Liver Let Die (26 page)

“Who is this?” She glanced at the clock. Almost five. She’d been asleep for two hours. So much for the ten-minute quickie and her trip to the mall to pick up something to wear tonight.

“Derrick Young.”

She froze, her eyes darting to the door to make sure the chain latch was in place. She knew it was silly, but she couldn’t stop the fine hairs on her arms from prickling at the sound of his voice.

“I don’t have much time. I’m here at the stadium cleaning out my locker. If you get here in the next hour, I have something you really need to hear.”

Jordan laughed more from nervousness than anything else. “What kind of fool do you think I am? Remember, I saw the bruises on Brittney’s arm. I also know what happened in San Antonio, why you came to Grayson County College instead of going to a bigger school.”

She heard him gasp.

“Those records are sealed.”

“Yeah, well, let’s just say I have friends who can be very persuasive.” She took a deep breath, making it up as she went. “I know you get off on hurting defenseless women half your size.”

“I’ve changed,” he muttered. “I’ve been talking to the school chaplain about it.”

“That’s all well and good, Derrick, and I’m glad for your sake, but it still doesn’t make me dumb enough to come over there right now. Whatever you want to tell me, I’d suggest you do it over the phone.”

“Can’t.” He lowered his voice. “What I have to say is worth it, but I don’t have time to argue with you. I’m leaving town in a few hours. It’s now or never.”

Talking to him gave her the creeps, and she swallowed hard. It would be idiotic to even remotely consider facing him by herself. Every instinct in her body told her to hang up and let him ride out of town like the abuser he was, yet she hesitated. What if she went with a hidden tape recorder and got him to admit to killing J. T.?

“I’ll be there in forty-five minutes,” she said, slapping her head with her hand the minute the words left her mouth. Visions of stupid people in movies who went down a dark stairway to the cellar after hearing a noise, or who opened the door to check out a scary sound, popped into Jordan’s subconscious. Watching them, she’d always wanted to scream, “Can’t you hear the music, you moron?”

After hanging up the phone, she ran into the bathroom and brushed her teeth, then ran a comb through her hair. A two-minute change of clothes and she was ready in less than ten minutes. Now all she had to do was grab Ray and get him to go with her to the college. She could only imagine the lecture she was in for on the ride over. But as Derrick had said, it was now or never.

Almost out the door, she remembered the voice-activated recorder she’d used when she and Brett interviewed the Texas Longhorn athletes back in the day, and she ran back in to retrieve it. She was determined to trip Derrick up and capture his confession on tape. Glancing at her watch and noting there were only thirty minutes left on the deadline Derrick had imposed, she pounded on Ray’s door.

When Lola answered, Jordan burst through the entrance. “Where’s Ray?”

“He’s not here, sweetie. Can I help you with something?”

“Where is he?”

“He left about an hour ago to run into Dallas to return the security camera to his friend. I don’t expect him back until right around dinnertime. You know how Dallas traffic can be, even on a Sunday.”

“Crap!” Jordan slammed her fist on the door.

The smile on Lola’s face faded. “What is it, child? You look really upset.”

Jordan sucked in a gulp of air, trying to calm down. Okay, so Ray wasn’t there to go with her. She could either forget about what Derrick had said or go by herself. She winced, hearing the
Jaws
music playing in her head. She didn’t want to be
that woman
, who was too stupid to live, answering the door at midnight to find a psychopath on her doorstep.

“I got a call from Derrick Young,” she explained to Lola, who was now patting her on the back, trying to comfort her. “He’s leaving town and he wants to tell me something before he heads out. I don’t have time to wait on Ray.” She turned and kissed Lola’s forehead. “Tell him I’ll explain everything when I get back. It’s probably nothing, anyway.”

“Who’s Derrick Young?”

Jordan stopped in her tracks, realizing no one but Victor knew about the quarterback, and absolutely no one knew he had shown up to her apartment the night before.

“I can’t tell you now, but suffice it to say he might be someone with important information about who killed J. T.” She failed to mention he might even be the killer himself.

“I thought Mason did it.”

Jordan sighed. “I have to be sure. Tell Ray I’ll fill him in when I get back.”

“I saw Michael go out the front door about a half hour ago, but I think Victor is home,” Lola offered.

That was it! Jordan was determined not to miss out on an opportunity to find out if Derrick was behind J. T.’s murder. She’d have to settle for Victor. “Thanks, Lola. I’ll see you in a bit.” She turned and headed down the hallway.

“Oh, no you don’t,” Lola hollered. “No way you’re going to meet him by yourself. If Ray can’t be by your side, then you’re stuck with me.” She grabbed a sweater from the rack and slammed the door behind her.

Jordan hesitated. but only briefly. If she couldn’t have Alex or Ray, it was probably wise to bring a crowd. There was that safety-in-numbers thing her mother had always preached when Jordan and her high school friend and cohort in crime, Sally Winters, went anywhere.

“Okay, come on. Let’s go get Victor.” She grabbed Lola’s arm and dragged her down the hall.

After several frantic knocks, the door swung open and Jordan had to bite her lower lip to hide the smile. Victor had on a pair of striped cargo pants that stopped below the knee and matching knee-highs that came almost to the edge of the britches. His flaming red Hawaiian shirt make him look like he’d just stepped out of a fifties golf tournament—for cross-dressers.

“Don’t ask,” he said, before Jordan could say a word.

“Is Michael home yet?”

When Victor shook his head, Jordan made a snap decision. “I need you to come with Lola and me to Grayson County College to meet with Derrick Young. He’s leaving and he might have some valuable information for me.”

“About what?”

“Victor, I don’t have time to explain. Will you come with us or not?”

“Where’s Ray?”

Lola and Jordan spoke in unison, “In Dallas.”

“What in the world could Derrick possibly have to tell you that’s important enough for you to rush down there on a Sunday afternoon to hear?”

Jordan grabbed Lola’s arm. “Come on. We have to go.”

“Wait,” Victor said, shaking his head. “I’ll probably regret this, but if you give me a few minutes to change clothes, I’m in.”

“No time,” Jordan said, reaching in and grabbing him by the collar. “Maybe nobody will notice what you’re wearing.”

He let her pull him out into the hall before shrugging and slamming the door to his apartment. “We’ll just say I’m Jack Nicklaus Senior if anyone asks,” he deadpanned, wiggling his eyebrows.

Jordan couldn’t resist. “Or Jacqueline Senior.”

“You’re a real comedian, Jordan. Now gimme the keys. I might be dressed funny, but I don’t have a death wish. I’m driving.”

Another door opened and Rosie stuck her head out. “How’s a girl supposed to get her beauty sleep with all the racket out here?”

“Sorry, Rosie,” Jordan said. “We’re on a mission.”

The older woman’s eyes lit up. “Where are Ray and Michael?”

“It’s a dangerous mission and we can’t wait on them,” Victor said. “Tell Michael I went out for a minute with Lola and Jordan, but don’t tell him about the dangerous part.”

“Hello! There’s no way you guys are going without me. I love danger.” She slammed the door before asking. “Do I need my purse?”

“No,” they all said in unison, heading to the parking lot, where they piled into Jordan’s Toyota. Five minutes later, they were crossing the Connor-Ranchero border and heading for the college.

Once again the scary music blared in Jordan’s head.

CHAPTER 21

“Tell me again why I’m driving like a madman to get to the football field before”—Victor glanced down at his watch—“five forty-five?”

“I need to talk to Derrick.”

“We get that, sweetie, but don’t you think you should tell us why? That way we might be able to help when you find out what he wants.”

Jordan turned slightly so Lola and Rosie could hear. “I need you all to stay in the car. Derrick might not open up if he sees all four of us. Don’t worry, I’ve got my recorder and I’m hoping he’ll slip up and confess—” The three friends gasped in chorus, effectively cutting her off.

“Confess what?” Rosie’s escalated voice from the back seat seemed to reverberate across the entire interior of the car.

Jordan did a quick time check, hoping to buy time before answering. They were almost there, even had a few minutes to spare. She decided telling everybody what she suspected was definitely not the right thing to do, even though it was probably the smarter thing. For sure, they’d try to stop her.

She turned again so both Lola and Rosie could hear her from the back. “Okay, here it is. I found out Derrick Young . . .” She looked directly at Rosie, remembering Rosie had no idea who she was talking about. “He’s the quarterback at the college. Anyway, he’s been beating up on his girlfriend. She just happens to be the younger sister of J. T.’s best friend, Eric, who’s in College Station at A&M.”

“Holy crapola!” Rosie exclaimed before Lola shushed her.

“Let Jordan finish before we jump to any conclusions.”

“Thank you, Lola. Anyway, one of the waiters at Longhorn Prime Rib told me Derrick came to the restaurant the night J. T. was killed and caused a big ruckus. Apparently, J. T. found out about the abuse and threatened to tell Brittney’s parents or something. The waiter wasn’t sure exactly what the commotion was about, but he said it involved the girl.”

“Oh, good grief! Tell me you’re not planning to meet a football player who beats up on women without having about six squad cars nearby?” Victor slammed the steering wheel with his flattened hand before glancing her way. “Jordan?”

She looked away, ready to fold under his scrutiny. If he was this riled up over Derrick beating up his girlfriend, he’d pop a cork knowing she suspected the man might be much more than a bully. She decided to keep that thought to herself for the moment.

“Think about it, Victor. He called because he’s on his way out of town, and he thinks I need to hear something. He has no possible reason to hurt me.”

Unless I get him to admit he killed J. T.

“It’s Sunday. The place will be deserted. No way you’re walking into that locker room without us,” Lola proclaimed.

Jordan snorted. “Yeah, a lot of protection that would be. An adorable psychic, a chic fiftyish jewelry maker, and an antiques dealer dressed like . . .” Jordan smiled. “Trust me, my friends, I ran track in college. I can get out of there in a hurry if the interview goes south.” She blew out a long breath, trying to make herself believe her own words. The truth was, despite her long legs, even she couldn’t outrun a bullet.

After a few minutes of silence that made Jordan wonder if everyone else was thinking the same thing, Lola leaned forward, touching her forehead to the back of Jordan’s headrest. “So, do we have a plan? I may be old but I can still do some damage to the crotch area if the situation calls for it.” She chuckled. “Ask my self-defense instructor. He found out the hard way.”

Jordan turned slightly and kissed her forehead. “Here’s what I’d like to do.” She took her phone out of her shirt pocket. “Right before I go down under the bleachers to the locker room, I’ll call you, Victor, and leave my phone on. That way you guys can hear every word we say. If things start to get ugly, call the cops.”

Victor shrugged. “I still don’t like it, but I know there’s no talking you out of something when you’ve set your mind to it.”

“Thataboy! Think of us as
Charlie’s Angels
.” Rosie slapped Victor on the back, nearly causing him to swerve. “Although with that outfit, darling, I’m not sure which one you’d be.”

“Another freakin’ comedian!” Victor pulled into the lot at the stadium and parked up close. “Call me, Jordan, so we can be sure it will work.”

Convinced the connection was good, Jordan got out of the car, waving back at her friends as she walked toward the entrance. Although she no longer heard the how-stupidare-you music in her head, she couldn’t ignore the niggling thought that she was making a terrible mistake.

She shook off the feeling, hesitating in front of the door one last time. She wanted to turn back, but she had to do this for J. T. If he had been coming to her apartment to warn her about Mason, she owed him.

“What’s the matter?” Victor’s voice boomed loud enough to be heard even though the phone was in her hand.

She turned and waved again, pasting a fake smile on her face. “Everything’s cool. I’m going in.”

Blowing out a breath and secretly making the sign of the cross, a carry-over from her Catholic school days, Jordan entered the stadium, going directly to the area under the bleachers.