened her composure. Anger, sadness, and fear vied for a response to what she’d heard. Anger won. “You’re telling me that this guy, Henry Rigdon, was hired to kill me for ten thousand dollars, money being his only motivator? And there’s someone out there who intended for this to happen—no, intended isn’t the right word.” She paused, struggling again to wrap her mind around what she’d heard. “Someone who actively tried to make sure a plan to have me killed was carried out.”
 

As wrath flushed through her body, her voice rose with each word. The reins on her normally well-modulated emotions went slack while she fought to make any sense of it all. It was callous, and unlike the many crimes she’d reviewed, it was personal.
 

She shook her head.
So ten thousand dollars is the going rate for a human life nowadays.
Disgust settled in the pit of her stomach.
 

The detective didn’t seem put off by her reaction. He was in her position. She was the one who dealt with angry clients, who helped them deal with trauma and negative outcomes. And, as trying as some cases could be, there was a difference when the role was reversed.

He leaned forward, his hands steepled in front of him. “Unfortunately, yes. I know this is upsetting for you and there isn’t much I can do to change that, but I can say that our agency will do our best to find the person behind this attack. We take this matter seriously, and it’ll be a priority for both myself and the other investigators.” The corners of his mouth turned down as he continued. “I hate to have to ask you now, but it’s critical to the investigation that I get some additional information.” He reached into his front shirt pocket and withdrew a notepad and pen. “Is there anyone you might suspect would do something like this? Or is there anyone in particular you know of who’s angry enough or vengeful enough to consider resorting to this type of violence?”

It was all Jordan could do to suppress the bitter laughter caught in her throat. “If you’re asking if anyone in my personal life may be connected with this, then the answer is no.” She didn’t feel the need to expand on her skimpy private life. “In regards to people in my professional life, you can take your pick.”
 

She’d made enemies. It came with the territory.
 

“I’m involved in litigation on a daily basis. I regularly testify at child custody, competency to stand trial, criminal responsibility, personal injury, and sentencing hearings. Just to name a few.” Even though the ultimate decisions were often left to the trier of the fact, as an impartial expert witness, the scientific information and opinions she provided during her testimony usually loaned support to one side or the other. “The findings I offer in some of these cases can make people very angry. Angry enough to do something like this? I honestly don’t know. It would depend on the person.” She let out a breath, her shoulders sagging at this admission.

“Have you received any threats lately? Perhaps by telephone, as it seems this is how our guy communicates,” he persisted.

Her brow lifted. Truth be known, these types of calls were something she’d become accustomed to over the years, a regrettable indirect result of her role in the legal process. She often wondered if having an unlisted phone number only slowed them down a little. Searching her memory, she tried to remember the date of the last call. “It’s probably been about three months, and I can’t remember exactly what the caller said. I believe he spewed off a host of obscenities and references to, in his words, ‘shrinks meddling in marriages.’ It might’ve been related to a custody case. Those cases can be emotional for the parties involved.”