Shadow Dance (Buchanan-Renard #6)

Shadow Dance (Buchanan-Renard #6) Page 25

He was looking out the window. “I wonder how long it’s going to take Joe to get in his damn car and drive to J. D.’s house.”

“I’d say about five seconds.” The calculated guess was based on the fact that Joe was sprinting toward them.

“It’s signed,” he shouted at Noah. “But we could go in anyway. A neighbor just called in. J. D.’s front door’s wide open.”

A moment later, they were on their way.

“Shouldn’t someone call Sheriff Randy?”

He shrugged. “I’ll leave that up to Joe.”

She shifted in her seat. “The sheriff did a complete turnaround. He was almost…humble at the police station, but back when he drove into the lot with his brother and saw J. D. hit me, he was pretty obnoxious.”

“He’s doing a fast dance trying to keep his brother out of trouble. He knows…”

“Knows what?”

“J. D.’s a lost cause. I understand his loyalty though. It’s his brother.”

“Does J. D. have that kind of loyalty? I bet not. Sheriff Randy would be better off with J. D. back in prison.” She rubbed her arms as though to ward off a sudden chill. “If J. D. happens to be inside his house, you be careful. There was something crazy in his eyes. I don’t know how to explain it. He was hateful…and creepy.”

“I can’t wait to meet him. I can be pretty damned hateful too.”

“Remember, he’s innocent until proven guilty.”

“He hit you. That’s what I remember.”

Joe pulled into J. D.’s driveway. Noah pulled in behind him. “You wait here. Keep the doors locked,” he told her.

He moved fast. Pulling the gun from his holster, he held it to his side and met Joe at the front door. “We go in, you head left, I’ll go right.”

Jordan’s heart skipped a beat as Noah, gun in hand, rushed into the house. She told herself that everything would be fine. He was a federal agent, trained to protect himself. She’d heard stories about some of the harrowing situations he’d been in, and he had the scars to prove it. He knew what he was doing. He’d be fine. She nodded to reinforce the thought. Still, freak accidents happened, and sometimes there were unexpected surprises…some not the good kind.

She was working herself into a state, as her mother would say. Then Noah walked outside and everything really was fine. J. D’s house was so small, it had only taken a few minutes to make certain no one was there.

She unlocked the car door for him. He pulled it open and said, “It looks like J. D. left in a hurry, and the door didn’t catch. Wait until you see—”

Joe interrupted, running from the house into the yard shouting, “They found J. D.!”

Chapter Twenty-eight

AND THEN THERE WERE THREE.

J. D. Dickey was found in the ashes. The firemen discovered what was left of him underneath a pile of still-smoldering rubble near what used to be the back door of the professor’s house. They were soaking the last embers when they spotted his remains. The only reason they knew for sure that it was J. D. was the gaudy belt buckle. Its edges were melted and blackened, but the rhinestone initials were still legible.

Jordan sat in the car in front of the smoldering ruins of the collapsed house and watched Noah. He was standing in the front yard talking to Agent Chaddick and Joe while they waited for the FBI’s crime scene crew to arrive. He looked over at Jordan every once in a while to make sure she was okay.

Three corpses in one week. Professor MacKenna. Lloyd. And now J. D. Dickey. The boast that Serenity was a safe and peaceful place to live had just been shot to hell. And the town blamed Jordan Buchanan. After all, she was the only connection between the murders and the fire. She wouldn’t be surprised if the residents showed up at her motel room with pitchforks and torches to run her out of town.

She could still hear Old Lady Scott’s accusations. Never had a murder before she came to town…never had a fire like the one that consumed the MacKenna house. Oh, and they never had car trunks full of dead people—before Jordan came to town.

Statistics don’t lie. This was more than a run of bad luck. It was a curse of biblical proportions. Even she wanted to get away from herself. Jordan knew such superstition wasn’t logical, but nothing about this situation was logical. Just one thing was certain: Since Jordan had met the professor, she had become a one-woman plague.

It was impossible to predict what would happen next, but while she waited for Noah, Jordan tried to do just that. It was a frustrating exercise because she didn’t have sufficient data, and the horrifying images from the last few days kept breaking into her thoughts. To think clearly again, she needed to erase these pictures from her mind. She reached into the backseat for a folder from MacKenna’s research and began reading.

Noah glanced at her and saw her head down, poring over a paper. He had told her to stay in the car, that he didn’t want her to see J. D.’s incinerated remains. He didn’t think he would ever forget her reaction. She’d looked stunned and then had very quietly asked, “Why in God’s name would you think I would want to see a charred body?”

Why indeed? It was a gruesome sight. And while neither Noah nor Chaddick were the least affected by the scene, Joe was having difficulty keeping it together. His face was a shade of gray that Noah had never before seen, and he kept making gagging sounds.

Noah took pity on him. “Joe, you’ll feel better if you don’t look at him.”

“Yeah, but it’s like a car wreck. I don’t want to look, but I do anyway.”

Chaddick was exasperated. “You’re a cop,” he reminded him. “You come up on a wreck, you’re supposed to look, aren’t you?”

“You know what I mean.”

One of the volunteer firemen motioned them over from the front yard. His name was Miguel Moreno, and he was a retired fireman from Houston who decided late in life to own a ranch. He’d trained the volunteers, which was why they were so well organized, quick to respond, and efficient. Since he’d taken charge, none of his firemen had sustained a single injury. He’d already walked through the rubble several times and was ready to tell Noah what he thought.

“There ain’t any doubt that J. D. set the fire, but I’m willing to bet he didn’t know his way around such a volatile accelerator. If he did, he sure wouldn’t have ignited it while he was still inside the house.”

Joe stepped away from the body. “J. D. could have accidentally started the fire too early,” he suggested. “The way I see it—he gets inside and he soaks everything down real good, and then he’s thinking he’ll go out the same way he came in, through the back door. Once he’s outside, he’d toss something in to get the fire going, like maybe a rag dipped in kerosene or maybe some rolled-up paper he was gonna light up.”

Moreno nodded. “It’s possible,” he said. “Just needed one spark to get a flash.”

“Anything could cause a spark,” Joe said, now eager to share his theories. “Maybe when he opened the door to leave, the friction from the metal threshold against his boots made a spark…that would have done it.”

“Only an arson expert can say for sure what happened,” Moreno said. “You have any of those coming to Serenity, Agent Chaddick?”

“I sure do,” he replied. “Joe, you think you can handle this with Moreno? Keep the area sealed until my crew gets here? I want to head over to Dickey’s house with Noah.”

“I can handle it,” Joe assured him. “Has Agent Street found anything interesting?”

“I’ll know as soon as I get over there.”

Joe followed Noah. “Noah, you have a second?”

Noah turned back. “Yes?”

“Do you think the agents will want me to step back now that they’ve taken over?” he asked in a low voice. “I don’t want to get in their way, but…” He ended the sentence with a shrug.

Noah motioned to Chaddick. “Why don’t we find out right now?”

Joe looked embarrassed when he put the question to the agent. Chaddick, the more diplomatic of the two agents, glanced at Noah before answering. “I know you have heard stories about how we’re bullies and roll over the locals when we take charge, and most of those stories are probably true,” he added with a grin. “We don’t like local interference, but Noah told me this is a different situation. You and Street and I will work this together.”

Joe quickly nodded. “I sure appreciate it,” he said. “This is a great opportunity to learn from the experts.”

That settled, Noah headed back to his car. The windows were down, and he could see Jordan reading some papers while she sipped from a bottle of what was no doubt lukewarm water. Poor Jordan had been waiting a hell of a long time for him to finish up, but she hadn’t complained or tried to hurry him along.

Jordan saw him coming and quickly gathered up the papers she’d spread over the seat. She was so hot, she thought she was going to have a heatstroke any second now. She hadn’t wanted to keep the engine idling with the air on for such a long time, and so she had turned the motor off and prayed for a little wind to push the heat around.

Earlier, despite Noah’s orders, she had momentarily slipped out of the car to sit under the shade of a walnut tree, but the stares from the crowd that had gathered across the street made her uneasy. Whispering to one another, they never took their eyes off her. Who knew what they could be saying? Probably something about tar and feathering or burning at the stake.

When she and Noah had driven from J. D.’s over to the professor’s house, she’d offered to return to the motel and wait for him. All he had to do was call her and she’d drive back, but he wouldn’t hear of it. He didn’t want her out of his sight, and from the steel in his voice, she knew it would be pointless to argue.

Noah got behind the wheel, started the engine, and flipped on the air. Then he turned to her. Her face was flushed. She’d pinned her hair up, but the tendrils at the back of her neck were damp. Her clothes stuck to the curves of her body, and her skin glistened. She looked both utterly beautiful and wilted. It made him feel guilty for what he was about to do.

“How are you holding up?” he asked.

“Good,” she answered. “I’m good.”

“I hate to ask this of you, but I really need to get back over to Dickey’s house. I want to go through it—”

She interrupted. “It’s okay. You don’t have to explain. You need to do this, and I’m fine, really.”

She didn’t push him to take her back to the motel because she knew he’d again refuse. He’d insisted that she stay with him, and if that helped him get the job done, she’d cooperate.

Noah didn’t notice the time until he was pulling up to J. D.’s house. The day was getting away from him. He couldn’t believe how long they’d been at MacKenna’s house, and he knew he’d spend as much time if not more going through J. D.’s place.

He parked behind Chaddick’s car and said, “We may have to stay another night.”

“I know.”

“You’re okay with that?”

“Yes,” she assured him. “We can leave first thing in the morning.” How many times had she thought that?

Already inside, Chaddick came to the front door and called out, “You’re gonna love this.”

Noah nodded back to him before speaking to Jordan. “If you want, you can come inside,” he said, “but don’t touch anything.”

Chapter Twenty-nine

NOAH HADN’T SEEN THIS MUCH SURVEILLANCE EQUIPMENT since he had been at Quantico.

Agent Street was in awe. “From what I’d heard about this guy, I had him pegged as an idiot, you know? But now…” His eyes swept the room with all the spying tools lying about. “Some of this stuff is pretty sophisticated and complicated to use. By the look of things, I’d say he knew what he was doing.”

“And what exactly was he doing?” Jordan stood just inside the door, surveying the gadgets Chaddick had pulled out of a box and placed on the floor.

Street tossed Noah a pair of gloves as he answered Jordan’s question. He pointed to what looked like a tiny satellite dish. “That’s a parabolic microphone. Lets you hear conversations at least three hundred yards away.”

Noah walked over to get a closer look. “It’s got a built-in tape recorder and an output jack,” he said.

“I wonder how many private conversations he listened to,” Jordan said.

“He wasn’t just listening in,” Street said. “Wait until you see his video collection. He had cameras set up in a room in that sleazy motel he ran and filmed customers with his girls. We’ll probably find the cameras in the smoke detectors or the ceiling lights.”

Chaddick nodded. “Did you look at any of the videos?”

“Just one,” he answered. “Good quality. Film wasn’t grainy at all.” He sounded clinical about it. “Graphic stuff.”

“Lovely,” Jordan whispered. Just being inside J. D.’s house made her feel like she could catch something.

“Check out these binoculars.” Noah picked up a pair and examined them. “There’s an amplifier attached. Pretty high-tech.”

“Yes,” Chaddick agreed. “J. D. could watch and listen at the same time.”

“And record,” Street added. “Some of this stuff is brand-new. Batteries aren’t unwrapped yet. I’d say he was setting up to do some real serious business. It’s a given he was into blackmail. And with all this equipment, he had to have a list of his clients, right? How else could he keep track of who paid what, when?”

“Maybe,” Chaddick surmised. “Did you find any notebooks or papers?”

He shook his head. “I’m guessing he stored everything in his computer.”

Chaddick looked surprised. “He’s got a computer? Where is it?”

“In the den behind the kitchen. You didn’t notice it?”

“I haven’t gotten past all these gadgets.”

Jordan wasn’t paying much attention to the conversation. She was thinking about the cash deposits J. D. had made into his own bank account. The professor was putting large amounts of cash into his account, but J. D. never deposited any more than $1,000 at a time. Had he just started his venture? And where did he get the money to buy this kind of equipment? It had to be expensive.