Thread of Hope (The Joe Tyler Series, #1) by Jeff Shelby Read Free Book Online Page A

daughter’s lying.”  It wasn’t a question.  Just a statement meant to make me realize I’d insulted his daughter.
     
    “I don’t know your daughter,” I said.  “But I know my friend.  He wouldn’t hurt a teenage girl.  Ever.”
     
    Jordan shook his head, as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing, then let out a snort like I was the court jester that had failed to entertain him.  Then something else moved through his expression, something darker.
     
    “You know your friend?”
     
    “I do.”
     
    He stared intently at me across his desk.  “I’d think it would be tough to know someone you haven’t seen in a very long time.”  He paused and squinted.  “Tough to still know the people in your life when you run away from them.”
     
    A shiver prickled the back of my neck.
     
    “Disgraced cop, missing daughter, divorced,” Jordan continued.  “That’s a lot of shit.  Maybe I would’ve taken off, too.”
     
    The shiver turned to icicles but I managed to hold his gaze.  I hated myself for not being able to find the words to fight back.
     
    “Must be hell for you,” Jordan said, watching me.  “Having to live with it.”
     
    The muscles in my throat constricted and the floor beneath me felt unsteady.
     
    “Not knowing,” Jordan said.  “It must be hell.”
     
    My hands curled into fists.  He was playing a game with me, trying to establish an upper hand.  Blowing up or going across the desk to rip his head off wouldn’t have done Chuck or me any good.  But I was done trying to be polite.  I took a deep breath, exhaled and unclenched my fists.
     
    “What did it cost you?” I asked.
     
    “What did what cost me?”
     
    “Getting someone to kick the shit out of Chuck,” I said.  “You just keep someone on retainer or was this a new venture?”
     
    Nothing in his expression changed.  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
     
    “Sure.  Just more bad luck for Chuck, I guess.”
     
    “I guess.”
     
    We stared at each other for a moment.
     
    “He didn’t hurt your daughter,” I said.
     
    “Have you seen the case file?” 
     
    “Yeah.”
     
    “You think my daughter just fell down?  Tripped?  Banged her entire face on a wall?”  A cold smile forced its way onto his mouth.  “Maybe that’s what happened to Mr. Winslow.  Maybe he tripped.”
     
    It was as much of an admission as I would get from him.  But it was enough.
     
    “No,” I said.  “It’s clear something happened to your daughter.  But Chuck Winslow isn’t responsible.”
     
    He looked away, an incredulous expression on his face, like he was explaining simple addition to an adult.
     
    “So, what?” he asked.  “You just want to talk to Meredith?  Find out the real story?”
     
    “I would like to speak to her, yes.”
     
    He shook his head slowly and pushed himself out of his chair, like it was the toughest physical task he’d ever performed.
     
    “I don’t really give a shit who you think you are or how well you think you know your friend,” Jon Jordan said.  “But I saw my daughter come home beaten up, barely able to walk, barely able to speak.  And the first words out of her mouth were that your friend–someone she thought was her friend, too–had kicked the shit out of her.”  He paused.  “My daughter’s not a liar.  So you can stand there all you want and defend him.  I couldn’t care less.  But if you think I’m going to let you talk to my daughter...”
     
    I was getting nowhere in a hurry.  I needed to move away from the subject of his daughter.
     
    “Robert Stricker told me that you recommended Chuck,” I said.
     
    His cheeks sucked in a bit and they started to flush.  “I did a favor for someone by making that call.  I’ve never actually met Mr. Winslow.  And at this point, that’s lucky for him.”
     
    None of this made sense and it was starting to irritate me.
     
    “You’re big on the threats,” I said.