Shadow Dance (Buchanan-Renard #6)

Shadow Dance (Buchanan-Renard #6) Page 3

Jordan smiled. “He’s difficult to describe. You’ll just have to see for yourself.”

Isabel followed Jordan inside. “Did he tell you about the treasure?”

“A little,” she answered.

“What about the feud? Did he tell you about the Buchanans and the MacKennas fighting all the time? The feud’s been going on for centuries. Since I’m inheriting Glen MacKenna, I want to know as much as possible about the history.”

“You sound enthusiastic,” Jordan said.

“I am. I’ve already decided I’m going to be a history major, and I’ll minor in music. Did the professor bring any of his research with him? He wrote that he had boxes and boxes…”

“He has a folder with him.”

“But what about the boxes?”

“I don’t know. You’ll have to ask him.”

The professor showed better manners with Isabel. He stood and shook her hand.

“It’s a great honor to meet the new owner of Glen MacKenna. When I get to Scotland I will be certain to tell my clansmen that I’ve met you, and that you’re as bonny a lass as I thought you would be.”

He turned to Jordan then and said, “I’ll also be telling them about you.”

It wasn’t what he said but how he said it that pricked her curiosity.

“Me?”

“The Buchanans,” he corrected. “You do know that Kate MacKenna married beneath her.”

He’d raised her ire with that remark. “And why is that?” she asked.

“Why, the Buchanans are savages. That’s why.” He pointed to the folder and said, “In here is just a sample of some of the atrocities against the peace-loving MacKennas. You should read it and then you’ll understand how fortunate your relative is to be married to a MacKenna.”

“Professor, are you intentionally insulting Jordan?” Isabel asked, shocked.

“She’s a Buchanan,” he said. “I’m simply stating the facts.”

“Just how accurate is your research?” Jordan folded her arms across her chest and frowned at the rude man.

“I’m a historian,” he snapped. “I deal in facts. I’ll grant you that some of the stories could be…legends…but there’s quite a bit of research to make the stories credible.”

“As a historian you believe you have proof that the MacKennas are all saints and the Buchanans are all sinners?”

“I know it sounds slanted, but the proof is indisputable. Read it,” he challenged once again, “and you can only come to one conclusion.”

“That the Buchanans are savages?”

“I’m afraid so,” he said cheerfully. “They’re thieves as well,” he added. “They’ve chipped away at the MacKenna land until Glen MacKenna is barely half the size it used to be. And of course they stole the treasure too.”

“The treasure that started the feud,” Jordan said, letting her irritation show.

He gave her a sly grin and then dismissed her as he turned to Isabel. “I couldn’t travel with all the boxes, and I’ll have to put them in storage when I leave for Scotland. If you want to look through them, you’d best come to Texas within the next two weeks.”

“You’re leaving in two weeks? But I start school, and I…” She stopped, took a breath, and blurted, “I can miss the first week.”

Jordan stopped her. “Isabel, you can’t miss an entire week. You’ll need to get your class schedule and your books…you can’t go running off to Texas. Why can’t the professor e-mail the research files to you?”

“Most of my research is handwritten, and I’ve only put a few dates and names on my computer. I could send those, and I will as soon as I get back home, but without my papers, none of it will make sense to you.”

“What about mailing the boxes?” Jordan suggested.

“Oh, no, I could never do that,” he said. “The expense…”

“We’ll pay for shipping,” Jordan offered.

“I don’t trust the mail. Those boxes could get lost, and that’s years of research. No, no, I won’t risk it. You’ll have to come to Texas, Isabel. Perhaps when I come back…although…”

“Yes?” Isabel asked, thinking he had come up with a solution.

“I might decide to stay in Scotland, depending on my finances, and if I do, my research materials will stay in storage until I’m ready to return for them. If you wish to read what I’ve accumulated, it’s now or never,” he asserted.

“Could you have someone photocopy the files?” Isabel asked.

“I have no one to do it for me, and I simply don’t have the time. I’m getting ready for my trip. You’ll have to make the copies yourself when you come.”

Isabel let out a huge sigh of frustration, and Jordan, seeing how important this was to her, felt sympathy for her dilemma. As irritated as she was that the professor had created a biased record against her ancestors, she was sorry that Isabel wouldn’t get to learn more about the history of her land.

“I might decide to do a little research on my own,” Jordan said as she stood to leave Isabel and the professor to finish their discussion.

The obnoxious man had gotten under her skin, and she was determined to dig up a few facts to prove him wrong. The Buchanans were all savages? What kind of a history professor would make such a blanket statement? Just how credible was he? Was he really a history professor? Jordan was definitely going to check him out.

“Perhaps I’ll prove the Buchanans were the saints,” she asserted.

“That’s hardly possible, dearie. My research is impeccable.”

She glanced over her shoulder as she walked away. “We’ll see.”

Chapter Three

IT WAS AFTER TEN BEFORE JORDAN FINALLY HAD A CHANCE TO remove her contacts. She walked back to the ballroom and stood near the entrance trying to spot Noah in the crowd on the dance floor. He still had her glasses in his pocket.

Professor MacKenna had left the reception an hour before, and Isabel had apologized profusely for his rude behavior. Jordan told her not to worry, that she hadn’t been offended, and she left Isabel fretting about the boxes of research. Jordan thought about offering to help her out but changed her mind. Even though she was, as Michael reminded her, fancy-free these days and was curious to read some of his likely bogus research, doing so meant she would have to suffer more of the professor’s company. No, thank you. Nothing was worth spending even one hour with that man.

“What’s got you frowning?”

Her brother Nick asked the question as he sauntered over to her.

“I’m not frowning. I’m squinting. Noah has my glasses. Do you see him?”

“Yeah. He’s right in front of you.”

She focused in, spotted him, and then did frown. “Look at those silly women panting all over your partner. It’s disgusting.”

“You think?”

“I think,” she replied. “Promise me something.”

“Yes?”

“If I ever act like that, you’ll shoot me.”

“Be happy to,” Nick promised before laughing at her.

Noah had excused himself from his fan club and walked over to join them.

“What’s so funny?”

“Jordan wants me to shoot her.”

Noah glanced down at her, and for a second or two she had his full, undivided attention.

“I’ll do it,” he offered

There was a little too much glee in his voice to suit her. She had just decided to walk away from the two of them when she spotted Dan Robbins heading her way. At least she thought it was Dan. He was too blurry to be sure. She’d had one dance with Dan earlier in the evening, and no matter what music was playing, whether it was a waltz, a tango, or hip-hop, Dan bounced to his own tune in something that resembled a spasmodic version of a polka. Jordan changed her mind and stayed put. She moved a little closer to Noah and smiled at him. The ploy seemed to work. Dan hesitated and then turned away.

“Don’t you want to know why she wants me to shoot her?” Nick asked.

“I already know why,” Noah said. “She’s bored.”

She slipped her hand into his pocket, found her glasses, and put them on.

“I am not bored.”

“Yes, you are,” Noah said.

He was looking over her head when he spoke to her. She suspected he did it on purpose just to irritate her.

“He’s right,” Nick said. “You have to be bored. All you had was your company, and since you sold everything…”

“Your point?”

Nick shrugged. “You’ve got to be bored.”

“Just because I don’t like the same things you two do doesn’t mean I’m bored or unhappy. I have a wonderful social life and—”

Noah cut her off. “Dead people have a better social life.”

Nick agreed. “You really don’t have much fun, do you?”

“Of course I do. I enjoy reading and…”

They were both grinning at her. They were obnoxious clowns, and she was about to tell them so when Nick said, “You do like a good book. What was it you were reading a couple of days ago?”

“I don’t remember. I read lots of books.”

“I do,” Noah said, his voice gratingly cheerful. “Nick and Dylan and I had just gotten back from fishing, and you were sitting on the deck reading the complete works of Stephen Hawking.”

“It was riveting.”

They had a good laugh over her defensive comment. “Stop making fun of me and go away. Both of you.”

Her timing could have been better. As soon as she told them to leave, she spotted Dan approaching her again. She grabbed hold of Noah’s arm. She was sure he knew what she was doing and why—he’d have to be blind not to notice Dan strolling toward them—but he didn’t say anything about it.

“Your sister lives in a box,” said Noah.

Nick agreed. “Jordan, when was the last time you did anything just for fun?”

“I do lots of things for fun.”

“Let me qualify that question. When did you do anything fun that didn’t involve computers or computer chips or software?”

She opened her mouth to answer and then closed it. She couldn’t think of anything, but surely that was only because she was under pressure.

“Have you ever done anything impractical?” Noah asked.

“Where’s the logic in that?” she asked.

Noah turned to Nick. “Is she serious?”

“Afraid so,” Nick answered. “Before my sister would ever consider doing anything on the spur of the moment, she would have to first analyze all the data, then figure the statistical probabilities of success…”

The two men were having a fine time tormenting her and would have continued if their employer, Dr. Peter Morganstern, hadn’t joined them. He carried a plate with two pieces of wedding cake.

Morganstern had become a good friend of the family and wouldn’t have missed the wedding for anything in the world. Jordan liked and admired him. He was a brilliant forensic psychiatrist who ran a highly specialized unit within the FBI. They called it the lost-and-found department. Her brother Nick and Noah were part of Morganstern’s program. Among their responsibilities was finding lost and exploited children, and Jordan believed they were a substantial reason for the program’s success.

“You three seem to be enjoying yourselves.”

“How do you stand working with them?” Jordan asked.

“There are moments when I question my sanity. Especially with this one,” he said, tilting his head toward Noah.

“Sir, I’m sorry you and your wife got stuck at the same table with our aunt Iris,” Nick said. “Did she find out you were a doctor?”

“I’m afraid so, yes.”

“Iris is an obsessive hypochondriac,” he explained to Noah.

“What are the odds the doctor would get stuck sitting next to her?” Noah asked.

Everyone turned toward Morganstern’s table where Aunt Iris sat.

“One chance in one hundred seventy-nine thousand seven hundred,” Jordan answered before she could stop herself.

The men turned back to look at her.

Astonished, the doctor asked, “Is that an exact number or a guess?”

“An exact number based on six hundred guests,” she said. “I never guess.”

“Does she do this kind of stuff all the time?” Noah wondered aloud.

“Pretty much,” Nick answered.

“Just because I have a mind for math—”

“But with no common sense,” Nick finished.

“I could certainly use you on my team,” Morganstern said. “If you ever consider a change in careers, come work for me.”

“No,” Nick said emphatically.

“Absolutely not,” Noah said at the same time.

The doctor turned his head toward Jordan and gave her a conspiratorial wink. “I wouldn’t put her in the field right away. Like you two, she would need extensive training.” He looked as though he was pondering the possibility for a second or two, and then said, “I’ve got a good feeling about Jordan. I believe she’d be an asset to the unit.”

“Sir, isn’t there a rule against two members of the same family working together?”

“I don’t have that rule,” Morganstern said. “I wouldn’t make her go through the academy. I’d train her myself.”

Noah looked appalled. “Sir, it still isn’t a good idea,” he insisted while Nick vigorously nodded agreement.

Exasperated, Jordan turned to Noah and said, “Listen, Mister Buttinsky. This isn’t your decision. It’s mine.”

The doctor seemed fascinated by Noah’s reaction to his proposal.

“Would I get to carry a gun?” she asked.

“A gun is out of the question,” Nick said.

“You’re too uncoordinated and you’re blind as a bat,” Noah interjected. “You’d shoot yourself,” he predicted.

She smiled at Morganstern. “It was lovely talking to you. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to get away from these two cretins.”

Noah grabbed her arm. “Come on. Dance with me.”

Since he was already dragging her toward the dance floor, she felt it would be pointless to argue. The bride had coaxed her sister into singing. Isabel had the most wonderful voice, and when she began to sing Kate’s favorite ballad, a hush fell over the crowd. Young and old, they were all mesmerized by her.