“Actually, there’s one other place.”
“Yeah?”
Kara tapped a finger on Jordan’s forehead. “You, sweetie. How long have we known each other? And you never talked about what happened. Granted, you were playing mime games most of the time.”
“Mime games. Bad joke.”
“Good advice, though. Comparing notes with Elkins? Couldn’t that maybe get you someplace?”
“You mean... those similarities between the cases that the cops held back?”
“Like they say in the geezer wing, bingo! Plus, it might jar some stuff loose from the back of both your brains.”
“Huh?”
Kara shook her head and her pink-and-blue bangs bobbed. “It’s like my therapy with Dr. Hurst. Some things that I remembered, I only thought I remembered. When the doc and me started digging into it, she found what she called false memories.”
“Yeah?”
“It was my mind trying to protect me from something even worse than what I remembered.”
Jordan shook her head, once. “Believe me. I’m not doing that.”
Kara held her hands up, and the scars showed again. “Okay, but the only way to really find out is to start looking at what’s going on under all that black hair.”
Jordan’s eyes tightened. “Trust me, Kara, I know enough already.”
“You think so? You’re probably right.”
Jordan forced a smile as she got to her feet. “Appreciate the advice. Gotta get to group. I was late last week.”
Kara ignored that, looking up at her, a child with an old woman’s eyes. “Why did you suddenly want to get out of here? What made you finally break your... your vow of silence?”
Jordan pointed toward the nearest door and spoke evenly, softly, wanting no one but her friend to hear. “There’s a monster out there killing families. And if I don’t find him, and stop him, he’ll kill again and again.”
“You’re gonna stop him.”
“Yeah.”
“You’re gonna... kill him?”
“Oh yeah.”
Kara studied her for the longest time. “Nothing means more to you.”
“Nothing.”
“Honey, it sounds to me like you haven’t really broken that silence at all. Time to look back, and speak up. To yourself.”
“... Not that easy.”
“Hey, it’ll be easier on you than the next family that butcher singles out.”
Then Kara bolted to her feet and hugged her friend, so quickly there wasn’t anything Jordan could do about it. Then Kara was gone from the sunroom, as if Jordan were the one still imprisoned here.
Glancing at a wall clock, Jordan realized she really was almost late, and headed downstairs, fast as she could without running. When she arrived at the classroom-like space, most of the group was already seated. Luckily for her, David Elkins was still over by the coffee urn, chatting with last week’s late arrival. What was that kid’s name?
Levi, Dr. Hurst had called him. Like last week, the youngish man wore jeans and the holey Chuck Taylors. This time, the Hives were in for the Foo Fighters on his T-shirt, while the thriller writer had exchanged a black polo for last week’s navy one.
As she approached, Jordan ignored the younger man, hoping he would take the hint and buzz off, and said, “Mr. Elkins — I just wanted to say how sorry I am for your loss.”
He gave her a slight nod. “And I’m sorry for your loss, too. We all have that in common here. Expressions of sympathy are appreciated, but not required.”
Jordan wasn’t sure how to interpret that — had she committed another breach of protocol?
Still, she risked saying to him, “If you don’t mind, Mr. Elkins, when we’re through here? Might I have a moment of your time?”
“Certainly. And it’s David.”
She nodded. “And Jordan, please. I would like to talk to you.”
Levi, who hadn’t taken the hint, interjected, “And I’d like to talk to you, Jordan.”
Spinning to the guy, she said, “Really, jackass? Lookin’ for a date at group therapy? Pathetic.”
David stepped between them.
“It... it’s not like that,” the young man said.
Her teeth were bared. “You just keep your distance or we’re going to have a problem.”
David, still standing between them, held up a hand like a referee and said to her, “It really isn’t like that.”
“Jordan,” Levi said gently, a little afraid but summoning strength, “there’s no problem, really. I’m gay, all right?”
David turned to her and his eyes held hers. “Levi wants to talk to you for the same reason I want to talk to you... and you want to talk to me. His family was murdered, too.”
“Everything okay over there?” Dr. Hurst called from her seat in the circle.
“Just fine,” David said. “We were just making plans for some after-group socializing.”
“Well then,” the doctor said, “if you’ll join us, we can get started.”
Jordan turned her back to David, and to Levi, to the whole group. Flushed, she worked to hold back tears. She had just unleashed some of her rage on some poor gay kid, who, like her brother Jimmy, had already suffered way enough shit in his life. What was wrong with her?
Like she didn’t know.
She turned to the refreshment table, selected a chocolate chip cookie and a napkin, and went over and took the seat next to Levi. She gave him the World’s Record smallest smile and a nod that was smaller than that. And he grinned and nodded back.
David was next to her on the right. Across the way, Dr. Hurst was flanked by Phillip and an attractive but dowdily dressed middle-aged redhead — the woman who’d come in with David last week.
Glancing around the circle, Dr. Hurst asked, “Who would like to start this time?”
No one said a word.
Turning to the redhead, Dr. Hurst asked, “Kay?”
Before Kay could speak, Jordan heard herself say, “I’m Jordan Rivera, and I’d like to talk about what happened to my family.”
Chapter Six
That Captain Kelley had scanned every page, if quickly, of Mark’s file was encouraging. That he had been frowning, his eyes so slitted behind the half-glasses riding the hawk nose, boded less well.
The sharply dressed senior detective took off the glasses, opened his eyes wide then tightened them again, closed the file, and flung the glasses on top of the inch-thick manila folder, sighing in the manner of a father whose wayward child had brought home a D-minus report card.
“That’s it?” he asked. “That’s all you got?”
“So far,” Mark said, feeling like he’d been kicked in the stomach. Years of work were in that folder.
“Not much to it, is there?”
“Captain, all due respect, there is something to this.”
Kelley stared at the young detective blankly. Then a small, sly smile revealed itself. “You know, there just might be. Not a bad job, son, for a side project.”
Relief flooded through Mark, but he didn’t allow himself to smile. He wanted to present a businesslike demeanor, not an eager-beaver one.
Kelley leaned back and rocked in his chair. “Nothing yet that I can take to the FBI, or even kick upstairs... but you’ve done a lot of digging, Pryor, and maybe, just maybe, you’re gonna hit somethin’.”
Now he couldn’t hold back the smile. “Thanks, Captain.”
No sooner had Mark’s smile emerged than Kelley’s disappeared. “You’re still on your own time. I can’t assign this to you, not yet — there’s too much else on the docket around here. But if you want to keep at it, on your own? I’m down with it.”