Page 13 of I'm Watching You

‘No threatening phone calls? No messages in the mail?’

‘No, nothing out of the ordinary.’ She sipped her coffee. It tasted bitter. ‘So who was murdered?’

He watched her face closely. ‘Harold Turner.’

Stunned, Lindsay dropped open her mouth. ‘The attorney?’

‘That’s right. You know him?’ He stared at her, gauging her reaction.

Yeah, she knew Harold. He liked to slap his wife around, a fact few knew. Lindsay had found out about the abuse when Jordan had cornered her in the ladies’ room at the Race for the Cure fund-raiser two weeks ago. Jordan had told Lindsay everything: Harold’s drug use, the beatings, and the verbal abuse. Lindsay had comforted Jordan and begged her to come to Sanctuary. But Jordan Turner had refused. She had admitted that she enjoyed Harold’s wealth far too much to abandon it. She had wiped her tears away, fixed her makeup, and assured Lindsay she could handle Harold. She’d called her tears a momentary lapse and then downplayed the entire incident.

Lindsay had likened Jordan’s emotional outburst to a leak in a dam. Eventually, the water would widen the dam wall, erode the foundation, and rush out with devastating force.

My God, had Jordan shot Harold? Had she lured her husband to the shelter and killed him as some kind of message to Lindsay?I can handle Harold.

If convicted, Jordan could spend the next thirty yearsin jail for ridding the earth of human slime. The need to protect Jordan overrode Lindsay’s responsibility to tell Zack what she knew.

‘Sure, who doesn’t know Harold? He’s in all the newspapers. He’s defending some drug dealer.’

‘Have you ever met him in person?’

‘Sure. We crossed paths at different fund-raisers. Two weeks ago, as a matter of fact, at the Race for the Cure gala at the Virginia Museum.’

Blue eyes narrowed. ‘That’s it? You’ve never spoken to him any other time?’

She didn’t look away. ‘Nope.’

His gaze held hers as if he were waiting for her to say more. When she didn’t, he frowned. ‘You’re not telling me everything.’

Uncomfortable, she leaned forward. ‘Are you some kind of psychic?’

‘I know you.’

She noticed his ring finger. The absence of a wedding band wasn’t a surprise. Because of his undercover work, he’d rarely worn it when they were married. ‘Youknewme, Zack.’

His face hardened. ‘I know when you’re holding back information, Lindsay.’

She stiffened. ‘As I remember, you were good at hiding things too.’

His jaw clenched slightly, but otherwise he looked unaffected by her comment. ‘Lindsay, I’m here to investigate a murder, not rehash our marriage. We’ll save that gem for another day. Right now, I want to know if Harold Turner had a connection to the shelter.’

‘You’re right. Harping on ancient history is foolish.’ She shifted in her seat. ‘He’s never been here before, if that’s what you’re asking.’

‘I’m going to need to see your files.’

She had started a file on Jordan. Only a few notes, but it was enough to prove a connection. She wasn’t going to make it easy for Zack to arrest Jordan. ‘My files are confidential. If you want to know what’s in them, you’re going to have to get a court order.’

‘Consider it done.’ He studied her with more intensity. ‘Why not just tell me all that you know?’

‘You know why. The women who come through my doors or who talk to me are frightened, battered, and often humiliated. Some go on to better lives. Some go back to their husbands. Either way, they know I’ll guard their privacy. They count on me. I can’t betray their trust unless the court orders me to.’

‘Did Jordan Turner ever visit the shelter?’

‘No.’

‘You ever meet her?’

She folded her hands in front of her. ‘She was at the fund-raiser two weeks ago. We spoke briefly.’ She sipped her coffee. ‘How was Harold killed?’

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