Shadow Dance (Buchanan-Renard #6)

Shadow Dance (Buchanan-Renard #6) Page 36

Noah and Nick were parked at one end of the block in Nick’s car, and two other agents were also monitoring from their parked car at the block’s opposite end. A third vehicle with two more feds in it was parked in a driveway between buildings. Once Pruitt started down the street, they’d have him hemmed in.

If he came down the street.

They had been waiting for over two hours. Nick was lobbying to change locations and wait inside Jordan’s apartment. “We could trap him by the computer. We could have it all set up and spring on him. Wouldn’t you like a couple of minutes alone with him? I sure as hell would.”

Noah rejected his plan. “It’s a bad idea.”

“Okay then. We could spring on him as soon as he opens the apartment door.”

“That wouldn’t work. It’s a bad idea too.”

Nick sighed. “Why? I’m telling you we could spring—”

Noah began to laugh. “What is it with you and springing?”

“An element of surprise,” Nick explained with a deadpan expression.

“Okay. So, as much as I understand your need to spring on Pruitt, I’m not gonna let you lie in wait up there.”

Nick pulled an apple from his pocket. He wiped it on his sleeve and took a big bite.

“Did I tell you about the fire at MacKenna’s house?” Noah asked.

Nick took another bite before replying with his mouth full. “You said it burned down.”

“It didn’t just burn, Nick. That fire was nuclear. You should have seen it. It’s like it imploded. The place was incinerated in a couple of minutes. Smoldered for a long time though.”

“Sorry I missed it.”

“Pruitt set that fire. He knows his way around chemicals.”

“You did evacuate Jordan’s neighbors, didn’t you?”

“Yes,” Noah answered.

Several minutes passed in silence. The only sound was Nick chomping on his apple. “Too bad we can’t spring,” he said.

“Someone’s coming.” Noah and Nick heard an agent’s excited whisper in their earpieces.

“I see him. That’s him,” another said.

“You sure it’s him?” the first asked.

“Black jogging suit with the hood up…in August. That’s him. He’s sure walking slow.”

The figure came around the corner and into Noah’s view. He leaned over the steering wheel to get a good look at him.

“Is he carrying something? Yeah, he is. What is that?” Nick asked. He looked at Noah. “Could he be cooking up another fire?”

The man turned and walked up the steps of Jordan’s apartment building.

“We can’t let him get inside. We have to take him down in the street,” the agent closest to the man said. “Go!” he yelled.

“Wait,” Noah ordered, but it was too late. Three overzealous agents swarmed into the street, guns drawn. Two pointed their guns in the man’s face while the third grabbed the box the man was dropping.

Noah and Nick rushed forward.

“That’s not him,” Noah yelled angrily.

“What are you doing? I didn’t do anything wrong,” the man stammered. Barely more than a teenager, he was unshaven, and his hair looked like it hadn’t seen shampoo in a month. “Be careful with that box. It’s delicate. I’m not supposed to shake it.” The punk was so scared, he could barely get the words out.

“What’s in the box?” one of the agents barked at him.

“I don’t know. A guy gave me a hundred bucks to deliver it to his girlfriend. I’m supposed to leave it at her door. Look, honest. I didn’t do anything wrong.”

Noah turned and sprinted back to his car. Nick was right on his heels, shouting back to the agents, “Get the bomb squad over here.” He pointed to one of them, “You got this?”

“Yes, sir.”

Nick dove into the car as Noah started the engine.

“Call the hospital and check on Jordan,” Noah shouted. “Just to be sure.”

He took the corner on two wheels. Slamming his foot on the accelerator, Noah hit the siren.

“Do you think Pruitt’s onto us?” Nick asked as they raced through Boston’s streets.

“No way of knowing. Pruitt could have set this kid up to do his dirty work and be on his way back to Texas, or he could have something else up his sleeve. Whatever his plan, we’ve got to make sure Jordan isn’t a part of it.”

Chapter Forty-four

HE NEEDED TO TIME IT JUST RIGHT. ANY MINUTE NOW, THE messenger Pruitt had hired would be placing the gift-wrapped box outside of Jordan’s door. Liquid fire, that’s how he thought of his special brew. It had worked so beautifully on MacKenna’s house. And it would work beautifully again. There were enough chemicals inside that box to blow the top floor of the apartment building into the stratosphere and burn what was left to the ground. Probably overkill, he thought, but he wouldn’t have to worry that Jordan Buchanan’s computer might somehow still be operable.

He’d set the timer and had exactly one hour before the explosion. He needed to get to Jordan before then. Once her apartment went up, the police and the FBI would be on her at the hospital like ants on a picnic. They would then know that Jordan had been the intended target of the shooting. But if Pruitt could get to her today, no one would ever know why.

Thank God for small-town gossip. Pruitt had just arrived back at the motel, shredder in hand, when he’d gotten the phone call from his wife, Suzanne. She had just heard from Jaffee’s wife, Lily, who had heard from Jaffee, who had heard from Angela that Jordan Buchanan was hanging on to life by a thread. It was just so sad that something this tragic had to happen to someone so young—and so nice. What was the world coming to? Three people killed in Serenity, and then this lovely young woman, who had been traumatized enough, goes home to Boston and gets shot down by some maniac who’s out for revenge against her father? And that handsome FBI agent, Noah Clayborne, who was with her in Serenity turned out to be more than just a friend. He had called Angela and could barely talk, he was so brokenhearted. Angela had told him that Jordan’s last phone call, right before she was shot, was to her. Angela said poor Noah Clayborne sounded absolutely lost. It didn’t look like poor Jordan was going to make it but he was searching for a ray of hope. He was trying to think positive thoughts, planning Jordan’s return home from the hospital. The last thing Jordan had said to him was something about those research papers she had come to Serenity to get. She was so excited for him to see some surprising information she’d stored on her computer—something she’d learned from the papers that the dead professor had given her. She was some sort of computer genius, everybody says. But now Noah may never know what Jordan wanted to tell him. It was all just so very sad….

Suzanne cackled on, but Pruitt’s mind had strayed. What other information had Jordan found in Professor MacKenna’s notes? What was on her computer? Maybe she had already figured everything out.

He walked into the hospital without anyone noticing. He looked down at his feet in case security cameras were pointed his way. He wasn’t worried he would be recognized. The police were looking for gangsters related to Judge Buchanan’s racketeering case, right? And even if Jordan could identify Dave Trumbo, she wouldn’t see him closely, not until it was too late.

The security personnel didn’t pay much attention to him either. No reason to. He’d stopped at a big supermart where you could buy anything from toothpaste, to automotive parts, to professional uniforms. He’d picked up a pair of surgical scrubs. The hospital was a huge medical complex and there were so many physicians and nurses bustling about, no one paid Pruitt any attention.

The elevator opened as soon as he pushed the button, and he rode alone up to the fifth floor, mentally practicing what he would say if he was stopped by a nurse. The second he stepped off the elevator he scanned the numbers beside the doors, looking for the one he’d been given when he’d called the information desk. An arrow indicated Jordan Buchanan’s room was around the corner on the right. He turned the corner and stopped. A uniformed police guard stood outside her door. Pruitt changed direction, and he had to change his plan as well.

He hadn’t anticipated a guard, but that was an oversight. Of course her father would want to beef up security.

Back in the elevator, he looked at the hospital directory printed on the wall. Pushing the button for the second floor, he headed down to radiology. No one was in sight when he walked out into the empty corridor. It took only a couple of calls on his cell phone to get the name of her surgeon and her internist. Then he called the fifth floor and told the nurse that Dr. Emmett had ordered more X-rays for Jordan Buchanan.

From the sound of her voice, the nurse was young and inexperienced. She didn’t ask questions. She simply hung up the phone, then promptly called radiology and gave them the doctor’s verbal orders.

Pruitt heard the orderly take the call. Fortunately, it was a slow evening, and radiology was empty. Nevertheless, Pruitt had to wait ten minutes before the slow-moving blond orderly came through the doors and got on the elevator to retrieve Jordan. With an iPod in his shirt pocket and tiny earphone wires hanging from his ears, he hummed to an unrecognizable song.

Pruitt liked the isolation of his hiding place. There were dark rooms, darker corridors, and empty reception desks. The chances of anyone interrupting were not a concern.

He looked around the radiology floor and found a perfect spot in a cubicle just inside the swinging doors to the X-ray room.

Would the guard accompany Jordan to radiology? Most likely. Pruitt would have to take him first. Come up behind him and hit him hard. And while he was going down, Pruitt would grab his gun. Unless the iPod orderly hung around. Pruitt was hoping he would park an unconscious Jordan and then go to get the X-ray tech. If that didn’t happen, Pruitt would have to deal with him too. That wouldn’t be difficult, and he wouldn’t make a sound. Pruitt’s techniques for keeping his former clients quiet were all there. Funny how you didn’t forget such things.

Beyond the swinging doors were several changing cubicles, where patients changed into gowns before their scans. Each had doors that clicked shut. There were clean gowns stacked on the shelves inside each cubicle, and lo and behold, a metal rod with plastic hangers.

He had thought he would have to break into the supply closet to find something he could use as a club to hit the guard, but the metal clothes rod would do just fine. It took Pruitt a few minutes to get the screws loose using a dime. About ten or twelve inches long, the rod was the perfect weight for the job. It fit nicely in his hand.

He pulled the door of the cubicle toward him, leaving it open a crack so he could see Jordan being wheeled by. He’d get a warning. He had noticed that when the button for the swinging doors was pushed on the other side, lights would come on in here.

His eyes adjusted to the dark. He wasn’t sure how much time passed before he heard voices. A minute later, the lights blinked on, and he heard the whoosh of the doors slowly opening inward.

Not too eager, he calmed himself. Timing had to be perfect.

Then there they were. First he saw Jordan, then the orderly pushing her wheelchair. The guard trailed behind. That was a nice piece of luck. The guard was last, but he would be the first to be taken down.

Gripping the bar, Pruitt slowly pushed open the door and stepped out. The guard didn’t hear him coming. Pruitt struck him hard at the base of the neck, reaching for the guard’s gun as the man crumpled to the floor.

The orderly managed to hear the noise over his music and whirled around, confusion in his eyes. “Hey…what…?”

Down he went. The rod caught him on the side of his face just above his ear. It happened so fast he didn’t have time to duck. The orderly crashed into Jordan, knocking her from the wheelchair to the floor.

Pruitt kicked the chair out of his path and picked up the gun. His eyes were cold and fiendish. Jordan wondered if that was the last sight she would see before she died. She screamed and doubled over, trying to protect herself.

Suddenly Noah crashed through the doors. Pruitt barely had time to turn his head before a bullet from Noah’s gun cut through his shoulder. He swung around to reach for Jordan, but Noah shot him in the chest, and Pruitt fell to the floor with a shocked look on his dying face. He struggled to raise his gun, but Noah shot again. The explosion was deafening and reverberated down the empty corridor.

Jordan faded into its echo.

Chapter Forty-five

JORDAN WAS CURLED UP ON THE SOFA IN THE SUNROOM, PRETENDING to be asleep so her mother would stop fussing over her. She’d already covered Jordan with one afghan and was threatening to get a heavier blanket.

The windows were open and a lovely cool breeze freshened the air. She could hear the ocean waves rolling onto shore. Her parents’ home on Nathan’s Bay was surrounded on three sides by water. In the winter, the glass windows would be covered with a layer of ice. In the summer, a cool breeze came off the water, a welcome relief on the rare humid or hot days.

It was a lovely place to visit, but Jordan was ready to go home. She felt like she was a constant worry to her mother. And she missed her own bed. She missed her window seat.

And most of all she missed Noah. Since that terrible night in the hospital when he’d picked her up in his arms and carried her to her room, she’d missed him.

He and Nick were on an assignment. Laurant told Jordan that Nick checked in with her every night that he was away. He’d been gone four days now, but Laurant expected Nick home tomorrow. Jordan didn’t ask her about Noah. That was over, and he had returned to his life. What happened in Serenity…

She sighed. If she didn’t get up and try to be productive, she’d start crying. That’s all her mother would need to hear. Then she’d have Jordan in bed with a nurse standing over her around the clock.

Her ribs were still sore, and she winced when she stood up. The housekeeper, Leah, was stacking dishes in the kitchen.

“I’ll do that,” Jordan offered.

“No, no, you rest.”

“Leah, I know you mean well, but I am sick and tired of being told to rest.”

“You lost a lot of blood. Mrs. Buchanan said you should not overtire yourself.”

Jordan noticed the number of plates and followed Leah into the dining room. The oblong table took up most of the space with six chairs on each side and two at each end.

“Let’s see. Laurant and Nick will be here.” Leah counted. “With baby Sam,” she added. “I’ll bring the high chair in after I give it a good scrubbing. And Michael will be home. And Zachary of course. Alec and Regan will be here next weekend.”