by Debra Jupe
He rose from the sofa to check. “My insides are cement coated.” He would’ve preferred to have coffee after his run, but he wasn’t ready to leave her. “Are there actual cups or do I have to use Nana’s jelly jars?”
“Mugs are on a shelf above the sink.”
Back in the kitchen Jack filled a cup, and placed it into a prehistoric microwave, and punched in the time. He searched the cloth bags hoping to find something decent to eat. He found a ton of healthy—he hesitated to call what she ate actual food. The bottom of one bag, he unearthed a box of salt-free crackers and organic peanut butter. Thinking this might be eatable, he prepared several while he waited for his water to heat. After the bell dinged, he opened the door and retrieved the steaming mug, adding a generous spoonful of crystals, and stirred slowly. He carried his coffee and a filled napkin back to the living room and walked to the rocker.
He cleared his throat and placed his drink onto a small, rickety table next to the chair and unfolded the paper towel in his lap. “Katie. We need to talk.”
Her chin lifted, blinked confused, and put her laptop aside. “Sounds serious.”
“We should go home.” He studied the spread on his cracker. “Today.”
“Today?” she repeated, her voice rising. She grabbed the blanket and yanked it chest level, like a shield.
“Yes. It’s the right thing to do.”
“You mean your right thing to do.”
“Exactly. Fight this through proper channels.”
“I am fighting.” Her lips went white from anger. “You said you’d give me three days. We’ve been here for a few hours. I’ve barely made any progress. I need to find out who is doing this to me.”
“A list isn’t progress, Katie. Other than shoe purchases, what else are you going to do?”
She shot him a death glare and huffed. “I don’t know, because I haven’t had time to figure anything out.”
“You don’t have a plan.”
“I’m developing one.”
“By making a list? You’re not even sure of all her unhappy clients.”
“I’m going to…” she released a long sigh. Her anger altered into exasperation. “I have to figure this out. I can’t go to jail, Jack. I didn’t do this and don’t belong in prison. Besides, I look terrible in orange stripes.”
“That’s what you’re worried about?”
“I’m bothered by a lot of things. You’re the one who said to be careful where the authorities are concerned. They’re under pressure to make an arrest and they’ll fit me into the evidence they have.”
A tide of guilt ran through him. His warning was true, though now he wished he’d used different terminology in his caution and not sounded so dramatic.
“You’re right,” she continued. “What I’m doing is detrimental to my cause. I think I need to focus my energy in one direction.”
“Which direction might that be?”
“Vanessa is behind this setting me up. Except I have no inkling how to prove it.”
Jack shook his head. “Vanessa may be crafty. I don’t think she’s devious enough to disengage cameras, break into your condo unnoticed, and drop off a murder weapon. At least not by herself.”
“Are you really that blind?” She dropped her feet to the floor and fell into the back of the couch. “I’m sure she did plant the knife, and she initiated the police investigation against me.”
“Let’s look at this, objectively. Say you’re right, and she’s trying to send you to prison for the rest of your life.”
“She is.”
“What does she gain?”
“She gets me out of the party planning business.”
“Those are some extreme actions for someone who just wants to get you out of a profession. From your account, her reputation is tarnished from the kickbacks and other deceptions with her former employer.”
“Yes, but her ability to be so deceitful ought to give you a clue how damaged her character is and what she’s capable of.”
“Okay, I concede, she’s a rotten human being. I don’t doubt she sees you as an enemy and competition in the industry. But one person, meaning you, isn’t going to prevent her from being prosperous if she’s talented. Are you the only roadblock to her success? Is she that good? Are you the only one in her way of becoming a wedding coordinator superstar?”
Katie lifted a shoulder. “She’s okay. There are plenty of others whose talent equaled hers, some are better. I still think she’s doing everything she can to get the police to look at me.”
“You’re probably right. Remember, she’s only manipulating what the cops will find out anyway.”
Katie’s shoulders sank, her expression appeared dejected. Jack resisted the impulse to go to her, to comfort her. His growing need for her was becoming more difficult to resist. Celibacy was killing him. Just this last thirty minutes with her, even with her angry at him, made him want to rush over to the sofa a rip that shirt off her.
And though he told her it was the right thing to do, which he believed, his reasons to leave also selfish. Which brought him to his decision. If they didn’t get out of here soon, he’d give in to his urges, and he feared he’d fall for her more than he already had.
“Maybe,” she conceded. “She’s working awfully hard to make sure they discover things about me, and I bet she’s blowing innocent occurrences out of proportion. Now, there she has a talent.”
Jack met her gaze. “If that’s true, have you considered she’s trying to avert her attention away from herself?”
Katie frowned. “You mean, like she killed Hazel?”
“I don’t know if I’d go that far.”
“Or she’s somehow involved in the death,” Katie suggested. “It’d make a lot more sense than her going to such extremes to get me out of the party planning business. If she was successful, then in a roundabout way, she’d be killing two proverbial birds. Hazel and me.”
Chapter 18
“What is Vanessa’s motive?” Jack drained his coffee cup and set it aside, then wadded up the napkin that held his crackers and crushed the paper towel between his palm and fingers. “Her intention was to get you fired, and she accomplished that, so what’s the point of her killing Hazel too?”
“I don’t have all the answers,” Katie argued. “My instincts tell me she’s involved.”
“Vanessa is a lot of things, many not good, but I’m sure she’s not a murderer. I doubt she’s done anything but alert the authorities of your termination.”
Katie sucked in a gasp. She’d grown weary of Jack protecting that woman. Every time she hit the mythical ball in Vanessa’s direction, he fielded it for her.
“How come you always defend her?”
“I don’t.” He aimed an index finger at her. “This is your problem. You can’t get past this obsession concerning the woman. She’s a troublemaker. Period. But she’s smart. She won’t go beyond certain boundaries and allow herself to submerge into too much hot water. That would defeat her purpose, and definitely spoil her fun.”
“Fun?” Katie paused at this. “She’s the one who pointed the police my way. You’re saying this is her idea of a good time?”
“Again,” he crossed his arms over his chest, “they would’ve come to you on their own because of your dismissal. She may have sped up the process, but that’s all she achieved. And yes, I think she gets perverse enjoyment out of your getting sacked and causing you the added trouble.”
“She’s more warped than I ever could’ve imagined.” Katie shook her head. “She’s given the detectives twisted information, I’m sure. If they find the knife, along with her feeding them, I’m sunk.”
“That’s why we should return. So you can search, and see if the knife is still at your place, and fight this unknown person.”
“I already know who that is. Vanessa. What I don’t know, is how to prove it.”
Jack blew a puff of air to show resistance. “All she’s done is state her opinion to the police. They
work off facts. She has no verification, nothing concrete against you, not one piece of evidence to support her claim.”
She glared at him. “What is it with you and her? I’m beginning to believe your little get together at the bar was more than a chance meeting.”
“I told you what happened.”
“Are you sure you remember? You’ve been hitting the booze hard lately. You may’ve done things in your beer induced haze you don’t recall.”
“To-fucking-uché.” Jack scatted to the edge of the rocker, and shot to his feet. Hands on hips, his nostrils flared. He glowered at her, his voice low and controlled. “I suggest we end this conversation before I say something I’ll regret later.” He walked to the doorway, stopped, and turned to her. “I’m going for my run. We’ll leave when I get back, you need to be packed.”
“Jack.”
“Not open for discussion, Katie.” He stomped to through the kitchen, and onto the porch, letting the doors slam behind him.
“Whatever you say, Jack.” She leaned down and snapped her computer lid shut. “Might as well get started.” Rolling off the sofa, she scooped up her laptop, and walked to the bedroom.
As instructed, she retrieved her suitcase she’d left opened on the floor next to the bed and placed the luggage on top of the mattress. Because they’d barely arrived, most of her things remained packed so it didn’t take her long to throw her belongings inside. After she changed into clothes, she hurried to the bathroom to brush her teeth and put on a little makeup. Then she rushed back to her room to repack her toiletries, loaded her computer, and hauled everything to the kitchen.
The clock above the stove told her Jack left fifteen minutes ago. She assumed he’d run for about twenty more, therefore, her timeframe was fleeting.
The refrigerator open, she carefully placed her cold items inside the cooler she’d sat by the appliance after she unloaded last night. Once filled, she crammed the eco bags with food, but set aside the peanut butter and crackers.
She carried her possessions outside and to her jeep. After her things were stored, she walked to the driver’s side, and unlocked the car door. She stared off into the desolate fields wishing she’d paid attention to which way Jack went for his run.
She gazed at the house. His phone. Did he take it with him? Probably not. What would be the point, if he’d removed the battery? She preferred he not have immediate contact to the outside. She returned inside, and down the hall, trying to remember if the sweatpants he wore had pockets and was there any sign he was carrying anything in them.
She skidded to a halt at the entrance of his room. Clothes were scattered across the floor. The covers on the unmade bed, twisted, and hung from to one side, like he’d experienced a restless night. The small dresser was clear of any of his personal effects. In other words, no cell phone. Disappointed, Katie turned to leave, but stopped at the exit.
A muddy pair of jeans was in a heap in the far corner. He’d worn those pants the night before, and he’d carried the cell inside the pocket. Maybe he hadn’t bothered to remove it. She dashed to where the jeans lay and bent to pick them up. She froze. A shadow passed in front of the window.
Jack had returned. He’d be inside within seconds. The boom of the screened door ricocheted and bounced against the jam. Katie dropped the pants. He’d probably come straight down the hall, instead of the alternate way, through the living room. She couldn’t escape without him catching her.
She searched the tiny space for a place to hide. The closet. His entire wardrobe seemed strewn everywhere. Evidently he wasn’t using it. She sprinted to the small enclave, twisted the knob, and yanked. The door didn’t budge. She tugged again, but nothing happened, probably due to the house settling, many times over the years.
The light tap of footsteps echoed up the hallway grew closer. She dove to the floor and rolled under the bed, the same moment Jack entered. Katie lay on her stomach, and gazed past the bedframe’s iron bar, not moving a centimeter. He stood directly in front of her. He toed off his sneakers, and peeled away his socks, then bowed to rummage through his duffle. If he rotated an inch, he’d discover her. Fortunately, he appeared focused on the contents inside his bag. He seized a pair of clean blue jeans and a toothbrush, straightened, and moved away. He shuffled around, his bare feet scuffing against the worn floors.
Katie remained immobile except to turn her head and follow the lower halve of his legs activities. Noises on wood indicated he placed some items onto the dresser, and then he exited.
Katie stayed put until a rush of water whistled throughout the home, squealing from the old pipes. Jack was in the shower. She scrambled from underneath the bed springs, jumped to her feet, and tiptoed through the hallway and outside to her car.
A faint twinge of guilt twisted inside for what she was about to do. But this was a sooner rather than later circumstance. She was already developing an escape plan, needing more than three days to complete her private investigation and now Jack shortened the time to zero.
She patted her jacket for keys. Nothing. She slapped her jean pockets. Empty. She glanced at the house and gasped. They must have slipped out—in Jack’s room.
Inside, relieved the water still flowed she dashed back to his bedroom. She fell to her knees and peeked below the bed. A small heap rested in the middle of the underside. She stretched beneath the mattress to snatch the wayward set and glided out, hopping onto the balls of her feet, as she slipped the keychain into her coat pocket. She hastened toward the door, sliding to a stop just beyond her flight. Her pulse leaped. His cell and battery lay on the dresser.
Backtracking, she grabbed the phone and shoved the device into her other pocket and hurried out of there. She sped down the hall and onto the porch.
Palming the screen, she gave it a hard push. One foot outside, she was ready to flee, but an odd quiet stilled her. The water was no longer running.
Jack walked out of the bathroom, followed by a thin, stream of fog. A two-day scruff covered his jawline, his hair slicked back, as beads of liquid trickled down his damp skin. Bare-chested, wearing only a pair of faded jeans, his nipples tightened from the frosty breeze blustering amidst the opened enclosure. Her head almost spun from the luscious view. She forced herself to calm down. This wasn’t the time to lose control.
His jaw hardened at the sight of her. “Are you packed?”
Katie nodded.
“Good. I’m going to finish dressing, and get my stuff. Then we’ll go.”
“Jack.” She realized what she was about to do would put an end to any hope of a relationship—well that was pretty much a bust anyway. But the smidgen of friendship left between them was soon gone too. She hoped she might ease her upcoming betrayal.
“No arguing, Katie. We’re doing the right thing.”
She flashed a nervous smile in his direction. “I wanted to apologize. For my comments about your drinking. I was out of line. It’s none of my business, and I based my assessment on a single encounter.”
Jack looked uncomfortable. Seconds ticked before he spoke again. “Actually, I thought over what you said while out running.” He inhaled and exhaled loudly. “You’re right. I’ve been hiding in a beer bottle. I need to get a grip and cut back my intake. The escape is becoming more than a habit. I owe you a world of thanks, so thank you for having the courage to bring the subject to my attention.”
She shrugged. “Least I can do since you’ve helped me.”
“Yeah, well, I know it looks like I’m trying to railroad you into the police custody.”
“You kind of are.”
“Katie, if they are looking at you closely, your disappearance will only broaden their suspensions. You must go back and face this. Running away isn’t going to help, even if you discover who’s behind this.”
“You’re right, Jack.” She sighed and then smiled. “I needed some time to calm down, and think too. Put everything in perspective.”
“Good.” He gave an affirmative nod. “Let me get my
things, and we’ll be on our way.” Jack stepped into the bathroom, gathered his dirties, and walked inside without speaking again.
“I’ll wait for you here.”
Katie paused, not making a move until she was sure he was at the back of the house. It’d take a full ten minutes for him to dress and stuff his scattered belongings into his duffle.
She calmly strolled outdoors, and onto her loaded jeep. She slid in, resisting the urge to tremble as she inserted the key. Twisting the ignition, the vehicle came to life. She pushed the shift into reverse and turned to check behind her. All clear. Facing forward, she rested a foot on the gas. A motion inside her peripheral made her freeze.
She stomped on the break and returned the gear to park. The driver’s side door flew open. Katie didn’t need a glance to know what happened. Steadily, she cut the engine and emerged from the car. Jack closed in on her, pinning her against the jeep, his hands on the roof, arms confining on either side of her shoulders. Angered heat radiated from his near naked body.
“This disappearing act is getting old, Katie.”
“Do you have a GPS planted on me?”
His face turned a bright crimson. “Why do you always make things so damn hard?”
“I’m making things hard? Your skin doesn’t need to be saved, so it’s easy for you to say, let’s go back and face this.”
“Wrong. I might be in trouble for being with you or knowing your whereabouts without contacting the police.” He stepped closer, jammed a hand into her coat pocket, and retrieved his cell phone, holding it up. “You planned to leave me high and dry.”
“I’ll do what it takes NOT to go to prison.”
****
Jack sighed. He wasn’t going to get through to her. His efforts to stronghold her were futile. A fact he should’ve realized. He ought to have suspected something was up when she agreed to leave so easily. She’d fought him on just about everything with the exception of their stolen moments in the back of the jeep the other night. There she was as agreeable as hell. But he didn’t need to focus on that.