Chapter 2 #2
“You’re the forensic scientist, I’m the anthropologist,” Jordan said, claiming one of the empty seats and nodding to the rest of the crowd, many of whom seemed at least twenty years older than them. “We can’t let the Jessica Fletcher gang solve this thing. We’d lose our street cred.”
One of the Jessica Fletcher gangs was going to win.
The longer he sat there, the more it became clear from the complexity of their questions that the other guests had read through the packet at least six times, probably highlighted and annotated the damn thing.
Ethan’s packet was still sitting on his bedside table.
He’d just been happy that he’d gotten through the instructions summarized on the first few pages.
And, it seemed, Jordan hadn’t bothered to scan through his either.
Once their plates had been cleared away, Jordan leaned in close enough that Ethan could smell the faint scent of his cologne. “Let’s blow this popsicle stand. We can go over the information upstairs.”
“Upstairs, like in your room?” Ethan shot Jordan a healthy dose of side-eye. A five-alarm bell jangled, albeit quietly. The bell did not want to be woken.
“Or yours, if you’re more comfortable with that. We can go over this stuff and take notes. Prepare for tomorrow.”
The next day, the guests would get a chance to review the crime scene and go from there, spreading out and gathering clues hidden across the property.
“I suppose it would be nice not to let the Jessica Fletcher gang, armed with their blue highlighters, take the lead from the very beginning.” The diner across from him was fully focused on the orientation sheet.
The mental alarm made another feeble attempt to corral Ethan. But he was legitimately ready to head to his room. A few minutes with Ferguson wouldn’t hurt. Right?
Two drinks, that’s all it took. Two double dirty gin martinis, and Ethan was relaxed enough to reason that heading upstairs with Jordan Fucking Ferguson wasn’t the worst idea he’d ever agreed to.
He’d already figured out that he had little in common with most of the other guests—the unfortunate exception being Ferguson and his damn sweater. And they had far too much in common.
“Why not?” he found himself saying. “But not for long. I don’t want to be too tired tomorrow.”
Inside the elevator that Moira had done her best to shame guests out of using, Ethan pressed the number 3 with his knuckle.
“You’re on the third floor?” Jordan said. “That’s handy. I am too.”
“Such a coincidence,” he said dryly.
Ethan was sure the “coincidence” was Ryder Mann. Forcing Ethan to add more to the punishment he hadn’t dreamed up yet.
“So,” said Jordan, “you did it. You’re a renowned forensic scientist these days.”
“Was there ever any question?”
Jordan huffed a laugh. “True. You were always driven, grabbing that golden ring.”
“And you weren’t?” The doors opened and Ethan stepped out before Jordan could reply. “I’m down here. And yes, I am driven.”
“So am I—down that way, I mean. And driven too.”
Ethan scowled as he walked, his earlier bad mood returning. When he got back to Piedras, he was going to switch out Ryder’s fancy hair products for whipped cream and egg yolks. Or something.
“Three-fourteen.”
“You got the corner room, nice. I’m next door in three-twelve.”
“Yours or mine?” Ethan asked, although it really didn’t matter now. Damn those martinis.
“I think”—Jordan stopped at three-twelve, unlocked the door, and pushed it open—“that the rooms connect. We just have to unlock the connectors on our sides.”
“Of course they connect.”
How fucking convenient. Ryder was going to suffer before he died.
“This way we don’t have to go out in the hall or whatever while we talk over the case,” Jordan said.
Clearly, those martinis had been strong because what Ethan should’ve done was shut and lock his door against the arrogant asshole who’d broken his heart all those years ago.
He did not.
“I didn’t realize there was going to be back and forth,” Ethan muttered, continuing to the door to his room. “Gimme a second and I’ll unlock my side.”
Seconds later, Jordan stepped through into Ethan’s room and glanced around. He homed in on the balcony that looked out over the garden. Ethan moved to stand next to him—but not too close.
The sun had set hours ago, but floodlights tucked in and around the plantings threw wild shadows along the walkways, and the wind created dancing silhouettes against the outside walls of the various hotel outbuildings.
“Nice,” said Jordan, sounding like he meant it.
Ethan could only nod. It was a nice view. And, dammit, his feelings for Jordan Ferguson had not changed, even if they should have.
“Why are you here?” he asked abruptly, not caring if he sounded rude.
His mother, the mayor of Cooper Springs, would have been shocked by his manners.
“Funny you should ask.” Jordan half turned toward Ethan so that he was leaning one shoulder against the wall. “If I tell you I won a contest, will you believe me?”
“No. I already know Ryder Mann had something to do with this.”
Jordan grinned. Ethan’s stupid heart flipped. Again. At this rate, he was going to need a defibrillator.
“He did try to pitch it as a contest. But your coworker is a terrible liar. Besides, I already knew that you and Mann worked for the same organization.”
“How did you know that?”
“Internet searches go two ways.” He smiled again, meeting Ethan’s eyes. “At least two ways, but you know what I mean. I’ve known where you were for a while, maybe always.”
Ethan blinked.
“What?”
“I’ve followed your career. Great work in Florida. And other places, of course.”
Florida had been one of the most heartbreaking projects Ethan had been involved in.
A so-called reform school had operated from 1935 to 1958 and then had been turned into a fancy prep school.
Only when now-grown siblings and other relatives began looking for family members who had been sent to the reform school and never seen again did authorities discover what had been going on there.
Ethan and his team had exhumed over thirty sets of remains. Some were still unidentified.
“Oh. So, if you knew Ryder was trying to pull a fast one, why did you come?”
“Because I want to apologize.” Jordan took a few steps closer to Ethan. “And maybe see if you’d give me another chance.”