Darcy went down without a sound.
Chapter 17
JORDAN’S phone dropped from nerveless fingers. Oh God, oh God. She fell to her knees beside Darcy, frantically searching for a pulse.
“Get up, Jordan,” Ted said calmly. “It would be best if I didn’t have to shoot you just yet.”
From somewhere deep inside the house, she could hear Malachi barking furiously and scratching. She slowly rose, keeping her eyes on the gun pointed at her, which looked really, really big. “What have you done with my dog?”
“Shut him in the butler’s pantry, where he won’t be a nuisance. I don’t like to harm animals.” Ted gestured with the gun toward the library. “Let’s have a chat, shall we?”
Jordan gave Darcy one last glance, then walked ahead of him, her heart pounding so hard it felt like a fist hitting her chest from the inside.
Charlotte was hovering at ceiling level, fading in and out, and hissing. Hattie stood in the shadows next to the French doors, her eyes on Jordan, waiting, Jordan realized, for some kind of sign from her. She glanced at Ted, who was frowning distractedly to himself. Surreptitiously, she splayed one hand out at her side, hoping Hattie understood her signal to wait.
“Hold still, Charlotte, and wait for Jordan to tell us what to do,” Hattie said.
“But I can get his gun!” Charlotte swooped right over Ted’s head, but he didn’t seem to notice.
Jordan shook her head slightly, and Charlotte retreated to ceiling level with a loud sniff.
Think, Jordan told herself. Jase would’ve heard the commotion and realized she’d dropped her phone—he was on his way, and he would have called the police. She just had to stall until the cavalry arrived. “Why don’t you let me call the EMTs, Ted? You don’t want Darcy to die.”
Ted shrugged. “Why would I care? She was in the way.” He used the barrel of the gun to scratch the side of his head, mussing his hair.
For the first time, Jordan noted that his clothes were wrinkled. Changing personal hygiene habits—a sign of deteriorating mental stability. Not that shooting Darcy without hesitation hadn’t already illustrated that salient fact.
“Killing a cop, Ted—that’s not good. You can get the death penalty.”
“Only if I’m caught, and I won’t be.”
“Just let me make the phone call,” Jordan urged. “Then you can take me to your house.”
“Don’t give him any ideas, Jordan,” Hattie admonished. “He could abduct you!”
“No. Just shut up while I think,” Ted snarled.
He paced slowly around the room, keeping the gun pointed in her direction. Through the French doors, Jordan could see Amanda weeding with her back to them, her butt swaying to whatever tune she had on her MP3 player. Chances of getting her attention were slim at best.
“I’m disappointed, Jordan,” Ted said, drawing her focus back to him. “I came to you because I lost the record contract. And you helped me, remember? I’m back on the road to greatness, and I deserve that greatness. But you’ve fucked it all up.”
She didn’t have to fake her confusion. “How?”
“You moved! Did you really think you could just relocate up here and I wouldn’t be upset?”
“But you were the one who invited me up here last year—”
“For the goddamn festival, not to buy some run-down old heap!” he shouted, straightening his arm and shoving the gun at her. “You belong at my side, in L.A. You’re perfect for me—you are the person I need to help me in my career.”
Charlotte hissed and swooped, and Jordan shot her a warning glance. “I have a career of my own, Ted.” Falling into therapist mode, she kept her tone even, her reasoning rational. If she persuaded him of his flawed logic, she might be able to get him to give her the gun. “How did you think that would work?”
He snorted, his expression derisive. “Other people don’t need you—I do. You told me you were taking a sabbatical, and that you needed to reassess. I assumed you understood.”
Malachi’s barking stopped. In the ensuing silence, Jordan forced herself to keep her eyes on Ted. “What about Didi? You’re dating her, aren’t you?”
“I told you, she’s just staying up here this summer. Why won’t you listen to me?” Ted’s agitation was clearly escalating.
Hattie floated forward, her expression alarmed, and Jordan put up both hands. “Okay, okay—I’m listening now, aren’t I?”
Ted ran a hand over his face. “I just can’t make you understand,” he muttered, resuming his pacing.
Keep him talking. “The private investigator says Didi lied about her alibi,” Jordan said. “Do you know anything about that?”
“Yeah, I heard you two on the phone with him at the pub. That’s when I knew I had to do something. If you’d just left well enough alone. But no. You had to investigate.” Ted laughed, the sound unnaturally harsh. “Didi was sleeping with our agent that night. He told her if she did, he’d get her a big movie contract. She didn’t want anyone to know about it.” He gave Jordan an accusing look. “She wouldn’t have needed an alibi if you’d just stayed away from that asshole you married—he wouldn’t have dumped her. Why’d you have to invite him out to your condo, Jordan?”
Jordan’s stomach clenched. “You killed Ryland?”
“What choice did you give me? I wasn’t about to let him move back in, but I could see you were wavering. He was in our way.”
“You followed him that night.”
“I’d been following him for weeks. I listened to everything, and I could tell you were waffling. So I cut the brake lines.”
Jordan felt a sharp pang for Ryland. “And then you told Drake about our argument to point the cops at me.”
“Of course. Clever of me, I must admit.”
Jordan took a calculated risk. “But your logic just isn’t holding up at all, is it, Ted? You murder Ryland, then you implicate me in his murder by telling the cops about our argument? If I’m in jail, I can’t be with you, now, can I?”
Ted shook his head. “No, no—you just don’t get it, do you, Jordan? I’m beginning to wonder whether you’re as smart as I thought you were.”
She spread her hands. “Tell me what I’m missing, because from where I stand, your logic sucks.”
“Don’t you dare criticize me!”
“Do you think it’s wise to provoke him, Jordan?” Hattie asked.
“Let me throw books at him!” Charlotte screeched, flying toward the bookcases.
“No, wait!” Jordan said.
“Don’t order me around!” Ted snapped, waving the gun. “Do you really want to piss me off right now? I’m still thinking about shooting you.”
“No, no,” Jordan said hurriedly. She thought she heard a slight movement in the hall. “Listen, Ted, just explain it to me, why don’t you? How am I supposed to be with you when I’m rotting in jail for my husband’s murder?”
“Well, I can come and visit you, right?” Ted’s tone indicated he thought he was reasoning with a five-year-old. “And no one else can have you if you’re locked up. Plus, you would’ve been convicted in California, so you’d be brought back to a California state penitentiary. I can work with that.”
Jordan gaped at him, stunned. Rational Therapy hadn’t done a damn thing for him. If she decided to go back into counseling, she seriously needed to reassess her chosen discipline.