Finding Tessa

by Finding Tessa (epub)

  “Thanks. We just adopted her a couple of months ago.” His words choked at the “we” and he swallowed it down. “Do you want some coffee? It just brewed.”

  “Sure! Just a little milk, if that’s okay? If you have a nondairy milk, even better, but it’s obviously not a deal breaker. Almond milk, oat milk, even that soy milk, although I’d prefer my soy be organic. You should read about what they say about soy nowadays! It was supposed to be a healthy alternative but now it’s all GMO this and GMO that. I’m just trying to keep added hormones out of my body while I’m still breastfeeding.” She lifted both hands in front of her chest defensively. “TMI! I know. My husband thinks I talk too much. He’s always like ‘Bella, no one cares about you being a cow right now!’ Not that he thinks I’m a cow. It’s the breastfeeding, and the fact that I won’t shut up about the baby. You know what I mean. Right?”

  Jace pressed his lips together. “Mmm hmm.” God, she was a talker. Her husband was right.

  She plunked her purse on the table and then pulled out a chair and took a seat, scanning the backyard. “Wow. Beautiful property! Do you get a lot of kids playing in the lake out here? When we lived in Pennsylvania forever ago before my husband got transferred here, there was a lake in the neighborhood. All the kids used to ice skate on it, and I was always like ‘Oh my God, they’re going to fall in!’ and he said I worried too much. He’s afraid I’m going to helicopter the baby.” Jace’s face was blank, out of sheer shock that she was still talking. “You know, helicopter parents? Always hovering over their kids.” She held her arms out and made them spin, then made noises that Jace didn’t understand, her voice like she was imitating someone annoying, which he understood wholeheartedly at that moment. “Mer Meh Mer, don’t eat sugar, Meh Meh Mer, take off your shoes, Mer Mer Meh, use the hand sanitizer in your backpack.”

  These were all too many scenarios, actions, and too much speech before he had his first cup of coffee. Plus, why was she so at ease? According to the media, she was alone in a house with a cold-blooded killer.

  Maybe it was her defense mechanism. It was also the first time Jace considered homicide. Anything to get her to shut up for two minutes.

  Although he shouldn’t joke about that. Not even to himself.

  “Can I be so bold to ask for a tour? Maybe see some of Tessa’s personal things? It’ll be easier for me to connect and then plead for her return. And then I can be totally heartfelt, like, to tell a good story about her if I saw the types of clothes or jewelry she wore, or how she decorated the bedroom or whatever. Girls have that whole intuition thing, you know, it takes one to know one.”

  Jace obliged, because he just wanted her to shut up. Candy followed them upstairs, and he quickly walked Bella through the bedroom, and she commented on Tessa’s taste when she saw how it was decorated. Even pressed on the mattress to see how Tessa liked to sleep, asking which side of the bed was hers. Too personal, Jace thought.

  However, at that point, he’d literally do anything if there was a possibility that Bella would write a touching article that could procure Tessa’s safe return. Even killers had to have a human side, right?

  He pointed to her side, then he walked out, and she followed. She did a quick head-pop into the other two bedrooms, which were sparsely furnished. Back downstairs, he showed her their wedding photo, and in the corner of the dining room, there were a few pictures that Jace hadn’t yet hung, but Tessa had picked out, so he let Bella see them so she could “vibe out on everything Tessa,” as she put it.

  It was twenty minutes but felt like twenty years of more baby info dump when Robert showed up early too, Thank God. Jace had already heard all about the baby, the baby’s different cries, the baby’s nursery of giraffes, the baby being ahead of schedule on her sleep cycle—you name it. He almost couldn’t wait to talk about being perceived as a murderer.

  Robert was already dressed in his expensive suit and shoes, and Jace again felt ridiculous for looking like he’d just come from the gym. Robert and Bella exchanged pleasantries, and Robert plunked down the bag of bagels and cream cheese he’d brought. Bella politely refused, probably because GMOs, but Jace was thankful for something to eat. He offered Robert coffee, and then the three of them sat at the kitchen table, looking at each other, all waiting for someone else to take charge.

  “If I advise my client not to answer a question, that’s the end of the story,” Robert started. “You will not press for further details.”

  “Right! Okay,” Bella said, then dug into her purse and pulled out a small recording device. “I’m going to record this so nothing gets lost in translation. Are we all cool with that?”

  “It’s preferable,” Robert said. “Lost in translation goes both ways.”

  Bella fumbled with the recorder, a small, slim little thing that Jace could’ve hid in the palm of his hand. “Sorry! This is my husband’s, and I’m not really sure how to work it. He just got it and of course I had to deal with the sitter this morning and he already left for work, and I couldn’t find the directions. The baby needed a change, and I wanted to do that really quick—I like to be a hands-on mom, you know, I don’t leave everything to the nanny—and then I had to calm her down before I left. Screaming babies! Anyway, it looks easy.” She points to the small buttons on the side. “Play, next, record, delete. Easy. Am I right?”

  “Then hit record,” Robert said with an edge, Bella clearly testing his patience in only two minutes.

  “Right. Here we go!” She hit the record button and immediately transformed into a reporter. Her voice softened and she talked slowly, enunciating her words. “I’m Bella Johnson from the Valley Lake Blaze, and I’m sitting here with accused murderer Jace Montgomery. There is much speculation in the media about the events that transpired last Thursday night, when his wife Tessa Smyth went missing. She’s still missing, but unfortunately, another body was found a few days later, that of his coworker Rosita Morales. Jace has been accused of her murder. Do you have anything you want to say, Mr. Montgomery?”

  Robert nodded at him. Go time.

  Jace first told the story about how he and Tessa met. All the details, excluding names, on Robert’s direction. Bella pressed, and Robert cut in with a swift move on, with a hand gesture to go with it. Jace made sure to talk about Tessa, and the things he loved about her—Robert had mentioned earlier to say her name as many times as possible, so whoever had her could connect to the fact that she was a real person. So, he did—spoke of her mystery, her heart, her ability to love Jace and even their dog, Candy, after what was apparently a rough upbringing. Bella nodded along, even wiping a tear once or twice. He wasn’t sure if hers were real or if she was playing concerned reporter, but his tears were real. Talking so intimately and in such detail reminded him of things he’d forgotten—the way she’d always burn eggs but could master a soufflé, how many times she’d made him watch Legally Blonde, how she’d liked her wine ice cold. Little things that tugged on his heart daily, but more so now, talking about it. It felt like a eulogy and that terrified him.

  He made sure to keep his story about Rosita quick and professional. He didn’t want to seem too personal there, since he was also accused in the media of having an affair with her. Jesus, wherever Tessa was being held, he hoped she didn’t see those accusations or worse, believe them.

  When they wrapped up, Robert handed his card to Bella and said any follow-up would have to be arranged through him.

  “Great! I understand. Let me get you my card,” Bella said, opening her purse. Then, like a frenetic teenager, she took things out hurriedly, one by one. Makeup bag, phone, pens, wallet—and dumped them on the kitchen table. “Jesus! Where is my card case?” More stuff went flying—tissues, a rogue lipstick, keys. “Son of a—! Of course I forgot it. I probably left it on the bassinet or near the changing table. This is what I get for rushing and trying to be supermom! Going back to work was really hard.”

  “Right.” Robert stood up and extended his hand. “Just email me your inf
o and a copy of this interview at your earliest convenience. I’ll walk you to the door.”

  Candy started to bark again as they walked into the hallway. Jace was bewildered at Robert playing host, hurriedly ushering her to the door. It slammed shut a minute later. Robert came back into the kitchen, his eyes wide.

  “I know. She talks a lot,” Jace said. “That could be good for me, no?”

  “No. Not at all. Something bothered me as soon as I got here.”

  Jace’s heart sunk. “Oh?”

  “When I pulled in, I noticed her plates had a Hertz Rent-A-Car holder. I took a picture of the plate.”

  “Huh.” Jace didn’t make the connection. “What does that have to do with anything? Maybe her car is in the shop.”

  “Fine. I thought that too. But this last scene sealed it for me.”

  “What scene?”

  “Dumping out her bag. All the talk about the baby. But there were no baby wipes, bottles, diaper rash balm—nothing that an obsessed ‘supermom’ would carry.”

  “Maybe she separated her work bag from her personal one?”

  “Hang on. I’m going to make a quick call. Can I use your office?”

  “Sure.”

  Robert went into the office and closed the door, talking in a hushed voice. Jace wasn’t exactly spying, but he wanted to know what was going on. He could usually read people pretty well and thought that while Bella was a bit of a talker, she seemed personable and genuine.

  Jace was sitting in the living room, petting Candy’s head when Robert finished. Jace turned to him, and Robert’s face was white.

  “We have a problem, Jace.”

  “What’s that?”

  “There’s no one named Bella Johnson working at the Valley Lake Blaze.” Robert’s face was lined with worry. “I know a guy,” Robert said. “It might take a few days, but I’ll find out who rented that car.”

  Who the hell did they just talk to?

  29

  TESSA

  After Jupiter’s opened back up last month with the redesign, people in town asked Michael who he’d used. I just took another meeting with Frankie at Romano’s, a local Italian eatery.

  They’re a typical “pizza joint” with a few sets of old, rickety wooden tables to the left with the pizza bar on the right. The tables are covered with plastic red-and-white-checked tablecloths which have grease stains embedded in them from years of use. Parmesan in metal tins with tiny spoons sit next to the salt and pepper shakers, and each table has a plastic daisy in a red plastic vase that both look like they were bought on discount from the dollar store. The dining room in the back has six booths, three on each side, with a big round table that can fit ten in the middle. The table has a linen tablecloth, and there are linen napkins under each set of utensils.

  Frankie said he wants to modernize the whole space. Keep the old-school Italian look, but also keep up with a clientele that doesn’t want to use paper plates and napkins from a metal dispenser on the table. His budget isn’t as big as Jupiter’s, but I can still make a couple grand. Jace, of course, is proud of me and wants to have dinner somewhere new tonight to celebrate. He really is perfect, always showcasing even my smallest accomplishments.

  Not like when I got an A in second or third grade, on a math test I studied really hard for, and I brought it home to my mother, proud. She didn’t say a word to me, but instead was happy to use it as a napkin when she drunkenly knocked over her bottle of vodka. I couldn’t tell if the red-marker A was bleeding into the paper because it was wet, or if my tears made it blurry. Either way, I didn’t have much ambition after that. Why bother? Every moment of accomplishment in my life had simply opened the door to disappointment. When Caroline, another girl at school, got straight As, she came in the next day with a tray of fresh baked cupcakes for the whole class, a gift from her mother. All I ever got as a gift were bruises and an occasional hot meal, and by hot, I mean microwaved. Who microwaves ground chuck roast with salt and considers that gourmet? I still gag thinking about it.

  But that life is over, and I’m where I’m supposed to be.

  Jace comes home with daffodils, and I place them in a vase with a penny. I read online that placing a penny at the bottom of a vase of water with daffodils or tulips makes them grow up straight and not wilt. Of course, I now use that tip in my business’s Instagram.

  Maybe I do know what I’m doing, degree or not. Jace still believes I went to RISD. I have to tell him the truth. About a lot of things. Jace doesn’t lie to me. I decide to tell him at dinner.

  We get in the car and he drives to a place at the beach, one we haven’t been to before. It’s only six o’clock on a Friday, so the real weekenders haven’t swarmed yet, and we’re seated without a reservation. Jace orders a bottle of red and holds my hand across the table.

  “I’m so proud of you,” he says, his smile wide as his face. “You’re going to be the most sought-after designer for the whole county soon. Possibly the whole state.”

  I grin back at him, my cheeks full but not showing any teeth. “Thanks. I actually wanted to talk to you about all of this. About my previous design experience. It’s important.”

  “Oh?” His face shows concern, and he clasps his other hand over mine. “Everything okay?”

  I open my mouth to say it. I swear, I was going to. But out of nowhere, a girl comes by our table and throws a glass of water at Jace’s head.

  “That’s what you get, asshole!”

  Asshole. The word reverberates.

  The restaurant is still half full, and everyone turns to observe. Who is this woman? She’s tiny and dark haired, with severe dark eyeliner and heavy eye shadow, maybe even fake eyelashes. She’s in a pink sundress with too-high wedges strapped to her feet, making her look like she was going to tip over.

  I barely have time to react, and Jace is wiping his face with a napkin. “Jesus Christ.”

  The girl looks at me. “So, who the hell are you? You know he has a girlfriend, right?” She turns her anger back to Jace. “You never even broke up with me. Way to be mature.”

  My blood thickens. “Jace, who is this?” Why did she look familiar?

  She whips to my direction again. “I’m Joanna; who the hell are you?”

  “His wife.”

  I want to whisper it, but I don’t. I say it with agency. Jace takes that as me being in his corner, which I am most certainly not at this very moment, but that’s a talk for when we’re alone.

  “His what ?” Joanna is not amused.

  Jace, after taking my napkin and wiping the water left on his face, sticks his left hand in the air, showing his wedding ring.

  “Well, this is terrific,” she says, then turns to the girl who appears by her side and takes her arm. She’s also wearing too much makeup and looks at us disapprovingly. “He’s fucking married.” Back to Jace. “Were you always married? Was I your whore on the side?”

  “That’s enough,” Jace says, then addresses her friend. “Erica, can you take her out of here? She’s making a spectacle.”

  Erica shrugs. “Fine. But she’s right. You’re an asshole.”

  They turn and go back to the restaurant’s bar to pay the tab, nasty stares lasering into my forehead. Without a word, two busboys come quickly to our table and mop the water on the floor, then wipe down the table with a rag and refill the water. The waiter comes by with two new napkins. He also leaves without a word.

  Then, words.

  “I’m going to make you pay for this Jace, you asshole!” Joanna screams from the door on her way out.

  Everyone is embarrassed for us. For me.

  Faint chitter-chatter comes back to the room slowly. When the stares die down, I direct my attention to Jace. “Okay. So what the hell was that?”

  His face is forlorn, and he grabs my hand, but instinct pulls it away. Quickly.

  “Tessa, I’m sorry.” He rubs his face, unsure of how to proceed.

  “You had a girlfriend when we started dating?” The other w
oman. Now I know why she looks familiar. She was the one in his apartment the night I went back there with Damon. “You told me you broke up when we met. I can’t believe you did this. I trusted you.”

  “Please, it’s not like that.” My face immediately tells him that he’s a liar and not to bother with bullshit. “Okay, it was a little bit like that. Look, me and Joanna were having problems. I was being distant, she lived too far away, it was a whole bunch of things. I wasn’t being communicative, and she started following me.”

  “Right. She was at your apartment the night we met. Said she was leaving you a note. Probably because she still thought you guys were together.” I’m trying not to cry. I haven’t cried over a man since I met Jace.

  He was never supposed to make me cry.

  “Yes. I told her I was going out with friends that night and she texted that she was waiting for me at the house. I told her I’d be out all night and to go home, even though I was almost there. I didn’t want to see her. It was over. And yes, it’s my fault that I didn’t break up with her properly.”

  “So, you were still with her?”

  “Tessa, you know I’ve been with you every single night, since the first time we went out to Jupiter’s. But I didn’t see her. I swear. I haven’t seen her since before I met you.” His eyes mist. “I’ve only wanted you since the moment I laid eyes on you.”

  “Is that supposed to make me feel better about being the other woman?” My voice elevates and I swear he can see my heart beating through my chest like a cartoon character. “I thought I was done with this. With secrets.”

  As soon as the words escape my lips, I berate myself for being a hypocrite. How dare I say that to him? I was a treasure trove of lies and secrets. So I soften.

  “Look, Jace, I know I haven’t told you much about my past. About—my ex.”

  He nods. “Do you want to talk about it?”