Yellow Ribbons (19 page)

“Now,” she gasped out and crawled onto the bed.

Greg was right behind her. One stab seated him into oblivion. He fingered her clit and fucked her like the desperate man he was. As promised, they came fast. Too fast. He’d been looking forward to a leisurely day with little clothes and lots of playtime.

“Maybe you should take that with you when you wake Jordan.” She nodded toward the dowel.

“Don’t tempt me.” He eased from her body and helped Lani to her feet and back into his arms for a quick hug and kiss.

“Or we could shower first.” The glimmer in her eyes said a little more.

Screw Jordan
. “Lead the way.”

Jordan looked like death warmed over. For a second or two, Greg wondered if he
was
dead. The rolling eyes behind his closed lids said otherwise. Whiskers darkened his face. His clothes looked like he’d…well, slept in them. Much as Jordan had pissed him off lately, Greg actually sympathized. Jordan had been more or less chasing his tail the last couple of days. Juggling so many balls, Greg had lost count. Something had brought him to Greg’s doorstep, and he was almost afraid of finding out what that could be.

He sighed and knocked on the window.

Bloodshot eyes opened. Jordan started, seemingly confused at his surroundings, until he saw Greg standing by the car.

“Coffee’s in the house. Lani’s cooking breakfast.” He jerked his thumb over his shoulder.

Jordan managed a nod, opened the door, and stumbled along behind him. He barely spared Lani a glance when he walked through the kitchen, aiming for the bathroom, but did manage to say, “Hey.”

“You could use a shower while you’re in there,” she shot over her shoulder. “You reek.”

“Thanks. Appreciate it,” he muttered. “But I’m out of clean clothes.”

“That’s okay. Lani can loan you some panties,” Greg called out.

Lani sputtered with laughter.

Jordan returned with a scathing once-over for both of them…right before he listed to one side. Greg caught him before he could fall. Lani rushed to the other side to help shore him up.

“Sorry. I guess I’m more tired than I thought.” Though he righted himself, Jordan didn’t seem to be too sure on his feet.

“How long have you been outside?” Lani steered him toward the nearest chair. Mita danced around their feet, trying to help.

“Between four and five this morning. Finished with the scene and came right here.” He pushed free. “Sorry. I’ve really got to hit the bathroom. Don’t worry. I’m good.”

He sure as hell didn’t look like it. They watched him trod to the bathroom, listened in case he fell, and breathed a sigh of relief when he stumbled back into the room.

“What the hell’s going on?” Greg asked. “Besides the last few hours, when’s the last time you had a good night’s sleep?”

“Or ate?” Lani pointed him toward the breakfast bar. “I don’t know whether to give you water, juice, or coffee.”

“All of the above,” Jordan replied.

Greg ushered Jordan toward the dining room table instead. It was a shorter drop from the chair than the bar stool if he passed out. Jordan sank into the chair and scrubbed his hands down his face. Before he could draw another breath, Lani had coffee, orange juice, and toast in front of him.

“Bacon, eggs, and fried potatoes are coming up. Are you here to spy on us?” she asked.

He had the nerve to look confused. “Oh, no.” He blew the steam off his coffee and took a sip. “I’m here because up until three days ago, I considered the two of you my friends.”

“There are no friends in murder.” And neither he nor Lani had any problem flinging his words back at him.

To his credit, Jordan flinched. “That’s what I’m afraid of.” He bit off a corner of the toast. “Right now, you are the only two people I trust.”

Lani’s fists found her hips. “I gotta say, you’ve got balls coming here with that bullshit.”

Jordan leaned his elbows on the table and rubbed his eyes. “It’s not bullshit. I swear.”

She hovered over him now, looking ready to slice and dice his so-called balls and serve them to him for breakfast. “Why the hell should we trust
you
?”

“I’d like to know that too.” Greg pulled out a chair and sat facing him. “You put us through hell yesterday. You thought
I
was the killer.” He splayed his fingertips against his chest. “You threatened—”

Jordan snapped his palm up. “I’m not going to dime you out. I never would have…really. I was jealous and embarrassed that I didn’t notice for myself. Once I realized, I felt stupid, and I said things I didn’t mean.” That confession might have helped if he’d bothered to look them in the eye. Although Greg wasn’t sure he’d trust that at the moment either.

“You came all the way out here to unburden your heart.” Greg wanted to kick him out. Unfortunately, his conscience overruled the urge. The guy did look beat down.

“I came out here because I realized…” He flopped back in the chair so hard it tipped on the rear legs. “I don’t know what the fuck I realized. I don’t know what’s real or what’s a product of my overtired imagination. I’m thinking things that freak me out, seeing things that are there one minute and gone the next.”

Lani slipped into the other chair. “Then why didn’t you go home?”

His laughter held no trace of humor. “I was afraid. My head was spinning at that point. I got to my place and swore I saw lights inside. When I looked again, they were gone. I panicked.”

At least he wasn’t stupid enough to go charging into the place alone. “Why didn’t you call the sheriff or one of your people?”

He pressed his lips, swallowed hard, and then lifted those bleary eyes to Greg’s. “Because at that point, I could only come to one conclusion about last night’s murder. Someone who had access to the yellow ribbon list killed her.” He rushed on. “I knew damn good and well who it wasn’t, because I’m the alibi for five of the people who had access to that list of names. What I need to know is who else saw that list besides those I can account for, the two detectives, and Lieutenant Colonel Seaberg.”

Desperation underscored his words. Greg couldn’t tell if it was to find the killer, to dispute his theory, or because Jordan was so damn tired, he couldn’t think straight. Threads of thought tied together. Greg knew where Jordan was going, why he’d come to this conclusion. But he needed to hear it from the man himself.

“Why do you think that?” he asked.

“The yellow ribbon murderer apparently targets those he thinks have been unfaithful. Jeanette Shepard was a name on a list. She was the victim, not the culprit. All her neighbors knew her husband cheated. When she stepped off the bus, didn’t we all assume she was the guilty party because she’s a woman? She was the only person on the list left alone last night. An easy target.”

Lani placed her hand on his forearm. “There are easier targets in town, Jordan. Plus, the scenes are different.”

“That’s why I think we’re being toyed with. He’s flaunting it. Daring us. He killed Tipton because Tipton was in the wrong place at the wrong time. He killed—”

“No.” She squeezed his arm, silencing him. “Major Kenyon killed Tipton and Regina Whittaker. We have Lance Corporal Owens’s statement to help back that up.”

Jordan buried his head in his hands. “Someone who knows that crime scene killed Shepard. Someone out to make a point. I don’t know why. They just did.” He dropped his palms on the table. “The simple fact that Jeanette Shepard is dead proves Kenyon didn’t kill her. Yes, he was there at the Whittaker house. Yes, we found the bloody clothes in his house. But was he killer or witness?”

“So now you’re saying Kenyon was killed too?” Greg asked.

He slumped. “I don’t know what the fuck I’m saying anymore.”

Lani pushed away from the table. “You need to eat, shower, and get some rest.”

“But—”

“No buts. The only question that needs to be answered is how much bacon and how do you like your eggs.”

“Four. Cooked.”

“Good enough.”

Greg stood when she headed toward the kitchen. “Laundry room’s toward the back if you want to wash your stand-by clothes. In the meantime, I’ll get you a T-shirt and sweatpants.”

Jordan muttered his thanks and downed the rest of his coffee. If he made it through breakfast, Greg would be surprised.

He joined Lani in the kitchen to help peel potatoes. Jordan trudged to the bathroom a few seconds later.

“I don’t know whether to believe him, and I certainly don’t trust him,” Lani said in a low voice.

“I don’t trust him either.” As for believing him… The threads of Jordan’s sleep-deprived theory were already weaving scenarios in Greg’s head, and he didn’t like the web they formed. “On the off chance he’s right, the other people on the list need to be protected.”

Lani stared into space for a second, then resumed dicing the potatoes. “Agreed. Better safe than sorry. Do you want to take care of it, or shall I?”

“I will. I’ll call Lieutenant Cornwall.”

“How fully do we want to brief him?” she asked.

Good question. Until two days ago, Greg didn’t trust the man to wipe his own ass. Now he was all gung ho, kick-ass, and filled with self-confidence. All because he’d shared his sexual persuasion with Greg? Something was off about that. It was too great a shift of character.

“I’ll have the MPs do an increased roving patrol through housing.” What else could they do when they didn’t know who the hell to trust?

“I think it’s the best we can do. We can’t target specific houses or individuals without creating more problems. I’ve got this.” She slipped the peeler from his hand. “The sooner you set that in motion, the better we’ll both feel.”

It didn’t help. The call had taken less than five minutes. Greg’s mind couldn’t let go. Everything made sense and then it didn’t when another piece of the puzzle pushed its way back in. He had to talk this out, but he sure as hell wasn’t willing to do so in front of Jordan. At least not until Jordan was better rested and Greg had his own thoughts in order.

They ate in relative silence, except for the occasional word to Mita, who sat at their feet with rapt attention, waiting for something to drop her way. Jordan praised the meal and offered his help cleaning up. All Greg wanted was for him to go away so he and Lani could sort this mess out. But when the door to the spare bedroom clicked shut, he didn’t know where to begin without rambling.

“I think the three of us could do with a walk.” Lani closed the dishwasher. Mita shot to the door, her tail going ninety miles a second. It was impossible not to laugh.

Lani wiped her hands on a dishtowel and tossed it to the counter. “I’ll get our hoodies. You hunt down a leash.”

That was the easy part. Trying to hook up a quivering cocker spaniel… Well, it lightened his mood considerably. Twenty yards down the dirt road abutting his property, Lani said those all-important words.

“Talk to me. Help me sort this out. I have no idea where to start.”

That lightened his load too.

“Because unless I’ve misunderstood, Jordan’s suggesting that Pattison, Juarez, or Lieutenant Colonel Seaberg killed Jeanette Shepard.”

And that put the weight back on. “Or someone else who saw the list after I gave it to Seaberg.”

“Colonel Turner? The general?”

“Neither.” They stopped to let Mita sniff the waxy leaves of yet another creosote bush. “I told Seaberg it would be best to investigate a little further before jumping to conclusions, since one of the
suspicious
wound up being a surprise party with all of the marine’s family present.”

“You followed-up on every person on that list, didn’t you?”

“I had to. It was wrong to presume. Marines’ careers are on the line. It’s one of the reasons why I wanted to head up this stupid task force in the first place.” The other reason was to keep him and Lani off anyone’s radar.

“And you reported your observations to Seaberg?”

“I did. MPs responded to a domestic altercation at one, there was the surprise party at another, three with no discernible activity, and then Shepard. Seaberg asked for a full report on Lance Corporal Owens. Then…” Greg didn’t want to think about it, much less say it. “He was distant, distracted, angry…”

“Grief stricken as well, I’m sure, considering how close his family presumably was to the Kenyons.”

“Not that close if the Kenyons hadn’t mentioned their divorce.”

“True.” Mita led them to her next target—a smoketree dead ahead. “That’s got to hurt, knowing someone you thought was a good friend didn’t confide in you.”

“Seaberg was blaming himself for turning a blind eye. He said that he won’t ignore this problem anymore. It would be dealt with, and that the general would want to make an example of Lance Corporal Owens’s affair with Tipton.”

Lani zipped her hoodie against the light breeze. “I hate to say it, but considering his mental state, it makes more sense that Seaberg would have killed Shepard than it does to presume a serial killer came onboard our base and targeted that specific person.” She raised her hand when he drew breath to argue in Seaberg’s defense. “I’m not saying he did. I’m saying it makes more sense than presuming all three murders are related. Seaberg has a shaky motive. He has knowledge of the other scenes. He has an emotionally vested interest.”

Greg dug his heels into the sand. “I’ve known this man for twenty years.”

Lani faced him. “We worked side by side with Kenyon and didn’t know the man. You and I have been intimately involved, and you—”

“I get it.” He didn’t need any reminders. Loyalty demanded he try to defend the man. “What about Juarez and Pattison? They saw the list.” The words sounded childish to his ears; he could only imagine how they sounded to Lani. “Never mind. Motive.”

Lani gave a single nod. Mita strained at the leash, urging them onward. They started walking again.

“I’d prefer to not involve them in our suppositions,” he said. “After all, this is a base case and none of their business.”

“We’ll let Jordan deal with them.” She slipped her hand into his and hugged his arm between her breasts as they followed Mita’s lead. “We’ll have to approach this one very carefully. It’s fine to have a theory and a suspect, but we need evidence to bring it all home.”