Soul Sucker
Jordyn

Jordyn Carter (Frances Dortmund’s) POV

En Route to Law Offices of Johnson, Burns & Leeks, Indianapolis, Indiana

Thursday, August 11, 2022

“Are you ready for this, Jordyn?” S~ᴇaʀᴄh the FɪndNøvel.ɴet website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

I looked over at Thomas Kincaid, the corporate lawyer who represented Petersen Trucking and my interests now. The company was mine after my husband Michael’s sudden death on our honeymoon. He was in his fifties, nearly bald, and skinny as a rail. “I’ll get through it, Thomas.”

“If it becomes too much, let me know and I’ll ask for a break.”

“How long do you think this will take?” I moved my hair off the shoulder of my black dress. I was still in mourning, after all, even if the dress emphasized my large breasts and narrow waist.

“A few hours? I think the new owners would like to take you to lunch after the sale to celebrate.”

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea. I’m still tired; I don’t think I’ve slept well since it happened.”

“That’s perfectly understandable. Are you sure you want to go through with the sale and the distribution? If we took more time, we might get a higher bid.”

I shook my head, no. “Michael thought of his workers as his family. He wouldn’t want me to leave them in limbo over a little bit of money. It’s also right that they share in the gains of the sale.”

“Even if it costs your one million, seven hundred and eighty thousand out of the proceeds?”

“Those people deserve it, Mr. Kincaid. You put the stipulation into the sale contract?”

He nodded. “I did. They didn’t object since the money comes off your sale proceeds, and the employees will be notified the distribution was the wish of you and your late husband.” Over the centuries, I’d tempered my greed with compassion towards the innocent victims. Michael had been a pillar of the community, a successful businessman, and a handsome husband. He was also a pervert who enjoyed sexually abusing young girls. Finding a target who deserved death was a plus. “As you discussed, a bonus of one thousand dollars per employee per year of their employment will be paid out on the first of the month.”

“It will help when the inevitable cuts come.” I’d insisted that Allied Transportation guarantee employment for three months, but after that, they could reduce the headcount at will. At least the workers had a defined-contribution pension they could invest on their own. Consolidation was part of the acquisition process, and health care and pension costs were a big part of the downsizing choices.

He pulled his Lincoln Navigator into the parking garage of the downtown office building where Johnson, Burns & Leeks had offices on the tenth floor. He parked in the visitor spots for the law office and went around to open the door for me. “Ready?”

“Let’s get it over with.” I took his hand as I stepped out in my three-inch heels. Jordyn’s body was the opposite of Ingrid’s; I was short and curvy instead of tall and thin. I’d flown from Denver to Dallas as Ingrid, changing forms and clothes in the airport bathroom before flying to Indianapolis first class as Jordyn Carter. When I was done here, Lonnie needed me to visit a half-dozen other Midwest cities, doing various tasks like driver’s license exams and college visits before returning home Sunday. It was a busy trip, and I wanted this part over with.

We exited the elevator to a modern office full of glass, stainless steel, and modern art. It turned my stomach; these people had no idea what architecture and art were. I had quite the collection of art and furniture in our Scottish castle, though I rarely got to see it anymore. The castle was kept open as a museum for tax purposes.

I pretended to be interested in what I considered a child’s failed art project while Thomas checked in the with fake-boobs blonde at the reception desk. A few moments later, Mr. Johnson emerged to usher us into the conference room, where the CEO of Allied Transportation and his staff waited for us. Once we got through the bullshit about how sorry they were for my loss, we were able to review the final sale agreement. They asked for a few changes favorable to them, which I rejected. “We’re already selling at a discount from true value,” Thomas added. “You’ve done your due diligence. If you aren’t willing to conclude the offer, I can allow another company to change their bid. We will give you a few minutes to consider your options.” He stood up and went to pull out my chair.

“No, that won’t be necessary,” the CEO replied. “I had to try. The sale can go through as specified in the current purchase agreement.”

“Excellent.” It took another thirty minutes of initialing and signing forms before the sale was legally completed. I had my share deposited in a Cayman Islands account and had the confirmation before we left the room.

I politely declined their offer for lunch, citing travel plans for the remainder of the day. We shook hands, and I followed Thomas back to his vehicle. “You’re a wealthy young lady now, Miss Carter. Have you considered bringing in a financial planner and tax attorney? You should protect your wealth.”

“I have my people, Thomas.” We didn’t talk much on the way back to my hotel. He dropped me at the entrance. “Thank you for your help today.”

“You did well by our employees, Miss Carter. Thank you.”

He drove off, and I went to the hotel bar and got a table. I might as well eat before heading to Chicago.

I was halfway through my mango daiquiri when an athletic-looking man in his forties, wearing an off-the-rack suit, asked for a moment of my time. He had striking blue eyes, and I got lost in them for a second or two. “I’m not interested in men,” I told him.

“I’m not interested in men either, so we have that in common,” he joked as he extended a hand. “This is business, I’m afraid. John Miller, with Manhattan Life Insurance Company.”

“Jordyn, but you already know that,” I said as I reached for his. When our fingers touched, I felt a shock running up my arm. The tingling spread through my chest, then moved down to my legs. In an instant, my sex was ready for him. I gripped his hand a little too long, and I’m sure I didn’t hide the emotions on my face as the unfamiliar sensation rushed through my body. I finally let go and looked down.

My demon master was rushing forward, sensing a danger from this man. I closed my eyes as I pushed him back. We were in public, and there was something different about Mr. Miller. I’d never reacted like this to a male in eleven hundred years.

It took me a few seconds to get control again.

“Miss Carter? Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” I told him. “My stomach is all messed up, and I skipped breakfast. It was a difficult morning, and I think it is catching up.”

He got the waiter’s attention. “You should eat something bland but filling to settle your stomach. I’d suggest a 7-up or ginger ale. May I sit?”

“Sure,” I said. I ordered a ginger ale, and he asked for a Diet Coke. I needed to figure out what was different about him that caused my body to react that way to him. “Are you here to deliver the check?”

He pulled out the chair across from me. “I’m in the Investigations division, not accounting. I’m looking at a few anomalies in your case file.”

“Anomalies? You fly out here and ambush me at a hotel for anomalies?”

He flashed a disarming smile, making me squirm in my seat. “I tried reaching you at your home, but you no longer live there. Your lawyer wouldn’t give me your contact information, so I came here where I knew you’d be closing on the sale.”

“You followed me from the office.” He nodded. “Let’s see. You’re wearing an off-the-rack suit, a white shirt with a plain tie, and dress shoes with rubber soles. You’re carrying a firearm in a shoulder holster on the left side, but you didn’t tailor the suit to hide it. May I see your identification?”

He took his corporate identification card out of his wallet. I took a picture of it with my phone. “You can’t be too careful. Investigations, huh? You don’t like a Fed, so you’re a former what? NYPD?”

“Well spotted. Boston, actually. I spent most of my time as a Homicide detective before joining Manhattan Life. How did you know?”

“I notice things.” The waiter returned with our drinks, and we both ordered lunch. “You’re picking up the bill since you are on an expense account.”

He rolled his eyes. “After today, you make enough interest income in an hour to buy the entire restaurant lunch.”

“Well, you’re the one who wants to talk. How can I help?”

“I’ve been looking into the cause of death.”

I rolled my eyes. “You’ve read the autopsy report?” He nodded. “I’m no doctor, Mr. Miller. I do know that my Michael died of natural causes in his sleep. Everything was great until I woke up that morning to find him dead. I don’t know what else I could tell you.”

“How much did you drink that evening?”

I thought back. “We watched the dueling pianos in the bar and did some dancing. We had the drink package, so maybe a half-dozen drinks? Those mango daiquiris are damn good. I remember being buzzed when we got to the cabin. Michael drank just as much, but he’s bigger than me.” My face fell. “He was. I still can’t believe he’s gone.”

“Was he taking any drugs?”

“Never,” I replied. “Michael had his Commercial Driving License, so he never touched the stuff.”

“How did you meet him?”

I had to cut this off. John was angling for history on me, and I wouldn’t help with that. “I don’t see how that is relevant to my claim.”

“I’m trying to get an idea of who Michael was.”

I didn’t have to fake the flash of anger. “No, you’re poking around trying to find a way to deny me the money I’m entitled to after purchasing your policy,” I growled. “You’re wasting your time. I loved Michael very much. I still can’t believe he died just four days into my marriage, and I’m not over it. What is your angle, John? Are you going to say it was suicide? Or are you going right to murder? My lawyer says that’s the only way to fight the claim, so which is it?”

John raised his hands and waited for me to calm down. “I’m doing my due diligence, that is all. The circumstances of this case raised flags, that’s all.”

“What kind of ‘flags’ does my man dying in his sleep raise?” I was raising my voice enough to attract the attention of the other diners. I did this to put John on the defensive. I played up the teary-eyed widow routine for the crowd.

I was very good at playing the grieving wife.

“It’s a substantial term life policy, recently purchased, without a clear cause of death,” he said quietly. “That’s all.”

“You can do better than that.”

“I can’t reveal my investigation, Miss Carter.”

“Here’s what I know,” I replied. “Michael bought that policy because of me. He knew I wouldn’t want to run the family business, so he did estate planning like a good husband. My lawyer tells me the check should arrive in a week. If it doesn’t? You’ll hear from him, and it won’t be a fun conversation.” I looked to see the waiter arriving with our food. “Your boss may hear from him anyway, coming out here to ambush a widow.”

“That was not my intent.”

“I’ve lost my appetite. Box mine up for me, please? I’ll be leaving shortly.”

“Box mine up as well,” John said as he handed over a credit card. “I apologize for any grief I’ve caused you. It was not my intention.”

“I’m sorry as well. It’s been a rough time, and I’ve not slept well in weeks.”

He paid the check and stood up with his food. “I’m sorry for your loss, Miss Carter. Travel safely.”

“Thank you,” I said. I watched John head to the elevator for the parking garage. I gave him five minutes, then followed him to my rental car.

It didn’t take long to notice he was following me. I entered another parking garage, heading straight to the exit and back on the road. I headed to the airport as I thought about the situation.

John didn’t have evidence of foul play. If he did, the last thing he would do is to meet me in person. He traveled here and followed me around, which meant he had more than just suspicions. I turned in my rental car, changed to my next persona in the bathroom, and caught the shuttle bus to the terminal.

I closed my eyes during the short flight, only to see him in my dreams.

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