Free I'm Watching You by Mary Burton

picked up
her cell and dialed Jordan again. She doubted Jordan would pick up, but she
felt as if she had to try although she wasn't sure what she'd say
to Jordan when she got her on the phone.
    After the third ring, the call connected.
    "Jordan?"
    "Yes. Why are you calling me, Lindsay?"
    "Because we need to talk."
    "I've said all I'm willing to say to you."
    "Don't hang up. Please, we need to talk about Harold."
    "There's nothing to say. The police were just here. They
told me about him."
    Harold Turner may have abused his wife but that didn't mean Jordan
didn't love him or wasn't feeling a great sense of loss. "Are
you okay?"
    "I'm fine. Now, leave me alone. I can't talk to you
anymore." Jordan's voice sounded brittle, more tense than usual.
    "We need to talk about Harold."
    "I have nothing to say about him."
    The questions had to be asked. "Jordan, you said a couple of weeks
ago that you could handle him. Did you kill him?"
    There was a long pause. "Why would you ask me a question like
that? Harold was found behind your shelter."
    "Because I think whoever put him there was sending me a message. I
think you might have been telling me that you'd handle him by killing
him."
    "He was worth more to me alive than dead. And I was handling
him." A heavy silence followed before she added, "Did you kill
him?"
    Lindsay felt dizzy. "No."
    "It makes sense that you would. I saw the way you looked at him at
that charity party. You hated him."
    "Jordan, I didn't kill Harold."
    "Who else would? Harold was right about you. He said you hate
men."
    "I don't hate men, Jordan. I hate it when men hit the women
they say they love."
    "Harold did love me."
    "Jordan, you told me he held a gun to your head and played Russian
roulette."
    "I also told you the gun was empty. If he'd wanted to kill
me he would have, but he didn't. He said he was just kidding."
    Lindsay nearly cried out her frustration. "Jordan, you have to
understand that a man shouldn't treat a woman that way."
    "Don't tell me any more of your lies. I don't want to
hear them. Harold and I would have been fine if you'd just stayed out of
our lives."
    "Jordan, you're the one who came to me."
    "You killed my husband."
    "I did not!"
    "I'll never forgive you for what you did to me." The
line went dead.
    Lindsay shoved out a breath and closed the phone. Frustration ate at
her. Jordan had decided Lindsay was the cause of her problems.
    Lindsay tapped her pinky ring--her mother's high school
ring--against the steering wheel. She clicked on the radio, hit
"scan," and hoped for some kind of news about Harold. Nothing. Each station played a collection of songs and
advertisements, but no news.
    Aware that her breathing had grown shallow, she drew in deep breaths.
Slowly the muscles in her chest eased.
    What had Harold been doing behind the shelter? Sanctuary was the kind of
place he despised and he had no reason to be there--unless Jordan really
had lured him to the shelter and killed him as some kind of message to Lindsay.
    "Jordan, please tell me you didn't do anything
stupid," Lindsay whispered to herself.
    The deluge of rain slowed. Streets glistened with rain. Steam rose from
the hot pavement. Puddles collected on the shoulders of the road.
    Lindsay flipped open her cell phone and redialed Jordan Turner's
number. The phone rang once and then went straight to voice mail.
    "This is Jordan. Leave me a message and
I'll get back to you."
    "Jordan, it's Lindsay O'Neil.
I need to talk to you again. You've got my number."
    Lindsay clipped the phone back into its holster on her waistband. Ten
minutes later she parked in front of Sanctuary. The downpour had just stopped
but it had chased away the forensics team and the curiosity seekers. A squad
car with a lone officer in the front seat remained parked in the driveway and
two television news trucks lurked across the street. The reporters huddled
inside the front cabs.
    A streak of lightning shot across the sky. Lindsay flinched. She counted
to five.