“No, this is our first trip here.”
“Oh, right, you told me that yesterday.” Jordan nodded. “Um, have you guys been together long?”
“About a year,” Susan replied.
“You mentioned yesterday you live in Seattle. Is that where you guys met?”
“Yes. But listen, I—”
“Is your fiance from Seattle originally?”
“No, he grew up near Chicago.” She gave him a puzzled half smile. “I’m sorry. Why are you asking me all these questions about Allen?”
“Well, I wasn’t being nosy,” he said with a nervous laugh. “I—I just thought if I asked about him, it might help you figure out where he went off to. Y’know, trigger something in your memory? But I guess it didn’t work, huh?”
Her gaze shifted from Jordan to Leo, then back again. “Didn’t I see a young woman with you yesterday?”
Hands in his pockets, Leo nodded. “Yeah, that’s Moira, but she went for a—a walk in the woods.” He furtively took the napkin out of his pocket.
“You don’t suppose she might have seen Allen, do you?”
“Who, Moira?” Jordan said. He shook his head. “I really doubt it.”
“Well, could you check with Moira when she gets back from her walk? I’d be very grateful….”
“Sure, no sweat,” Jordan replied. “We’re expecting her back soon.”
“Maybe she noticed Allen or his car somewhere. Again, his name is Allen Meeker. He’s about six feet tall, good looking—”
“Silver-black hair, little scar on his cheek, late thirties,” Jordan finished for her. “And he drives a black BMW. I’ll remember.” He opened the driver’s door for her.
Eyes narrowed, she stopped to stare at him. “I never mentioned Allen had a scar.”
“Really?” Jordan let out a skittish laugh. “Huh, I thought I noticed a scar when I spotted him in the store.”
She gave him a slightly wary sidelong glance. “Well, he does have one. You must have been more aware of things back at the store than you thought.”
“Guess so,” Jordan said. “Listen, if I think of anything else—or if Moira can tell us something—should we just swing by your place on Birch and let you know?”
“Yes, I’d appreciate that, thanks,” she said. “If we’re not there, just leave a note.” She climbed into the car.
“I’m sorry we weren’t more help,” Leo piped up. He held out his hand for her to shake.
But Jordan stepped in front of him and closed the car door. “Take it easy, dude!” he called to the boy in the backseat.
Crestfallen, Leo backed up and watched her turn the car around and head out of the driveway. He tucked the note back in his pocket.
Jordan put an arm around him. Leo started to wrestle away, but his friend held on tightly and pulled him inside the house. “Give it to me,” he growled.
“What are you talking about?” Leo muttered.
“The note, goddamn it,” Jordan said. “You were going to pass her a note. Twice you tried.”
“Jordan, I—”
All of a sudden, his friend slapped him hard across the face. Leo reeled back, stunned. He bumped into the banister and almost knocked over a tall floor lamp by the stairs. The whole side of his head hurt. Stunned, he put a hand to the side of his face and numbly gazed at Jordan.
“Give me the note,” his friend said.
Leo dug into his pocket. “The guy downstairs wasn’t lying. He said she was his fiancee. Well, you heard her. She’s his fiancee, and she’s worried about him.” He handed the napkin to his friend. “And I’m worried about you, Jordan,” he added in a shaky voice. “Christ, in all the years we’ve known each other, and with all the fights we’ve had, you’ve never hit me before.”
Jordan didn’t seem to be listening. He frowned at the scribbling on the napkin and slowly shook his head. “I was counting on you,” he muttered. “And you were ready to betray me—”
“That’s because you’re not acting rationally, damn it!” Leo cried. “I don’t know who you are anymore! Good God, weren’t you listening to her? It’s just like he said. She’s his fiancee. He wasn’t lying—”
“What about the carjacking story?” Jordan shot back. “He was lying to us about why he had a gun. She didn’t know a damn thing about any carjacking. We’ve already caught him in a lie.”
“Maybe he just didn’t tell her,” Leo argued.
“Something significant like a carjacking, you don’t think he’d tell her?”
“Something significant like your mother being murdered, you don’t think you’d tell your best friend?” Leo was still rubbing the side of his face. “You’re acting crazy, Jordan. I’m sorry, but you are. He tried to make a deal with you downstairs. If we drop this in the lap of the law right now—and they find he’s innocent—he won’t press charges. God, take the deal, Jordan. Let me call the state police….”
His friend turned and headed into the kitchen. Leo followed him in there and watched him open the refrigerator. “You can take some money out of your trust to buy him a new BMW,” Leo suggested. “Let’s get some damage control on this thing before it’s too late….”
Jordan leaned against the counter and drank a bottled water. He peeled at the label. “The first Mama’s Boy murder in the Seattle area was Sarah Edgecombe in Auburn in November of 1997.” His voice was void of all emotion. He may as well have been reading off that label he was peeling. “Mama’s Boy broke into Sarah’s house and dragged her away while she was giving her son a bath. He left a stuffed bear on the boy’s pillow, and he left the mother’s body in the woods at Discovery Park.”
“Why are you telling me this?” Leo asked. He sank down in a kitchen chair.
“Two years before Sarah, there was a woman named Patricia Nagel,” Jordan continued. “A few days before she was killed, Patricia told a friend that a man had followed her and her toddler son home from the El station. The investigators—”
“El station?” Leo repeated.
Jordan kept on talking: “The investigators figured he’d been following her and watching her for a while. Someone broke into Patricia’s apartment on Diversey Street while she was waiting for her husband to get home from work. She was cooking dinner. Her little boy was there with her in the kitchen—in his high chair. Neighbors found one of those big, multicolored lollipops on the kitchen table. Three days later, a golfer at Skokie Country Club found Patricia Nagel’s body in the rough near the seventh hole. She’d been strangled.”
Leo’s head still throbbed from Jordan’s slap. He was amazed his friend knew all these facts and details. “I don’t understand,” he said, leaning forward in the kitchen chair. “What does all this have to do with the guy downstairs?”
Leaning against the counter, Jordan still seemed focused on the label on the bottled water. “A lot of the Mama’s Boy investigators believe Patricia Nagel was his first victim, and that was two years before his first Seattle murder.” He glanced over at Leo. “Patricia was killed in Chicago, buddy. And you heard the woman at our door. Allen Meeker is originally from Chicago.”
With a sigh, Leo slumped back in the chair. “Oh, for God’s sake, that’s just a coincidence.”
“Is it?” Jordan said. He put down the bottled water and moved toward the kitchen table. He sat down next to him and grabbed his arm. “I don’t believe in coincidences, Leo. I don’t think it’s a coincidence that our guest downstairs rented the same house where my mother and I were staying when she was abducted—and about a quarter of a mile from where her corpse was found. I don’t think that’s a coincidence at all. There’s a reason for it. Don’t you see? He’s returning to the scene of his crime. And I can’t help worrying about that nice, pretty lady and her son who were just here.”
Leo stared at him. What Jordan said was starting to make sense. And that scared the hell out of him.
“Don’t you see?” Jordan whispered, squeezing his arm. “He took them to my mom’s old house for a reason.”
