Sinful Silence Read online

  “Yep, we might have to hand those over. I don’t want to disturb anything.”

  “So, now what?”

  That was the question Jordan had on his mind when he sat back down at the table. The bag with the cell phone in it was closest to him. He had no expectations of what they would learn when they arrived at the house. There was a part of him that thought this was just a wild goose chase, and all they would find was an empty house. He had probably missed his chance that day in the coroner’s office. Every time in the past, he had just one chance to learn what he could, but he also couldn’t remember a time he tried to locate a ghost again after their first encounter. Maybe he was wrong about that. Who knew? He didn’t. This was all just a feel your way through and learn as you go kind of thing. The only certainty was what was next.

  “We work the evidence. That is what,” Jordan said. “Okay, so we have a group of numbers and a phone,” Jordan recalled as he positioned both bags on the table next to each other. “Sharon told us the numbers on the papers are not of the people that hurt her, but the numbers for the people that did hurt her were on the phone. So that means we have answers and questions.”

  “What answers?”, Megan asked bewilderedly.

  “We have the numbers of who murdered her. We just need to figure out which numbers those are, and who they belong to. We should also try to figure out who the numbers on the papers belong to as well. Might give is some insight into why they were important to her.”

  “You know, seeing you all detective-like is hot,” Megan said with a smirk.

  Jordan didn’t want to laugh. He fought the urge all he could, but a half laugh mixed with an exhale snuck out, drawing a look of disdain from Megan. The awkward silence that followed told him a reaction was brewing, and he prepared for it. This wouldn’t be an explosion of anger or anything. More so, a flirtatious attempt to elicit a similar response from him. A laugh doesn’t fall into the right category of responses. This was the little game they played at least a few times a week. The positions were always the same. Megan was the pitcher and Jordan was the catcher. He wasn’t the flirtatious type.

  The only sound that broke the silence was the rustling of Megan’s hands in her purse. Probably to pull out some lipstick or perfume to load up for her next attempt. Instead, she pulled out a cord and threw it across the table at Jordan. Her phone charger skidded across the table, stopping next to the Ziplock bag containing the phone. “There, plug that male adapter into that female adapter and then plug it into the wall. At least the phone will get some action tonight.” There was a hint of a snicker in the last two words. When Jordan looked up from the charger, her head was down, but her eyes were watching him. Her lips were puckered and pouty.

  Jordan opened the bag and slid the phone to the opening and plugged in the charger. Luckily for them, Sharon and Megan both had the same type of phone. When he got up to plug it into the wall, he made sure to let his hand brush her arm, up her shoulder, and over the back of her neck. On his way back, Jordan kissed her on the top of the head, and her hand met his on her shoulder. All was forgiven, for now.

  With a press of a button, the phone chimed to life. It was a good thing they had a charger. The battery was completely dead, but was charging now. Jordan went to business on the phone. First going through each contact, writing down the name and number. Megan sat across from him, leaning forward to see what he was doing. Jordan could feel her gaze on him as he went about his task. She rocked slightly in her chair, sitting on her hands.

  “Sorry, just habit,” Megan said.

  “Did you bring your laptop?” Jordan asked.

  “Yep,” Megan said as she jumped from the chair and was rummaging through her bags. In a matter of seconds, she returned to the table and opened up her laptop.

  “Can you do plain searches on the numbers on those papers? Nothing fancy. Just a normal search engine. Those hit the white pages and social media. They’ll find any reference to the number.” Jordan had access to better search tools for the task, but he wasn’t supposed to be doing what he was doing, which made logging into work not an option.

  The two worked mostly in silence. The soundtrack to their activities were the key taps from Megan’s laptop, and rain on the window, the whirl of the air conditioner, and an occasional rumble of thunder in the distance. When Jordan was done, he had twenty-nine new numbers Megan would need to look up when she was done with the ones she had. Each only had a first name, or an initial associated with it in the contact list. Not a single last name or address was present. None of the names were anything personal like mom, dad, aunt, or other references to anyone Sharon had a personal tie to. This led him to two conclusions. Either this wasn’t her phone. Maybe one she had swiped from someone. He would have to search the number it was associated with. The other possibility, this was her phone, but not her personal phone. Perhaps it was a burner. Something common for people involved in illicit and possibly illegal activities. The type of activities one might run into harm in.

  With Megan still typing away on her laptop and searching, Jordan moved to checking for any social media accounts on the phone. There were none. Not even an abandoned login needing a password, and only one app was installed, which is the one that came most commonly with phones. So, nothing there to look into. Next were the messages. That appeared to be a treasure trove based on the conversation list with twenty-three of the twenty-nine numbers. The content of the conversations was of a very personal nature. Not the type one might have with their father or favorite aunt, unless their family was on an episode of Jerry Springer. The details in some of them made Jordan uncomfortable reading them.

  “You okay? Your cheeks are flushed,” Megan asked. She watched him closely, like a prized butterfly in her display case. He even felt the pins of her gaze sticking him to the board. He also didn’t need her to tell him his cheeks were flushed. That feeling was evident. He wasn’t a prude, but a few of these even made him blush. Jordan responded only by sliding the phone around for Megan to read. It didn’t take long before there was a gasp from her side of the table. It put an amused half smile on Jordan’s face. He didn’t believe there was anything that could shock Megan. She said, “Well, I guess we know what she was,” and leaned back in the chair, eyes wide and her hand over her mouth.

  “Uh, yes we do. Now we need to figure out what all these others are.”

  14

  They worked late into the night checking numbers and reading messages. The length of the messages varied. Some went on for a few hours. Some a few days. Nothing went further back than March 9th, six months ago. Before that date, there was nothing else on the phone. Either everything had been erased or that was the date Sharon started using that phone. Jordan wrote the date down, as well as a few notations about the types of messages left by a few of the numbers. His eyesight had given out, and a slight headache had formed. It had to be the hours of studying the small text on the screen. A few attempts to rub clarity into his vision failed, and Jordan gave in to the exhaustion and moved over to the bed where he laid back.

  Megan continued to roll through the numbers and her searches. Every so often she stopped typing to make some notes on her notepad, but it wasn’t long after Jordan laid down that he heard a few yawns coming from her direction. The speed of the taps on the keys slowed, and there were longer pauses between the absence of typing and the scratching of notes on the pad. Jordan was still trapped between the world and dreamland when he heard rustling and felt the bed depress beside him. A hand rubbed across him and landed on his chest. A head on his shoulder, and a leg bent at the knee across his. That was how the world around him faded into a deep black silence.

  The rest that Jordan experienced lasted for a bit, not that he had any sense of time. If he had, he would have known it was 2:13 am when his quiet slumber descended into nightmare land. He became restless and tossed in his sleep. His thoughts raced, but not on any specific topic. Everything and nothing all at once. What was consistent through all though
ts was a presence. Something else was there. It was dark and heavy and filled him with dread. He felt himself sinking down through the world below him, like some kind of pit of dark vile quicksand. The deeper he sank, the heavier the presence. It squeezed him with an unbearable force that started at his feet and worked its way up. Either the fear that built within or his exhaustion allowed a humorous thought to creep into his mind. Only time would tell if his head would pop off like the cap of a tube of toothpaste.

  “I guess it was about time we met,” a voice said.

  The pain and discomfort ended. The dark void around him lifted and Jordan found himself sitting on a familiar bench. The bench in Chippewa Square, only five blocks from his home. Not that he had sat on it much. Tourists flocked to it after it was featured in the movie, Forrest Gump, but there was one time that he and Megan happened to find it empty, and they had a seat. That wasn’t the only time he had been by it though. They frequented the park on their walks. The only thing out of place was the black suit he wore. Jordan had only worn it twice and would never wear it out for a walk. The humidity of Savannah would have it soaked in minutes, but at this moment he was not hot or cold. He was nothing. “Who’s there?”, Jordan asked curiously.

  “A friend. A foe. I think it is too early to know for sure,” the voice said. A tall slender man in a black suit and black hat walked around the bench from behind and had a seat next to Jordan. He was elderly. He never turned toward Jordan, just sat next to him and looked straight ahead. Jordan got a good view of his profile below the black fedora he wore. His face wasn’t the cherub grandfatherly type, nor was he the creepy and decrepit type either. Distinguished, and in his mid-seventies, if Jordan had to guess based on his features. His steely blue eyes were clear and young looking, though. “We will get to know each other over time, and you will make up your own mind. Many have. Some favorable. Some well... not so favorable.” The man reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a silver rectangular case. A single flick of a finger popped it open and retrieved a cigarette and then snapped it closed. Jordan noticed these were not modern day cigarettes. Not that he was a smoker, or knew much about them, but he knew for sure anything that looked hand wrapped with ground tobacco hanging out of both ends was not something you could buy at the corner store. The man raised it up to his mouth and reached into his pocket, pulling out a silver lighter. With a single flick of his wrist, the top flipped open and a large flame stood tall. He lit the cigarette and flicked the lighter shut before putting it back in his pocket. He took a drag and held it in for a moment before letting it out with a satisfied exhale. “So, how are things going, Jordan?”

  Jordan peered into the man with wide eyes and stammered out, “Who are you?”

  “I guess you are one of those that needs a name,” he said and then took another puff. His gaze cut in Jordan’s direction and appeared to study him for a moment before looking straight forward again. “Just call me Bob, if that suits you. It’s better than what some call me and worse than others. So, Bob, no wait, Robert. That sounds more formal, and sometimes I like formality. There is something about the old world that the new world is lacking, makes it seem less refined.”

  Jordan didn’t know what this was. A nightmare, a dream, or had he finally cracked and was now stuck in his mind on this bench talking to Robert while his body is wheeled around in a chair in some institute somewhere. He could only hope he got a room with a window in case he ever did wake up from all this.

  “You and I are going to run across each other a lot, and you need to know none of this is personal. You are doing your job, and I am doing my own.”

  With no indication this would end soon, or a way out, Jordan decided to play it out. “Okay Robert, what is your job?”

  “Evil,” Robert answered very matter-of-factly. “That is my business, and business is good.” An amused smirk found its way to the man’s face.

  “Evil?”, Jordan asked. He was curious about what was happening, and what the man meant.

  “Yep. Everywhere you find someone doing something bad, I am there in one way or the other. Maybe I was the little nudge that put them on the path. The whisper of an idea that floated on the wind. Occasionally, I have to do more.” Robert paused and took another drag on his cigarette. This one he held a bit longer than the previous ones and appeared to enjoy it more as he let it out through the side of his mouth. “It’s a dirty job, but someone has to do it,” he said with a snarky hint and a tilt of his head. “So, as you can imagine, with you being a, well... an agent, and me being... this, our paths are destined to cross a lot. You know kid, Orville said I would like you. You’re still idealistic and haven’t thrown your scruples out the window. A little green, but a straight edge like he said.”

  Jordan didn’t know if he believed, or understood, what he was being told. This was some kind of strange screwed up dream, but in a way it felt real. Unlike any dream he ever remembered. That was the oddest part, here he was in the middle of a dream pondering if this was a dream or not. That was new, and the one disturbing detail that kept the needle on the real or dream gauge from being pegged to the side of a dream. For the moment he had to accept the possibility this conversation was somehow real. If that was the case, then what was Robert? It didn’t take Jordan’s thoughts long to land on a conclusion his logical side accepted. Though the thought made him a bit queasy to consider, and even more unsettled to consider asking. “So, you’re the Devil?”

  The deep bellied chuckle that greeted the question echoed through the overhanging oaks. It added to the nerves Jordan felt about the question. He had never talked to, well, one of those types of creatures before. An angel that once served God. Yes, he was a fallen angel, but still an angel.

  “Oh no. I am not the Devil,” he said through the laugh. “Though I do know him. Think of me as balance. For every good, there is an evil. That is me. You can’t let the world be too lopsided. You can also think about it like this, if it weren’t for me, there would be no you. You are the yin to my yang. Oh yeah, there is something missing.”

  Just then Megan appeared next to Jordan on a bench. She was in a long black dress Jordan had seen before, her hair and makeup both perfectly done, as they always were when she went out. Her expression appeared to match the same confusion Jordan felt when he first appeared on the bench. She looked right at Jordan, but before she said anything, Jordan said, “Hi. Megan, meet Evil.” He leaned back so she could see the man beside him.

  He didn’t turn to acknowledge her, instead his gaze stayed straight forward as he took another puff. When the last of the smoke escaped past his lips, he spoke, “Actually, I am Robert. Nice to meet you.” The hand with the cigarette made a half-hearted wave. “You are both the yin to my yang.”

  Megan started to talk, but Jordan cut her off. “I will explain later.” Which he intended to do, if all this was real, and if he remembered. Jordan turned his attention back to Robert, “So did you have anything to do with Sharon Carter?” No point in dancing around the edge, and he had a reason for his question. The dark heavy feeling he felt was the same as he did in Sharon’s house

  “I have a little to do with everything, but if you are asking if I had anything to do with her death, no, not completely. The surrounding events, yes. I stirred the world and let’s just say she was caught up in the wake. It happens quite a lot.”

  The answer didn’t surprise Jordan. Something told him before he asked, he probably wouldn’t get a direct answer. He didn’t receive one when he asked who he was. There was one more question he wanted to ask, but feared he would be met with the same vague explanation that took two trips around the mulberry bush and then once around the block before ending. “Are you here to stop us from finding out the truth?”

  “Nah, I couldn’t care less if you find the truth or not. It’s none of my business. Even though there is a part of me that sometimes enjoys seeing people get their just due. It’s not a justice thing. I just like seeing people squirm. This time, I just happened to
be there when you were, and our paths crossed. I knew you sensed me, and I sensed you. But I do have a warning for you. Don’t interfere with my fun. Show up after and do what you will, fine. Try to stop me while I am doing my thing, and we won’t just be sitting here having a polite conversation. Got it?”

  Before Jordan could answer, darkness descended around him. In the distance he heard a hum, a comforting hum. It was the air conditioner in the room, and he was wide awake. He opened his eyes and stared up at the ceiling, unable to move. Every image, sound, and moment of the conversation he just had rung clear in his head. A slight shiver moved through the mattress from beside him. Jordan asked, “Are you awake?”

  “Ah huh,” Megan answered very timidly. A hand reached over and grabbed his own.

  15

  Several minutes passed before either of them moved. Even then, it wasn’t as much a movement as a large collective exhale. That was the only movement for the next several hours. Their hands remained entwined together as the minutes of the night crept away. Only when the first sliver of dawn cut through the gap in the drapes did Jordan sit up. Not that he was just waking up. He hadn’t gone back to sleep. He couldn’t, his senses were on overload. The synapsis in his brain worked to process every fact he collected during his whatever that was, while every little sound he heard sent his pulse sky rocketing thinking Robert was back, but the man, or whatever he was, never reappeared. That didn’t put him at ease though. His nerves were shot, and he was more than second guessing his decision to make this trip. Maybe it was a bad idea. One that the worst that could happen was he might lose his career. Now the stakes seemed much bigger. The stakes of his entire life, not just this case, ramped up a notch.

  Jordan was lost in this thought, and the worry that went with it, when a delicate hand rubbed the small of his back. He jumped off the bed and to his feet and turned at the same time to face the bed. Megan was up on her side. She looked as tired as he was, and sounded it too when she said, “It’s just me.”