Serendipity (Southern Comfort) Read Free

visit. A couple of EMTs found you lying outside the ER.” 
    “What?”
    “Just telling you what I heard.  I know you ADAs have regular fan clubs, but you piss off any particular defendants recently?  Maybe prosecute a gang member?”
    “I…” Jordan scrubbed a hand over his face and tried to think.  “Hell, Jesse.  I piss off defendants every day .  And besides, you know I’ve been wrapped up in the Fuller case for the past couple months.  A media shitstorm like that is bound to bring out the crazies.” 
    Elijah Fuller was the man indicted for the brutal murders of three Savannah women.  When the lead prosecutor had been forced to step down due to health concerns, Jordan was tapped to take over. Professionally, his career went into overdrive, but on a personal level Jordan seemed to be stuck in neutral.  Not only did he hate the limelight, but he’d grown uncomfortable with the whole case.  The evidence, though more circumstantial than concrete, seemed to prove they’d indicted the right man, but as Jordan delved deeper into trial preparations, he unearthed more doubt than assurance.
    However, this wasn’t the time or the place to get into that with his brother.  He had more immediate concerns.
    “Do you remember anything from last night at all?” Jesse asked.    
    Jordan tried to clear his head.  Bits and fragments of memories floated around like flotsam from a shipwreck.  “Only pieces,” he admitted.  Absently scratching at the tape holding his IV – he tried not to think of the needle – Jordan looked down when he felt the welts. 
    He remembered the rake of long nails, a flash of dark hair.  “I… hell.  I think there was a woman.”
    “There usually is.”
    “Ha.  I mean during the… if I say assault n ow I’m going to feel like a douche .  But yeah, I think a woman was involved.   See?  She scratched my arm with her nails.” 
    “When was this?” Jesse examined the marks with a frown.  “Before you were hit?”
    “I…” Man, he wasn’t quite sure. “I don’t think so.  Seems to me it was after.  She was pulling at me, and her nails dug into my arms.  Everything was… sort of surreal.  But I know she wanted me to get in her car.  My head felt like a bowling pin, and when I grabbed it my hand came away bloody.  Had to have been after.”
    “Do you remember anything about her car?”
    Jordan closed his eyes, tried to drum up a mental image.   His head throbbed, but he knew his brother – and FBI agent – as well as whatever detectives might be assigned his case would want as many details as they could get.   “Uh… red.  I think. Small.  A coupe, maybe.” He pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose.  “I couldn’t even hazard a guess as to make or model.”
    “I’m guessing a license plate number is too much to ask.”
    Jordan’s half-lidded gaze said: get real.  But there was something… “I think there was a chain around it.  The plate.” Though something still wasn’t right.  “Except, I don’t think the chain was on her car.  It –”
    “Wait, wait.”  Jesse held up a hand, eyes sharpening like blue razors.  “You’re saying there was a second car involved?”
    “I think so.  Seems to me I must have been in the trunk of the second car.  I felt the chain with my heel, and it made me wonder how I lost my shoe.  The woman threw it at me when she kicked me out of her car.  I thought it was damn rude.”
    “Kidnappers these days.  They just don’t have any manners.”
    “Yeah, yeah.”  Noticing the tray of food next to the bed, Jordan lifted the silver cover.  “Did you eat my breakfast?”
    “Believe me, I did you a favor.  What were you doing at the Marriott on River Street?  That’s where they found your car.”
    “Ah, that.” Jordan grimaced, pushing the remnants of something egg-like off to the side. “I got roped into giving a speech.  Steve Finch phoned me a couple of days ago and called in a