Deep in the Night Ch. 03

This is one chapter of a longer crime/romance story that is connected to the other parts. To fully appreciate the story, please start at Part 1 and read through. Thanks

Part 3 Jordan Meets a Strange Beautiful Woman

Around mid-afternoon, detectives Gary Matthews and Casey Samson had completed the database search. They now had a list of 120 men who fit into the killer's age group. Special Agent Conner, their boss for this investigation, then distributed the list to the Sheriff's deputies all those she wanted them to interview along with the pertinent questions she wanted them to ask.

Agent Conner decided to finish the afternoon by conducting some of the non-suspect interviews herself. She drove to Christy Davis' neighborhood and knocked at the old 2-story house next door to Christy's house.

A middle-aged, graying woman opened the door, "Can I help you?"

"Good afternoon, ma'am. I'm Jordan Connor with the FBI." Jordan showed the woman her badge. "I'm investigating the death of your neighbor, Christy Davis. Would it be okay if I asked you a few questions?"

"Certainly, come in, hon." The woman motioned for her to enter and Jordan stepped into a worn, but comfortable living room. "I heard the FBI was in town. My name's Florence Harker, but everyone calls me Flo. Can I get you something to drink? An iced tea? This is quite a warm September we are having. You know the Sheriff already asked me lots of questions."

"I know. Yes, iced tea would be fine." Jordan answered her.

The woman returned shortly with two beverages.

She handed one to Jordan, smiled and said, "Please make your self comfortable. You don't look like an FBI agent, a pretty young thing like you."

"I'll take that as a compliment." She sat on the couch and pulled a micro-recorder from her small handbag. "I'd like to record our conversation if you don't mind. It's so I can refer to my records accurately."

The woman seemed a bit uneasy, "Well...I guess...uh...if you have to."

"Don't worry." Jordan reassured her, "Your input is important. Anything you can tell me, no matter how insignificant it seems to you, may contribute largely to apprehending the killer." Jordan placed the recorder on the coffee table and took a sip of the cool liquid. The old house lacked central air and despite the efforts of the window fans, the room was stuffy. The woman relaxed and began reminiscing about her neighbor.

"Christy was a bit wild in her younger days. Hanging around with rowdy types, partying all the time. But, ever since her son came along, she settled down and tried to make a good life for him. She is a good mother to that boy; Lord knows, his father doesn't help out. She's been working at that bar now for five years. Sometimes I would watch her son for her."

"What about her friends or people she associated with?" Jordan interjected.

"Let's see. She had plenty of men around. She was very attractive, you know. Mostly she dated, well, she was involved with Ronnie Jenkins. He works at the meat plant on the night shift. I guess he was her most steady boyfriend. Occasionally, she hung out with her girlfriends. But, with her work schedule, she tended bar in the evening, they didn't go out much. She had them over her house. Sometimes they got a little loud but they weren't a problem. Just having a good time."

"Was Ronnie Jenkins working the night of the murder?"

"Yes he was. He works all week at the plant and helps to watch Michael on the weekends while Christy is at the bar."

"Mrs. Harker, have you noticed any different men around her house lately? Maybe visiting or hanging around the neighborhood?"

Her eyebrows creased as she tried to recall, "Well...can't say that I have."

"Are you sure?" Jordan asked.

She thought again and said slowly, "Actually, a couple of months ago, I was having trouble sleeping. When I have nights like those, I usually stay up anyway and watch for Christy to come home. She gets in around 3 a.m. Anyway, she came home at the usual time and I looked out my bedroom window for her car. There was a strange car parked across the street. I have no idea who it was. It didn't look like any of the cars from this neighborhood."

"Did you call 911 to report it?"

"Didn't think there was a need to. There's been no crime in Shawnee. At least not up until now."

Jordan sighed. Flo Harker's account wasn't a remarkable lot of help. But, at least it lent support to what Jordan suspected; the car most certainly had to be the killer watching for Christy. Jordan stood up and offered her hand to Mrs. Harker, "I appreciate your help. Thanks for the drink. If you can think of anything else, please do not hesitate to call me. You can reach me at the sheriff's office."

"That car was probably stalking Christy, wasn't it?" There was a noticeable trace of fear in her voice.

"That is what I am suspecting, Mrs. Harker. Whoever was in it was watching for her habits. If you should see that car again, or one that looks like it, call us immediately."

"Then he knew she was home that night." Mrs. Harker stated. Jordan stopped and turned around, "What do you mean?"

"The night she was killed. Christy was supposed to work, but she had come down with the flu. Strange for this time of year. But, she was quite ill, so she sent her son over to her parent's house for the night so she could get some rest and he wouldn't catch it. I know because I made some chicken soup for her. Poor thing, to be sick like that and have some monster do what he did to her."

"I see." Jordan's thought were whirling, He watched her and knew she was sick and knew she was home all night. "Mrs. Harker, what kind of schedule did Christy work?"

"She worked Wednesday night through Sunday night and had off on Mondays and Tuesdays." The murder had occurred on a Wednesday night.

"Thank you Mrs. Harker. Have a good day." Jordan exited the house and made a note to check if Ronnie Jenkins had reported for work on the night of the murder.

Jordan went over to Christy's house next door. The yellow tape still encircled it. Bill Hagan had earlier supplied her with the key, which she used to unlock the front door. She slipped on a pair of latex gloves and booties, went in and was greeted with a ghostly silence, the sound of the dead, plus the unpleasant smell of corruption.

The late afternoon sun filtered through the windows and threw long shadows along the carpet, but she had her pocket flash on as well. Jordan stopped inside the doorway and made a quick visual survey of her surroundings. The living room housed a leather couch, an AIWA stereo system, and a flat screen TV with a DVD player. An X-Box consul sat on top of the DVD player. Along one of the walls, a computer desk housed an IBM with several peripherals. She certainly made a good salary, Jordan concluded to herself.

She walked over to the TV and perused the DVDs and video games Christy owned; there was the usual stock of latest releases, including chic flicks and Harrison Ford action/drama movies. A tour of the first floor yielded nothing unusual except that Christy Davis liked to keep a neat house. After locating the stairway, Jordan began the ascent to the second floor. She started down the hallway checking the doorways. The first door on the right opened to a small room with a sports motif, obviously Michael's room.

A small bathroom was across the hallway. After passing several storage closets with linens and towels, she stopped before the last door on the right; mentally preparing herself for the scene that would greet her in Christy's bedroom. Jordan had learned through the years to picture in her mind the ugliest scenario. That way, before she would arrive at a scene, she was already primed to deal with the worst possible situation. Considering the circumstances of the murder, she prepared herself for going into Christy's bedroom.

Her heart suddenly started pounding in her chest and her throat went dry, a human reaction she never learned to conquer in her profession. Grasping the knob, she turned it slowly and then flung the door open all at once. Her expectations were not disappointed. No matter how many crime scene photographs she looked at, none of them accurately portrayed the true horror of what occurred.

The room had been untouched since the night of the grisly murder. She swung her light around the room reflecting off speckles of red drops that had been flung along the walls, bedding and furniture. A huge, dried dark red stain had permeated the carpet next to the bed where Christy had breathed her last, its dark color a stark contrast to the beige plush. The metallic odor of putrefying blood hung heavily in the still, humid air.

There was also clear evidence that Christy had been ill. Tissues, cough drops, and an over the counter decongestant lay on the bedside table. Jordan stepped gingerly around the bedroom and crossed over to the master bath. The usual array of brushes, shampoos and conditioners sat on the vanity. Opening the medicine cabinet, Jordan found deodorant, mouthwash, toothpaste and birth control pills. Nothing seemed extraordinary to her, but something about the smell of the blood bothered her. She went back downstairs and let herself out.

Jordan checked her watch; it was nearly 5 p.m. She was due at the Sheriff's house at six, but she headed back to the Sheriff's Office to follow up on the day's activities. After updating her notes on her laptop, she placed a call to the Midwest Meat Processing Plant. After being put on hold several times, she finally got through to a manager in human resources. She inquired of the status of Ronnie Jenkins on the dates of the murders. She waited again for nearly ten minutes; the manager came back on the line and told her that indeed Ronnie had been at work each of the three days.

Well, that eliminates one male in Shawnee, she concluded.

"Listen, while you're on the line, I would like you to fax me a list of all your male employees who reported for work on the three dates that I gave you."

"Okay, it may take a while," the man on the other end complained.

"I'd like it as soon as possible." Jordan replied.

Jordan jumped into the BMW and in a few minutes pulled in front of a two story Victorian style home. The heat of the day was beginning to fade as a mild evening breeze began stirring. It carried the aroma of a backyard grill to Jordan's nose and made her mouth water. She climbed a few steps to the front porch and knocked on the screen door of the Sheriff's house.

An attractive forty something woman came to the door and she smiled readily at the agent. "You must be Jordan. Come on in, it's a pleasure to meet you. I'm Evelyn."

Jordan shook her hand, "Thanks for inviting me."

"Bill never told me that you were so pretty." Jordan felt a slight blush at the compliment. Most men wouldn't tell their wives about a beautiful colleague. She put Evelyn Hagan at ease, "Well, he certainly informed me how lovely you are."

"Thank you, dear. Can I get you something to drink, Jordan? I think Bill has some beer available if you like that. Or I can fix you something else."

"A beer would be fine."

It seemed like the drink of choice for a barbecue, then Evelyn announced, "Bill's out back if you would like to talk to him." She led Jordan through the kitchen out a side door to the backyard. Jordan relayed to him her day's activities and what she had discovered.

"So, Christy had been sick?" Hagan repeated Jordan's news as he flipped a rack of ribs. "And, that son of a bitch knew it. At least he didn't get Michael also." He flipped a blackened rack of ribs off the sizzling grill and plopped it on to serving plate. "Well, these ribs are done. I hope you are hungry Jordan."

"Heidi, Josh, Logan! Dinner is ready!" Evelyn yelled from the kitchen. Two teenagers and a 12 year old boy came bounding down the stairs. The youngest walked up to Jordan after she had returned inside the house, "Hey, are you that FBI lady?"

Jordan laughed good naturedly. "Yes, I am. My name is Jordan."

"Cool. I'm Josh. Are you gonna find aliens?"

"Where ever did you get that idea?" Jordan asked him.

"The lady at the diner told Kevin's mom." Josh replied.

"I believe the alien story was my fault." Jordan admitted with a playful grin. "When I was at the diner, I told the waitress that I was in town investigating alien sightings."

"Jordan, if you told Sherie, it's just as good as telling all of Shawnee." Bill said laughing.

His wife reprimanded him, "Bill, is that necessary?"

"Well, you know it's true." He said, still laughing. "Jordan, I think you'd fit right in here at Shawnee." I don't know if I fit in anywhere Jordan thought. Hagan's comment stirred a memory and a feeling of melancholy welled up inside her. For an instant, she sadly recalled the image of green eyes looking at her through tears. God, I thought I was over her, Jordan lamented to herself. But, Jordan shook the thoughts from her mind; she was determined to enjoy the rest of the evening.

Jordan passed the rest of the evening trying to converse with the Hagan's son Josh as she was getting beat by his pre-teen expertise at handling a game pad.

"Jordan, your health is down to 10%." Josh informed her. "You're gonna be destroyed by Turek's mutant bio-weapon if you don't locate the health potion."

"I think I have had enough of mutant viruses for one night, Josh. Next time, I'll be ready for you."

After a great dinner Jordan rose from the couch and thanked the Hagan's profusely for their hospitality and drove the short distance back to the Shawnee Inn.

She pulled in front of her room at the motel and was fumbling with her key in the door when out of the shadows came a soft woman's voice, "So, are you going to be the hero to save Shawnee, Agent Connor?"

"Hello? Who's there?" Jordan quickly glimpsed up to her left. She could barely discern a figure leaning against the outside wall of the motel. Jordan didn't startle too easily and the feminine voice hardly caused her to feel fear, but nevertheless she was instantly alert.

Strangers sneaking up on her were usually likely to get a gun pointed in their face. The figure stepped out of the shadow and her silhouette became illuminated by the streetlights and the lanterns overtop the motel rooms' doors. Jordan observed that the woman appeared to be the same height as her, had very long dark hair, and was wearing a long skirt and a sleeveless white blouse.

The woman spoke again, "Actually, I meant to say, heroine."

A revelation occurred to Jordan and she turned to face the woman, "You're Raven, I presume?"

"You presume correctly Agent Connor." Jordan took a step towards her; now that they were standing closer, Jordan could see that the woman's eyes were dark as well and her features were striking. She also had on perfume with a faint sexy musky scent.

She looks sort of like a gypsy, Jordan mused. "You can call me Jordan." A slight smile formed on her lips, "I can see why you are called Raven. It fits your appearance well." She certainly did fit the description of a hunter bird. She had light brown skin, almond shaped eyes, high cheekbones, a long straight nose, full lips, and from what she could see in the bad light, a lithe slender body.

"Do you think so?" Raven asked in a tone that didn't require an answer. "I suppose you have heard of my reputation?"

"Yes I have, and it sounds like quite an interesting reputation, at that." Raven gave a chuckle, "I let them think what they want and I enjoy my celebrity status. Although, I think you are stealing some of the attention."

Jordan responded almost flirtatiously, "Then let me offer my apologies. But, at least we have something in common."

She caught Raven's eye and was taken totally by surprise when she felt a spark course down her body right into her womanhood. She was instantly aroused. Her dark eyes penetrated into her own blue eyes. She was completely unaware that Raven had experienced the same sensation. Jordan quickly averted her glance, looking down nervously. This is the same reaction that men usually gave her. A few seconds of silence lapsed between them as both women tried to comprehend what had happened.

Jordan was the first to find her voice, "So...uh...do you really have a secret or do you let the townspeople feed off an exaggerated rumor?"

Raven smiled sheepishly, having recovered from the unexpected emotion of their eye contact, and changed the subject, "How is your room? Is everything okay?"

"Yes, its fine, and in fact more than fine. Your choice in toiletries and linens is excellent"

"Good, I thought you'd like those extra things. That's my VIP room so to speak. I choose it for you when I heard you were coming. If you need anything, my office is at the end of the building." She smiled once more before saying, "It was a pleasure to meet you Jordon. Perhaps we can talk later?"

She turned to go and Jordan called after her, "Hey, you didn't answer my question."

Raven stopped and turned slightly, "What was that?"

"The big mystery, of course. Does such a mystery exist?"

Raven appeared thoughtful for a moment and then turned again to head to her office, saying as she did so, "Why don't you stop by for coffee some time Jordan. Maybe I will tell you." She felt a connection with Jordan; when two strangers meet for the first time and they click instantly. She sensed somehow that Jordan would understand her. I would love to tell you, Raven thought as she walked off, but I only just met you and I don't know if I can trust you.

Jordan turned to her unlocked room and felt a bit uneasy as a hint of excitement coursed through her veins. She hadn't felt this way about meeting a woman in years. And she invited me for coffee. Jordan was pleased with herself. But the moment passed when reality hit her; she would be leaving Shawnee; the sooner the better. It would be fruitless to foster any kind of relationship with Raven. That thought left her feeling lonely and the enjoyment she had derived from the Hagan's dinner was replaced with emptiness.

Hot tears threatened to spill down Jordan's cheeks as she crawled into the bed. For the last several years she had been alone, avoiding getting involved with anyone. She swore she would never again allow herself to fall so completely head-over-heels with anyone as she had done with Marianne. On a rare few occasions, she had one-night-stands stands with women she had met, but waking up with a nameless stranger only made the pain of Marianne's departure worse.

And now, she couldn't understand how, in the few short moments she had talked to Raven, that the woman could affect her so much. Nonetheless, Jordan decided it would be best to avoid Raven. She had a job to do and couldn't afford distractions. Besides, once her task was finished, she would be on a fast plane back to D.C.

Jordan dropped off to sleep fitfully, but she kept waking up thinking of the woman. She sat up and turned on the TV, maybe something there would distract her. Late night TV was a mess of horror movies, infomercials, repeats of talk shows, and old news. About to click it off she hit the last channel and a view of two women making love popped on the screen! She checked the channel sheet in the drawer and sure enough, the Shawnee Inn had an adult channel from the satellite hookup.

She reached for the remote and was about to shut it down when she noticed something amazing. One of the women looked like Raven! She looked closer and saw the woman on the screen could be Raven's cloned twin, but about 10 years younger in looks and with brown hair!

My God, Raven was a porn actress like the rumor said!

As these thoughts ran around in her head Jordan began to watch the movie in spite of herself not wanting to. Raven's body, if that was her, had not changed much, slightly more slender then, but with the same exotic face and beautiful smooth light brown skin.