Shadow Dance (12 page)

He shook his head and grinned. “You’re all sass, aren’t you?”

Angela removed their dishes, filled their glasses, and sat down at their table again. Not to be left out, Jaffee soon joined them.

“Dinner was wonderful,” Jordan said, and when Noah didn’t comment, she nudged him under the table.

He remembered his manners and gave sufficient praise, but he wasn’t looking at Jaffee. He was watching the door. The restaurant was rapidly filling up with townspeople. Noah didn’t like the crowd one little bit. He casually leaned back and shifted slightly closer to Jordan, and his hand moved closer to his weapon. He was ready for anything. A town meeting or a lynching.

Jordan noticed how tense he’d become and put her hand on his thigh.

“Hey, Jordan,” a young woman called out.

She smiled. “Hey, Candy.”

“Hey, Jordan.”

“Hey, Charlene.”

“Hey, Jordan.”

“Hey, Amelia Ann.”

And so it went. She acknowledged each person as he or she walked over to the table. Before long a crowd had gathered three deep.

“You remember Steve, don’t you?” Charlene asked. “He’s my boss at the insurance agency.”

“I remember. It’s nice to see you again, Steve.”

“Jordan, I just love my china. Thank you so much,” Charlene continued.

“You’re welcome. I hope you enjoy it.”

Noah nudged her. “China?” he whispered.

She smiled. “Vera Wang.”

Jaffee turned a chair toward him and straddled it. “Okay, we’ve been patient long enough. We have to know what happened.”

“We heard what happened. Everyone in town’s talking about it,” Angela said. “But we haven’t heard it from you. What was it like seeing that corpse?”

“It was gross,” Candy answered for Jordan.

Everyone began to ask questions at the same time. Noah found it interesting that Jordan didn’t have to answer any of them. There were always one or two in the group who already knew the answer and were happy to supply it for her.

In the middle of the question-and-answer session Noah’s phone rang. They all stopped talking so they could hear what he was saying.

After a few seconds he said, “Jordan, stay here. The FBI agent is out front with a car for us. I’ll only be a minute.”

Charlene waited until he had left the restaurant and then commented, “He’s quite a handsome fellow, isn’t he?”

“He’s Jordan’s friend,” Angela announced.

“Her special friend?” Amelia Ann wanted to know.

The women looked expectantly at her. “Just a friend,” Jordan assured them.

“You’re staying the night, aren’t you?” Amelia Ann said.

“Yes, I am.”

“Is he going to be staying the night too?”

“Yes,” she answered again.

Amelia Ann pushed forward. “In your room or somewhere else?” she asked in a whisper.

“Somewhere else.”

“At my motel though, right?”

“I would assume so…if you have the room.”

“I’ll tell you what I can do,” Amelia Ann said. “I’ll help you out because I’ve got available rooms.”

“How will you help me out?” she asked.

“I’ll put him in the adjoining room.”

Charlene winked at Jordan. “It’s up to you to unlock the connecting door.”

“Charlene!” Candy whispered, drawing the name out. “He could be seeing someone else…like serious.”

How about ten someone elses, Jordan thought.

Charlene gave her a playful nudge with her elbow. “Too bad Kyle Heffermint isn’t here. He sure seemed interested this morning.”

“If you women are through embarrassing Jordan with your silly talk about sleeping arrangements, I’d like to know what happened when Maggie Haden got canned.” It was Charlene’s fiancé, Keith, who asked the question.

Everyone speculated and recounted what they had heard. Then Keith said, “Your friend, the FBI agent, promised Joe Davis he’d stay over.”

“Why did he promise that?” Charlene asked.

“Joe asked him to look at the dead man’s house. Since he’s experienced and all, Joe thought he might have some insight and suggestions, or maybe see something in that house that could help Joe find the killer.”

Amelia Ann’s hand went to her throat. “I don’t believe anyone in Serenity is a killer. Whoever murdered that man had to be an outsider. We’re too friendly here to want to kill anyone.”

“As friendly as we are here, don’t you think it’s odd that none of us knew the MacKenna fella?” Jaffee asked.

“That’s because he kept to himself,” Keith said. “I heard he rented a house less than a mile from here.”

Jaffee nodded. “He never came in here to eat, not once. He didn’t even stop by for a slice of my cake.”

“Jordan told me he used to be a teacher.”

“Did you get all those research papers copied?” Jaffee asked Jordan.

“No,” she answered. “I still have one more box.”

“Now that the guy’s dead you can just take those boxes with you, can’t you?” Candy asked. “He’s not going to want them.”

Jordan shook her head. “The research material is now part of the investigation, and it’s also part of Professor MacKenna’s estate. I can’t take the boxes with me.”

“Maybe you could read the rest of the papers tonight,” he suggested.

It was sweet of him to be concerned about her project, she thought. She doubted she would get much reading done tonight though. She was exhausted from her long, stressful day, and she knew that as soon as her head hit the pillow, she’d be fast asleep.

Noah walked back into the restaurant but was stopped by Steve Nelson and another man. Steve was doing most of the talking and looked quite earnest, and Jordan wondered if he was trying to sell Noah insurance. Every now and then Noah would nod. Soon a group had gathered around him, and the discussion became more animated. She could hear them bombarding Noah with questions and offering him their conjectures. He seemed to take it all in stride and patiently listened to each person’s views. At one point, he glanced over at her and smiled. It was apparent that Serenity hadn’t seen this much excitement in years. It was also apparent to her that Noah was being very accommodating. They wanted to talk, and he was willing to listen.

T
HE GOOD CITIZENS OF
S
ERENITY CONTINUED THEIR DISCUSSION
about the events that had suddenly rocked their small town, but after an hour, Noah excused himself and insisted that he and Jordan had to leave. The Texas night air was still muggy and hot when they stepped outside. Noah turned up the dial for the air-conditioning in the new car, and Jordan ooh’d and aah’d over the working feature.

She found her purse lying on the backseat and reached for it. She turned again to get her laptop, but it wasn’t there. She looked on the floor behind her. Still no laptop.

“Oh no,” she said.

“What’s wrong?” Noah asked.

“My laptop’s not here.” She turned around and looked under the seat. “It was in my rental car this morning.”

“Did you see anyone take it out at the grocery store?” he asked.

“No, when Chief Haden took me to the police station, she wouldn’t let me take anything from my car.”

“We’ll make some calls tomorrow and find it,” Noah assured her.

He parked the sedan in the back of the motel courtyard. They backtracked to the lobby where Amelia Ann was waiting with a key for Noah. He didn’t comment when he saw that his room was next to Jordan’s. He unlocked his door, went to the connecting door, unlocked it, and then followed Jordan into her room.

“You keep this unlocked and wide open,” he said.

He waited until she agreed. “Okay, but no surprises,” she teased. “You stay in your room, and I’ll stay in mine.”

He laughed as he walked into his room. “You don’t have to worry about that.”

Jordan was startled by how much his words hurt. Had he bothered to look at her, he would have seen it in her eyes. Fortunately, he hadn’t bothered. Her reaction puzzled her. It didn’t make any sense. She didn’t want him to be attracted to her, did she?

No, of course she didn’t. She was only having such weird, crazy thoughts because she was tired and stressed out. That’s all there was to it.

She couldn’t let it go. Noah had said she didn’t have to worry. Why not? How come she didn’t have to worry? What was wrong with her? The man allegedly had hit on nearly every woman he came into contact with, and not having to worry about him hitting on her could only mean he wasn’t interested. So why wasn’t he?

She walked into the bathroom, looked at herself in the mirror, and shrugged. Okay, she had to admit she wasn’t a beauty queen, and she definitely wasn’t looking her best tonight. Her eyes were bloodshot from wearing her contacts too long; her hair was hanging in her face, and there wasn’t a spot of color in her complexion except for the big fat bruise under her eye.

Enough self-scrutiny, she decided. She couldn’t do anything about her appearance anyway, at least not tonight. Besides, if she wanted to get any reading done at all, she’d better try to revive herself.

Removing her contacts and taking a long hot shower helped. She washed her hair but didn’t take the time to blow it dry and curl it. It was still dripping wet when she combed it back over her shoulders. She put on a gray, cotton Jockey T-shirt and gray-and-white-striped boxer shorts. After she brushed her teeth, she slipped on her horn-rimmed glasses and once again looked in the mirror.

Great, now she looked like a commercial for psoriasis cream. She’d scrubbed her face so vigorously, her complexion was one big red blotch.

She laughed at herself. Oh, yes, she was a real sex goddess all right, but at least she wasn’t sleepy any longer. Maybe she could get some reading done after all.

She went back into the bedroom, removed the bedspread, folded it, and tucked it in the corner by the nightstand. Then she pulled the sheet back, grabbed a batch of uncopied papers from the third and last box, and sat down in the middle of the king-sized bed to read.

She kept glancing into the connecting room, but Noah was nowhere in sight. Her bed was parallel to his, which meant that if she wanted to, she could watch him sleep. Concentrate on the research, she told herself and picked up the top paper.

There were scribbles in the margin again. And there was for a second time a number she had seen before: 1284. Something significant must have occurred that year to the Buchanans and the MacKennas. But what? Was that the start of the feud or when the treasure was stolen? What happened in 1284?

Her frustration mounted. If she had her laptop and had Internet access, she could start doing her own research right this minute. Because she didn’t, she would have to wait until she was back in Boston.

She sighed. “Okay,” she whispered as she began to read. “What have the Buchanans done this time?”

This story took place in 1673. Lady Elspet Buchanan, the only daughter of the ruthless Laird Euan Buchanan, was attending the annual festival near Finlay Ford. Quite by accident she met Allyone MacKenna, favored son of the just and honorable Laird Owen MacKenna. The Buchanans later accused Allyone of sneaking into their camp to bewitch the fair lady, but the MacKennas knew for a certainty that it was the woman Elspet who put an unholy spell on their laird’s son.

Regardless, as luck would have it, it didn’t take more than a couple of glances for Elspet to fall head over heels in love with Allyone. He was, after all, according to the descendants of the MacKenna clan, as handsome a warrior as ever there was.

Because he had been bewitched, Allyone loved Elspet as much as she loved him, but both knew they could never be together. Yet they could not stay apart. Elspet pleaded with Allyone to give up his family, his position, and his honor, and run away with her.

The night before they were to meet in the forest and sneak away together, the Laird Buchanan found out what his daughter was planning. Enraged, he locked her in the tower of his castle and called his warriors together to find and kill Allyone.

Terrified that her father knew where Allyone was going to be waiting for her, Elspet was determined to warn her lover, but as she was tearing down the slippery steps, she lost her footing and fell to her death.

It was written that she died whispering his name.

When Jordan read that poor Elspet had died calling out for her love, tears began to stream down her face. Perhaps it was because she was exhausted. It wasn’t like her to become so emotional.

“What the hell?”

The sound of Noah’s voice jarred her. She looked up and saw him standing in the doorway frowning at her. He’d obviously just gotten out of the shower. He had put on jeans but nothing else.

“What happened?” he demanded as he strode into her room pulling a white T-shirt over his head.

“Nothing happened.” She rolled over and grabbed a box of tissues from the nightstand.

“Are you sick or something?”

She tried but couldn’t make herself stop crying. She pulled a tissue out and wiped her cheeks. “I’m not sick.”

“Then what the hell, Jordan?”

He threaded his fingers through his hair and stood there looking at her without moving for about fifteen seconds. Finally he sat down on the bed and pulled her into his side.

“Tell me,” he insisted.

“It’s just that…” She paused to pull another tissue from the box. “It was so…”

He thought he’d figured out the problem and leaned toward her. “It’s okay, Sugar. I know you’ve had a rough time today. It must be catching up with you. Go ahead and cry. Let it all out. I know how bad it was.”

She started to agree with him, paused, and said, “What? No, nothing has caught up with me. It was just so sad…”

“Sad? I wouldn’t call what you went through sad. I’d call it grueling.”

“No…the story…”

He was stroking her arm and distracting her. It suddenly occurred to her that he was trying to comfort her. And how adorable was that? And sweet and caring…and…uh-oh.

Oh, dear God, she was beginning to like him, and not in an acceptable isn’t-he-a-nice-friend kind of way. Noah could be sensitive. She’d never taken the time to notice before. She remembered how kind he’d been to Carrie that afternoon at the police station. He’d made her feel important and pretty. Now, Jordan realized, he was trying to make her feel better and to not feel so alone.

“Do you think you’re gonna stop crying anytime soon?”

She looked at him and smiled weakly. She was just inches away from his gorgeous eyes…his mouth…

She jerked back and hastily looked away. “I’m done,” she announced. “See? No more tears.”

“You’re done? Then what’s that watery stuff coming out of your eyes?”

She punched his shoulder. “Stop being nice to me. It freaks me out.”

He laughed. “I gotta tell you, when I saw you crying at the wedding, I thought it was just an aberration, but now you’re doing it again. You’re different here,” he concluded.

“How am I different?”

“Every time I’ve seen you on Nathan’s Bay, your nose is in a book or a computer. You’re always all business.”

And no fun at all, she silently added for him.

“Well, maybe
you’re
different here too,” she countered.

“How’s that?” he asked.

“I don’t know. I guess you just seem a little…sweeter. Maybe it’s because you’re closer to home. You grew up in Texas, didn’t you?”

“My family moved to Houston when I was eight years old. We lived in Montana before then.”

“Your father was a lawman before he retired.”

“That’s right.”

“And your grandfather and his father…”

“I come from a long line of lawmen,” he said.

He began to stroke her arm again. It wasn’t distracting now. It felt good.

“Nick told me you carry a compass with you that belonged to your great-great-grandfather.”

“His name was Cole Clayborne, and he was a lawman in Montana. My father gave me his compass when I started working for Doctor Morganstern.”

“So you’ll never lose your way. That’s what my mother told me.”

“She did?”

“Know what else she told me about you?”

“What’s that?”

“She said she’s the only woman in the world who can tell you what to do.”

He laughed. “She’s right.”

A knock on Noah’s door interrupted them. He went into his room to answer it and found Amelia Ann standing there holding a bucket with several bottles of beer submerged in ice.

Amelia Ann hesitated for a second and then said, “Hey. Um…I know you’ve had a busy day…traveling and all…and…I thought you might be thirsty.” She pushed the ice bucket at him.

Noah took it from her and gave her a warm smile. “That’s awfully nice of you. Thank you.”

“If you’re hungry,” she continued, “I could pop some corn or something.”

“No, thank you. I really appreciate the beer though.” He began to close the door. “Have a good night,” he said.

Amelia Ann angled her head to peer around the door at him. “If there’s anything else I can do…anything you need…you just call up to the front desk.”

“I will. Thank you,” he said as he closed the door.

When he returned to Jordan’s room, he was twisting the cap off a beer bottle.

“The lady who runs the motel…what was her name…?” he began.

“Amelia Ann?” Jordan supplied.

“Yes, Amelia Ann. She just brought us some beer. That was nice, wasn’t it? Want one?” he offered.

“No, thanks,” Jordan answered. “And I don’t think it was ‘us’ she wanted to be nice to.”

He took a swig from the bottle. “You still haven’t told me why you were crying,” he reminded her.

“It’s foolish.”

“Tell me anyway.”

“I read this story the professor had transcribed, and it affected me. Would you like me to read it to you? Then you’ll understand.”

“Sure. Go ahead,” Noah said as he sat on the bed.

She began to read in a clear, concise voice, but by the time she reached the end of the tragic story, her voice trembled, and the tears were back.

Noah was laughing at her. He couldn’t help it. “You’re just full of surprises,” he said as he handed her the box of tissues. “I never would have guessed.”

“Guessed what?”

“You’re a romantic.”

“There’s nothing wrong with being a romantic.”

Jordan returned to the research papers and read another ridiculous account about the barbaric, bloodthirsty Buchanans. This legend wasn’t at all romantic but a detailed description of a gory battle which, according to Professor MacKenna, was started by the Buchanans.

“No surprise there,” she mumbled to herself.

“Did you say something?”

“The man taught history, for heaven’s sake. Medieval history. His class should have been called Fantasy because that’s what he was teaching.”

Noah smiled. When Jordan became passionate about something, her face lit up. How come he’d never seen this before?

“So what would you sign up for? Fantasy 101?” Noah asked.

“No, I’d call it Let’s Make Up Stuff 101.”

He laughed. “I’d take that class. Exams would be a snap. Is any of the research accurate?” he asked. He took a swallow of his beer and leaned back against the headboard.

“I don’t know,” she said. “The farther back in history, the crazier the legends become. But there’s some mention over and over again about a treasure that was stolen.”

“You know what they say.”